The music pounded. Lights danced through the air. I sat on the other side of the room and watched as people let their bodies move.
Metkat, one of Amy’s partners and one of her housemates, stood behind his laptop dictating the playlist for this part of the evening. MissAmyRed was one of the persons dancing. Occasionally Metkat set a song to play and himself joined the folks moving as their bodies wished.
I sat in a chair, nerves taking hold. Even though I knew that’s where I wanted to be, on that dance floor, even though I knew how good it would feel to let go, I felt tied to my seat.
I looked around the room, taking in the play.
As I gazed left, I glimpsed a suspension in progress. The rigger was an attractive man, tall and broad, strong. The bottom was a beautiful woman. I let my eyes drift between the bodies on the dance floor and the pair in their scene. Later I learned the rigger was Kilawama, one of the people Gray and Amy mentioned in our conversation in the Barn at Rope Camp.
With a bit of voyeurism under my belt, I relaxed somewhat. I stood up from my chair, let myself walk the corridor to the more lounge-like area before walking back towards the dancing.
As I strolled for a spell, I saw Clash. I’d met him earlier that day, too; he was Amy’s other housemate. For the week, I was staying in the house’s spare bedroom on the third floor, the same floor as Clash’s room. We attempted to chat over the din of the music before he had to go back to his rounds. That night he was acting as a monitor for the event.
Even though I’d grown more comfortable in the space, I had yet to do what I’d wanted to do all night. I took my spot in the chair again.
As I went back to watching, I saw Tandava and Amy setup for a scene. Also, to my right, I saw a hot fisting scene on a nearby couch.
I also got into a conversation with a guy who took the chair next to me. I forget what we talked about though, because of the song that played next.
I recognized the beat as it began, recognized the music and the voice.
“I’m sorry, but I know this song. I have to dance.”
I excused myself from the conversation, stood up, and walked towards the dance floor.
Still, I couldn’t step on it, not yet. There was a column just off the wood. I leaned against it, moving my head back and forth and swaying my hips.
She Wants Revenge blasted about me, their song Out Of Control, one of my favorites.
As the half way mark came in the song, I started mentally pushing myself. Dymytrov It’s just a few more feet. No one will notice. No one will judge you. No one will care. Do what you always do. Close your eyes. Let the music take you.
I took a step. And then another. And then another.
I let my hips sway, let my arms move. I found an open area on the dance floor and closed my eyes. I felt the music in my flesh, in my bones. I let my body do what it wanted. I let myself dance.
I stayed on the dance floor for a few more songs. I let myself be in this tiny world. Just the back of my lids, or my feet, or the lights filled my field of vision. I let my body do its thing. I let go.
I felt happy, truly happy, to be in Seattle. And I realized why they named this party Grind.
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