The Devil's Favorite
Politician-types, with grey streaming their beards in a way that they think is fashionable, smoking more than a chimney in winter, eyes half-shut as they watch the table.
And on the table? Not their drinks or their endless supply of lung cancer inducers, but a woman- one of Babylon's girls. She is spread over it, knees in the air as one of the men runs his tongue over her breasts. Her eyes are closed as she grips her knees with white knuckles, moaning at the top of her lungs, writhing. Her naked torso is covered in dollar bills, the crisp notes all over her waistline and belly, leaving her bare breasts and the apex of her thighs in the glare of the crazy, red lights.
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