Geena raised her left arm and signalled for another drink, whilst simultaneously inserting a roll-up cigarette between her lips and lighting it with her novelty Elvis lighter; when she flicked the wheel to spark the flint, his hips would sway impossibly from within its clear plastic casing.
"Another bottle!" she shouted to the waitress who had only had enough time to grab her tray from the bar and turn on her heel to face us.
"Geena, I'm not sure…."
"Who runs your company?" she growled. "Certainly not that fop of a boss of yours. Christ, while he's off skiing in Aspen or wherever the Hell he is, you should definitely take a little time to yourself. You've had, what, two weeks off in three years?"
I sighed and found myself eagerly fingering my glass, impatiently waiting for the refill.
"Good," she announced, tossing Elvis to the table and taking a long draw on her cigarette. "Where was I?"
"John," I replied. "You were talking about…"
"Oh yes," she said pointing with one of her impossibly thin, bony index fingers.
I had always wondered how she managed to perfect that Cruella De Ville physique, and had long since realised that cigarettes, booze and so much fast food that she hadn't passed a solid stool in five years had had a helping hand in her transformation from honours student to hate-spouting, emaciated, part-time standup, full-time journalist.
"He has turned into such a boring asshole!" she announced.
"You said that," I sighed.
"But I didn't say why."
"No," I agreed and sat back in my chair, waiting for the onslaught.
"A long time ago, he was the most sexually adventurous man I had ever met," she began. "I swear, he was into everything you could imagine, and I was along for the ride."
She stopped and squinted at me.
"You know this shit! Why am I even expounding…? Anyway, yeah, but not now."
"Ever since that witch of a wife gave him a kid he won't spill any of his precious seed because, and I fucking quote, "It wouldn't be right. That life giving liquid could be meant to prodice something as wonderful as Tawnee.""
I laughed inwardly.
"Wow, that's... uh."
"Seriously, he used to want to bathe me in jism, but now he won't let a drop go to waste."
She signalled frantically to the waiter for her wine.
"So, why are you still with him?" I ask, trying to hold the laughter in.
"To annoy that bitch of a wife of his. Cow."