A slow fall

Chapter 1 - Caleb

    Bodies upon bodies. Flashing lights. Pulsating music. The heat of people, pushed together in a small space, made an inferno rage inside of me. My conciseness drifted; one minute the world was too bright, noises too loud, the atmosphere too thick, then, in the next breath, my surroundings drifted away and there was nothing.

The alcohol flowing through my veins lowered my inhibitions until I was no more than one of the many inebriated bodies moving uncoordinatedly against the coloured floor. My hips swayed—in time with the music, I wasn't sure—alongside those of the man behind me. Our bodies moved together, his hands gripping my hips, my back flush against his chest.

I didn't care much about anything in this moment. I guess that was the point. The alcohol allowed me not to think, gave me the chance to breathe for a while, and the nightclub offered a free pass to be someone else. The world outside no longer existed; The Caleb that I was before stepping inside the club, before the first drop of alcohol touched my lips, was no more.

I moved freely, my body seemingly out of my control, the music my puppeteer. 

I allowed myself to be turned around until I was face to face with the nameless person who danced behind me. I didn't pay much attention to his appearance, his face was masked by shadows, a darkness helping to keep our illicit deeds secret.

When the nameless man leaned in closer, I didn't stop him. Our mouths moved together in a clash of teeth and lips, though I refused to give up the control the man was looking for. After a while he relented, allowing me full access to his mouth. The hands gripping my waist tightened and pulled me impossibly closer. Too close.

I could faintly hear the drumming of the bass as it reverberated through the densely packed room, but I allowed it to become background noise. I focused on the feel of the stranger's body against my own, the stickiness of the man's skin that was now glistening with perspiration, the firmness of his muscles as they tensed underneath my grip, and the dryness of his lips as they moved clumsily against my own.

I didn't intend to see him again, but for now, in this small moment between the two of us, he—this—was what I desired. Wasn't it?

I willed my mind to stop for a moment and just feel, only pulling away when my lungs called for air. The stranger's head chased after mine, eager to claim my lips again, but my mind had attuned to my body's true desires; my parched throat called to be replenished and the stranger's momentary daze offered me the perfect opportunity to slip away.

The crowd was dense enough that I couldn't be easily followed, but it made what was only a short distance feel like miles. I debated searching for my friends but ultimately decided against it. I couldn't make out distant profiles from my vantage point, the strobe lighting obscuring faces in multi-colour, and no volume of voice would overcome that of the music. It was a moot task.

I was resigned to the fact that my friends had been lost long ago. The familiarity of the club we so often frequented offered me enough reassurance; the way the bass in the music pulsated through the floorboards until I could feel it in my bones was almost comforting. The nightclub's smell—a mixture of smoke, sweat, sick and pleasure—was equally familiar, but less of a comfort.

The drinks were cheap and most people were drunk enough not to care about anything of that—myself included. 

any drunken nights had taken place in this dark and dingy club. Memories that can no longer be recalled, or remained blurred through alcohol's lens, happened in this room; nights good, bad, and in-between. People had been kissed, bathroom stalls seeing more than they were built for, and the innocence of youth wiped away. All in the name of fun.