Blood on the Dance Floor

There are two things you need to know about me.

I've always been aware, ever since I was very young, that I have certain... powers. Some would call it my "gift". Others might call it magic, or witchcraft, though I find such terms to be crude. It definitely runs in the women in my family. I knew my mother had something similar, and although she never talked about it explicitly, she always encouraged me to explore my abilities.

I can't fly, or turn people to toads, or anything like that. I like to think of it more as a special relationship I have been granted with the whirlwind of invisible forces that shape our reality. Sometimes, in the right circumstances, they will grant me a peek behind the curtain. For example, in the middle of a conversation I might suddenly be able to read the other person's thoughts for a brief flash. Sometimes I have visions of things that will happen, or that are happening far away.

Occasionally, I am allowed to subtly bend reality around me. This is the most powerful and mysterious of my abilities. It has also been the hardest to learn to recognize and control. (Though you can never really control such things; they will always take you where they want. The best you can do is learn to let them.) When it happens, it always starts with an omen: a small anomalous occurrence, not noteworthy per se, but just slightly off-kilter, slightly unusual. If I can catch that moment and let it grow, then weird things are bound to follow...

The other thing you need to know about me is that I love dancing.

Tonight I am in my favourite club in town, The Black Moon. It's a popular place with the alternative crowd, full of wannabe misfits. The dance floor is underground, in a cavernous hall with a tall ceiling and a shiny black floor. I like it because it's always packed to the brim, reverberating with activity. The dancers are mostly in their 30s and 40s; people dressed in frilly lace vintage outfits, goths, mods, rockers, baggy shirts, all denim, neon ravers, and more. The music is as eclectic as the fashion, ranging from club bangers to psychedelic indie to retro soul.

I have come alone. This is my favourite way to experience the club. I feed off the energy of the crowd, feeling the collective humanity and adrenaline as I dance into the small hours. Without fail, the heat and noise and thrill turns me on, and leaves me a sweaty mess. Usually I wait until the end of the night to run home and get myself off, but on more than one occasion I have had to slip into one of the bathroom stalls and relieve my throbbing pussy right there and then. Honestly, there is no other experience that can even compete.

It's past midnight now and the crowd is full of energy. The electronic music we were just dancing to cross-fades into a familiar beat; it's the opening bars of Joy Division's anthemic Love Will Tear Us Apart. The old school hipsters in the crowd give a cheer. The robotic drum beat gives way to Ian Curtis's dark, haunted voice:

"When routine bites hard, and ambitions are low..."

As I am swaying to the music, I look down and notice the blood for the first time. Red stains on the front of my white skirt, on my bare leg and on the black floor. It is coming from a cut on the palm of my hand. I don't know how I got it. None of the other dancers seem to have noticed anything. Droplets have fallen all around me on the floor, enclosing me in a red circle.

I should stop dancing, but I don't. Instinctively, I know what this is: an omen. Reality is ready to accommodate my desires, if I can be brave enough to tell it what I want.

I lick the palm of my hand and taste the metallic taste, while the bass drum pulsates through the floor and up into my body. I am full of dark desires that I don't quite understand. Without thinking, I undo the large round buttons on the side of my skirt and let it fall to the ground. Why did I do that? I am now standing in the middle of the dance floor in a pair of black high rise lace panties, swaying my hips with increasing intensity. I am only a few feet away in all directions from the other partygoers, but nobody bats an eyelid at me. They are all absorbed in their own dances, their own stories. I feel protected by the red circle.

"We're changing our ways, taking different roads..."

As I move, I start to gently rub myself over the top of my panties. I let out an involuntary moan. I can feel my pussy lips swelling up, and a wetness growing between my legs. Whenever I dare, I pull the crotch of the panties to one side and trace the outline of my labia, sending shivers of pleasure through my body.

I gradually adjust to the idea that I don't need to hide from my fellow dancers. I'm not invisible to them, I don't think; they see me, but just think nothing of it. As long as I can hold onto this feeling, I am free to do whatever I want.

Finally, I slide my panties down as well. I bend my knees in an obscene pose, furiously rubbing my clit as I would do underneath the sheets in the privacy of my bedroom.

As I pleasure myself, I turn my focus on the people around me. I can read their thoughts as if they were my own. Here is a rather handsome silver-haired man in a stylish leather jacket; he is happily reminiscing about the girl he took to see Joy Division in his youth. Behind him is a young couple on their first date. The guy is thinking how beautiful his companion is; the girl is getting turned on by the touch of his hand on her waist, and is imagining all the things she is going to let him do to her when they get home. The fact that he has no idea yet makes her even more excited.

I am now finger fucking myself, moaning and groaning with delight. It's not enough. I want more. I bend forward and push my ass in the air. Reaching behind me with both hands I expose my asshole to the crowd. With one hand I start to massage my anus, while the other turns back to my dripping vagina. I dip the tip of my finger in and out of my asshole and feel like I am reaching heaven. The young couple near me is sharing their first kiss.

"Love, love will tear us apart, again..."

How long has this song been playing? I feel that I have been edging myself for 20 minutes at least. I start to think that time is also bending for me. I am close, but it is still not enough. I know that I need to let go of all restrictions. I look at the blood still dripping from my hand, now smudged on my legs, my half-undone shirt, my buttocks. The red circle on the floor around me shines in the darkness.

Another urge comes across me. I have had a few drinks throughout the evening, and I realise that they have found their way down to my bladder. I look at the toilets on the other side of the hall. I can't break the circle now.

On one side of me there is a group of emo girls in dark eyeliner and black lipstick, on the other a middle-aged couple dressed up in roaring 20s fashion; in front of me, my silver-haired old-timer. All of them my people. Standing between them with my body exposed, I feel completely and utterly uninhibited. I sway to the music and relax my muscles, relieving myself on the dancefloor. A trickle of clear pee soon becomes a flood, dripping down the inside of my leg and splattering on the floor. I can smell blood, piss, and pussy juices. As the pee subsides again to a small trickle, I resume rubbing my glistening pussy and am hit almost immediately by a shattering orgasm, in time with the closing refrains of the song.

The moment passes. I stand there as a new song starts, everyone carrying on dancing as if what they had just witnessed was the most normal thing in the world. My skirt and panties are on the floor, I am covered in bodily fluids and I can feel my pussy still involuntarily contracting open and closed for all to see. Am I a goddess or an animal? I think I am both.

The red circle is smudged, half washed away by my pee. I know that reality needs to return to normal now, but exactly when and how abruptly this is going to happen is impossible for me to say. I am in no hurry to cover up. For the moment I decide to stay like this and see how many more songs I can enjoy in my post-orgasmic bliss.