Galleria Santa Monica, White wash walls, High ceiling, dim lights.
Bunch of ******, In black and glasses peruse. Three feature pieces, Tamed Dames of the big city. A bit gruesome, but they love the realism Or so they say as they cringe.
Wine, almost as sweet As the nectar of life fills the room. Licking my lips, gaze drifting Her smile crashes into me. Sweet cherry blouse hides A golden badge.