Meat Jacket

Meat Jacket

english-creative writing
MEAT JACKET
“I fear that our technology has far exceeded our humanity” -Albert Einstein
 

RETINAL DELIGHT NIGHTCLUB, 9:32 PM
She was an alluring woman, to say the least. Her auburn hair was cut in a razor-thin line across her cheeks, jutting out a full three inches from her lips.   It was cut short enough to allow the small strand of pearls around her neck to be in full view, but long enough to keep her from looking butch. Although Harrison doubted that short hair alone would knock her down the beauty scale except maybe from stunning to striking. Her swan-like neck stretched downward into the black bubble-vest she was wearing, her skin white as cream. Under the vest, a gray skin tight cotton long sleeve shirt stretched over her long, thin arms which showed the slightest hint of muscle tone. The sleeve ended at a loop, in which the woman had slipped her middle finger. Harrison noted in his observation that the ending of the sleeve looked rather like the tip of a fountain pen.   Her pants were silk looking and fell ever so delicately over her calves and thighs. The black koulats were at least $500, and Harrison knew a woman like her rarely had to pay for her trinkets. She sat at an angle at the table, so she could set her drink down, but the rest of her body was out, facing the crowd. Her acquaintance for the evening wasn’t decided just yet. Harrison followed her legs down to her feet. They were small, Lilliputian almost in size. This was not to say that she looked foolish because of them. Quite the contrary. They were wrapped in leather heels, making them look long and dainty. Harrison shifted in his seat. The woman was looking at him now. She raised an eyebrow at him, he averted his eyes. When it came to watching he was a pro. When it came to contact, he was poor, at best.

He looked downward into his drink. The club’s noise was blaring, letting him speak quietly to himself. His beer was a green tint under the light, made dull...