I am writing something for mini nano. I don't know what, but I really have to actually do this.
First four words from Top Gear, because.
The alluringly tuetonic bombshell propped herself up against the fireplace. Mark suspected she was drunk from the concentration this took. She caught him watching and tossed her thick blonde hair, a careful smile gracing her slender lips.
Mark ran his eyes around the room. Most of the people were in various stages of inebriation, and all of them were trying to pretend otherwise. Parties got boring as you got older. People were talking very enthusiastically about the economy, and swapping banks and building societies with each other. The air was too hot and heavy with the nicotine patches of fifty wish-they-were smokers. The atmosphere was dense and tired, pressing against - leaning against - the charmingly wooden walls of the chalet like a little more desire would burst the whole middle class, middle aged, middle management shebang in the dirty snow outside.
The Germanic blond turned out to be Indian, which threw Mark a little. She was high rather than drunk. And it turned out she had syphilis, which really caught him out.