He sat all evening with his back to her, talking to her husband. He called her husband by his name. She was referred to as 'your wife'. That inert mass that was sitting by his side. He never tried to integrate her into the conversation. The thought that a woman could have any had never occurred to him. Women were things with holes that he filled when he felt an urge between his legs. A blonde with large breasts if possible. He invited her husband over and over again to join him in his rich life of gin&tonics, easy women, long nights, smoke, dope, money and senselessness. 'Just the two of us. Between men.' Meaningful chuckle. Sniff. Swallow phlegm. Suck in nicotine. Throw head back. Purse lips.
I am life.
I am fun.
I am it.
The poor git.
