Dancing like the Butterflies

“This is my last.” I told myself after pouring the last drop of white wine on my glass. I have been drinking a lot again. The sound in the bar is pounding so hard. My heart keeps throbbing in harmony with its rhythm.

The base of the music is making it hard for me to breath. It almost feels like crushing my ear drums. But then again, this is the part I love most. This is when I stand up and just hit the dance floor. Dance, with my eyes closed, sway my body with my head up, raise my hands with all the moves as if alluring every god in the universe to dance with a frail, innocent, fragile child. But I am no child… nor innocent. And I learned that this is what everyone wants to see and love to devour… in a chaotic place like this, a jungle in a hunting season, where everyone is a lion.

It’s a strange thing that when I’m drunk, is also when my senses are at their best state. I am woozy and sometimes would drool while laughing so hard over a non-sense joke, but ask me math questions and I can, without thinking give you the right answer. They say that when one is drunk, they tend not to know what they are doing. For me, this is utterly crap. You know exactly what you are doing, you just know that all your senses make you soar like the wind and prod you to the peak of your audacity.

While dancing, this guy, keeps staring at me. I know. My fully discerning sense of sight is telling me that he has slightly curly hair. He's a brit. He’s holding his beer and he is with his girl, whom I think he’d only met at the club 6 minutes ago. She’s Chinese.

This is what I love to do. Dance like I’ve never danced before. I love dancing… in most times, I love dancing on my own. The secret to enjoying this is to ignore the people coming at you and when they try hard to move with your groove, it’s best to turn around and let them scowl at your snub.

“Tomorrow you are just one tequilla I drank, you may give me the headache, but that will surely pass”

But not the music… The music, damn lingers on. It stays in your head, whether or not you have the overshadow of each night’s mischievous fun.

Someone grabbed me from the nape. With that I had to open my eyes and see what the hell is this guy’s problem. To my surprise, it’s not a guy. It’s the Chinese girl that curly-haired-man was with. She teased me into dancing with her.

My mind was laughing but with a serious look, it also dictated “Play his game.” This is for his pleasure.

I danced with the Chinese hooker. Damn, we were hot. Everyone was staring at us. I grabbed her neck and stared at her, eye to eye, while swaying my shoulders. My other hand is now exploring at her back. Teasing, enticing, tempting. “Is this what you want?” My mind is shouting at every man surrounding us. I felt the girl’s inconvenience. I know she was surprised that I gave in to her partner’s dare.

I moved my face closer to hers. And ran pass my nose to her cheeks up to her eyes. Our bodies are so close to each other. I can feel her softness. I kissed her earlobe and buried my head to her neck. My face is now covered with her hair. She smells pleasant, but I think I smell nicer.

Both my hands are now reaching to her butt. Still swaying and moving to the music beat, I squeezed one of them and I think I heard someone let out a suppressed exhale.

And then the Chinese girl finally whispered in my ear, in her mandarin accent “The guy I’m with... wants the two of us”

I answered her back saying…

“I am not what you think I am.”

I left the dance floor with all eyes magnetted on me.






Author's Note:
Purely Fiction