Christen slipped out of bed and crossed the room avoiding the clatter of clothes, empty bottles, tissue paper and torn condom wrappers – landmarks of a seriously good time. A sideways glance at the alarm clock revealed it was around noon, too bloody early to be wondering who the naked bloke in her bed was and definitely too bloody early to be thinking any further.
The fluorescent tube above the bathroom mirror flickered to life. The woman staring back at her was still the image of the girl who had arrived here three years ago with a backpack full of wild dreams and a few crumpled bank notes in the back pocket of her jeans. Matured perhaps with the faint traces of the partying and her ongoing colombian love affair. Nothing in the world to make you feel so fucking brilliant plus it helped keep your weight down. She’d have to take it down a notch or two though before her looks went. Her only claim to fame and livelihood.
She smiled at the pale, slightly undernourished face which gave her this sullen somewhat unearthly appearance. Like buttermilk and spit, nan used to say.
“You need some colour!”, picking up the lava red lipstick she traced her lips on the glass. “There you go.” She grimaced at the red smear.
She’d better fix herself some coffee and get whatshisface out on the street before Paolo had a chance to show up. After all he did pay her rent. No rush though. At this time of day on a Sunday he’d probably be sitting down to lunch with his wife feigning an interest in fundraisers, interior decoration and society gossip.
She didn’t spend too much time worrying about how long she could maintain this lifestyle, not yet anyway. Brings you closer to God.
“Do your best to keep the old geezer good and pissed off at you”, she said to her mirror image. “Then at least you know you have his attention”.
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Kurt challenged me with ""God's hatred is better than his indifference." -Chuck Palahniuk." and I challenged Michael with ""He who makes a beast of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man." - Samuel Johnson"
Trifecta Challenge this week:
image noun \ˈi-mij\
: a reproduction or imitation of the form of a person or thing;especially : an imitation in solid form : statue
a : the optical counterpart of an object produced by an optical device (as a lens or mirror) or an electronic device
b : a visual representation of something: as (1) : a likeness of an object produced on a photographic material (2) : a picture produced on an electronic display (as a television or computer screen)
a : exact likeness : semblance
b : a person strikingly like another person
a : a tangible or visible representation : incarnation
b archaic : an illusory form : apparition
I really had to laugh. When I entered a bit of this post at the "I write like..." thingy and this is what it came up with (it's only funny when you read the IndieInk challenge I got).