He catches a waft in the air. Amber and gold-dust, nettles and peaches, opium and vinegar, salt and rain, spun-sugar... Her. He groaned.(Did you feel it?)Gliding down on her aroma he remembered. How long had they been together? One hundred and twenty years, more? She was older than he, though she would never confess quite how old. Of course, she looked younger. She had been turned at twenty-seven, he, years later, at forty-three. But in idle conversation, she would allude to things that had happened even before he had been mortally born. The time she had been tried as a witch at Salem. An affair with Benjamin Franklin. Her involvement in the secret railroad during The War Between The States. (Well, he remembered the war, of course.)The smell of her now filling his senses, dizzying him, he alighted upon the boardwalk. It had rained earlier, the lights turned the wet wood gold.And then he saw her in the distance.She was wearing a favorite gown he had always loved her in. French, black. Little coke head fuck bunny!” Nathan was stroking the erection in his pants and Delia turned and caught his movement, “Are you kidding right now? Are you fucking serious? Oh, god!” Nathan shrugged, “What can I say. It makes me horny watching her get her’s. She’s a fucking coke slut and truer words were never said.” Leila sat on the floor, six feet from the couple as they stood side by side feeding their egos off her distress. “You’re going to pay your fucking rent this month!” Delia said. “If you have to whore your ass out, instead of giving it away all the damn time for coke lines!” Delia opened the front door and waved with her hand, “Go on! Get out of here. Go sell that pussy! Make something of yourself for a change.” Leila stood up and looked deep into her friend’s eyes. She was deeply hurt. “You’d make me do that?” Delia had a flicker of sympathy, but it passed. She couldn’t keep enabling this screw-up. “Whatever it takes, go get it, get the fucking rent!” Leila walked out,.
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