The Club Scene (narrative)

"Predrinks with your girls erase the anxiety of social interaction and vanish taboos, making most anything excusable. Stupid remarks, disorientation, forgetting peoples names all quite forgivable in your current state. The music is blasting, the same club songs over and over at the house, as if you were practicing for the real deal or getting pumped up for a big game. My girls groom each other like they are preparing for some type of ceremony, lending clothes, straightening each others hair, doing their make up. Becoming totally different people. They dress up in costumes; bright dresses that are more like shirts, paired with leggings and heels. Making themselves up to look "skanky", wearing the title almost proudly.

After drunken stumbling to the bar, you wait in the freezing cold in your dresses trying to keep your hair in check and your feet safely on the ground, making sure you have all your things still and that you get the correct change after every interaction. The bouncer at the door checks my id and bag, and then I'm admitted into the madness. Entering the club is like entering a parallel universe, the music pumps, beating to the peoples writhing bodies. The whole place seems to exude a dangerous and exciting sensuality, as people take advantage of their unaccountability and disguises. The men who aren't on the dance floor seem to linger eyeing women near the doorways and in the shadows , drooling, waiting to pounce like tigers. The club lights flash and the music pounds its rhythm into my very being, rattling like electric shock surging through my rib cage as I step over the sharp floor of broken glass. Crunch, crunch, crunch, feeling the crushing of brown beer bottles and glasses under my feet. I'm surrounded by people, all over the dance floor, hands in the air, shouting lyrics, flipping hair, shaking their asses. People above too with drinks looking down on us, mostly men, their faces green, red, blue and yellow as the lights hit them. The drunkest girls get up on the stages on the side of the club, getting up on the poles. Men roam, weaving in and out of the groups, wriggling through spaces, scouting for girls, taking it all in. Looking suave like blank slates, nothing but testosterone behind the eyes.

Most rules are discontinued at this point. Girls act as if performing mating dances, and men approach licking their lips and grabbing. It is perhaps as close as humans will ever get to being primal like other mammals, as men choose their ladies and pull them close from behind, women unopposing in most cases. And then it's like you are fucking right on the floor and the men will feel you and rub you and try to take you home. And that's when you are shocked into reality again if you are sober enough, and responsible you will put a stop to it and run to another man or back to your friends or home..
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.. End... "