Can You Hear Me

"Samantha!" She yelled up the stairs to her daughter. "It's time to come down to dinner. Can you hear me?"

Sam looked at the door a moment then zipped up her black vinyl boots. She smoothed her shiny vinyl skirt down her hips, adjusted her bustier, checked the dark eyeliner around her eyes and sighed.

"I hate this," she growled as she pulled on a sheer white button down shirt and tied it around her mid-drift. "I look like a prostitute."

She fluffed her wildly curled hair then smoothed a tube of blood red lipstick over her mouth. She pressed her lips together, fluffed her hair again then walked out of her room.

"Saman…" her mother yelled up the stairs again, stopping mid yell as Sam, dressed in all her black vinyl short mini skirted glory made her appearance.

"Why are you dressed like a cheap whore?" her mother asked acidly. Sam didn't respond. She kept walking.

"Answer me young lady!" Sam grabbed her purse from near the door and took a deep breath.

"Can you hear me?" Pamela Manson screamed. "Where are you going?" Sam said nothing and made no indication that she was at all aware of her mother as she calmly let the door close behind her.