Female Inflation

Two quick squirts of Axe Phoenix. Sixteen minutes of laboriously brushing teeth. An eighty dollar dress jacket. Sixty dollar slacks, a twenty dollar purple tie and a forty dollar, yellow Van Heusen shirt. Shiny black dress shoes. Nearly thirty minutes arranging said tie to just the right length and position. Finally, after so much time, effort and money, I was ready.

Ready for my first dance with my new girlfriend.

A cheap motel, sitting where the cornfields meet the suburbs, is nearly vacant on this damp evening. Two cars sit in the dark lot, water beading on them. The rain has stopped now but its remnants fill the trenches and drains, soak the ground and splash under the tires of cars that whir past. One car slows and turns into the parking lot; emptying a pot hole with a splash. It comes to a stop beside one of the other cars; its lights go off and engine silences. After a few moments the door clicks and opens. A man steps out wearing a suit, loosely covered by a long overcoat.