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She kept her distance from wimmin and who could blame her? i saw her every night i was the waitress, i spoke to her once in the restroom her name was ROSE she said she was a secretary and we talked about clothes. She was built like a teenage wet dream and exploited every inch of it, i loved lookin at her fat sexy body packed into skintight miniskirts and spandex tops, fistfull of bellyflab hanging over the waistband everytime she sat down in high heels and loathing, perched on the stool, gulping cutty sark until she'd slow down and start lookin around, scouting for possibilities. The aggressive loneliness scared men away but the inviting bustline reeled them back in, so they'd pay for her liquor and listen to her bitch, whatever it took to get to those tits. I was jealous of the time she took with these boys, envious of the hold they had over her, total transformation every spellbound night, a little (YES) manly attention and she'd be all right, throwing her head back and laughing, all coy mojo and crooked smiles, snakey and squirmy all over the barstool, working that thing, you like that huh fellas, workin hard for your big 3 minutes of thrusting and a squirt in the dark. His hands squeeze her buttcheeks like ziplocks filled with melted butter, mouth latching onto a swinging nipple, he's worked her double-dees out of their halter, legs entwined and tongue's a-tanglin they stumble into the parking lot, O Romeo. Back in the pool hall decent Lorettas are holding court, condemnation of ROSE and no one but, same old song and dance-what kind of woman is that? Ah yes, woman doing her own thing, in other words headcase in Lottieland, nice place, guaranteed to make

ROSES stay that way, and what, pray, makes a man prey, and stay, are you with me, above reproach in grand scheme of things? Leather jacket, babehound, shooting stick and hunting tuna, in abject obedience to every cultural imperative that's been pounded into his empty skull since day number one, he may ride a harley, but SHE'S MARLON BRANDO, she jokes anyone who can't take a fuck, can't see the braveness of a wild flower pushing itself up through the crack in the sidewalk, knowin as she does is just about now just about to get stepped on.

Dance, Lotties, dance.

 

 

 

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