She dragged hard on the cigarette hanging from her lips as she pulled the last curler out of her hair, leaving a deep red ring on the filter. Finger combing the curls out made them last a little longer. She shook her head and dropped the cigarette in the toilet. The depleted glass on the counter sent her to the kitchen for a refill. Bourbon was the easy choice. Back in the mirror, she laid thick black lines on her eyes and feathered her lashes to disguise the age that her face had not acquired through time, but circumstance. She was wearing a soft, tight skirt and a low cut top to flaunt her breasts. She slipped on a pair of heels and reapplied her lipstick before leaving for the night. Purse check; money, cigarettes, lighter, drugs, check.

They all knew her here, she was a regular. The whiskey she'd drank at home kept her loose and friendly from the get go. She chatted her way around the rail, eyeing potentials and waving the bartender over to take her order. "Tanqueray, baby, rocks." As she slid her cash across the bar she noticed a guy at the end checking her out. Within minutes she'd gotten a light for her cigarette and had him engaged in meaningless conversation.

Tulsa night life; filth, gin, a slut.