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she was lonely most of the time.
The fat short placeholding professor was kissing her adequately.
"I have to ask you."
She pauses then sighs internally to pick up the bait:
"what"
"why does such a beautiful woman give me the time of day."
what she doesn't answer:
"mofo I'm lonely as shit. does it not permeate from my very pores? you're the third human being I've met. You're the very first who lives in the same town, and you're like the dork mayor here. you know everyone so well that I duck when I think of going to downtown now. There's only one thing you've said - well two - that interest me in the slightest: 'I want to devour every inch of your body slowly', and 'I want to reboot my life maybe in savannah or take a Fulbright scholarship' . obviously, the only reason you pull any pussy at all is that you're a smart professor, but you're the kind of smart - if you are - and I have to trust these accolades - you're the kind of smart that sort of is lost on me so far - I can't tell. I'm not in your field, so I can't assess cyber systems and generational structural financial somethings. It sounds hella interesting, yet you kind of suck at conversation. I'm kissing you, and in my head I completely wish you were the guy before you; and I'm so glad I'm on the rag so I don't even have to think about it, but you seem nice if a bit bitter and delusional. you're too young for me. you drink way too much (coming from me dude). your kids are too tender. and it's a haunting repeat of my last scenario. you'd have to hit it out of the fucking ballpark to get me to really look at you, but for now - you'll do". (and thank you kid)
and the whores hustle and the hustlers whore.
at least she was getting out of the crypt.
Today, she was going to walk around a cemetery where no one she knew was buried.
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