I walked into the bar and immediately concluded that this was how a pimp’s room would look like had I imagined it. Dim red lighting and hazy scented smoke gave it a psychedelic feeling and One Minute Man by Missy Elliot playing in the background added to the pimpish atmosphere. Of course there were the classic white, gauzy curtains that billowed from unseen wind and imitated the sinuous movement of the scantily clad women scattered all over.

One woman in particular caught my eye. Perched atop a table near the main bar, her dark arresting eyes bore into mine as she moved to the music. Her hands gave the impression that they did not belong to her as they ran over her body; seemingly with the intent to possess. Lewd sensuality poured off her in waves as she winked at me and moved her hands southwards. Jesus. Mary. And Joseph. On a bicycle to Jerusalem. What the hell was she doing here?
I hadn’t expected to run into her in this particular place; she did not seem the type to frequent such establishments but then again I was learning that this was a night full of shattered expectations. Who knew that she was such a coquette? Her shy demeanour was certainly absent as she cast several smouldering glances towards my direction.

She tasted like stale cigarettes with a touch of vodka. As if I wasn’t high enough, her tongue was eliciting euphoric feelings that I’d never experienced before. The sexy raunchy bass line had us grinding into each other with an intensity that almost set fire to the air around us. We were practically breathing each other’s air and our hands had run amuck ages ago. I was vaguely aware that we had an audience but that all faded when she pulled me in closer and whispered, ‘Take me home.’



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