She held her hand out the way she always did, open and eager, like a child waiting for his allowance. Her face smiled the same way it did when this moment came; sexy and appealing, and knowing. I put the one hundred dollar bill in her hand gently, a part of me not wanting to let it go. She took it like it had always been hers, like it was a part of her. She pinched my cheek with her pink manicured claws and winked, and said nothing. I smiled back then turned to head up the stairs to put my wallet and jacket away. I looked back to her and saw her reflection in the mirror. She was checking herself out. Thinking I was not around to see, she stuffed the bill in her bra, pulled down her shirt more than it needed to be pulled, and pushed her chest up even more. I sighed and went up the stairs, listening to her six-inch leopard print stilettos click across the kitchen. From the safety of our room I could see her in the saran wrap skinny jeans she had on, with the tiny black blazer over her extremely low-cut white tank top. When I heard the front door slam shut and the Hummer go off screeching down the street, I sat down on the bed. I held the picture of us taken at my brother’s wedding three years ago.
Posted on June 1st, 2012