The Condition of the Sheets
an army of sweating mules- supple-looking, with iridescent lapels
- “like a cat?”
- a month’s rent in advance
- the Trump Bordello
- wearing only yachtsman’s loafers and underpants
The condition of the sheets suggested that the bed had been the scene of some great undertaking by an army of sweating mules. But the condition of Rodrigo’s attire made it clear that, if he’d had any part in those labors, he was now above such menial things and destined for a corner office. His lime-green corduroy trousers were counterpointed by a plasticine blazer in tones of orange and gold, supple-looking, with iridescent lapels. (It was surely a very stylish corner office.)
Three sharp knocks at the door. Rodrigo crossed the suite and opened the door to Faye-Wren, his confidante, his bookie, and his hired wrench. Her pillbox sat askew to the right, meaning her latest assignment had been completed successfully. The twinkle in her almond eyes meant she’d heard about Rodrigo’s exploits of the previous night. “Was she very flexible and fastidious?” Faye-Wren asked impertinently, “like a cat?”
Rodrigo responded with a lazy-eyed smile. His carnal escapades had centered on someone quite catlike, but not feminine in the least. By paying a month’s rent in advance, he got first pick of the diversions on offer at the Trump Bordello.
It was then that Faye-Wren doffed her hat, and Rodrigo saw that the gesture left her wearing only yachtsman’s loafers and underpants.
bonus points for using them in order!