Congratulations on Rocking Out Irresponsibly!

Tonight when the song comes on the jukebox the raw force of jam will override your good sense.  It’ll burn through your body, your brain, burn out your lips and tongue.  There will be the song, and only the song.

You won’t be alone.  The bar will be full of people, but most of them won’t be your kind of people.  Most of them won’t seem to even notice that the song has started.  Only one will really notice it, even then, notice the appeal, the toxic hold it exerts over every element of the universe.  She’ll begin moving as you begin moving, the two of you spurred towards each other by a force as old and rich as the earth itself, a loamy consideration of personhood that will grasp the base of your skull and tangle its fingers in the fold of each of your brains, driving them together, clouding any kind of self-awareness in favor of a momentous, fearsome perpetuation of the beat, and what the beat entails.  You’ll be pitched together.

Grinding, flapping hands, vague, tracing mouths.  Spirals of spit and sweat foaming, trading between the two of you.  The grinding will increase in intensity erratically, but constantly arcing upwards until you and her are enmeshed in every conceivable way, genitals slotted together so naturally, this is, after all, the only way they ever could be meshed together.  Your thrusting will be drawn by the measures of the song, and when the final crescendo hits, the beat dropping from underneath it, the two of you will orgasm simultaneously.

The world will suddenly, terribly, come back into focus.  You’ll collect yourselves, pay for your drinks and leave the bar separately, both of you red with embarrassment.  You won’t speak, not even to get the other’s name.  You’ll just leave, two ships, vanishing into the night.

You won’t think on this for six months, when you’ll get a text message from a friend who will be at the bar tonight.  He’ll tell you he just saw the girl that you hooked up with and that she’s looking for you.  You’ll already know what she’s looking for you for.   Damn those latin beats.

Congratulations on Rocking Out Irresponsibly!