So far, Amy got a birthday present from Tasha: DJ & Jay. They went shopping. They went to the track. They got it on. The adventure continues...
V. In the Club
The Riverdale's dance bar, better known as just The Club, covered half the basement. You'd never know that from the outside, or the inside for that matter. It was reached by a long, rather steep metal staircase followed by drab and featureless cement-block hallway. That served it well for noise control. As we were to learn, the music throughout most often thumped in a decidedly sexual beat, like the orgy scene of a recent movie. Four-inch thick metal doors opened outwards from the seamless grey wall. Four room keys, the plastic-card kind, had been left with us at the start of our stay. We each carried one, just in case. As soon as he saw the passes, the tuxedoed bouncer shoved us through into strobe lights and banged the doors shut so close behind Tasha and me that it was wonder we didn't get our clothing caught in it.
Inside, a warren of small dance floors and partial walls led in a semi circle around the central bar area. Each floor, six of them, had its own unique shape and theme. There were an assortment of permanently placed tables and booths extending from the walls around the edges, and various other moveable furniture. A lot of large couches and overstuffed chairs were scattered about, too. Some of these rooms were built with sunken levels. While you could get glimpses of the others when you were on one, it was impossible to see much more because of the walls in the way. Blacklights were standard; I understood now why all the white. I looked at Jay and he positively glowed blue where he stood.
Maybe two hundred people were already inside. Most were sitting around, talking quietly and smoking. The smoke hung in the air and the intermittent flashes of strobes caught in it. Not many were dancing yet, that I could see, but within minutes of being there I knew that's what I wanted to do, all night if possible, or at least till something better presented itself.
Jay nudged me and asked what I wanted to drink. Just Corona. I wanted to get a slow buzz tonight, but not be totally wasted. Dancing was best that way. DJ and Tasha had wandered off by themselves, exploring one room and then the next, but I waited where I stood, leaning against the wall and swaying in time to the beat. A hand appeared around the side of my face with a bottle of amber liquid clutched in it. Another landed on my waist, and pulled back. Jay bit my earlobe and breathed into my ear. "What do you say we show 'em how it's done, huh baby?" The blunt end of the bottle bumped against my chest and slid down into my cleavage. "Come on," Jay wheedled. "You want to dance; I can tell just by the way you move your ass. From what I hear they do more here ('hee-ah') than just dance."
There was no point in saying no; I just wanted to say yes, to everything. Appropriating the beer bottle, I drained half of it in one long draw and turned around to face Jay. "You're on."
"Yeah," he said enthusiastically. The beat was changing, the upbeat music that was in evidence when we first walked in slowing slightly, with a techno drive to it. Dark trance, I was pretty sure. There was a small knot of people dancing already on the closest floor. Jay led me out near them and looked at me expectantly. "What?" He looked to one side then the other, and cocked an eyebrow. I knew what to do. Dance. This was as natural as breathing.
The trance beat was so perfect; it went on and on and on. Dancing was a response, a call, and an offering. Though Jay was there, and he was a good partner with a good sense of rhythm, for a while I didn't really pay him much attention. I was lost; it was just the music. After a half hour, DJ and Tasha showed up and joined us. Jay took a break and got more drinks. I left them to their own devices, and just danced. The music was sinuous, dark, hypnotic. Exactly the way it needed to be. The people all around us must have felt the same. The movements we were all making were complimentary to the music. It was starting to resemble a rave as more and more people came out. Strobes flashed and white-clothed bodies gyrated. Jay's blue-tinted mane appeared over the crowd and he handed me another bottle. Thirsty, I threw it back and handed it back to Jay to get rid of. He walked off. Shortly thereafter, he was behind me, grinding against my ass.
We didn't need to talk, we just followed each other's moves. Jay was expansive. He hopped around and gestured with his arms. When he wasn't doing that, he was either up against the back of me, moving in a very dirty fashion, or to the side, one or the other leg out in my direction, inviting me to do the same to him. Though there was plenty of that type of thing going on, even people starting to take off clothing, I didn't. I waited, and let the slow burn rise. Jay was more about showing off at first anyway. He got plenty of attention to stoke his ego. Many of the women were watching him, some more obviously than others; some of the men too. A few came up and cut in but I didn't mind. During those intervals I'd find wherever DJ and Tasha had moved to and join them. They seemed to be happy with whatever groove they'd found, but indulged me to dance as their third leg several times over the period of the next hour. Jay always found his way back. Then he'd grab me, give my butt a little squeeze and push his groin against my back. He was getting pretty worked up with all the dancing. I was, too, besides hot and sweaty and sometimes out of breath.
He got back from one more session with an aerobicized-looking female with short spiky blond hair and slammed into my backside with more force than before. His cock was hard as a rock and he wanted to play. He was chanting to himself under his breath, "Uh, uh, go Jason, go Jason, it's your birthday…" It stuck me so funny I broke into wild giggling, but at the same time whipped around and plastered myself to his front, grasping his upper arms to steady myself. The trance beat took over. We humped ourselves all over each other on the floor. It was like riding the ocean: powerful, flowing rhythmically up and down. At the same there was much room for hip-writhing, grinding, hair-throwing, and skin-kissing.
"You like my guns?" Jay yelled over the noise, tightening his biceps. Hell, yes. Running my thumbs over said 'guns' I manually appreciated, but didn't stop there. Tipping my head back, I gazed woozily into his innocent-dirty blue eyes and systematically went to work discovering all of his body I could lay my hands on. His arms were first, then up to his long tower of a neck where his pulse pounded hyperactively, then over his sweet pointed chin, the lips he was pouting for all he was worth. Reaching to tuck his messed-up strands of hair back over his ears, I traced each, and tugged gently on the earrings in the left one. He had two gold hoops tonight. Jay performed similar ministrations on me, all the while keeping his timing. His hands snaked lower and firmly grabbed me on the buns. I leaned back slightly, and did the same to him. We ground against each other steadily, lower, then back up, finding a pace just short of ecstatic, electronica overwhelming every sense. Jay's white silk shirt got steadily damper with his sweat and clung to him. I could see his pale pink nipples through it, and unable to help myself, tweaked them. His expression turned surprised, and then he closed his eyes and went with it, once again mirroring me. My own breasts got hard under his caressing palms, straining against the lacy bra I'd picked out.
