Nightmare In The Neon
Yumi works in a hostess bar, and something lurks in the shadows. His eyes covet her, and a grind of flint sparks. The flame dances to the tune of Yumi’s gait. Shadows cloak the corners, dark as a widow’s grief, yet she commands them like forbidden fruit. Yumi turns with poise, a siren’s vow to the night and a whispered promise to its guests. In a sleek latex catsuit, she sways to the noodling jazz as a sculptor’s muse. Its pink latex flows like a molten river under the neon’s worship....
