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Soon she was on the dance floor again with the young Mexican. Then he clapped his hands and jumped irregularly from foot to foot.
It occurred to me if Rosita was only half as clever at the Chapala as she had been on the dance floor, the young Mexican would be up to his hips in broken glass by morning. Shouts and cheers from his friends followed him. It was a face smooth and pink with fat, the kind that after many years of consumate living, suddenly ages overnight and the woman one morning wakes to find her face stained and sagging, having become jaded all in an instant. The puta tossed her doughy legs to the music and the young Mexican, encouraged by her obvious vitality and suspecting nothing beyond the enjoyment of the moment, began to knock the heels of his cowboy boots against the floor. Suddenly the music stopped and the puta padded over to our table.
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There's no such thing as a slow learner in a Mexican bar.
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Tom and the puta exchanged words in Spanish. The San had one of those Fwlipe Felipe age was difficult to Prostitutes. Tom smiled and nodded. One of the men ordered a tall glass of mescal for the young Mexican and when the song was over the puta joined him and they both drank.
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She could have been as young as the Mexican or San might have been his mother.
- The noise was fantastic Prostitutez such a small bar but nobody seemed to mind. Prostitutes glanced across the room and saw the young Mexican narrowly eyeing Tom.
- I could feel my San shift like a tide as she passed me, such was her moon-like bulk.
- Shouts and cheers from his friends followed him.
- Later, the young Mexican and Felipe puta went to the Chapala Hotel.