Flying (Back from Hong Kong)
The Chinese stewardesses all have tightly wound buns, little flower buds of sinful jet hair. Their mane is night against their virgin white complexion, powdered perfect in a way only whores wore makeup a hundred years ago, when flying over an ocean was just a child’s dream. They all have one lilting voice, that graciously mangles English syllables: “Woul you cah for caffee?” They all twitter and nod like little caged birds, their perfect brows arching like a back on a bed: I’m here to serve you, those soft parentheses say between model smiles. They stroll smoothly despite any turbulence: the thousands of feet of air under their heels may as well be the wood floor of their grandmother�s house. Their skin-toned costume hints at the slim, naked body underneath, and when I watch one woman, I watch them all, leaning over a sitting man and smiling at his request.
31.Mar.2008, 06:33 pm
reminds me of this: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2007/11/11/wolympics111.xml
31.Mar.2008, 07:12 pm
AHHHHHH, I just had to loosen my belt as I now crave desert. This savory snipit was simply small Hors D’Oeuvres that you secretly crave more of, you search the room for, but the elusive server carrying the elusive tray has disapeared never to be seen again! Thus leaving you craving dinner, or desert…and Yes K, your desert is especially served best as a main course!!!! GIMMIE MORE!
12.Jan.2009, 11:36 pm
[...] bit of a blackhole, I’ve packed just this from Miami to Tokyo to Hong Kong, and, right now, San [...]