She was in her element walking the concrete sidewalks, listening to the buzz of traffic and the hum of city life. One reason was because as a child she lived in the old downtown of the small town, where the movie theater, the bank, several restaurants and most of city’s government structure was located. As a child she’d seen empty wine bottles and empty snuff boxes littering the streets on Sunday morning.
Richard E. RiegelMots clés streets
The life of a cigarette girl.
Hawking cigarettes, breath mints and the occasional condom wasn’t actually the end-all and be-all job occupation for Linda.
But without a high school diploma, and a sincere lack of interest in what some would consider a career, she knew her options were limited in today’s society.
Oh, no, here at the Club Festival, ethics and morality were only gauged as highly as the limits of an individual’s cash in the wallet.
Money, honey, that made things move all about her.
Linda Avery was a city girl, born and bred.
She was born in the big city of Portland, Oregon, and although raised in a small town a few miles away, came to the big city for excitement. She came to the city both with her parents as a child and as an adolescent on her own. She remembered that back in the day, coming into Portland with her parents was a matter of finding the main drag, Burnside Street, that connected the west side with the east side; now there’s more than one freeway route through town.
Mots clés tough-city
At her age, another woman would wear her hair shorter and her skirts lower. But Linda had that classic Nordic skin: pale, soft and clean looking. The kind of woman who doesn’t need to wear much if any makeup. She wore lightly-applied lipstick, but kept her blond hair basic. Sometimes she let it flow, easy and beautiful; other times, done up tightly with bobby pins. No matter, because she was Beauty, the men Beasts.
Her clothes were simple, too, not plain, but easy on the eyes, like her face. Easy on the eyes. She was the kind of a good lookin’ dame you’d be proud to call your wife. She was innocent looking; yeah, well, that’s one in her favor.
Because men trusted her, because she acted with such guileless innocence, she became confessor to numbers of men with no one else to turn to. The cigarette girl.
“Hey, babe!” Gunnar Swernbernin shouted as he snuck up behind Linda at the Club Festival.
“Eowww!” she shrieked as Gunnar grabbed her around the midsection.
Linda turned quickly around and slapped her molester. The sound reverberated throughout the club.
“Ouch!” Gunnar yelled. “You didn’t have to do that!”
“Buster,” she yelled back, “the next time you touch me, prepare to die!
Mots clés cigarette-girl
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