“Whew!” she exclaimed, “What now?”“What do you mean what now?” Boris asked.“Usually wardrobe and makeup fix me up and they bring on a ne... guy for me to fuck with,” Mitzy explained.“Then how about you give me a blow job before we have anal?” Boris asked.“Hell I ain’t had no enema nor nothing and I don’t do cock sucking,” Mitzy insisted, “It’s in my contract.”“Then we must go to the wedding disco,” Boris announced, “We thought it more appropriate than a ball and much much cheaper.”“What about my. Damn. Day. Sardines in heavy oil. Sardines in Mustard. Once in a while pickled herring. And the occasional tin of smoked oysters. The tins just sit in his trash can. Reeking. All week.I can’t even enjoy my precious coffee.The worst part about the laughter is that nobody is back there with him, and he isn’t on the phone. I hope he’s watching non-work videos on his computer. I really do.Because if he isn’t ... well, that’d be even more disturbing.Everybody else here seems to be utterly clueless. More

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