I love dancing, the whole atmosphere of the shared mass experience seems to let you be so my freer, as though giving permission to be more daring, to gyrate unchecked and uncaring as everyone else is caught in the same web of enchantment. The beat, the volume, the dynamic resonance penetrates ones very being, through the skin and sometimes almost shattering the bones into a million fragments while the muscles and tendons vibrate in sympathy resulting in taking you to places that in any other context wouldn’t happen.
In this bar it was hot, sweaty, vibrant, electric, as live gigs often are, a crowded space of wall-to-wall bodies and limbs each unavoidably bumping and brushing against one another. The band, Granite Heart, is why we were all here, a rock and metal band of local repute, or ill-repute, if some of the rumours were to be believed. The rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle and all that going before them, though such things, myth, gossip or otherwise, makes them all the more appealing.
I wore a skirt that night, mini, black with silver swirls pencil skirt, and glad of it over the potentially sticky constriction of jeans could have proved near unbearable. Black mesh holdup stockings and a loose sleeveless tee form the rest of my attire along with my outdoor jacket guarding the back of my chair around our shared table, friends I’d come with to this den of insanity and noise.
Sally and Ginny and Louise, or Lou, made us a gang of four. Four rock-chicks as even we were happy to label ourselves taking ownership of this title and turning it into a badge of honour.
The clock finally made it to 10pm and on strode the band to the low stage under the almost as low ceiling, no fanfare, four guys about to assail our ears with a familiar magic we have grown to know having been diehards fans, not groupies, for the past year or so, and it was well gone midnight by the time they’d finished after the baying crowd insisted on an encore, and then another and another.
In between all their start, brilliant bombast and triumphant finish what transpired for me was very unexpected.
Well into the set all we moved in almost unison, swaying and not exactly dancing being we were all cheek by jowl as there was simply not the space. After a few drinks and high on the now quite stuffy and almost toxic haze of the humidified room I was well-relaxed, very much into everything and anything. I felt bodies, some familiar like Sally or Lou, some unfamiliar, total strangers, and some whom I don’t know beyond a face and a smile.
Not surprisingly, hands found their way inadvertently here, there and everywhere, sometimes briefly in contact with my breast but it was all accidental and even my hand found a groin here and there. Who knows what any safety officer might have had to say about the risks of so many writhing bodies per square metre and breathing the same cocktail of odours and god knows what else.
I felt Ginny’s hand hold me around my waist as she stood behind allowing us to sway in perfect harmony. We’ve, as friends, known each other intimately for years. I was lost to the room, excited though trying to not to scream too loud. How mad we all become when unleashed in such a way, without judgement.
More and more stood, crammed, arms to arms, hips to hip, groin to bottom, as I was about to find out very up close and personal.
I knew it wasn’t Ginny as she was now stood next to me as I felt another pair of hands take their place on my hips moving in synch with me. It crossed my mind to wonder who it was but didn’t really ponder it too long and just went with it. We are all friends here, after all, in a camaraderie way, all there for the same rush, regardless of barely knowing one another.
The heat, the smells, the lights, the sounds all contributing to this beautiful frenzy and almost free-for-all; those hands were still on my hips having started one my waits and now worked their way down and now I felt whoever it was behind me pull closer. I had not much choice being the crush of human flesh which was taking place now. I had already guessed it was a guy, I could tell the way he held me, and I had looked down and they were obviously ale fingers claiming space on my hips.
For some reason I didn’t mind. After all he might have been cute. His hands looked good though I didn’t turn around to check who it was. Was it even someone I knew? As no words could possibly pass between us being it was so loud then the rest went unspoken. I felt his hips against my buttocks now and his hands hot against my skirt, feeling his warm through to my skin. He had good rhythm that was for certain. I felt flattered so didn’t mind.
I was feeling high to the point of being aroused too, not so much sexually, though admittedly I was a little, just aroused in every fibre of my being, my body and my soul. I felt total surrender to this evening while it lasted as tomorrow would be another day, different and nothing like this, here and now.
The music continued pounding, beating us into submission, pulling us under its wake, its throbbing, pulsing spell songs and tunes, and closer and closer the guy behind me got, and the more comfortable his hands felt on my hips. I felt his whole body now flat against mine as we both shared the same motion by now, and was now suddenly aware of a bulge pressing against the small of my back being he was definitely taller than my 5’3” frame.
