s exits her favorite starbucks, a tall tea and three law books in tow, and takes a seat at an empty table. she grins slightly as she acknowledges the familiar homeless woman sitting a few tables over. she spreads out her ethics books dutifully, and tries to actually learn the material she's been hearing the professor yammer on about all semester.
a few moments pass.
a young woman exits the starbucks, and sits at the table next to s.
[internal dialogue: s]: does dolce & gabbana make jeans with a big D&G in sequins? hm.
wow. that girl's ta-tas are really out there. and so not real. i mean, she is obviously barely legal, but that level of perk doesn't exist in nature. and she's just way too thin for those to be natural.
ooh, i wish rk were here to see this tall strappy gold heels. should i tell this girl it's only 4pm?
god i wish i knew russian so i could understand what she's saying to the person on the phone.
why does she keep looking at her watch?
these GW undergrads just get sluttier and sluttier.
[cue 70s porno music]
enter john, pennsylvania avenue, driving sweet ass vintage mercedes convertible. approximately 52 years of age, well-progressed balding. john nods at unknown girl, she hangs up the cell phone and walks - ney, slinks - to the car. handshake. short discussion (negotiations?). nods. john drives off with her.
s drops her jaw unabashedly, a wave of realization visibly crossing her face. a quiet guffaw, and glance at the nearest starbucks patrons, who are laughing and watching john and unknown girl drive off.
[internal dialogue: s]: holy shit. that guy just picked up a call girl! from starbucks! 4 blocks from the white house.
god i love this city.