What can YOU say in six sentences?
The Houston bar is called Prohibition where it's always circa 1922.
The cocktail waitresses dress like flappers while the dancers wear little more than aqua feathers and tiny sequined bikinis.
I'm drinking vanilla vodka with a lemon twist, taking photos when I can get away with it, asking bartenders if they ever, um, "date" the dancers.
After drink #3 I walk in on a woman peeing because she forgot to lock the stall door; she looks bored, knees and heels turned inward like a little girl in trouble, her chin resting, resigned, on the inside of a loose fist.
I'm wearing jeans with diamond bling on the ass pockets, pink "Magnifique" Chanel lip gloss, a zebra print top out of place in a fringe world so retro it's current; I feel almost a century younger.
I'm into the bow ties and felt Derbies, the headbands and garters, the innocent sex in the air, then my date tells me a story about the women he works with, how they asked him last week between giggles, "So do you like having your ass licked?"