The Funky Pussy Club

I'll have to find what I first wrote and post that up because I liked it better. Obviously I trusted my tutor's feedback - even if poetry is subjective - but here is the reworked version of my attempt at a prose poem.

It was a cold evening in Hamburg, a hot night on the Reeperbahn. I saw her as soon as I walked in the club. She spoke fluently with an accent I couldn’t pick, and danced like no one I knew—cute. I won her phone number over a bet about my age. We danced for a bit. Then she said she felt like chocolate—quirky. The nearest place open was charging double but I got some anyway. When I came back, €1.29 poorer, she had her hand up some other guy’s shirt. Then the Kooks’ “You Don’t Love Me” came on. He laughed, she said sorry and I left and gave her Milka to a stranger at the train station. I never tried again with a tourist.

Requirements for this task: reference to a book or movie (I hope she accepts the song - I didn't even ask about it) and not more than 150 words. I was well under and had to flesh it out a bit. Also I attempted to write it in German as the main submission with an English translation to accompany it (because it's supposed to be his point of view and he's a German) but my tutor said it was probably better the other way around.