Erin bumps her shoulder against mine and gives me an exaggerated sweet smile. “Don't worry, Regina. Everything will be fine. Take a chill pill and dance!”
My head whips around fast enough to give myself whiplash. Erin ignores me, smiling and dancing by herself, moving her hips suggestively as she touches herself inappropriately. It looks like she's copulating with a ghost. It's obscene, but she pulls it off. All she needs is a pole, and the effect would be complete.
I move closer to her and yell, “A chill pill? As in drugs? There are drugs here? Are you serious? Omigod, omigod, omigod!” My vivid imagination runs wild, adding up all the possible things that could go wrong. My restless hands fly up to my face, grab my frizzy hair, and tug once. My mouth drops open in a silent squeak, and when I go to take my hands down, my watch tangles in my ‘fro. “Damn it!” Twisting and tugging makes it worse, and soon my hand is plastered against my head at a weird angle, palm out.
A group of guys walks by and one of them high-fives me. “Awesome get-up. Sticky chicks are hot.” He grins, sweeping his eyes up and down my sweaty body, totally checking me out, before walking on. “Later babe, me and you.” He makes a pair of guns with his fingers and clicks his tongue.
With my hand stuck to my head, I whine, “Erin.” Her name has five syllables by the time I say the whole thing. She laughs and walks over to untangle my watch from my hair. “What’s a sticky chick?”
“He means you have a rod up your ass.” I gape at her and she gives me a look that says he’s right. “Please, your middle name is Uptight. So is your first name, your last name, your Confirmation name, and your married name seems to be going that direction, too. Well done, Sticky Chick.”
“I’m not uptight. I’m just careful. There’s a difference. Like drugs here—bad move.”
Erin laughs and shoves her dark hair out of her face. “Princess, I think some serious bubble-bursting is in order here. This is a rave. There is probably lots of stuff going on here tonight. But don't worry; things always go smoothly with these guys. There's security all over the place and by tomorrow, there will be no trace to prove that anything has ever happened here. See? Everything is hunky dory! Oh, I’d stay away from the restroom for the next little while if I were you. They’ve been fishbowling in there.” She shrugs her shoulders as if I’m supposed to understand what she just said.
“Fishbowling?” Am I even supposed to know what that means?
“Yeah. You know, smoking weed in a small room to keep in the fumes? Unless you want to get high, then go right ahead. Free buzz. I just didn’t think you’d be into that stuff.” She says this as if we were at a Sunday brunch with the local church ladies, exchanging scone recipes. This is an illegal rave in an old abandoned warehouse—and it was my idea. What the hell was I thinking? I'm going straight to Hell for this. I place my hands on my churning stomach... okay, so I'll go to Hell right after I throw up, but not in the restroom! Maybe I should start practicing pole dancing as well, just in case I have to resort to stripping for a living when my parents disown me. Gina is a good stripper nickname, right? My father is so going to shoot me. Oh, God!
“Why did I agree to this in the first place, Erin? And who are these people? It was supposed to be invite-only for a select and elite group of people. That’s what we agreed on, but I don't know anyone here, and I'm part of the elite!” I'm poking at my chest so hard I've probably bruised a boob. Seriously! Who are these people? I've hobnobbed with the rich and pompous my entire life, and I've never seen any of these people before.
Erin stops her gyrating and takes me by the shoulders, looking straight in my eyes. I'm in full freak-out mode and she's trying to keep me in one piece. Normally, I'd appreciate the gesture on her part, but she's the reason I'm in this state. Someone who knows someone who knows Erin’s downstairs neighbor asked Erin if she knew of anyone in the upper class community with an available space for a highly exclusive and swanky party, aka illegal rich-kid rave. Apparently, raves are back in style, and my bestie immediately thought of my Dad's old textile warehouse.
I'm a felon now.
ME!
Erin sighs dramatically. I can’t really hear it, but I see her body cues and those flying, glowing hands clue me in. “You agreed, because even you want to get rid of that broomstick that's been shoved up your prissy ass! As for not knowing who these people are, well, you've been hanging out with the good kids all your life. This,” she gestures grandly toward the entire room and its glow stick waving occupants, “is the fun crowd. Loosen up and let go! Dance. You love dancing!”
