It’s several steps above the TV dinners I always eat because I’m too busy working extra hours to cook real food. Cooking… I still wonder if I should have stayed home this weekend and indulged my cooking hobby instead. It was a safer passion than this. Fake palm trees decorate the stage, and even the tablecloths are in the familiar leopard print. Looking at it makes me wonder if I’ll see spots forever. Zena scrapes the last bits of crumbs of chocolate cake from her plate. When Dorothy and I shake our heads at her, she asks, “What?” “We’re wondering how you eat so much and stay so thin,” Dorothy says. I clear my throat. “Actually I wondered if you had an orgasm while you ate that cake. It sure sounded like it.” “Nope. I’m saving that for the men’s dance.” She snatches a coconut from the centerpiece, knocks on it and hands it to me. “Speaking of men, this is what a hard-on should feel like, Janice.” Frowning, I stuff the brown globe back into the centerpiece.
