It was dark outside when Donald answere the door. She had said she would be there at 6 o clock but now it was more like 9.00. She was the same and asked if she could drink/share/spy/learn/get in the way/play/justify herself/help/hinder/snear/make herself feel better/love lose/

For a moment he thought she might be a spying cockteasing femme fatale. But she didn't seem quite as psychotic as most of the people he'd met latelty so he submitted to her will andbelted up.

Donald made a living nowadays as a choire boy

.............

She spent days trailing around after him, collecting video footage for her net site and listening to stories about the time Shiela Tequilla and he had "been too much for Naples".

The pantomime developed loosely around the tale of Cinderella. Donald was Donald, the Prince was a to fucking sure of herself and distant...always in control ..and scared stif really, the Sista a big girl and Buttons a look-alike

It all went well until the night of the performance, when, after drinking the free vodka, Donald shouted what dyer know about art/what dyerknow about art and she shouted back whatd'yer know anout pussy

She was mean in the downstairs department

and the hotel fire alarm went off at 5.00am in the morning. They all looked dog rough, except for Donald who had matching blue cotton Pyjamas.

They never found out "who done it" but it all anonymouse anyway