"Do I move you, are you willing?
Do I groove you, is it thrilling?
Tell the truth now, are you loose now
Do I move you?"
~ Nina Simone
Halfway through the second set. Three tables in the room. Conversations of politics, careers and the subjective merits of particular glassware as it pertains to one's liquor or liqueur of choice.
Enter a couple of youngish women, dressed to the nines. Little black dresses. Chic heels. The tall one shoots me a half smile as she passes. I wait until they settle and order before I lay down any vocals.
Something slow.
Low . . .suggestive.
On their way out, the tall one drops a twenty in the tip jar. "I love your music," she says. "I love your shoes," is my quick response.
I'm old enough to be her daddy's uncle, but not too old to lock eyes with a beautiful woman. I am no threat to her and she knows it.
She likes it.
I am disengaged while younger men are driven. I am liberated.
Do I move you, are you willing?
