THE IDYLLS OF MARCH – BOOK TWO OF 'THE LOVER'S CHILDREN'
I stir my coffee, sugar and creamer swirling spirals in my cup. And I sip. And wait...
...
...
There you are...
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 lon
