Better Living Through Chemistry: A

I'M A FI-YA STARTA', TWiSTED FI-YA STARTA'!"

The smoke enveloped the streaks that were occasionally living bodies, occluding them fully in a shroud of pounding bass, exploding lights and the unmistakable scent of club fog. Two oblique humanoids wearing tiny pairs of head-lamp eyewear bounced above the fray, dropping Prodigy's hell down into the sexual kettle boiling below. The people were only human in the physical, their collective souls merged through love into the hazy techno-gumbo. The periphery was lined with endless onlookers, most not feeling the ecstatic aura and standing- heads bobbing slightly- with glib faces and plastic cups of booze and staring at the fun. Their nights did not include the poignancy of the dancers hiding in the smoke. Either by choice of abstinence or just the lack of underworld contacts they were destined to drown their sorrows in booze and jealousy. If they had tried the bean, they were pissed at their lack of quality procurement and if they had never tried it, they could not know what they were missing.

Nikki did not feel pity for them, only love for all.

Her day had gone as scheduled, endless yada yada yada about business theory and payroll accounting at school, an hour or two of studying Adam Smith and lunch, a few hours tossing Solitary cards online and sneering at men who thought her Instant Messaging nickname was an excuse to drop subtle and not so subtle hints about just what they could do for her. The web is full of them. It was Friday after all, thoughts of school, the future, and any half-ass advances by some old bald guy tapping keys in Opelika, Alabama could eat shit as far as she was concerned. A lucky call from Greg managed to brighten up her night's prospects immensely. A fresh shipment of delightful chocolate chip disco bisquits had entered Jackson. The city's powers-that-be had grudgingly approved the request by a touring rave group to stage a Massive downtown.

The town was ready for it. People are a fickle bunch in any city and Jackson is not so large that every club in town hasn't been visited and gotten bored with. There are the meat markets with pretty boys and old whores like The Dock and The Forum and the ubiquitous 1001, the sports bars full of beer-swillin' ex-frat boys and plumbers like Time Out and Hooters and the rundown country clubs like Pop's. There are no true dedicated dance clubs, though so the rumors of a Massive coming to town flew through the youth of the city by Blog. With any rave comes the influx of club drugs and the meth cookers, coke pushers, dime-bag potheads and pill poppers that normally run the town's fun mostly found themselves low on the totem pole. The Memphis and New Orleans bean bringers filtered into the town like a mist creeping under the door jams. Their products were the key to any serious attempt at a rave. Beer and coke is quite unsuited to bringing together better living through chemistry.

Nikki had made no plans to meet any friends of hers; she had partied enough with them. Inevitably, the intrusion of their personal agendas would just prove to be a hindrance to her own. She did not wish to be swayed from the dance floor by the drunken tug of her arm by a friend who needed a ride or just her ear for a moment. She lived for the ecstatic bliss, hungry to feel the trance take her into the fog of photo-musical rapture and was loathe to be dissuaded by anyone who would turn their nose up at her idea of a party. Greg had sold her two hits, one she ate immediately as she left his apartment in Belhaven and the other as soon as she the euphoria began to race her heartbeat and free her spirit. By two a.m., the feeling of bliss and full-on arousal was total.

The Massive was staged in a rundown part of Gallatin Street, located near the old Midnight Sun, a club that in its heyday had seen a bean or two. The building's interior had been transformed as if by a magic wand into a psychedelic wonderland. A dark corridor with black-lit images of straight and gay lust fed directly past the bottle-water bar to the sinful pit broiling with writhing and hopping bodies and swirling glow sticks. She felt the kinship within the smoke instantly, feeling the X take its lovely hold of her motions and dreams and carry her on the groovy magic carpet ride straight into the maw of sexual deviance and bliss. Time froze in the mists, the only measure of its grip being counted by the rise of the sun in the morning and the lull in the drugs' effects that was sure to come.

