I spent new year's with S, her family and their friends. I love her, but she's so upper class it's almost ridiculous. Especially the friends, I've met them before and it's always the same deal. They start by bragging about their fabulous children (who are all fat and ugly by the way) for an hour or so, and then go through this year's hunting season, its ups and downs. The worst thing is they're dead serious. S understands me. From across the table, she looks at me and I look at her, sharing what we think of the surreal conversations via unspoken words and invisible gestures.
Later, after dinner, we're in her room. She, wearing a pink t-shirt and panties, jumping up and down on her king size bed, and me watching her from a velvet dressed rococo armchair, a tall glass of wine in my left hand. She's so beautiful. So pure.