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JJ Wienkers » And again there were eleven – or, 53.

And again there were eleven – or, 53.

Only this time I was the one whose attention was being sought.

“I’ve never seen you this sober,” my friend Carla observed at Akbar last Saturday. “You still dance exactly the same, though.”

“That’s cause I just love dancin’.”

So much so that I was still kickin’ up mah feet and makin’ shapes with my arms despite the fact that I was both exhausted and had to fart. Relief was in sight, just 10 minutes away from our previously decided departure time of 1:30 a.m. when a buxom blonde swiveled her way across the room.

Heyyy,” she smiled.

Heyyy,” we, of course, returned without missing an undulation.

“My friends wanted me to come over and ask you to dance with them,” she pointed to a pair of males 10 short, black and white, 80s holdover floor tiles away.

The taller of her two friends was shirtless, his taut abdomen rippling to the beat. So, “Uh – yeah, duh I accepted her invitation.

He had some rhythm, himself, not to mention a roguish smile that extended past his imperfectly aligned teeth to his anticipatory eyes.

“What are you doing that for?” I asked slyly, touching his chest as he began to slip his shirt back over his head.

He kept it off for a while longer, but unfortunately that was all I got to see of his luxuriously lean physique. Once again, I went home to chips and dip, not dick. Alright, okay, it was salsa.

Plus, while I may have subbed white corn for coitus that evening, I did get his phone number, promise of a date, and proof of stamina as our final exchange went down after the lights went up.


3 Responses to “And again there were eleven – or, 53.”

  1. T!nK says:

    i think my fav part of this post is the tags, aaha.

  2. Billy says:

    That title reminds me of a great line from Anyone Can Whistle:

    Nurse Apple: The burning bush and the ten commandments are just two of these miracles–or eleven, depending on your arithmetic.

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