It was Saturday night in San Juan and the great mahogany lobby and bar of the hotel overflowed as hundreds crowded in to hear the Latin gods of music.
And there on the dance floor was this girl, this vision in red, swaying, throwing her head back with long hair flowing, laughing. Even as the Gipsy Kings sang and strummed guitars and beat their drums, they could not take their eyes off the beauty before them.
By herself on the dance floor, something had set her free. She flowed with their music, the music moved her across the floor as she swung her hips toward the band and then out towards the crowd emphasizing the beat.
The lead singer, a raspy baritone, stretched his neck upward to reach the higher notes of “Bomboleo,” but his roving eyes never left the girl as she danced, stomped, and clapped her hands before his band.
– The Adored, written by Tom Connolly