They were...

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bambooneedle
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They were...

Post by bambooneedle »

... at the back of Miguel El Torpedo's, a lounge where every shift of the body was noticed.

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It will go from there later...
whar
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Post by whar »

:|
Oy with the poodles, already!
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bambooneedle
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Post by bambooneedle »

The intensity threatened to blow the maracas off the wall. Then she was woken to the new act on the stage. She averted the rest of Miguel El Torpedos' gazes.
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bambooneedle
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Post by bambooneedle »

The static strobelight betrayed the rhythm of the sound of her strides and her movement till she took the mike and bathed in indigo. And that was the only sound. Miguel hit the toms with accelerating vigour and when Pancho "the puncher" Jones sprung his bass to mesmering flight she started to wail. One could try to dance to architecture, to quote a phrase, but the hours flew as the sweat drained and skeletons seemed oblivious to the state of their bodies.
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