I could do black magic

I could do black magic

Boy is back. *Big Grin*

Decided we needed to dance, the other night, so we found ourselves at Voodoo's, the one and only, in Colaba. Dressed for the night, of course. Boy looked amazing in a black sleeveless T and red cord pants, and I was drooling. I sound like a dolt at times, talking about him. D/d would say that I sound like a dolt most of the time, but I'm in a good mood, too good a one to respond in kind for.

;-)

The last (and only other) time I went to Voodoo's was with this Friend With Benefits from Calcutta. FWB and I had hit the club, and promptly hit the shots after that. He wasn't the kind to dance on the floor though, so he mostly hung around at the bar with his drink, while I boogeyed my ass. Came back after an hour and told him I had good news and bad news.

FWB: "What's the good news?"

CT, grinning: "Made out with thise completely sexy hottie on the floor, and took his number."

FWB, back slapping and vodka guzzling: "Well done, CT! So what's the bad news?"

CT, looking shamefaced, or as much of it as he could manage after three shots: "Not sure if he's a hooker or not!"

Well, that's always ben the case with me at Voodoo's. Can never be quite sure who's above board and who's under the wallet. Wasn't sure last Saturday either, when Boy and I hit the floor... There was big brawny and blond Muscle Mary, in a black ganji and blue jeans, red-and-white Calvins way higher than the jeans, and I could have sworn that he was a pay-boy, but when his wet hair smacked Boy's arm, and Boy responded with an angry aside about '".. the wretched pros", MM looked quite offended.

Boy likes to dance. He loves to dance. He dances in the back of the cab, when the old Punjabi cabbie puts on deedaar de, deedaar de on the ride. And when he hits a disc, he's the one who pulls me out on the floor, vis-a-vis the other way round, like it used to be with my exes. Boy's hips swivel, his eyes sparkle, and his lips smirk, because he's a fantastic dancer. (And yes, I'm gushing now.) So we danced to a number of silly songs, and quite a few of the good ones as well. Strange thing to say, but I actually prefer Voodoo's music to GB music. And of course, last Saturday, there was much of the same crowd. Recognized Punjabi Muscle Top, dancing with several nubile youing boys... Then, Iranian A was there as well, in a tight full sleeve shirt, concentrating on a tall gangly creature, and I beamed a polite smile at him. Also present was Muscle Ad Guy, with his little coterie of friends, and I shook his hand as well. Butterfly, butterfly....

My wings are clipped, but I'm not complaining.

;-)

Funny point of the evening: This ABCD who's chatted with Boy online ages also turned up in Voodoo's , and was apparently quite smitten. He kept hanging around us, trying to make polite small talk and in general trying to get rid of me. There was even that silly message later in the night about him being alone and drunk at the hotel, and whether Boy could slip away. I want to snip off ABCD's balls.

O, wait, he doesn't have any.