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Date:2019-05-02
It was where she always took her customers. She asked him for a drink, but he wouldn't give her one.
The woman spread her arms and danced into the Mexican's waiting embrace. Tom smiled and nodded. I turned in time to see one of the local prostitutes, a puta big as a roadside shrine, spring from her chair onto the dance floor. Occasionally he would direct a stern glance at Tom, but Tom seemed completely unaware. The puta tossed her doughy legs to the music and the young Mexican, encouraged by her obvious vitality and suspecting nothing beyond the enjoyment of the moment, began to knock the heels of his cowboy boots against the floor.
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The puta tossed her doughy legs to the music and the young Mexican, encouraged by her obvious vitality and suspecting nothing beyond the enjoyment of the moment, began to knock the heels of his cowboy boots against the floor. Occasionally someone would move the bubble of his right arm to sip a drink.
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But until then it was a face that would keep its youth no matter how much abuse the woman heaped upon her own body.
I was about to mention Felipe when suddenly it became unnecessary. I could feel my blood shift like a tide as she passed me, such click her moon-like bulk.
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One of the men ordered a tall glass of mescal for the young Mexican and when the song was over the puta joined him and they both drank.
- Shouts Prostitutes cheers from his friends followed him.
- No guarded words or nervous glances.
- The boy grinned sheepishly, scraped his San away Felipe the table and went to her.
- He looked strong and confident and suddenly much older than his years.
- Later I noticed the puta sitting on the Mexican's lap, nuzzling his neck and now and again reaching for a glass of mescal on the table.