Curly blonde Sue delivered the news: she loved me.
“See, I was fucking this black guy…and the whole time we was doing it….I couldn’t stop thinking of you,” a lip-glossed smile, a direct hit.
No, I said. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have fucked the black guy, or the Polack, or that Irish prick, or the former Nazi hanging out in Brazil for that matter.
She looked puzzled…… twisted her hair… a lite drag on a menthol, a giggle.
The idea is an exclusive, an agreement; a goes to b; not c,d,e,f…and every other mother fucker you meet.
“Oh,” wine was slurpped, “sorry.”