It had been a Tuesday, the same Tuesday that Lola would have to work much longer. She had normally spent her Tuesdays writing letters to her family, but never actually sending them. It was the fear inside of her, the realisation that under the Parisian sky she was caught in affair of loneliness. The radio faintly played, ‘Minne The Moocher’ as Lola drew her cigarette to her lips, rethinking of her choices and agreeing that she would regret the moment she threw her life away.
Her French was inadequate that night, those couple weeks back when she first arrived with all her dreams of love, lights and consumption. She hated herself for being so desperate, leaving at bay the morals she held only to find stability in this job.
She thought about that same night she had arrived, with a suitcase and a note directing her to hostel. It gave her time to think about what it was she wanted to achieve, make use of and if life would let her find someone who wouldn’t mind letting her live with them. She found it in the form of a tailored, obsidian black suit with matching Italian leather shoes, all belonging to Antoine. Antoine had been the owner of it all, the grand establishment and jewel of Paris, hotel ‘Le sens’.
The radio rudely continued to play ‘Minnie The Moocher’ as Lola reminded herself of that same sex scene she starred in with Antoine. After the occasional flutter of alluring eyes, drinks were passed to the soft crimson lips that curved to smile and exchanged to touch the muscular hands that welcomed her to the hotel…