I am not going to sleep with him. The words go on repeat as I wait for Brian to return from the bar.

​

   Dry ice puffs out from the base of the god-like DJ’s sound deck. A kaleidoscope of sound intertwines within my ears, masking all thought. Colour and shade intersperse, animating everything around me as the sea of bodies beckons. Raised arms, eyes closed; all ebbing in unison to the ‘doof, doof’ beat.

​

   My brain is bombarded. It’s too hot, too dark, too bright, too...

​

   I squint, stilling myself, seeking normality. My magnetised flesh anticipating what’s to come.

​

   Limbs and torsos bump and grind around and against me, the stench of sweat lingering in the air like smog. The addictive pulse infiltrating my every pore until I’m a willing traveller in this hypnotic world. Digested and regurgitated into something unreal, nothing makes sense, and yet it all completely does. I’m feeling it—bliss.

​

   I drift, embracing these strange, yet familiar sensations.

​

   A tap on the shoulder tugs me back, and with heavy eyelids, I acknowledge him.

​

   He says something. I can’t hear him, so he closes in, cupping my ear.

​

   ‘I was worried you’d done a runner.’

​

   His voice is like mellow whisky pouring into my ears. Soft whiskers brush against my enflamed cheek, a hint of alcohol wafting from his delicious mouth.

​

   ‘No, I’m still here,’ I say, steadying myself.

​

   ‘I’m glad you came tonight.’

​

   ‘So am I,’ and there is some truth in that.

​

   My body betrays me, and I melt into him. We sway together, immersed in this synesthetic world drawing us closer to an inevitable climax.

​

   Damn.