He was drunk, maybe, but could have been sober, too. He walked like that even when he was stone cold sober.

He staggered up to me, a cat smile on his face, lazy eyes peering over small, oval glasses.

"Rosie," he said, then paused.

My breasts hang between us like elephants in the room, lifted, laced, pressed together and perfect.

"Rosie," he said, holding one hand up, thumb and finger together to punctuate his point. "Rosie, you have the most exquisite--"

I smirked at him, but his gaze did not so much as flicker.

"--most exquisite green eyes."

I laughed, and leaned in.

"I don't have green eyes," I whispered.

~

Standing with my friend by our tents. I have a beer in hand, which I have stolen from the green-eyes-man.

I have been having doubts about drinking. Alcohol is a downer, and I've been feeling down enough already.

She holds out some drugs to me.

"No," I say, quietly. "I have been feeling blue. I don't want to push it."

"I understand," she says, "but seriously. Take this. It's very mild. It will make you feel better."

I don't know if it was the drugs or the friends, or the giggling and running around in the dark chasing black cats (I swear there was a cat!), but damned if I didn't feel better.

~

"But seriously," he muttered, eyes smiling though his mouth was serious, "I'm gonna masturbate about those puppies tonight."

I suppose I ought to have been offended, but I wasn't.

I was damned flattered.

Perhaps because just previous to that he had announced:

"I had the best beer last time I went to the coast! It tasted exactly like freshly washed labia!"

And I can't help but respect a fellow who loves women enough to not only note the taste of a freshly washed labia, but know what a labia is, and enjoy it.

~

The event was too long and too short.

I was happy to arrive, and happy to leave, and happy that nobody snored too loudly.

Next, a yellow silk dress for me.

.

Rosie.

Before&After