We were liquored up and keen to dance and they saw us straight away. An unattached white male? Boom. You've not seen women like this unless you've been to Cuba. That might sound sexist; it certainly sounds crass but I cannot recall ever seeing a concentration of living, breathing and not photoshopped women so alarmingly physically attractive. It is, after all, the sort of thing one remembers.
They were tall and lean and Latin, booties, busts and bare shoulders, all flesh and eyelashes and vacuum-packed in elastic mini-dresses. One surprised me. I didn't see her until she swept a finger down the small of my back. She wore massive heels and a blood-red dress, early-20s maybe, and purring.
My brother giggled.
"No, gracias ... ahhh ... Somos juntos!" he said. We're together. We're lovers.
"Prove it and kiss him, then," she cooed in Spanish and was off, quick as a cat.
