Don’t Bring Your Laundry to a Party

I am with a platinum blonde, bolt straight hair, almost silver in color, cut in a bob. She is thin and tall, has a soft pouty face. We are having a party in my apartment. A good view of the city. I sense she is a little bored; of the party, or of the guests, or perhaps she is not into me as much as I am into her. Siobhan is there, as well as Nena’s friends. The woman is leaning against a doorway, surveying the room and I look up at her.

You. Are. Gorgeous, I tell her. She instantly brightens up, gives me a wide smile.

Let’s have some Pimms and take a bath, she announces.

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