I rushed through the flap of the large tent with my two best friends in the world. We were happy as fuck.
Outside, all around us, explosive colors and nighttime musical dreamscapes filled the sky and the air and the bloodstream.
We were fully into our second night at Burning Man, my first time, though the fourth for my best friends.
We were rolling on high-grade ecstasy and we couldn't stop laughing and dancing and just generally grabbing at each other playfully like we were kids again. It was wild and as gooey-good as the inside of a Cinnabon.
We'd left the giant dome we'd been dancing most of the night to head back to our tent-city area and smoke some weed to balance out all the feelings. The ecstasy was insanely strong and that had included a Molly powder lick off of the back of Taylor's hand in the middle of the dance floor when we'd wanted to keep the party going. And boy had it.
As we sat on the floor of the large Coleman camping setup on the big afghan blankets and sleeping bags, Taylor Rhodes grabbed for her penis-shaped, glass bong, already packed full of Granddaddy Purple Indica in the bowl built into the scortum. We passed it back and forth in our triad like the ultimate peace pipe of three elevated festival elders. The tent was covered on the outside in white Christmas lights that kept everything fairly illuminated, even in the dark.
I'd met Taylor when I first started at Microsoft some five years prior. We were fresh out of college at the time and she was the instant work best friend. She was cute as fuck in an adult Hilary Duff kind of way, but we'd always maintained an almost sibling-like relationship. She'd quickly fallen in with her sexy, long-time beau Elliot, who worked one department over, but played on the same company softball team as the two of us.
We all quickly became known for our tight-knit trio. The three of us were inseparable as far as close friends went, and they saw me through a couple of breakups as the years went by. They never made me to feel like a third wheel. We were a unit of hilarious camaraderie and ever-blossoming inside jokes.
Burning Man had always been their thing, as I was more likely to head into the city and catch a show at a smaller club, but there was something enticing about their invite this year.
I was fresh out of a frustrating relationship and the idea of doing mind-altering drugs in the desert while generally dancing the night away to house music that would carry my brain into mystical places, seemed like a semi-affordable type of therapy. I'd gladly trade the couch for a desert full of sexy naked people and psychoactive hijinks.
Taylor had short, blond hair that naturally curled, and her body was the right kind of fit—like she worked out, but somehow maintained an ass that made you want, well, devour her ass. Her body truly was Hilary Duff healthy, and Edgar was the same type of irritatingly laid back, good looking. He seemed like he either never worked out or worked out constantly. He was Ryan Gosling with more tattoos and had very similar hair to his girlfriend, but with a sandier tone and fewer curls. They're babies were going to be disgustingly adorable—future prom queens and kings of suburbia.
All three of us were beaming at each other, and the tent was mostly dark, except for the disco ball that Taylor had turned on which featured all sorts of fun colors and shapes that cascaded throughout the tent, along with the outside string lights. Then she took it a step further by turning on a nearby black light. Now all the glitter on our bodies and Taylor's skimpy one piece glowed.
We were all decked out in bedazzled beads and jewels and body paint. Taylor and Edgar had insisted earlier in the night that I dress up with them for the rave that we'd be attending. It was a strangely intimate act to have two people placing sparkly stick-on beads and colorful paint all over your body with all the comfort in the world.
We'd taken our first pill around eight, and that was after a full day of lazily biking from camp to camp and taking in all the wild sights and sounds.
We looked like David Bowie backup dancers on some sort of space ship music video shoot. A large, pink diamond came down from my left eye and body glitter was splashed all over our torsos and legs.
This was Burning Man after all, no need to be shy or worry about how you looked. Everything was acceptable and expected. Unkempt wildness was meant to thrive.
Edgar and I were only wearing the small spandex bike shorts we'd danced in, having already kicked off our boots and socks. Taylor was barely dressed at all. Her body was tightly wrapped in this enticing one-piece pink and purple leotard that was missing giant sections that showed off her marvelous skin. Her crotch barely covered her clearly visible pussy lips and showed through to her nipples, with a see-through material that was meant to put them on display.
Even though she was my best friend, I'd spent a good portion of the night checking her out and wondering how her tan skin might feel on my lips. The ecstasy certainly didn't help quell those very possible thoughts. I was entering the fantasy zone of the drug—where lots of sexual thoughts run constantly through the brain.
I was happier than I could remember being in a very long time and all I wanted to do was be touched and touch. And here was Taylor, my long time best friend, wearing barely anything (a far cry from the tight slacks and pencil skirts she wore in the office that made me all kinds of crazy). She looked like actual candy, like freshly pulled taffy.
"Have you rolled before tonight, James?" Edgar asked me in an energetic voice, as we all passed the bong around and bobbed our bodies back and forth to the chill vibe thumping throughout the campsite. In a tent somewhere nearby, a couple could be heard having sex. This was still the modern day Woodstock. Burning Man was unlike any other place in the world.
"I have but it's been a while, and that was at a club, and it wasn't very good stuff so my hangover was TERRIBLE that next week. And I had sex on it, and that was fucking amazing, but I wasn't able to cum." I remembered the good and the bad as my answer rambled: the brief elation of feeling with the music and the temporary paranoia on the car ride home; followed by a long night of enjoying a shower with the girlfriend. I remembered everything. And I told Taylor and Edgar all about it and they loved it. They were hanging from every word in my story.
"Ugh, don't worry about that, this is the best fucking stuff. And we're just getting to the really good part. And like, just so you know, you can definitely cum on this E...that's why Edgar and I love it so much." Taylor chimed in—I was a little surprised at the amount of flirting she seemed to be doing with me. We'd also taken the proper supplements earlier that day. With age and experience came lots of appropriate drug prep.
And she was right. I was starting to feel like my body had ascended to another plane of silly-dumb goodness. They could both tell I was hyped. I was giggly even. I was happily nervous. My palms were buzzing on my bare legs.
"Are you feeling it?" Taylor asked me, her cute grin escaping as she asked me, already knowing. She leaned over and rubbed a hand up my leg and the contact felt so nice against the dried sand and sweat.
"Ahhhh, yes, I'm realllllly rolling, right now. Fuckkkk, that feels fucking incredible. I think I need a blanket." I said.
She grabbed the nearby sleeping bag. "Here, let's all get into the sleeping bag, it's totally big enough." It was such an obvious idea in the moment. We were all going to snuggle.
