Platform Go Go Boots
I still remember those endless nights. A single image: you covered with glitter dancing on the platform. You downtown. You my flight. You arrived at midnight, and a miserable storage room naked and I'll spread the glitter on your chest, your arms, your legs. Your street clothes were common, you would not have drawn attention. Your college friends could not imagine anything. Neither your body was spectacular. It was just beautiful, sculpted smooth and harmonic forms, unusual in a go-go disco. Perhaps you were hired just for that, but I think it was so fabulous you. Also, your escape from the striking face, had to look twice to fall hypnotized by your eyes, your lips made for the most tender kiss. And it was in that room where you will be transformed under my care. I'll catch the slip and leather boots, I painted the mascara and spread a thin purple shadow on your eyelids. You never talked, me neither. Our breath enough, those little noises of objects to communicate. Rang out deafening music, anticipating the frenzy that happen to those minutes, my love, I felt so close to you. At first many people had never, and I could stay awhile at the bar casual, lost in thoughts, however, always ended up in you. Then I went back to see you and slow your roll, your timid advance on the platform. You said that you always start trouble, walk the path that led to the character of seduction to be built. But gradually he succeeded, I think . . Suddenly, without realizing the club was full, and those guys fleeting thrill-seekers began to dance the tide. I could not stop looking, and with each jolt of your chest, every flight of your hips, shrug my heart to drown. The volume of the speakers wove brutal silence in which my trouble beating constantly. All those eyes fixed on you, that thirst of desire filled by your body, beautiful built in devotion, you on a pedestal. And it was to download it to rest when I threw into this sea of ??shadows and paddled furiously toward you before any idiot would talk. When he was not and had to wait with your eternal KAS lemon in my hand, the worst instincts were unleashed in me, and your looks reassuring my desire not eased over the face to believe that it hastened to give your phone that you do not rejected. Then you came to me, you gave me a kiss and I forgot everything, you beat me and absorbed the mixture of sweat, smoke and lust that permeates your skin to make me mad. So the hours passed, the weekend nights when you became a go-go. The rest of the time were the same timid boy who had known the film out of this a few months ago. But one Sunday morning, during one of our sweet rides around town, I said you met a guy, that one of those phone numbers you had not deleted and that after he had found someone very special. .
