Limply, Ann rose to her feet and after staggering a few feet, kicked off her shoes with a hearty laugh, but quickly stifled her sounds, remembering her girl friend Trudy making mad passionate love with an unidentified man on the bed. The stranger beside her guided her wobbling body through huge sliding doors. "Shall we go into my living room?" the stranger beckoned with an extra tug on her arm, warning her there was no alternative.
Ann couldn't prevent an involuntary intake of breath at the sudden flamboyance of her surroundings as she stepped down, nearly falling on her face, into the sunken living room. "My God!" she looked around in awe, "it's like a terrarium." Every inch of the spacious living room was covered with plants, hanging plants, potted plants, flowering plants, cacti, even blooming perennials.
Everything in the room looked like it had come from a museum.
The Swedish sofa sumptuously designed like a pair of huge red lips looked inviting and she plopped down on the softness of its sensuous form. Beneath her was a zebra skin rug artfully placed under the glass and silver metal table where a Wedgwood vase was crammed with poorly rolled cigarettes. Her eyes traced the smooth outlines of the marble fireplace that covered the entire wall, its brown streaks glistening in the sparkling light of the crackling fire, reflecting the blues and reds of its warm blaze. Through Ann's hazed eyes she spied twinkling lights in the distance. "Oh, you have a view!" she anxiously jumped to her unsteady feet.