The jukebox clicks and starts playing, “Ohhhhh, my love… my darling …I’ve hungered for your touch…” as I sidle up behind you and kiss your neck.
You moan softly and your pot wobbles and collapses in on itself. A classic piece of art gone forever as my hands roam your scantily-clad body.
Together, we try throwing another pot, but we soon get distracted by our need to kiss.
The song continues….
We dance slowly together and then, still kissing, collapse on the bed.
The song ends, clicks, and the next record starts to play, “Ooo-oooooo-oooh, Ooo-oooooo-oooh, Everybody was Kung-Fu fighting…”