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All bangles and boobs, Madam Joy bursts into the room. Her pink dress is silk and taffeta, sequins and flounces, sensationally low cut.

Madam Joy is loud with lipstick and laughs as she gulps bubbly and wobbles and prances, moonwalks and dances...then rearranges the cheap objects that adorn her body. Her bosom exudes the scent, 'My Sin', from gay Pa-reeee.

Madam's flesh is white like a revealed secret but it's mottled by old sunburn. Her cream foundation is dusted with powder and rouge and three colours red.

I look up through grownups and peer through the noise and wince with delight. Madam Joy has seen me, her face twists with a grin. Slippery and sloppy with, with, with gin. And like a symphony orchestra she sings--

 

Dylan darling!!!
 

and she makes movements towards me like a...

like a...  Next

 

   


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