Feel it in my Bones
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In the night and noise of New York City, anything can happen. After the darkness of a club and a few brief moments of stolen pleasure, two people head to an apartment that overlooks the city. And in a room full of heat, sweat, and heavy beats they have their own private dance—a dance that is a tangle of limbs and a clamor of voices ragged with effort, with an end that is sweet release. More
The first few notes were soft, long, volume turned way down then arcing higher as it was adjusted. Then a voice, female and remixed, filtered, backed by a beat that I could feel in the floor. I knew that music. I...
The grin on her face had fire in it now, smoldering with a heat that made me immediately want to shuck my clothes. But that wasn't what made my jaw drop. She wasn't wearing anything.
Black tattoos arced across her chest and around her sides, some intoxicating pattern that made me lick my lips. I wanted to trace them all, so agonizingly slow that she’d beg to have me stop. She moved a finger on the iPod and lights dimmed, going dark in some places, low and yellow in others. That beat was still there in the background; Tiësto at his best, and two girls with voices that slithered and coiled around my mind. But even that faded compared to her as she sauntered over, taking care to emphasize the sway in her step. I couldn't move. I tried, I tried to speak, too. But those eyes held me, gentle humor and desire and something else that I couldn't pin down.
She finally got over to me, then trailed a finger down my shirt and poked her nose into my face with a smile.
So we did.
The music picked up. My arms moved, trancelike at first, then faster, in time with the rhythm that made the windows shake. She took a different approach, all wide movement and whole-body twists that made her seem to ripple like a sheet caught in the wind. I went breathless. The music had the same effect that it had in the club: it sucked my soul out through my ears and sent it to heaven, and let my body do what it would. In the low light and cityglow I danced, we danced, moved and twisted and smiled like it was the best night of our lives. And if it wasn't, it came pretty damn close.
The song slowly died down and I moved to stop, still entranced, but she shook her head and smiled that same infuriating smile, then put her hands under my shirt and pulled if off so quick I didn't realize I'd lifted my arms. Then the song started again.
Beat. Rhythm. Notes. All meaningless words next to sound, pure sound, that force that can shake you to your core and make you do things and realize things that you've never even started to form thoughts about. We moved to it like we were drunk, swaying and bucking in the center of the wide-open expanse of the living room, and the hot tears in my eyes blurred light to streaks as the voices caught me by the heartstrings again. Her movement slowed me further, but then the chorus came again and I moved, moved toward life, flailed and danced and danced until the music started tapering off once more. I tried to say something, but she saw and caught me, kissed me on the cheek, and then yanked down my pants.
And then the music started again.