We arrive to the city of no clocks
Where the streets are paved with dial-a-date, bare breasted hussies on business cards,
The air muddled with liquor
And the sound of tribal beats, echoed by horns, bells and whistles topped off with various pitches of colloquial conversation.
I stand in line, Jack in hand waiting to swagger into the club grinning..... now this is vacation!
A Betty Paige vixon-like statue, erected from the balcony surrounded by the luminescent glow of the fiery red Diablo sign beckons us
Inside, a slight resemblance of dia de los muertos decor of mirrors, skulls and vivid colors
The room consumed of vodka pouring red and black lace-like negligee wearing go-go dancers
Glasses clinking, lights stalking the dance floor mixed with sweat drenched bodies, tangled together in a sultry tango... now this is vacation
The dance.... so erotic
His palms skim the contour of her body
Swaying together to the cadence from the bass
Her hands clench his legs. She slithers up and down his body
They spin only to find themselves face to face, bodies pressed together
He caresses the small of her back
Her thighs threatening to swallow each side of his
They kiss a passionate kiss. The kiss only known to sinners of a forbidden love affair.
Ohhhhhhh now this is vacation.