Christopher O’Meara
Nocturnal Admissions
It went without saying that if anyone should ask, they weren’t at the Chateau. But they all were.
Matinee idols burnt out by the pool, and starlets faded in the shadows of the garden purching last night’s mistakes. In lamplit corners of the lobby, there were agents and studio heads. And on the elevators, virgins going up and addicts coming down…
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