“One of those swanky parties?”
“Black tie, RSVP, the whole drill. St.John never does anything halfway.”
“Ostentatious bastard. Probably pumping the crowd for votes, too. Check the coats dear, I need to powder.”
I traded the coats for a pair of claim tickets, and stepped into the dining hall.
At the front of the room, a young lady stood waiting in a bathrobe. Cameras flashed as the robe dropped to the floor, and she spread herself across and elevated dining table, completely nude.
A man seemed to be directing her… Bouncer? Bodyguard?
My wife returned from nose-powdering and peered over my shoulder.
“Ooh! I’ve heard of these. Nyotaimori, they’re going to serve sushi directly from the model’s body.”
The bodyguard fellow was donning a chef jacket.
“Sure I can’t stomach anything like that, sounds unsanitary.”
Screams. He was wielding a meat cleaver, hacking.
“Not sushi.” I could see clearly for one heartbeat before the dinner crowd stampeded.
ParkInkSpot 