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Viewing the local antiquities

 
 
"Wonderful day!" 
she called it, the spring day we met in Victoria Square.

"Beautiful day," I corrected her, then "No. You're right."

The skin of her forearm was gold. My forearm, by contrast, was pink. We held hands while she programmed my new cell.

Monday she reciprocated my text.

Tuesday?

Wednesday?

Thursday?

Friday?

Saturday?

Sunday?

Of course, after lunch, we'd gone to her brothel. "Angel has a little tail!" cried the mama-san; we'd held hands on the street within range of the monitors.

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2 Comments:

Holding hands makes you Angel's tail, eh? I have much to learn of brothel lingo! Kind of cute, though. I think.

By Blogger Sk8RN, at May 07, 2005 2:59 PM  

I'm not sure whether it is brothel lingo or just a metaphor from the mama-san!

By Blogger John Psmyth, at May 07, 2005 3:54 PM  

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