Outside the door people already can hear the music, and they start to get excited with anticipation. Of course, saying something to them is social death, so you grit on them really hard. Finally, you make it to the door. The steam issuing from the crowd immediately envelops you, and you give a silent prayer of thanks for the scrunchie. The crowd pulsates, and couples grind against each other.
Guys too fly to dance stand against the walls.
Everybody knows it is about 95 degrees, so why they all wear their leather coats is beyond comprehension. You try to peer through the sea of gold herringbones to find a fly guy. Oh God, there one is, so fine, so aloof. You decide to talk to him before dancing because you know after the party you'll look abominable. He smiles, looks into your eyes, steps closer and reaches out to touch your neck.