Oh! Already, part two of my series on slutty women has fallen into my lap. I wasn't, though, at a strip-club at such time as it came to pass. As I have been known of late to attend to them semi-regularly -- shouts-out to Silk Exotic off Silver Spring Drive, and the ladies that swing the pole there 
-- I figured I should point out when such as falling into my lap occurs at times other than when I am in the VIP room.
But, I am digressing, so I shall continue.
As it stands, I was at my other job this past Wednesday, when in walked a woman -- I shall call her "Stella Armoire"
-- with her three children (all under five) in tow. Instantly, I knew I could place her from somewhere... But where?
It wasn't the body -- she seemed taller now, or at least thinner (having lost the baby-fat she still had on from when I did, in fact, know her) --, nor the voice (now, it's smoother, subtler, not raspy; maybe she quit smoking Newport?). No, it was the eyes. The deep-sunk, ocean blue, wondering eyes.
And, I knew. I had worked with her slinging ice-cream when I was in the midst of senior-high. So, I asked, "You went to [deleted] High School?"
"Yes", she answered, "and you did?"
(In sending my mind whirring back to '96, and my time working shoulder-to-shoulder with her, I remembered other facts about her, such as the high-school she went to, and that, according to a grease-ball Lutheran I also happened to know from there, she was not just an idiot, flunking history, but also phys. ed. (flunking phys. ed.? how!?).)
To her replicative query, though, I answered, "No", but added, "you worked at [deleted]?"
She answered in the affirmative, chirpily, and went to sit down with her children, to await her appointment.
She also had, obviously, been married -- different last name from when I knew her --, and young, and it hadn't worked out, save for the two children produced therein. Plus, she had one more, probably from a rebound fling following the separation-divorce. But, she was dressed well, the children too. She had steady work. Her face, for having been (still being?) a smoker, was remarkably unlined. Her bearing was jovial.
Stella was, to put it plain, one who had been around a little. And, no less, had come out the other side still to have as sweet a bearing as before, when she was only damaged from Newports and having an unfortunate taste for wiggers (one of our co-workers at [deleted, again] was that most early- to mid-nineties of types, and he had her number).
It was stupefying... Erm, not so much -- as I say, my perception is improving, my prejudice morphing. Still a little surprising, to see Stella, after seven years, encumbered but not beat down. She was (outwardly) physically a picture of health, and in personality, cheery.
She appears to be doing much better than "Lorca", of previous.
-- I figured I should point out when such as falling into my lap occurs at times other than when I am in the VIP room.
But, I am digressing, so I shall continue.
As it stands, I was at my other job this past Wednesday, when in walked a woman -- I shall call her "Stella Armoire"
-- with her three children (all under five) in tow. Instantly, I knew I could place her from somewhere... But where?
It wasn't the body -- she seemed taller now, or at least thinner (having lost the baby-fat she still had on from when I did, in fact, know her) --, nor the voice (now, it's smoother, subtler, not raspy; maybe she quit smoking Newport?). No, it was the eyes. The deep-sunk, ocean blue, wondering eyes.
And, I knew. I had worked with her slinging ice-cream when I was in the midst of senior-high. So, I asked, "You went to [deleted] High School?"
"Yes", she answered, "and you did?"
(In sending my mind whirring back to '96, and my time working shoulder-to-shoulder with her, I remembered other facts about her, such as the high-school she went to, and that, according to a grease-ball Lutheran I also happened to know from there, she was not just an idiot, flunking history, but also phys. ed. (flunking phys. ed.? how!?).)
To her replicative query, though, I answered, "No", but added, "you worked at [deleted]?"
She answered in the affirmative, chirpily, and went to sit down with her children, to await her appointment.
She also had, obviously, been married -- different last name from when I knew her --, and young, and it hadn't worked out, save for the two children produced therein. Plus, she had one more, probably from a rebound fling following the separation-divorce. But, she was dressed well, the children too. She had steady work. Her face, for having been (still being?) a smoker, was remarkably unlined. Her bearing was jovial.
Stella was, to put it plain, one who had been around a little. And, no less, had come out the other side still to have as sweet a bearing as before, when she was only damaged from Newports and having an unfortunate taste for wiggers (one of our co-workers at [deleted, again] was that most early- to mid-nineties of types, and he had her number).
It was stupefying... Erm, not so much -- as I say, my perception is improving, my prejudice morphing. Still a little surprising, to see Stella, after seven years, encumbered but not beat down. She was (outwardly) physically a picture of health, and in personality, cheery.
She appears to be doing much better than "Lorca", of previous.