She pats my head like I'm a toddler, laughs and moves further into the swarm, attracting the attention of two guys who happily agree to be her dance partners. It's a sexy wiggly man sandwich with extra Erin in the middle.
UNEXPECTED VOYEUR
7:58 pm
I'm almost tempted to lose myself to the beat of the music—almost. Dancing would be a most welcome distraction right about now. If this had been any other party, I would have gladly joined in, but I can’t dance here. I’m too afraid we’ll be busted. As it is, I'm constantly looking through the windows and toward the door.
Erin is right, though. I have to learn to loosen up a little bit. This is just a party, and tomorrow it will be like nothing ever happened. I suck in a deep breath and release it, trying to slow my pulse into non-stroke territory.
Looking around, the place isn’t recognizable. It actually looks like a swanky dance club, instead of a warehouse. The atmosphere is electric, and the live DJ keeps everyone in a trance with provocative, dark, scratchy and somewhat aggressive electro house and dubstep beats. The deep bass is making my chest vibrate with every pulse. Strobe lights flash in time, accompanied by a dizzying display of multicolored lasers under black lighting. These people are supposed to be the best in the business and I can see why. Everything looks and feels awesome. The party is a sensory experience in every way possible. No expense was spared on the set up, and the steep cover charge didn’t keep people away either—not at this kind of party. It’s the type of party everyone hopes to attend, but only the super awesome elite can succeed.
Since I just said super awesome elite, I’m obviously not one of them. I hang with a different crowd, save Erin. She’s my lifeline, my reminder that life isn’t all business and no fun. Her life is all fun. I can see her glowing arms wedged between two guys as they get swept away in the dense crowd.
Standing alone, I glance around. Elaborate wrought iron candleholders are on every available surface and deep red drapes have been hung, adding a bit of an eerie gothic, vampire-esque feel to the old warehouse. The final effect is kind of cool, actually. There are people everywhere, in every inch of the wide-open space. We're in violation of too many codes to count. As if that’s the worst of my problems.
As my eyes scan the room, they lock on a couple partly hidden by stacks of old crates. I shift to get a better look, worried that I may need to call security if she's being assaulted. Of course my mind jumps to the worst-case scenario, but maybe I’m wrong.
As I take a few steps to the side to get a better view, it's clear that they are making out and it's getting hot and heavy. I should look away, give them their privacy, but there's just something in the way he's holding her that keeps me staring. It's possessive, rough and... erotic. I feel my cheeks getting hotter, which is saying something since this place already feels like a sauna, but I can't tear my eyes away. My lips part and I stare unabashedly. I can’t help it.
She's pressed up against the wall, a leg wrapped around the guy's jean-clad hips. He's holding her wrists firmly above her head with one hand, the other hand pressed against the wall next to her head. His hips move to the beat of the music, pressing against her subtly and rhythmically. I continue to watch, unable to look away, as people around me keep on dancing, entwined in each other. Everyone here has that audacious thing going on, like a sexy train wreck about to happen, but not like this couple. I feel like such a creeper, but I can’t seem to turn my head or blink. The man's shoulders are broad and you can tell through his tight black t-shirt that he’s all toned muscle—and not the bulky kind, like on those cans of man-in-a-can. This guy is strong, with the perfect amount of muscle to accentuate his masculinity. I suppose the way he’s holding her does that too, because damn…
Her head is tilted to the side, her long red curls cascading down the wall, her neck exposed for him to devour. Kudos to the party masters and their vampire theme; this couple fits right in.
Red’s eyes are closed, her mouth wide open, as if she's gasping. She doesn't look like she's struggling or in any kind of distress. No, she's a very willing participant. My breath quickens and I start to feel warm in places I shouldn't. I'm enveloped in an overload of sensuality, from the music to the heat coming off of the bodies around me. Add in the passion of the couple in the dark and my heart is racing rapidly.
My fingers idly play with my short pearl necklace and I wonder what it would be like to be taken like that, so public and carnal. There's nothing romantic or loving about their embrace. It's raw, it’s sexual, it's erotic.
