Misha stepped over to it and picking up a half used tube of foundation commented ‘Nothing different here. Just like at home, all your crap covering every surface.’ Suzanne walked over next to him, ‘It’s not crap sugar, its war paint.’ ‘Is it a war? Is that how you see it? Men against women.’ ‘War between the sexes,’ shaking her head, ‘No. More of a war against nature.’ ‘Suzanne you’re a beautiful woman. When are you going to believe it?’ ‘That’s thanks to all the ‘war paint’ sugar, and the laser treatment.’ Misha looked up at the posters on the wall, one of Marylyn Monroe posing in the Seven Year Itch, her white dress floating up around her legs, her breasts pushed forward in the halter top, and another of Bogart wearing his white tuxedo in Casablanca. Dreams and fantasies. Not real life. Hollywood images that she had bought into. Later, lying on the couch, where he was meant to be sleeping with a blanket thrown over him he missed her. He found it difficult to get comfortable and he. We danced and danced, andEric nibbled at my ear, and we danced some more. Before we knew it thesun had set and the last band of the day played a huge finale on themain stage, but even after that the whole area was alive with people andmusic. Even when it started to rain people still gathered in from oftents with instruments of their own and with hula hoops and food andbeer and drugs. It wasn't until the rain picked up that Steffie andSally ducked into Andrew and Chad's tents, and I jumped into the buswith Sally, Sean, and of course, Eric. I had no idea what we were toeach other, but I didn't care. Everything felt right and wonderful.Everything seemed to go quiet except for the sound of the rain in theroof. Susan clicked on an electric lamp and we sat down on the blanketslaid out in the back of the bus, Susan and Sean on one side, and me andEric on the other. Sean had his arm around Susan and very slowly sheturned to him and started kissing him. I looked down at my hands whichlooked.
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