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Chapter 37
The Idylls of March I stir my coffee, sugar and creamer swirling spirals in my cup. And I sip. And wait… … … There you are… There I see you… Patrolling your territory. Along with that other one you work with, with her bottle-blonde hair and over-inflated chest. The pair of you pace up and down, parading to the passing traffic in your tacky skirts and your too-low tops, displaying yourselves… Even whores can be pretty, I suppose. You"re wearing your hair up tonight. You’ve braided it into a coiled knot, sitting high. It looks complicated. You must have taken a long time over it. Or perhaps your cheap little friend did it for you. Some might say it"s classy, but I prefer it the way you wear it when you"re not working: sometimes in that long ponytail, clipped behind to swing down to
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