Cherry-Baby, What was your mantra? Sometimes you’ve gotta suck a little cock to get what you want. When I say that now, people look at me in repulsion. No one understands better than you that we’re all whores at brass tacks. I try to remember where I last saw your silhouette: was it robed in sunlight, smiling on a pier? Even the ocean was greedy for a fondle, and would have swallowed you whole like an antipsychotic or a heroin balloon. Darling, lay back on the settee. Let the rabbit-fur collar kiss your neck’s stubbled skin. We’ll forget your lipstick is smudged and your mascara is running. We’ll forget you’ve broken a heel. Have a petit-four and a cup of tea. We’ll talk boys and pretend they’ve been civil.