It was like standing on the brink of a pit full of snakes. You couldn't tell one from another, just writhing bodies--heads, arms, hands, mouths--one blending into another like a huge, rabid organism. And this thing was hungry. Starving. Grooving, spinning, pumping, needing to be fed. You are helpless to disobey. It sucks you in, and your arms, hands, head, mouth become entwined with others. You lose yourself, but gain thousands of mismatched parts. Your left hand, once slim-fingered, now boasts heavy gold rings. Your right leg now wears fishnet while your left is sheathed in shiny black leather. Your torso is hard, black skin, muscles flexing under a straining ribbed t-shirt. Your hair remains your own, now stringy and slick with sweat. A hand constantly moves in front your eyes (you think they're still your own), though they serve no purpose but to spin colors into your brain--a crazed kaleidoscope fucking with your balance. Luckily, hands, biceps, six-packed stomachs thrust against you and keep you upright. Your rhythm is its rhythm, kept going by the master, the man with the music. A pause between songs could kill this thing, so one beat flows into the next, through and around each other, flirting & twisting, so you keep dancing. Though by now, you haven't been dancing for hours. You've been fucking. It's a barely-clothed, sweaty, gleaming, gnashing its teeth & grinding its hips orgy. It doesn't stop until the music stops. And then, not silence...
Breathing. Loud, wet panting. A deep guttural sigh of satisfaction.
