Foot skin and dinner mint belly buttons.

On her shoulder, also sleeping like a nymph, lays Charlie. From the side of her jeans, in connection with the way she is laying, sits her handle bars of fat. So sexy they sit and protrude from the tops of her tight waist line. Like a cup cake. The chunk rolls around the base of her waist and settles across her seat belt with a fine layer of hair shinning in the afternoon dusk. In the center of her gut, just below the inside of her belly button are the indents of her jean buttons. They soak with the soft pink brusing of the steel zipper and machine stiched key hole. It opens up at the crest of her navel and dips in and out as she scoots back and forth on her buttox while she makes her self comfortable. They don’t snore but they whimper quietly while they sleep. The two girls. Lauren, Charlie and me, trying to catch an elbow of foot skin, you know, just to satisfy my proctreational urges.