This story contains sexually explicit scenes.
“You look like Marlene Dietrich.”
She giggled. A high-pitched flutter. So much for a contralto sex goddess.
“I get that a lot from men like you.”
“Men like me?”
“You know, older.”
How had he missed her incessant gum chewing earlier? “We older men have an appreciation for nostalgic beauty.”
“Oh, young guys tell me I’m beautiful too.”
Modest as well. “You certainly have a classic line to your features.”
“I had my nose done and my jaw sharpened.”
“I don’t tell everyone. You noticed the lines, though.”
He waited while she blew a bubble.
“How did you end up in my art gallery?”
“Just walking by. Figured it was cool inside. It’s a scorcher today. You own this place?”
Pointy nipples. The air conditioner was working.
“Yes, look around. We have some exquisite pieces.”
“I like that painting. Look, same color as my nail polish. Bus Stop Crimson. A thousand bucks, though, phew!”
Comic books more her style, no doubt. “It’s one of the cheaper ones. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Mistletoe, but call me Misty. Everyone does.”
“Mistletoe’s very unusual.”
“Yeah, I was made after my parents kissed under it.”
“What type of work do you do, Misty?”
“I’m a stripper at the Diamond Club.”
Full breasts, long legs, firm ass. Of course she is. “I’m sure you’re excellent.”
“Wow! Thanks! You’re really nice for an old guy.
“You’re too kind.”
“Want a private show.”
She must be joking.
“Ain’t nobody around. How about now? Say a thousand?”
“A thousand dollars?” It was highway robbery. “What do I get for that price?
“Sure, everything,” she shrugged.
Not exactly Dietrich. But close enough.
“I’m not sure I have that much.”
“Well, there’s always that painting.”
Copyright © 2002 by Desdmona.