His grip now more firm, and began moving over my skirt, ruffling it every now and then, enticing my hips to ever more elaborate movements, to which I found myself obliging. With one hand still on my left thigh the other slid down my thigh seeking the hem of my skirt which he was easily with his ever-so long arms, I thought and began gathering it in his fingers, the back of each one brushing my stockings and thus my legs. I shuddered at this and heard my own breathing now in time with the next pounding song a hypnotic monster of a song that couldn’t help but draw everyone in hypnotically on its aural trip.
His hand edged my skirt up my right thigh, a move no one could see in this semi-lit crowd where it was almost impossible to even look down. I felt it moving up my thigh and his hand likewise; a cause and effect. I didn’t stop him but felt so caught in the entire room’s conspiracy to just pretend nothing but now existed and we had to be all and everything for it, whatever happens.
Up went my skirt with his stealthy touch, his hand now underneath and brushing past my stocking top, lingering, taking it in, taking me in. Probably also intent of making sure I also drink in every moment and sensation, if there was any intent at all if not just a reflexive primal need to connect in a crowd of like-minded. He inched up caressing my right buttock delicately feeling me through my knickers inside which I felt floods of warmth and excitement. His touch adding an extra dimension to an evening already amassed with a cornucopia of them. I gratefully drowned in the sensations bombarding me from the stage and from behind; from him and his wandering touch.
With both hands now he raised my skirt completely behind. I knew without looking of course it was no up to my waist and, should anyone even be able to see which they wouldn’t in this heaving sea, exposing my knickers and stocking tops. I felt guiltily excited at my blatant public display of indecency, but I didn’t care. At that moment I seemed not to care while his hands now enjoyed the feel of my bum which I was enjoying, not all that reluctantly, too.
He fondled my hips, feeling the waistline of my knickers and the lace elastic. I moved my body now to the music and his touch, his hips moving against mine, his groin and substantial bulge.
I still didn’t know who it was, his hand slipping surreptitiously inside my knickers grabbing my bare-naked flesh. My eyes nearly popped out of my head and I grabbed the next breath with an urgency or else I’d faint.
He continued exploring as the music crashed around the room and in our ears and through our bones, and I had this additional stimulation competing for my attention while barely able to stand on my own two legs now. I fell back against him, leaned on his, still our bodies alongside others in motion, in concert, his hand stirring desires in me.
He began rubbing his body completely along mine in masturbatory motions as I felt his erection still well hidden inside his jeans moving up and down with his hand on my bottom, a hand which slipped around my hips still beneath my skirt to the front where it, he, enclosed his hand over my sex pressing the cotton into me, his fingers exploring also as if dictated by the patterns of the music. Through the material he was circling his fingers over the spot that I felt increasingly grow moist, hot, like the rest of me, while moving against my buttocks faster by the beat.
Was he going to come, there and then, fully-dressed? Was he intent on making me? He was close to succeeding and he played over my knickers, my skirt raised, he was almost fake-fucking me from behind. The music felt louder, a hard-driven boogie metal pumped from the speakers rattling every cell in every body, in my body, feeling my skin close to spontaneously combusting. I was being seduced in public right now by a total stranger, or was he? I still didn’t know anything other than his hands and erection.
My legs weakened even before I burst inside, as he brought me to orgasm in this bar to the sound of a Granite Heart. I even thought he might also have cum but couldn’t be sure as I judged from his breathing which quickened to the point mimicking mine, and I did clearly feel my hips and thighs collapse on the inside.
Again, I lurched backwards against him. He held me, His hand still beneath my skirt as though finishing off gently, almost considerately. I felt the sweat pricking my forehead under my hair, the back of my neck, trickling from my bra, my cleavage, my nipples also aroused but luckily hidden and not as unkempt as I felt beneath my skirt.
The music ended, and the band dissolved in clouds of dry ice and had he having slipped from the throng while I was till gathering my senses, and my balance. My skirt back hanging where it belongs. I half-ashamedly, half not, re-adjusted stockings and knickers while no one could see in this twilight world. Everyone applauded. Not me of course. I grinned, felt a small ripple running through my thighs; a satisfied one.
I turned around and all I found was his ghost, a figment of who I imagined but didn’t see, just the space he vacated merely minutes ago. He might’ve been there somewhere in the sea of flushed faces, but I couldn’t tell no matter how hard I looked for a guilty smile. I didn’t know who to look for, an anonymous someone, a nameless, voiceless, faceless someone who left me the gift of yet another incredible and unexpected night to remember.