It was loud.
The kind of loud where you couldn't hear word one of the person next to you. The type of music didn't matter, the words were lost on the ears of all present, it was only the bass that was important. Thunderous drumming reverberated around the crowded dance floor. At the end of the massive box of a room was a raised platform, a DJ stood behind a set of tables, framed by thick, heavy curtains. He stood behind his instruments, lost in the beat of his own music. He moved in time with the rhythm, a minister preaching to his flock.
And flock they did. Full to capacity, the bodies of young, nubile dancers and revelers ground and swayed together, occasionally crashing. They were lost in the moment; spirits seeking expression and pleasure.
So it was with a young man, dressed in black, his sleeves rolled up his arms. Several buttons undone from the top his his shirt, none of which were his doing. Beads of sweat were upon his forehead, the heat of the crushing crowd did no favors for comfort. At the moment he found himself pressed against a woman who had backed against him. His waist was glued to hers as they writhed in a semi-aware trance. His hands found her hips, and almost as suddenly as they had begun their ritual, the woman disappeared into the crowd. In the dark atmosphere, interspersed only with brief flashes of neon, it was impossible to tell who she was, or where she went.
Any other time, he would have been upset, but there was no loss here. Only the next encounter, and truly, he had only to wait a moment before it occurred.
It was loud.
The kind of loud where there you couldn't hear your own thoughts. The club operated on a primal level, the dancers seeking their next hedonistic fix, and she was no different.
She moved from one dance to the next, flitting between partners. Her hair flowing freely down her back, awash in lavender perfume, a deep brown in daylight, but black in the club. She felt hands upon her, large and rough, small and manicured, and she simply danced on. Her dress was tight, golden, and short. She disappeared as quickly as she joined, until she found herself next to a black clad dancer. The heat of the night became the heat in her chest as she pressed herself against him. Instinctively, his hands found her waist. She smiled, her features visible in the brief flashes. The smell of lavender wafted from her hair, filling his nostrils.
He was tall, and she liked that.
She was soft, and he liked that.
Attraction was instant, and arousal followed suit. Pressed against one another, their hands roamed over each others bodies, blindly seeking the curves, nooks and outline of the other. Lips soon met, and tongues immediately after. Their embrace expressing what words could have, but had no need to.
They moved together as one, somehow still dancing, through the crowd. She opened his shirt, and he lifted her skirt.
A thud indicated their collision with a wall. They had found themselves near the corner of the club, and the two paused for only the briefest of moments before coming to an unspoken consensus. They ducked behind the heavy curtains. The beat was dampened to slightly under deafening as they embraced once again. Lips and tongues did battle as they pushed up against the stacked boxes of equipment that lay up against the wall, hidden from view by the curtains.
She felt herself pressed against the heavy containers. She lifted her leg, trusting this man to be the kind she wanted. He took hold of her leg under her knee and lifted it further, revealing the lacy black panties that shielded her sex from him.
Her hands ripped open the rest of the shirt, losing a button in the process, and instantly got to work on his belt. Both knew the steps of this dance. A moment and a deep kiss later, they were each exposed to one another. No time was wasted, and head kissed lips.
A moment further and he plunged into the depths of her ready passage. A sharp gasp was drowned out by the heavy bass as he buried himself into her.
There was no preparation. Their mating ritual completed on the dance floor. They joined and he thrust into her, desperately trying to match the beat that shook the air around them. Her arms wrapped around him, under the open shirt. Her fingertips dug into his flesh, and she grunted with each thrust. His eyes closed and he felt himself swell, squeezed by the arousal of this stranger.
They rutted together, pressed up against one another. He swelled further and she squeezed in reciprocation. Together they rocketed to the edge of mutual climax. If they could have heard each other, they would have witnessed a shattering of need as they fell over the edge into the exact kind of pleasure they had so desperately sought.
Still joined together, they slumped. Just as suddenly as it had begun, they split apart. An emptiness engulfed them as a result of the sudden departure. She smiled, and in the brief flashes of neon light he caught a glimpse of her features once again. She pushed forward, her lips finding his once again. Her essence enveloped his senses, and then suddenly vanished. Stunned, he glanced around. Without so much as a word between them, she had disappeared into the writhing crowd once again.
He breathed in deeply, and fixed his clothes. The lavender scent lingered. The memory of her branded his mind and filled the nooks and crannies of his brain. He stepped out from behind the curtain, and once again into the crowd of dancers. His eyes roamed over the crowd and attempted in vain to recognize those features within the brief flashes. The mob moved to the deafening, thunderous beat. He pushed past a group of dancers into the throng, and breathed in deeply. She was there, somewhere. He knew it.
It was loud.