Leaving Las Vegas

by John O'Brien

He will feel her heart beat and sit in joyous wonder of her, someone who takes the trouble to work so hard just to live so hard: a neat trick.

Instantly there is between them, however slight, that elusive chemistry which occurs only occasionally when two people meet. Always a welcome surprise, it is a sort of quick familiarity, implied permission to conduct relations at a level which is a bit deeper than the superficiality of introduction.

Too, she hasn’t felt inclined toward apprehension lately. She has quickly faded into an observational fatalism—or is it bland apathy? She doesn’t really care.

I do expect some sort of loyalty here. Just because I fuck for money doesn’t give you cause to start picking up women and leaving me looking silly.” She holds her eyes firmly, and they seem to veto the smile that sits beneath them. A technical jest that is an actual law, this is true communication, a woman at her finest.