I was warned. About his flirting. It didn't worry me. I said I could handle it.

The lights are dim. The smoke machine goes off about every three minutes (I timed it). 80s music videos play off the multiple projector screens but since we're sitting in the VIP section I don't notice how loud it is until later when I hit the dance floor. I've had two redish fruity margarita-like drinks (2nd is mixed stronger) and two lemony shots with a kick. I'm laughing. Having fun.

Finally the DJ starts playing more current dance hits. The floor is starting to look less empty. I learned how to dance at raves, so it's the style I bring to this club – time out He grabs my hand and abruptly throws me into some swing moves. The beat is all wrong but I catch on. Periodically he lets me go, but even when I move around he always pulls me back. More often then not, more rave than swing.

It doesn't bother me. It's all the same to me. Dance is dance and I love it all. Love melding my body to the music, losing myself to its rhythm.

He teases that I don't bend backwards, but I challenge that I do. I'm not used to having so much space when I dance. So the next time he pushes, my head nearly reaches the floor. I come up with an "I told you so," smirk and he turns my back to him, pulling me close. I dance.

He puts his hand around my neck. It doesn't really hurt but it's uncomfortable and catches me off-guard so I stiffen. What is he doing? The hand moves up to my chin and turns my face towards him. I know this move and resist, only to feel more pressure until his mouth is enveloping mine. Teeth bite my lip and tongue searches mine so I clinch down and pull away. "I don't kiss and dance" I say.

"Kissing's half the fun," he replies, but releases me and pushes me back towards the VIP spot.

I finish the last bits of a pinkish drink of hers. When he goes to get more drinks, I use his jacket as a towel and try to wipe most of his sweat off me. He made me kiss him again before he left. I wipe off the slobber as she motions "I'm sorry" in sign language to me.

I laugh it off. Say it's what you get if you dance like that even though I don't believe it. Nobody at raves has ever forced a kiss. I can just dance alone. That's all I want to do.

He brings another shot. I take it before going back to the dance floor. Lady GaGa to Rhianna to Usher to Britney to Madonna to Justin. New songs, same pattern as before. Rave and swing and teeth and tongue. He reaches his hand inside my underwear. I'm too shocked to react and merely laugh when he comments on the full briefs. "You never know what to expect," I say.

It is so loud. So hot. He's too fucking sweaty. I just want to dance.

Another break. I've peed like four times already. He brings two more shots for us girls even though I don't want another one because I'm starting to feel tingly and I don't want to risk it. It's not worth it. But I take it anyway, and tell him "no more!"

Floor again. No memorable songs. Maybe a Ke$ha one, but I'm hoping for my newest addiction "DJ's got us falling in love again." To no avail. He asks what I want to do when we get back to the house. I tell him I live in the moment so I don't have to answer. This is happening too fast.

She's falling asleep because of the alcohol she won't dance off. Time to go home even though it's only half past midnight. One last bathroom trip.

Coming up from sitting position throws my head for a loop and I suddenly discover I can't walk straight, though whether from lack of limb-control or poor-vision I don't know. I don't like this. At raves, a dance partner is never driving me home. Doesn't know my real name. Isn't spending the night in the same house.

I pee again at the house and when I get out she has left me with him. I leaeve space between us on the cough and fake a yawn so he'll show me the guest bedroom where I'm supposed to sleep. He goes to the far side, turns down the covers and turns off the lights.

All signals were already screaming ages ago. I grab my bag and say I have to take off my contacts. I lock the bathroom door behind me and take my sweet time brushing my teeth, putting on pjs (I wish I had three layers of underwear!) and taking out my contacts. I pee again for good measure. I want to stay in there until it's time to leave. At least until the sun comes back up and the darkness of the night can no longer hide its secrets. There is a lock. It's all I need. A solid barrier. But I can't stay and I know it. I want to go home.

I was warned. I wasn't worried. I said I could handle it.

I leave the bathroom light on so I can see into the room. He's in the bed. Oh God. Please, please protect me. I didn't ask for this. I don't want this.

Wishful thinking hopes he's already asleep but he asks if I'm okay. "Yeah," I say casually I put my stuff down beside the bed, answering a text from Christina. I don't know what the crap she's doing up at 1am.

He tells me to set an alarm for 9am "just in case we don't wake up" and I do. I want to stall for time but have to crawl into the bed. One arm's behind my head. The other reaches across to me, to my face again.

"Goodnight kiss," he says.

"One," I say regretfully, and he takes two. My finger on his lips prevents three. "I'm really tired," I say.

"Can't be."

I blame the alcohol and stick to it despite his protests. My head is swimming for more reasons than one.

"Too tired for me to go down on you?" he offers.

I want to puke, and it has nothing to do with all I've drank.

"Yes."

Straight, simple, one word answer.

Please go away, please go away, please go away, I plead in my head fervently.

"I told you, I just dance."

After an agony of time during which I'm preparing my already stressed and dying vocal chords to scream, he moves his hand from my crotch and from behind my head.

"Then you'll probably sleep better if you had the bed to yourself." And he gets up. I could cry in relief. "Thanks for the night kiss," he says.

"Thanks for the dance," I mumble sleepily and appear as fucking tired as humanly possible.

There's no door to shut behind him. No lock to protect me. Nobody to call. I protect myself as I've always had to.

I lay perfectly still on my back, glass piece in hand, eyes wide open and trained on the doorway, ears ringing in this deafening tone in retaliation for the night's loud music. Nine hours pass like this, until she wakes up and is ready to leave.

I was warned. I wasn't worried. I handled it by myself.

Raves don't mean anything. Nothing like this ever comes of it. I didn't ask for this. I was not following the hook-up script I understand only in written theory. All I wanted was to just dance.

Just Dance

I've had a little bit too much, o-o-o-oh

All of the people start to rush, start to rush, yeah

A dizzy twister dance, can't find my drink or man

Where are my keys, I lost my phone

What's going on on the floor?
I love this record baby, but I can't see straight anymore

Keep it cool, what's the name of this club?

I can't remember but it's alright, alright

[chorus]

Just dance

Gonna be okay

Da-doo-doo-doo

Just dance

Spin that record babe

Da-doo-doo-doo

Just dance

Gonna be okay

Duh-duh-duh-duh

Dance. Dance. Dance.

Just, just, just, just

DANCE