So, I was watching the music video for "Mama's Room" by Under the Influence of Giants, and I was inspired. So, I put it on repeat, and wrote this. It's a one-shot, but I hope you like it. Enjoy!
The club was something dreamed up by a person in a drug-induced haze. It was too bright for a normal dance club, with lots of golden lights swinging around this way and that, and strobe lights flickering in a seizure-inducing frenzy. The walls flashed rainbow coloured lights, and he felt like he was in a Justin Timberlake music video on crack. The music was 70s inspired alternative with simple guitar hooks, steady pulsing beats, high melodic voices, and raunchy lyrics, with a bit of techno mixed in to be whimsical. Go-Go dancers lit up cages and poles along with female patrons who felt bold enough to strut their stuff. It was a total discotecha, the kind of thing you'd find in some trendy European city, and somehow they had brought it to Tokyo.
People on the dance floor gyrated and spun. He saw a couple jukeing in one corner, and others off to the left doing some sort of jumping dance that he couldn't really understand. No one was out of place here, because everything else already was. Which was why Andrew had thought it would be a perfect place for him to go. Somewhere he'd finally not be awkward, standing to the side because he wasn't sure of what to do in the situation. Somewhere he wouldn't say the wrong thing at the wrong time, making him want to bite his tongue. Somewhere he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of girls he liked. Short, blonde, meatball-headed girls…
He took another drink from his glass, the rum and coke chilly in his hand compared to the sweltering heat created by the frenzied dancers. He had been sitting there for a good half hour, if the 3 other glasses in front of him were any proof. He wasn't buzzed yet, but he was loose. He had needed those drinks, since he had already turned down 5 girls to dance so far. None of them were blonde enough, sweet enough. They just weren't right. A few drinks, and maybe he wouldn't notice if a girls' eyes weren't the right shade of cornflower blue, or that she didn't smell like sunshine.
He laid his cash on the bar and nodded to the bartender, letting him know he was off. He turned towards the dance floor, determined to have some fun tonight. Maybe he could loose himself among this Hodge podge of strangers. He raised his hand to shade his eyes when one of the lights nearly blinded him.
Some faith's God must have been messing with him right then. The blinding light had come from one of the golden beam lights bouncing off a woman's dress. It itself was gold, a fitted flapper dress really. A low scoop neck revealing the tops of perky breasts, and it was short, revealing miles of long, creamy legs. It fit like a glove, and was covered in short strings of golden beads that flicked back and forth, enhancing the movement of the gyrating woman, and gleaming with light. But they didn't gleam with the same kind of light that the woman eyes did.
He knew those eyes. It was Serena, his Odango, that wore that dress like it had to be sewn on. She had just come in, it seemed, and she moved through the crowed towards the dance floor like she was experienced, moving her body with those of the other revelers, all the while sliding through them like a snake through the grass. Lights flashed around her, lighting up her hair, dress, and eyes, making her a total beacon to the rest of the club. Once in the middle of the floor, she was given room, and she moved like one of the Go-Go dancers, as if she had done this all her life. Like she had gyrated and danced in a way that made him want to pant heavily and simply bathe in her glory all of his life. Her eyes, lined with black and smoky shadow, closed as she moved.
Men moved in to dance with her. Some women did too, but none of them lasted more then 3 minutes, all failing to keep up or look an ounce as good as she did. All the while, he just stood there, at the edge of the floor, taking her in like she was a tall glass of water, and he a man dying of thirst.
Her eyes snapped open, as if she could feel him watching her. She met her eyes with such a fierce intensity that he could hardly believe that this woman was his little Odango. He moved through the crowd towards her, cool and confident, never leaving her eyes with his. He continued until he was right in front of her, and then drew his hand around her abdomen as he moved behind her, his left hand finally coming to rest on her right hip bone, traveling a little low to see how she'd react. She leaned her head back into his shoulder, and swung her hips around, pressing her backside into him in an alluring fashion. She moved her hips again, and this time he followed, dancing with her and for the first time, he did not feel alone or awkward. He felt like he finally had connected, and he could only pray that she felt the little zing that he did every time they moved together. Just maybe, she felt…
She turned her head towards his, and her breath tickled his neck. It was more then he could take, a man who had a few drinks already, and was high off the endorphins her mere presence set off. His left hand reached over and grabbed her right hip, and swung her around to face him, where he was instantly on her lips, his own moving against hers on their own accord. He didn't need all this flash, all the sparkle, all the noise. In his mind, they weren't surrounded by pulsating lights and pulsating bodies. They were in his apartment, making out on his couch, him in a pair of sweats and she in nothing more then one of his old ratty t-shirts and a pair of cotton panties. His hands were running through her hair, loose instead of pinned up harshly to withstand the heat and moves of the club.
He moved back, and opened his eyes, watching her open her own slowly, reflecting the flashing lights around her. Heaven above, but she was gorgeous. He'd take her like this, he'd take her wearing that ratty t-shirt, he'd take her looking like she did when she was sprawled out in front of him, like when she bumped into him on the street, and fell too the sidewalk. He stepped back, pulling her with him, clasping her hand with firm, but gentle intention. She followed, smirking slightly, her eyes gleaming with a light that had nothing to do with those owned by the club.
Now, the only thing left was to somehow keep in this non-awkward bliss he had found himself in, and convince Serena that she was mean to be the girlfriend he imagined while they kissed, soft, white cotton panties and all.