warm leatherette

Handsome Suit Man announced with great sincerity how great i smelled, and from looking at his face you could see that he had betrayed his plan of action. he cleared his throat and asked what i was wearing

“A Tom Ford” i bluffed, knowing the bottle of Lust could - and has - passed for a high end, while retailing at only 60AUD (or it would’ve, had i not shoplifted it a lifetime ago from Lush).

“I thought so.” he looked me up and down in my leopard print bikini and eight inch pleasers, craning his fat neck

“This is just my work scent, for pleasure I wear Ford’s Tuscan Leather.” i sat down next to him on the cold upholstery, thinking of the five millilitre decant sitting on my dresser

the man choked on one of the nine untouched belvedere vodka sodas that sat in front of him. the flock of late thirties suits to which he belonged had abandoned him shortly after their arrival to the table, on the trays of not one but two of our endlessly patient bottle girls, for the VIP room with a peer of mine. the type who wouldn’t snidely write about her interactions at work later, the type some might call ‘good at her job’.

“I wasn’t…” he looked away from me, reminiscing on those delicate top notes of saffron, thyme, raspberry…the jasmine throughout. i hate this guy.

“I wasn’t expecting that.” he says coolly as he takes another sip of the twenty five dollar drink, a throbbing amber base note in his pocket. he was impressed. he was disgusted. he does not want to sleep with me.