Angel of the Night, pt 2

Washing out the taste of last night’s cheap booze from her mouth, she vowed to stick to whiskey this time. Whiskey didn’t make her dizzy and forget stuff. She had another date tonight, and it just might be that he was THE ONE.

A good 2 hour’s work later, the map of hard years and long journeys that had been Maxine’s face was smoothed, filled in, leveled. Cover Girl and Max Factor had done their best, and Maxine was satisfied. Laying a pink chiffon scarf over her freshly picked and sprayed curls she pulled on a baby blue polyester sheath dress and adjusted her cleavage, pushing things up and moving them around as needed. A touch of powdered peach blush at the crossroads, and she was done.

The buzzer sounded.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby, Honey,” she replied into the microphone, her cigarette voice husky and low. She hurried down the hall, swaying in her 3 inch stilettos, a meretricious apparition to the leering apartment manager leaning against the door jamb dressed only in his sweatpants and wife-beater.