Nikki was conscious of her own body's glory. She could feel sweat on her, cooling hot skin as it merged with the sticky smoke blasting from ten machines mounted all around and above the masses. The lasers occasionally fired into the crowd in precise beams, providing the only visibly straight edge in the room. The hallucinatory visions took over otherwise, twisting and turning with each sweep of a vari-lite and change in musical tempo brought down from above. She could feel each pore in her body wanting to merge with the others, striving for a communal feeling of adoration with each other. Everything within the shroud was beautiful, the occasional face of a dancer nearby appearing blissful and angelic and bringing the clenched-teeth smile so common on the floor. The headlights above twisted and turned the moods as they wished, treating the thrashing figures below as if they were but mere flesh puppets for their manipulation and Nikki was no different. She in fact wanted to be steered, for they moved her toward a higher good unseen by those unaffected.

She writhed on the floor, feeling the hot flashes of wanton desires and feelings of liberation. Her eyes were useless, clouded by the swirling haze and the eyelids remaining clenched in the salute to "One Love." Hands passed by her, stroking her skin, rubbing her hair gently and even running delicate fingertips up her bare calves. She appreciated the gestures, smiling coyly and cooing softly, uttering a moan that hopelessly lost itself in the thunderous din of sound erupting all around. The frenetic gesticulations ebbed and flowed with the DJ's every beat. Unknown to Nikki, one of them took an interest in her directly and performed a most unusual experiment.

The crowd was growing in number, people throwing themselves into the throes regardless of drug intake or need for stimulation. In the center was Nikki, arms flailing and her face sweaty from exertion and hormonal overload. She was clad in a short miniskirt and tight haltertop with tight pink stacks and glittery jewelry. The room became tight, packed with the increasingly sweaty faces of woman and man alike, closing in on her and growing bolder in their strokes and light brushes against her. Quite unknown to her, she became the center of attention, the pulsating lights aiming at her directly and pointing to her as a shining point of light.

The crowd became eager to feel the light on them. The music turned dark, turning from flighty sounds of light, trippy bliss into dark grinding industrial metal that soured the happy dispositions of many and stoking the coals of pent-up sexual aggression in Jackson into a raging fire of blatantly overt gropes and deliberate stripping of her clothing piecemeal.

At first, she wasn't quite able to understand just what was occurring. Her own visions from the dual doses of X intrigued her, the focused attention of many turning literally into "One Love." She was conscious of many hands on her, groping at times forcefully and at times seductively all about her body. A great many men and women ground their legs or erections into her thighs, cupping her breasts and nuzzling the nape of her neck. One set of hands raised her skirt, cupping her ass roughly and in an instant, her tiny panties tore away into the smoke. The smoke covered most of her nudity in a gray-hued mass of dusky strobe-lites and raw psychedelic intensity. Women dove into her face, running hot tongues over her cheeks and drawing her nipples into tight, tingly focal points of attention. Hands swirled over her body coarsely, the amphetamine-driven guitar riffs and manic screams of lusty degradation from the amplifiers pounding home the innate need to defile her.

Her blouse ripped from her, the sweaty skin beneath exposed to the air and cooling instantly. Her eyes closed, the drug's effects inhibiting any thoughts of repulsion or fear. It was, after all, the complete fulfillment of some odd dream of hers. To be taken forcefully by the masses of sexual driven individuals all caught up in a fervid pit of cravings and collective need for the purge of hidden demons caught her up in the moment. She threw her own skirt off, unzipping it unconsciously and tossing it into the melee. She was nude, illuminated by swirling swaths of light and bombarded by crunching thoughts from Trent Reznor. The songs of NIN, already angst-driven and raw were now welded with the angry noise of Ministry and tossed anger into the fray. Men began freaking anyone close to them, angrily french-kissing total strangers and friends alike. Nikki ignored it all, surrendering to the euphoria and to the onslaught of hands around her body. She felt sharp fingernails clawing at her back, bringing brief cries of pain and the need for more from her. The taunt skin of an erect penis touched her thigh, a smiling face in front of hers barely visible through the haze. Another dick, this one longer and more enthralling snaked its way between her thighs. Her arms flew out to her sides, held out Christ-like by a man and a woman who were each enraptured by partners next to them.

