melodramatic journey to the kitchen

rubedorubedo:

We sat down at the table. Young girl with too much makeup, you looked the part- black nails, kohlish eyes all glitter and fawn. I imagined you naked, touching your smooth, small body, your supple teenage breasts. Licking your wrists. You had promised me my tarot. To my disappointment, you drew from your purse a borrowed deck. I stopped you there, embarrassed at my own superstition, but mostly trying to avoid a false reading from a novice. I gave you my palm and said, read, please. But you screwed up the lines, and only talked about money, anyway.