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Playing A Part
A girl on the screen licks
her too red lips for the web
cam, tells those locked in the chat room that for 19.95
they can get a private show for 20 minutes, where
sound exists, and she'll do anything, and you can hear
her say your name during the important parts.
It's all fake, the way she
calls you sweetie and honey, her
breasts, but its easy to pretend its real, safer with the
buffer of a dial-up modem and 17 inch monitor, easier to
walk away from this relationship knowing from the start
that it will only last 20 minutes.
She mentions that she is from
Georgia, Alabama, or some
other state down South that promises a touch of country to
her voice, says that the fishnet stockings were a gift from
an ex that dumped her when she first moved to wherever
here is to take up acting.
She took up this job when she
had gotten tired of waiting
tables and serving everything on the side, the money is good
she says, but the nights are long, you can relate, and forge a connection,
imagining her as somebody else, somebody you miss, or somebody
that you just didn't have the courage to say something to.
A woman, aptly named Hot Samantha,
a late night Mecca and saint,
for the drunk, and lonely, dances faceless upon dreams tonight.
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