The dick in the front moved its way to her swelling clit, its hood held aside by another unseen set of hands that roughly massaged her pussy in some blithe effort to turn her own. A tongue, somehow determined to be feminine in spite of her nerves already overflowing with stimuli, ran around her ass and over the cock poised and jutting into the cheek. A set of arms lifted her into the cloudy air, carrying her above the floor and levitating her waist high in the crowd. The dicks and fingers of various minions began inserting themselves, stabbing into her with reckless abandon while the hands and tongues of the dancing apparitions around her ran allover her exposed skin. A woman offered Nikki her own breast, which she sucked and drew strong jerks of release from while she sought out the woman's own crotch with a curious hand.

The faces and occasional voices were nondescript in the fray, unnoticed yet completely occupying her consciousness. The raver fucking her pulled away, disappearing into the fog and eagerly replaced by another, larger cock that plunged deep within her and drew sharp cries of release and immorality that were unheard in the tumult. This one did not last long, a strong warm spray of cum flying across her floating body and ebbing into the mist as well. An awaiting woman dove in, licking the man's seed and washing Nikki's clit with a sweet probing tongue that succeeded in arousing her. Mouths clasped her lips and nipples, defiling her body with the need to communicate with her sexy soul.

The Massive freaking continued throughout the night, the DJ's keeping the vibe alive. Nikki finally left after having been joined by members of the audience elsewhere on the floor. It was a scene of complete debauchery, played out by everyone hidden and rolling uncontrollably in the smoke. Women ran around heedlessly accepting the insertions of strangers and tossing their own sexual needs into the hot fiery smoke of malcontent libidinous sin and emotional turmoil. Nikki was eventually released to continue dancing, the seed and juice of males and females alike coating her skin in various places and filling her with the need for more. Despite the unwanted violation, she craved more, desperately and wildly throwing herself at the feet of a man or woman and inhaling a random dick fully or tasting the vulva of some tart while random sensual fingers pulled her face into their groin.

People staggering drunkenly into the rave after a boring night at other clubs were shocked by the display erupting from the warehouse. Scenes of blatant homosexuality abounded, men fellating men openly, women unabashedly dancing a morose 69 two-step on the benches and scant chairs surrounding the dance floor. Men and women were twisting to the music like overheated snakes, taking it from behind or slowly dancing together as if taking a slow dance at prom, except for their nudity and slow fondling of the genitals while they caressed. The girl selling water behind the bar, decided to cash in some of her own money, tossing entire bottles of Dasani into the crowd and adding a cool rain to the hot skin, the hissing of speakers seeming to echo the sizzling flesh being doused. Nikki herself was flooded by a woman who poured an entire one-liter bottle over her, drenching her hair and washing sweat and semen from her. A pungent scent of sexual release then began to overtake the smell of the smoke, replacing the essence of rave with an ambience of the taboo.

People continued to join in, emboldening a few overloaded drug dealers to begin randomly tossing tabs into the open mouths of recipients eager to feel whatever aura had overtaken the crowd. Teenagers who had sneaked in were amazed by the spectacle, as were whatever nurses, secretaries, construction workers, waitresses, students or slacker who happened to participate. Her own high ebbed slightly, allowing Nikki to finally leave the floor to go pee and begin to regain her wits. She was nude, and began to come down enough to know that she could not leave the arena in such short supply of covering. Clothing was everywhere, so she scooped up a t-shirt and pair of cargo pants that were grossly oversized and tossed them on. Feeling a bit embarrassed by her behavior suddenly, she stared up into the DJ booth, the four tiny flashlights lighting it up just enough for her to realize the two spinners were blowing her kisses and waving. Forcing a sly smile, she gave them a jaunty wave and exited, laughing a bit under her breath as she passed a few newcomers muttering curiously between themselves about whether or not there was any chance of getting laid in there. Nikki only smiled to herself and drove home. She never spoke of it to anyone and thus was an unknowing urban legend among the ravers who attended the Massive that one Friday night as "Madame X, the woman who turned out the town..."