He tore her clothes off – with his eyes.
He winked. He sipped. He mumbled words perfumed with Bell. He tapped her hands. She slapped his hands. He smiled, displaying a cluster of teeth that sat apart from each other. His stomach bulged further with every bottle he gulped. He still managed to shake his whole weight though, dancing to his own beat as the house danced to the playing music.
She closed her ears to the ‘I like you’ that he murmured. Her eyes roamed around the room, resting on the upper wall, dotted with ‘Washington Apple. Liquid Cocaine. Navy Seal. Gladiator. Viagra…”- cocktail specials.
He tapped her again, she ignored him and instead stared at the ring on his finger.
*************
12:00am
A half-lit corner.
Laughter for some, dancing for others, silence for one. She was busy. A cigar zipped her mouth. She inhaled, once, twice, thrice. I lost count. And she exhaled, a smoke thick and clear. It dangled around her face before scattering around. Even though she released the smoke with evident victory and pride, her nose sniffed the defiled air. Does she want them back?
Then she inhaled. And sipped.
**************
12:45am
He held her hand.
She let go of his. She held his waist instead. Stability needed – her shoe has a thorny heel. In the half-darkness, they strolled and increased pace as the music grew louder. She walked in a stylish tip-toe, as though the grass was hot. One hand was busy –trying to lengthen the defiant mini-dress.
***********
1:20am
The room shook.
The wood-made dance-hall mourned at every thump of feet. Heavy and light weights danced to a rhythm, to a song none cared what it meant.
She stepped forward. Her semi-dress is blue. I like blue. The dress clang to her petite body. Then she danced, shaking her body with determined vigor, as though in defiance of the jail-dress.
***********
2:30am
They danced. They drank.
They conversed in silence.
1. ‘I’m the best dancer here, can’t you see?’
2. “I’m here to have fun, don’t care how my body moves”
3. “I know all the latest girly moves in town, just see…”
4. “I don’t really care, can copy all your strokes…”
********
3:40am
The street was calm. The night chilly. The city was asleep. No, it wasn’t.
From the beginning I didn’t know what “Bar Hopping” was all about. Towards the end, you made clear. Great piece Harriet.
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Beautiful flow of events.. I like it
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Thank you
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Great narrative, i like it! But you’ve osso left us in suspense, eh!
#justkukuss.blogspot.com
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Thanks a lot Arthur. The suspense is intended actually, to spice up the flash-fiction.
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Hey! This post could not be written any better! Reading this post reminds me of my previous room mate! He always kept chatting about this. I will forward this page to him. Pretty sure he will have a good read. Many thanks for sharing!
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Love the flow of events here. Great piece Nena
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Thanks Olive
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Nice piece here Harriet
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Much appreciated Moses
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