Wine Glass Show
In a dimly lit bar sits innocently a lady of most pure intentions and raw beauty. Attentive to her every need, the waiter encircles her table, his dark features alight with intensity.
In a dimly lit bar sits innocently a lady of most pure intentions and raw beauty. Attentive to her every need, the waiter encircles her table, his dark features alight with intensity. Wine for the madame? She takes him in as he leans over her table, smelling heady and sour. No, thank-you sir. This wine is a good year, he insists. He presents the bottle, and with a girlish gasp she realises it is indeed, the year she was born! His top lip curls into a sinister smile, lips black and eyes, upon closer inspection, blood-shot. His aroma, so close to her now, his keen stare. She says, maybe just a taste? Nodding knowingly, he pours a glass. Dark, red, thick and smooth, it envelops her body, as he moves behind to draw the hair back from her neck. So young and firm, and full of juice, he exclaims! The warmth spreads from her mouth, to her limbs, and lower… lower. On display, or so she feels, she asks, you like?
I like. He is staring, dark-circled eyes, staring greedily. To fully appreciate it, you must swallow. Doesn’t it taste good? Her body moves to a sensual music, warmed, guided, encouraged by the heavy wine. I could drink this all night, she concedes. He pours another glass and encircles her, as she rises to dance in the dimly lit room, where candles are burning down to the wick. He asks, you want some more?
Yes, she says. The dance is slow, his hands first on her waist, then all over, and they dance each with a glass in hand as the bottle empties, and he insures her glass is never less than full if but for a moment. With fire ignited inside, she motions him to sit, sit, and dances on her own before him. Le vin s’ecoule, le vin c’est bien – the wine flows, the wine is good.