Blonde lives

They each looked a little bit like Sharon Stone, sitting there on one of the nearly vertical end seats of the NE Corridor 7:01 Express. Like Stone worn down, with brown freckles from too much sun and the haughty disdain for those less blonde and a half disbelief that they were on the train at all. Sporting an odd amalgam of business and club wear. Had they been "working"? Would they drink a buttery Chardonnay when they got home? One had to wonder.