All alone and bored, heading out of town, not wanting to be the gooseberry, leaving my friend with her boyfriend, I wander home through the streets. The air feels fresh and crisp with the first good night of spring; but my dress is not intended to be worn outside on a night like this, and I draw my jacket close round me, shivering as the click of my heels echoes down the quiet street.
Then I'm passing a bar, and I decide what the hell, why not, so I push the door open and music shouts at me, heat wraps me up, flashing lights dazzle me and my nose is tickled with the smell of fun. Tables are mobbed, people leaning close in, joking, laughing. I wriggle my way through the crowd to the bar, order myself an icy schnapps, and turn round to scan the room, cradling my drink.
I've never been in this bar before, and love its atmosphere; everyone just seems so welcoming. Either that or everyone's totally out of their heads. I get people coming up to me and hugging me; at first it's a shock, but soon I love it and hug them back and as the rhythm pounds we move together before they move to the next person or on to get their drinks. People ask me how I am and I laugh, I ask them back again, and they're just so chuffed to be asked that big grins split their faces. It makes me giggle, and that gets me more hugs.
At the back of the bar, down some steps, there is a dark room, a wee snug, and different music and curiously I descend the stone steps. It's bigger than I expect and from one corner music loud enough to re-arrange my vital organs is throbbing through the crowd. It's packed in there, people just jumping up and down. I stuff my denim jacket in a corner and join them, and soon I'm one of the throng, a tangled hedge of people radiating happiness.
I catch sight of your bright eyes. Although disconcerted at the unexpected meeting I wave and wink, they crease back from smiling and soon we're dancing together flesh to flesh, loving the warmth of each other. I turn and lean back and feel your fingers sliding round my waist and clasping round at the front, I stroke them, they're smooth and long and I imagine what they'd be like exploring me. We're wriggling together and when I feel my neck getting kissed I reach my arms up and back and run my hands through your hair, scratching your skin gently so that you arch and thrust against me. I respond, turn, and we see each other's eyes widen. Tugging my hand, you should something at me.
"Can't hear you!"