It's like nothing I've ever experienced before, that's for sure. I wish I could see the look on his face. From my viewpoint, the way he moves, the way he's holding her, it's so possessive.
My thoughts are interrupted by a hip bump. A sticky plastic glass of some sickeningly sweet cocktail is being placed in my hand. It's Erin and she's out of breath, flushed, and giggling like crazy. Something tells me that it’s not helium in those little balloons that I’ve seen people sucking on all night. Is laughing gas even legal?
"Here, drink up! What are we looking at?" Erin glances in the direction I’d been staring at just moments ago, still giggling.
A little embarrassed by my sudden case of voyeurism, I shrug, trying to look unaffected. "Just a couple making out, dry-humping in the corner over there, nothing much." I feel Erin's eyes boring into the side of my head. Bringing the glass to my mouth, I chug back half of its contents, not entirely registering how sweet and fruity it is, but knowing I should go slow. I'm a lightweight and this will go straight to my head, but I need to numb myself out just a little bit.
"Uhmmm, they're not dry-humping."
PUBLIC EXPOSURE
8:12 pm
"Nope, Gina. No dry-hump there.” Erin squints her eyes to focus on the show a bit more. “He is most definitely hammering her straight into that wall. She'll be a permanent fixture by the time he's done. You pervy peeping tom, you!" Erin laughs a bit too loud. I cringe, wishing that I could crawl under a table and die.
A girl walks past us, staring at Erin and me. She’s dressed like slutty Rainbow Brite, wearing a multicolored wig with a rainbow-colored ruffled bikini. Add in the rainbow furry leg warmers and tutu, complete with blinking lights, and she’s the prism princess in the flesh.
Rainbow Bright looks at us with that happy dazed look on her face, the kind that comes from using illicit substances, and walks away after having thoroughly checked me out.
Shaking my head, I glance back toward the couple in the dark and see details I hadn't noticed before, like the way her skirt is hiked up to her hips and the way his black jeans seem to be unfastened, his belt hanging down a bit. Since neither one of them is glowing, I didn’t notice before. Their bodies are mostly in shadow, but this is a warehouse with no private places to steal a kiss—or nail a woman to the wall.
The guy’s movements are getting faster and more rough, his perfectly shaped ass clenching as he pushes against her again and again and again.
I have to look away. But I can't.
Erin laughs beside me. “Oh, my God! The look on your face is priceless! Don't tell me you're still a virgin? I thought Doctor Goody Two Shoes took care of that situation for you! " I tear my eyes away from the couple just long enough to look at my friend, her eyes almost popping out of her head in disbelief.
"No, I'm not a virgin. It's just. God, Erin! They're having sex in public! On the wall!" And it's hot and part of me wants some of that, too, which scares the tar out of me. But I can't say that out loud, because that would mean it’s true. If I keep these little thoughts in my head, no one will ever know. They can’t become real if no one knows about them. Can they?
Erin laces her arm over my shoulder and leans in. "So, you've never had any public hanky-panky before? Not even a little fingering under the table, or a bathroom stall blowjob, or going downtown on your man in the car?" Erin asks waggling her eyebrows before I shake her off.
“No!” I shake my head, as if the idea were repulsive, not sure why I’m so defensive.
I haven’t done anything like that. Ever. In bed, my boyfriend is more the slow and sweet type. Anthony is nothing like this. My eyes go back to the couple. His pace is picking up even more. What they are doing is now unmistakable. The girl is biting her lip, probably to stifle a scream, and I can't help but mimic her expression. The spot down low in the pit of my stomach stirs, and my grip tightens around my glass. She throws her head back and, when he finally stills, his body pressed to hers, she sags, dropping her head on his shoulder. They are both breathing heavily. I'm almost panting along with them.
What would it feel like to be her? To be held up against a wall like that, and be taken so roughly, without any inhibitions?
My inner-voice chides me, “Stop it, Gina. That might work for some people, but not you.”
Once more, Erin interrupts my lusty daydreams. "Go Ferro. You sexy beast! Grrrrr!" She claws at the air as if she were a bear.