She slipped in, no questions asked, just before the door closed. The overhead lights were a sickly amber making the selected audience look like hepatitis victims. The scented deodorizer failed to cover the smell of stale tobacco. Selecting the nearest seat in an empty row, Julie found herself behind a woman sitting alone in the next row, a seat away from the aisle. As soon as Julie was seated the woman, a vivid blonde, turned to speak to her. “Good evening. I hope you enjoy the picture.” Her large eyes brimmed with friendliness. Her eyebrows and lashes were dramatically dark in contrast to the blond hair. And you could tell from the inflection she had repeated the greeting many times. Julie murmured her thanks and said she expected to enjoy it. “My brother is one of the producers,” the woman volunteered. “Miss…?” “Mrs. Conti.” As the lights began to dim, Mrs. Conti faced forward. Then she turned and said, “Tell me later if you think the picture should be given an X-rating.”
