When I had first met Karen nearly ten years before, she had been as thin as a wisp, strung out on reefer and Bowie. Time had served her well, as a few extra pounds helped her from the junkie look into something a tad more feminine. Dark eyes drew me into the apartment, and soft hips neatly captured in a jean skirt sat me down on a sofa. A drink appeared in my hand and a thick joint touched her red lips.
Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov