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A Playful Hopscotch

The room was hot, tropical. A tug at a leaf proved the palms were real. The tables were occupied by intoxicated don juan’s and their girls, champagne coolers and cigar smoke. Suddenly the lights went out. Someone let out a high shriek, but before panic could spread, yellow and red spotlights lit the room. 
Rapidly, silently, the buffet was rolled away. A band of sweaty waiters had taken of their uniforms and produced instruments from nowhere. A hard lonely pull of a Spanish guitar string resounded. The women gaped, were overwhelmed by the ephemeral atmosphere. The men offered daring looks and outstretched hands, the first chairs slid backwards as a violent guitar solo pierced the air. With a twist and a playful hopscotch the first couple made their entrance. Soon the dance floor filled, girls were complimented and exchanged, love was traded for lust in a night that lasted forever.

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