Fingertip flicked the smoldering cigarette, ash drifted downward in a powerless spiral, and a purse of thin scarlet stained lips drew on its end, flaring the ember’s burn at its tip for a moment, before it returned to its weak and faded glow. Dark strands of pitch hung limply against her face, oily tendrils clinging to her brow. Hollowed cheeks, gaunt frame spoke of iron control and wild helplessness, the faint taste of bile lingered at the back of her throat. Beauty was fickle, the slender frame now skeletal, ravaged by years of starvation and her skin sagged on her dejectedly, the lines that burrowed into her brow premature. Rumpled clothing, the kind that one bought in the attempt to feign wealth, in cut that nearly draped beautifully, save for the cheap cloth and subtle imperfection, clung in silent witness to the sleepless night. The nearly exquisite exterior that covered up the slowly decaying innards, cloyingly sweet perfume that nearly covered the reek of moldering life and. I let the music take over, moving my hips, raising my arms over my head and closing my eyes. There is a pole in the middle of the cage, and I make use of it, grinding against it, sliding one leg around it and wrapping it with my body. When I open my eyes I am pleased to see the bachelor party gathered around the cage, mouths agape, eyes bugging, shifting quickly between Madeline’s cage and mine. That’s what I like…making men drool. I notice a few of them adjusting themselves as their hard-on’s begin to strain the confines of their jeans. I catch Madeline’s eye and wink. She’s enjoying this as much as I am. When the song is over, I step out of the cage into a sea of hands fighting to help me down. When my feet touch the floor I am immediately passed from one grinding body to the next. A shot is placed in my hand, which I immediately toss back, only to have it replaced with another one. The shot gives me an idea…something I haven’t done since college…and I grab the hands of the two.
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