5/1/2014
I’ve never met a woman that knew what Forbes was, or had a subscription to it at the age of 18 anyways. First thing she said to me when she sat down was a marvel at the fact that i was 20 and actually right in front of her. We talked about Champagne rose and the middle class the first 5 minutes we knew each other- I told her she was a woman after my own heart and I unbuttoned the top of my collar. She smiled tightly as if there was taffy stuck to her front teeth, or something, and she asked me didn’t I think she looked a bit young? I told her not really but sometimes, but I thought most of the time she looks 13, but i kept that to myself, and that’s when I noticed her eyebrows. They were perfectly squared and colored in perfect mocha. And then my eyes trailed a bit down and found her eyelids- it’s as if she had glued skinny leather black strips above her lashes.
“I love your tan,” I remarked, unbuttoned again. She stifled and told me she was an islander. I smiled and told her I love dark skinned girls. She blinked a green eye and touched the blonde of her hair with a chubby finger and i asked what she planned on after school- she told me human rights law, and how she hoped for a short dinero packed marriage. I asked her if she wanted to go to bed with me and she smiled and said no and stood up. I told her I could respect an opulent woman like that, and her fingers soothed down and up the hem of her genteel Chloe blouson.  I said bye and finished her glass of Cristal.