Thursday, March 5, 2009

The Aristocrat and the Taudry Waitress

The aristocrat sat down. No one he knew was there. This was a relief. No socializing with backstabbing bores. Bores. Did he just say that? Yes, he supposed they were rather boring. He grinned and looked around.

Whores, he'd meant to say. Whores. That's what they were. Lipstick freshened every moment. Lips plumped in wait for an "Innocent encounter". Pretending to take offence to cash if left on the bedside; believing their whoring had gone unnoticed (oh could they smirk) when given a credit card. What was the difference?

The men were whores as well. After his money and pieces of him. Though not willing to put out anything for it. Thank god for that. Greasy, buffed out bumps of life that they were. Thinking their crotches a perfect match for rosebud lips, yet stuffing them into the decaying mouths of trash. Laughing about it all the while.

In that, though, was he any different? When feeling the perfumed bodies of his affairs. Tarnishing the reputation they thought was uplifted by the mere fact that it was "his soul" they had reached. What did they expect? That he would marry them? That he would give them a good letter of recommendation? That he would sacrifice his position?

He let them believe his undying love. His secret love for them. His private, hidden from the public eye love. Their own crotches wet at the thought. So easy and smooth, pouted like their lips, ready to suck him dry of everything.

In this place, so soothingly murky and pallid in ambiance, he was free to entertain his desires. Without being talked about. The widening of his pupils could here be construed as simple adjustment to the dim lighting. One day She would enter a room. He fantasized this often. The tawdry waitress. He would surprise her. She wouldn't expect it. He would reach for her naked thigh beneath her skirt. It would press against his hand and slightly quiver then melt. He would pull her to him by the waist. She would let out a defeated breath of sound.

"What'll it be?"
"Hot brandy."


J A S said...

You seem to be flying- which is great. If I could get onto your Hub properly I would vote- though I am sending positive psychic vibrations your way....

Hope you are feeling better....


J A S said...

oooh err missus-

this is a bit racy.


J A S said...

Sorry, MEEPIED myself. :-(

Frieda Babbley said...

Great verification word! You must use it!

Yes, this is a bit racey. Does this mean you like it?

Am feeling mostly better. Getting bored of it like you wouldn't believe. Oh, and I won! As of Wednesday. yay! Did you try clicking on the widget on the sidebar? Shame you haven't read any of my hubs. :(

J A S said...

I have found how to access them now and 'get' the layout, which is fast for me.

Fab- I love it. A just about to tone my arms and throw out all ill fitting frocks. Lovely writing style- as expected and ...

Audrey H. Did you know that as a malnourished young woman in post war Holland, she had a waist of 18''- small enough for a dog collar to go round. And, her mother was brought up in a house bought by the Kaiser after he was removed from the German throne, she being a Baroness.

As for rrrrraaaaacccccyyyyy post- loved it. How's that article for PUBLICATION coming on?????


Frieda Babbley said...

Well, since my flu has turned into a cold, not very well on the publication article. I'll get to it, unfortunately later than sooner. Glad you liked the raciness. There's a lot more where that came from. I was worried about offending people, so I really hope I haven't.
I did know that about Audrey. Wow huh?

So how are the teeth, the tone, and the frocks? Glad you liked the piece. It was a fun one to work on. As was my postcards one which is up for nomination. Me so lucky!

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