What goes on?
Hello? This the reader? No, I’m not calling collect again. Listen, I wantcha t’meet my friend, Bliss—I mean, in case you phone her next week for some nice electronic sex. Bliss (age all-of-twenty) has mad prematurely blond hair. She lives life in the express-bus lane: 5’6″, 38-27-38, and so healthy right now she has a C-cup Nike bra on. Bliss is bright, humorous, and great-hearted as the Grain Belt. I think she’ll be a star on Broadway orTVinno time—and end up with some notable pinball machine named after her. Face and attitude read big: she’s sort of a punk Mae West. Her favorite T-shirt is printed up with this—THE ONE WHO HAS THE MOST THINGS WHEN HE DIES, WINS. Anyway, last fall, Bliss tried to get a job doing credit-card phone sex. And it wasn’t simple, let her tell you.
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