Sultry smoke in colored light
flirts with a breeze, 
wiggles up to sax coming from a jukebox.

Her body channels the beat.

They bark and howl testosterone excitement.
“Jesus,” she moans in a feline tone.

He flicks ash from the butt
as he rams his fingers in the slit of the wallet
and slaps her incentive on the edge.

Goose bumps rise, lickety split she responds,
tumbles over like a spilt drink in a wet lap.

He drowns in her aroma like a scented sea.

She pulls it off, tucks it in her thigh,
and rides the music like a bull
getting friendly with herself,
twiddles his twizzle stick,
spills his nuts,
then for an encore 
disappears to the next ready buck.