I am at the pool today, with my giant sunglasses and "Who's your daddy?" visor. That can be a conversation starter, which I was up for today. But no one wanted to talk to me. I put my ear buds in and turn up the iPod. About an hour later, I turn it off.
Two girls claim chairs one down from mine. They are early 20s, white, talking loudly. A little buzzed, both hold cans of the Silver Bullet. One is very toned, tanned and quite striking with impressive boobs. She wears an emerald green string bikini, a belly ring with dangly charms and red fingernails. The other is heavier, paler, with burgundy and black hair in a short ponytail. She wears board shorts, a tank top and sports half sleeve tattoos on both arms. A Bettie Page portrait smiles on her shoulder:
Beauty: I am so glad we came out here. I just need to relax.
Bettie: Exactly. You're too stressed. You need to unpucker your asshole (wild laughter)!
Beauty: I might take Monday off, too. I told Mitchell I'm run down.
Bettie: That's good. You should. What did he say?
Beauty: Nothing. He just nodded. Then he asked me about ETCs (?) for Newport.
Bettie: What a jerk. What a jerk! You only work what, 60 hours a week? Fucker.
Beauty: Relax! I'll deal with it. Tuesday (more wild laughter)!
Bettie: Are you going to Mike's tonight?
Beauty: I guess. He says he misses me. He's just horny. What are you doing?
Bettie: I'd rather stay home and make out with you.