Don’t Imagine That If You Wait Long Enough, Something Will Happen
BY JEAN TUCKER
After one a.m. on the Virgin channel two brunettes in luscious undulation, nearly identical except that one wears a black, the other a leopard-print thong. They remove each other’s bras like gardeners freeing prize dahlias from the bindweed. The breasts of one are tawny globes, the other’s tilt slightly heavenward.
Their liquid motion has all the urgency of Sisyphus matching himself at billiards. And the background music — synthesized vibes and coos — is a lawn sprinkler forgotten on wide sweep while the owners are off for the weekend, perhaps feeding their two rolls of quarters into the slots or dancing with strangers in the Galaxy Lounge
or at the bottom of a gully, pinned upside-down in their Durango, the wheels still spinning.
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