Frail fingers run over bare clavicles and trembling shoulders. Eyes stare on lifelessly, the lights of the famous city flashed silently as car after car slow noticeably on the boulevard. Drivers will sometimes roll their windows down, pulling their Gucci shades half way down then pushing them back up their noses as they give you a lazy head-to-toe glance.
“You won’t make it,” one of the other girls said earlier that night, barely concealing her rosy-lipped smirk. “You don’t have the chest, or the hips, nor the attitude to make it in this industry honey."
And you gazed at her blandly until she turned away with a hmm escaping her lips..
A few minutes later, a man in his late thirties opened his door, beckons to her, urging her closer. As you watch on, unsure if you should or not follow, he slips his hand down the inside of her thinly clothed thigh, before pulling her into his sleek car, ordering the driver on in a suave voice.
Through the back window, you see her wrapping her arm around the man’s shoulders – tonight is the first time, but within a few days, it becomes routine.
Your heels are the only ones remaining on the same sidewalk that night.
