Really Getting Out (1)

Cory felt lonely.

Lon Lei felt Cory.

Cory felt kinda squishy.

Cory felt bored. That was the problem ya see, with prostitutes. You could pay a woman to pleasure you, but you could never be pleased by a woman you pay.
Cory yawned therapeutically, and picked up an old Wall Street Journal to flick through.
Lon Lei looked like she felt angry, but she kept on feeling Cory.

* * *

Much later and on a different day, Cory was inspecting the felt of James' pool table.

"Oh man... that's gotta suck. This shit is expensive."
"I know," said James in reply, "You've slashed holes into it four times this year."
"Three. The other time was my dog."
A little later still the gentlemen were consuming beers.
"James, we've consumed all the beer." Cory noted truthfully. "May I borrow some money with which to buy more? I've fuckin spent all mine."
"Oh Boysterous Youth, thy tongue is sharp." was something along the lines of what James meant to say, but came out as "Fuck off, I'm out."
"So we're both broke then?"
"Seems so."
"fuck."
"yeah."
"Who's gonna pay for the felt then?"
"Ah forget it mate, it was a bad joke anyway."
"yeah."

There was a film on television which our protagonists viewed, In which funding was aquired illegally from a casino by attractive men in suits. Cory slowly started to have an idea.