The girls dress up. They don tiny skirts and mesh stockings. They accentuate their breasts with push-up bras, pink and blue, red and black. They don lace panties and sexy spring pants, wax their legs, and rub lotion into their smooth thighs. They trace circles on their skin until it becomes shiny and firm. They smear glitter and scented creams on their arms. They perfume their necks and wrists with the scent of flowers and musk.
The girls conceal their faces behind layers of loose powder, cream powder, and stone powder. They accentuate their eyes with pink and blue shadows, pearlescent and matte, lengthen their lashes with deep black two-phase mascara, pin their blond hair into elaborate buns and diagonal bangs, and attach colorful barrettes. They spray their hair with hairspray, setting their bangs and curls. They line their lips with dark lip liner and coat their lips with red and pink lipstick. They choose high-heeled shoes, patent leather, and glossy shoes. They pack their bags with powders, tissues, mirrors, lip gloss, phones, condoms, wallets, slim cigarettes, chewing gum, and elegant lighters.
Girls go to parties. They order colorful drinks with umbrellas and candied cherries, sway their hips to the club music, glance from side to side, toss their hair, run their fingers along the rims of their glasses, appraise suits and watches, offer seductive smiles and lingering glances, unbutton their blouses, cross their legs, and lick their lips.
Girls want money. Lots of money. They want evening gowns and diamond necklaces. They want to ride in black limousines, have chauffeurs, maids, gardens with swimming pools, country villas, crocodile handbags, mink coats, Chanel dresses, and Prada accessories.
Girls want to fuck. They want to have sex in huge four-poster beds with silk sheets. They want to look in mirrors hanging from the ceiling and take baths in pool-sized bathtubs, see their reflections in marble tiles, walk on heated floors, and drink Chardonnay from crystal glasses.
Girls are prostitutes. They spread their legs in public restrooms, parks, cars, piss-covered gates, bus stops, lawns, playgrounds, apartment buildings, beer stands, seedy bars, dark rooms, locker rooms, jacuzzis, stairwells, basements, strange beds, and garbage cans.
Girls wake up at noon. With a slipper in my mouth, a headache, smudged makeup, and torn clothes. With fears of pregnancy and AIDS. With a gap in my life and blurred images of last night. With a moral hangover and the resolution never to do it again.
Girls have dreams. Of great love, diamond rings, white dresses, wedding nights, kisses, and starry nights. They hide them from the world in pink diaries, perfumed stuffed animals, dried roses, vacation photos, shy smiles, and dreams. They hide them from themselves in fishnet stockings, black limousines, marble bathrooms, expensive watches, colorful drinks, and public restrooms.
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