She Worked the Room

I saw this movie about a woman who was beautiful and when she entered the casino floor her blonde hair said, ”Hi! “… and the high rollers, the janitor and the fat greeter, felt more relaxed, more secure, she could do that…with that special thing she had, and she always came in at the same time, when the floor was getting busy and the roulette wheels were white hot with hope and charisma, and they loved her, saying she brought good luck and fortune, and the shmucks, with silver dollar ties and western hats, bet their boots away for a smile and look at her bouncing rack… see…she wasn’t plain, no, no, not at all… she’d had three kids and was still every fat girl’s nightmare…a gazelle, with long slender legs and an hour-glass waist…her job was to work the room and push on losers to lose and winners to book a room…and they knew it…and they were suckered by her Learjet eyes and they didn’t care, and she smelt good, very good, of oranges, pine and sweet hibiscus which drifted across the room … but you couldn’t touch her .. .no you wouldn’t want to do that…you could look until your eyes became poker chips, and everybody knew and they made their bets and they looked and drooled and betted and drank and smoked and won and lost, but they never touched…no, no…they never did that.