A different couple

On the dance floor, Lorena kept dancing, now to the rhythm set by Axl Roses singing Sweet Chile O'Mine. It was impossible not to look at her moving her blonde hair, bottle in hand, and spinning that black minidress under which you couldn't make out her underwear. Her breasts struggled to get out of the cleavage that was oppressing them in a way, almost unfair, in full view of all. Her nipples were perfectly marked making the whole parish heart. I looked at Javier with a half smile and raising an eyebrow before toasting him again. The guy smiled at me with a wink. We just symbolically signed an agreement in which he agreed to accompany them that night in their room. Lorena felt like a fish in water provoking everyone with her insolent sensuality. He came back to us after he got rid of the local man. I smiled at him when he arrived:



-I imagine that Javier has shown you the photos of his mobile, what do you think?



-Well, I'm looking forward to seeing you live.



-So do not talk anymore. Let's go.



I liquidated what was owed by preventing them from doing it. The owner of that joint was a colleague and refused to charge them. We went out to the street looking for my car. The three of us walked together, the woman between us with her hands on our waists. Javier put his hand on her shoulder, while I didn't hesitate to grab her ass. We walked along the sidewalk, laughing at how the dancer had been left with a span of noses when he saw the three of us leave after having been chipping stones for more than an hour. Cowgirl boots clicked with each firm step of the woman. We got on my Giulia. The journey to his apartment lasted a couple of songs by Joaquín Sabina:



If what you want is to live a hundred years

Do not taste the liqueurs of pleasure

If you are allergic to disappointments

Forget about that woman

Buy a gas mask,

Stay within the law

If what you want is to live a hundred years

Do muscles five to six



And put on hair gel that does not mess up your hair