Sultry Cigar Lovers Night
Down the street there, yes over there, is the place where fancy-dancy folk hang out to smoke a pack or two. The limo pulls up and killer beautiful men exit with tall gorgeous dames on their arms. The giggling along with, no, just the giggling, drives me mad and sends sharp knives spiraling down the middle of my back.
I park my convertible Mercedes around the corner and walk through the alley and enter the back door to the place I call home. Home in the sense that I practically live here night after night, to get away from the fancy-dancies. I look back concerned about my 1958 slate blue beauty, and wonder if she’ll be ok without a chaperon.
My skirt is tight, my bottom is round and my legs, nice and firm. I guess running has it attributes after all. My breast are alert and peak over my vintage suede vest. The bartender nods to say, that my glass of Monkey Shoulders whiskey neat, is sitting on a bar stool next to the ashtray.
I test the mic, light up a Cohiba and whisper into the dark room, “welcome to my world.”
Sultry and deep, I sing a tune that takes them to a place where love is deep and lovers even deeper. A sip of whiskey, a long puff of stogie, and I continue on the journey where my body is hot and my lover is strong.
The atmosphere is dark and dingy with curls of Cuban cigar smoke dancing in the air. Men and women sipping Angels Envy, look on nodding, as I move my body from side to side. Another puff, another sip and I put them to rest with the thoughts of me panting and my lover sweating on a beach in Costa Rica, where the night is old and the moon shines on my naked soul.
I finish off the Monkey, tilt my cigar and admire the ash, and with the mic in its’ holder I lean in to it and whisper, “sweet dreams.”