Vanity. Ares

pout. This all culminated in her actions coming
across as one big sigh. I enjoyed watching her
buttocks as she walked to the stand, but looked at
the jury and did notice a bald white man and
member of the jury watch me do so; just catching
a glimpse of me glancing at Maria’s buttocks to
then look at my face, and this action was done two
times in quick succession. I looked back at the
bald white man and I felt it was all duplicitous; in
that he had an earring and a tattoo on the right of
his sleeveless arm hanging off his broad
shoulders, which gave me the impression that he
could handle himself. More so, I thought he was
duplicitous because he looked like he probably
read the Sun, probably drove a white van and I
guessed that he was a plumber or an electrician.
At the time I mused that the bald white man
would probably had reacted just as I had in such a
situation, as all Sun readers would not be into the
trials clever nuances and political correctness, all
spearheaded by the prosecutor. I took my eyes off
of the bald white man and looked back at the
witness stand as Maria stood with a straight
posture and a high chin, looking as if she were
looking down at us, and suggesting that the trial
was all a big to do, she was too good for.
The Prosecutor asked her: “How do you
know the defendant?” “A few Jazz Clubs, we
gigged together and became familiar,” replied
Maria with shrug, matter-of-factly. “How do you
feel about Mr Ares Dionysus?” inquired Cesare.
“He’s alright to me,” she shrugged, again. “So
Maria, the night Myra and Ares met, you were in
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