Fiction · Life and People · Musings · Short Stories

You Should not Be Here (Another Dance)


Two hours and counting but you still cannot get enough of the DJ. You wish you could affectionately grab her bum, give her a peck and hold her tight to your chest. Never letting her go. But you are freaking straight. At least that is one thing about your life that you are sure of. Everything else according to you is a mess. You know because they told you. Damn they always did. So you walk around feeling it beneath your feet, in the Gucci sneakers you are wearing; you feel it in the air you breath; on the surfaces you touch. To make it worse you now see it on the faces of the people you come across. You hate it. You wish you could change it for something else. Only that you cannot.


So you come to this Club. To the same DJ with her maad mixes. You let loose, go with the flow aiming at nothing but to stop the voices in your head-“You should not be here!!!.” That voice will not let you be. Not in the Club. Not alone. You go harder and deeper into the crowd, closer to the speakers. Despite the blaring music and the noises from other revellers, you just cannot switch off those words, “You should not be here!!!”, from your head.


You grab a couple of drinks, which you apparently notice are not as strong as they used to be, as you knew they used to be. You become lost, and loose. You nod to the guy who has been staring at you, at least that is what you have been thinking, since you came in. You imagine he winked at you, an indication that he wants a partner, a dance partner. Without hesitation you step on the floor. Grab his hand then put him on a chair. You are dropping your tooshie on his pudendum with a force similar to a tornado. Just a little more and he will reach the breaking point.


“You should not be here!!!” The voice again. You realize you cannot have the two, the man and the voice, at the same time. So you let go of the man. You move into the centre of the dance floor. Everyone else move to the edges and you are left alone, you and the dance floor, and the voice of course. You start to dance as they cheer you on. You respond to the beats, your body swings in contorted motions, you shake your dreadlocks, close and open your eyes. Your ear always to the crowd and the music. For a moment you are free, free from the voice; free from rules; free from restrictions and frustrations; free from dependence; free from the world and its judgemental mortals. You grab more liquor and dance some more because that is the only moment you feel free.


Back to the dance floor. Your shoulder loosens. Maybe from the liquor that is now taking control of your whole being. The tightness in your belly eases, hands akimbo and you start doing your thing. First with easy motions. You shake your bum, creating rhythmic motions on your belly. You hit the climax, drop one hand to the ground as the other caresses your hair. You are sweating profusely. The music is still blaring as the crowd continues to cheer you on. Then the voice comes back again…”You should not be here!!!”


Photo: Courtesy


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