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You couldn't ask for a finer paradise on a Saturday night. A club down by the docks that was more alluring than the swaying, flowing beauties inside. The bright boney strobe fish sign a calming arrow pointing where the treasure was at. Calling all in who are adventuring the nightlife for one helluva show. It's mysterious neon, almost argon smokey lighting dancing around like electricity in glass tubes to the desired color of the club's mood.
A palace of beauty to every nook and walkway, an artist would see the scale at which the place is every bit what it should be from the foundation-up.
But still, if at all possible, notice might be taken to a lacking quality, trait, attribute. The edifice that excells at setting the bar with the very strength and soul that got it where it was. So why not set a whole new bar and reach it's limits before starting on a whole new one.
The place was a marvel, but it could very well be much more, with a spark of high voltage juuuuust right. And luckily, that's what was walking it's way to the club, high voltage. The coolest looking buck the night is likely to spotlight the moon with and sparkle the stars upon. Sporting a variety of the definition being 1 Moderately cold. And 7 Very good.
The man with his own slant, from an impressive hair day's composure down to pointy black leather boots, demanding of his profession. He'd call his getup a "half-suit." Ties might have been bought here and there over the years, but they would always sink into a permanent hibernation deep within his wardrobe. A pearly white longsleeve buttonshirt, with a majestic neck collar fanned out over the black vest same with the cuffs. A gorgeous and sexy contrast to the man's appearance. A dark tan visible on his face, down to his slightly exposed neck where he kept two buttons undone where your regular man would have all done but the top one. His desert-tanned hands unpocketed and mediating with the cool air, venting up at that front door. Chilly-looking blue banger jeans, white shredding from knees up to near hips. He grinned up to the bouncers and with his capabilities and all around natural gift it was hard for it not to be flirty. Tapping a kitty-cat shaped key to his cheek and then letting that marinate while they looked him over. The looked less obligated to block his way that was for sure.
He walked gallantly between them, patting one on the shoulder while passing, the cool air with him, and that white cuff of his shirt sticking out from the black suit vest's sleeve, unbuttoned even, the bouncer sarcastically nodded with a frown, getting back to his watch.
The place was magic inside, and he felt it multiplied hundreds of times over with his entrance. There was a stage set so close in his sights, lights on it ever-so gently. His walk was a strut of "something else." And those boots let those around him know a "good-looking" was on the prowl.
He approached the bar, and a bit of soft talking was distinguishable to the bartender and the man. Grins, a bit of laughing, and there was a handshake! A little more talking and the bartender nodded. The hunk-a-man turned and put his presence and smile around some more of the room now straight to a path where the light was weak, a black stool was secluded, systems setup, and a gorgeous white solidbody six-string awaited company.
Boots up on that stage, and people seemed to grin expecting something out of this world, and he smiled as if he carried just that on his shoulders confidently. Those boots up on two side-by-side stool pegs, where rocker pantlegs nobily kept what needed exposed. His gorgeous well-dressed arms draped over that mirrorized white body of mahogany reflecting faint lights, making a cloudly purple and such here and there, all in the right lighting. He kept this inadvertently sexy pose while waiting on the current show to subside, and things grew quiet, the bartender cupping the side of his mouth and telling everyone to get settled in and give a big hand for the musical talent of "Darkkar."
A clap that got him grinning, and looking down in aknowledgement to the crowd, and his smile his first reward to them. The special lights were brought out where the regular ones dimmed down. And he positioned his fingers to the fingerboard in a way that looked genuine to him. And the right hand sweeped down gently, introducing the newfound music to the Alley Cat Club.
You couldn't ask for a finer paradise on a Saturday night. A club down by the docks that was more alluring than the swaying, flowing beauties inside. The bright boney strobe fish sign a calming arrow pointing where the treasure was at. Calling all in who are adventuring the nightlife for one helluva show. It's mysterious neon, almost argon smokey lighting dancing around like electricity in glass tubes to the desired color of the club's mood.
A palace of beauty to every nook and walkway, an artist would see the scale at which the place is every bit what it should be from the foundation-up.
But still, if at all possible, notice might be taken to a lacking quality, trait, attribute. The edifice that excells at setting the bar with the very strength and soul that got it where it was. So why not set a whole new bar and reach it's limits before starting on a whole new one.
The place was a marvel, but it could very well be much more, with a spark of high voltage juuuuust right. And luckily, that's what was walking it's way to the club, high voltage. The coolest looking buck the night is likely to spotlight the moon with and sparkle the stars upon. Sporting a variety of the definition being 1 Moderately cold. And 7 Very good.
The man with his own slant, from an impressive hair day's composure down to pointy black leather boots, demanding of his profession. He'd call his getup a "half-suit." Ties might have been bought here and there over the years, but they would always sink into a permanent hibernation deep within his wardrobe. A pearly white longsleeve buttonshirt, with a majestic neck collar fanned out over the black vest same with the cuffs. A gorgeous and sexy contrast to the man's appearance. A dark tan visible on his face, down to his slightly exposed neck where he kept two buttons undone where your regular man would have all done but the top one. His desert-tanned hands unpocketed and mediating with the cool air, venting up at that front door. Chilly-looking blue banger jeans, white shredding from knees up to near hips. He grinned up to the bouncers and with his capabilities and all around natural gift it was hard for it not to be flirty. Tapping a kitty-cat shaped key to his cheek and then letting that marinate while they looked him over. The looked less obligated to block his way that was for sure.
He walked gallantly between them, patting one on the shoulder while passing, the cool air with him, and that white cuff of his shirt sticking out from the black suit vest's sleeve, unbuttoned even, the bouncer sarcastically nodded with a frown, getting back to his watch.
The place was magic inside, and he felt it multiplied hundreds of times over with his entrance. There was a stage set so close in his sights, lights on it ever-so gently. His walk was a strut of "something else." And those boots let those around him know a "good-looking" was on the prowl.
He approached the bar, and a bit of soft talking was distinguishable to the bartender and the man. Grins, a bit of laughing, and there was a handshake! A little more talking and the bartender nodded. The hunk-a-man turned and put his presence and smile around some more of the room now straight to a path where the light was weak, a black stool was secluded, systems setup, and a gorgeous white solidbody six-string awaited company.
Boots up on that stage, and people seemed to grin expecting something out of this world, and he smiled as if he carried just that on his shoulders confidently. Those boots up on two side-by-side stool pegs, where rocker pantlegs nobily kept what needed exposed. His gorgeous well-dressed arms draped over that mirrorized white body of mahogany reflecting faint lights, making a cloudly purple and such here and there, all in the right lighting. He kept this inadvertently sexy pose while waiting on the current show to subside, and things grew quiet, the bartender cupping the side of his mouth and telling everyone to get settled in and give a big hand for the musical talent of "Darkkar."
A clap that got him grinning, and looking down in aknowledgement to the crowd, and his smile his first reward to them. The special lights were brought out where the regular ones dimmed down. And he positioned his fingers to the fingerboard in a way that looked genuine to him. And the right hand sweeped down gently, introducing the newfound music to the Alley Cat Club.