“You aren't Going to Tell My Mom, are You?"
And then I saw her. Standing casually next to a guy in a T-shirt, looking around for a customer to lap dance for ten dollars in the room. It was Nora. “Holy shit!” I thought. “What is she... fifteen? Did she see me? How do I get outta here?”
...that, as we age, good footwear is more important than a girlfriend.