Eglentyne did another word challenge – this one on shoes. I posted the list over there and then she followed up with another one. Here is my response to that.
She was squatting low to the ground and taking a long drag off of a short cigarette as I approached her. Her shoes were almost comically oversized with platforms and heels that took her well over 6 feet. They completed the stripper uniform as much as the glare she shot at me.
“I am on break, man.” She sounded tired. She called herself Velvet or Satin or Silk. Some kind of material. It could have been Plaid or Corderroy for all I knew. I never care about their ghost names.
Her name was Analise Stracken. Ani to her family; my employers. She was pretty in the pictures they showed me. Not quite Hollywood pretty or even Broadway pretty, but would definitely turn your head if she walked by you on the street. Those pictures were obviously taken before the work. Her breasts belonged on a woman twice her weight and her chin had been narrowed almost to a chisel point.
I wondered who told her that was attractive. I am sorry to say that I still wanted to fuck her.
Finding her here was a relief – most of the ghosts I find are literally Ghosts. Ani dropped off the face of the world 16 months ago from Carnegie Mellon where she was studying dance. She was good enough to get in but mediocre enough to have to pay for it.
“Me too.”
I pulled out a pack of Marlboro’s myself and asked her for a light. One of the things I like about LA is that my tats help me blend in. Even the neck ones. Probably especially the neck ones but why shouldn’t they? I grew up in Chatsworth.
I am never sure why, but nothing brings people together like a shared vice. We chat for a couple of minutes and I decide that she is nice. I am glad that she’s not dead.
I can tell she likes me, too, which is always part of the job and will certainly make what’s hurt her even more. She stands up and sure enough, I am now eye level with her left boob. I decide to call it Maria.
I am about to say something else to her when the whispers start. I sit down on the ground and put my head between my knees before the nausea hits.
My Ghost is about to become a ghost.
Random Thoughts 