Kimberly Martis

Stranger Danger. Content Warning.

“Booty going up down,” I scream as I make my way to the dancefloor. Some good old T-Pain blasting through the speakers and a few tequila shots is just what I needed. It's been forever since I've been out with my girls and just let loose. But after the crappy day I had at work, letting loose was just what I needed. The colorful lights cutting through the dark, the hot clammy air, and the smell of cheap perfumes, alcohol, and sweat don't faze me as I twerk all my sorrows away. A big manly hand lands on my waist. Firmly but gently, I'm being held, and without even looking to see who this stranger is, I turn it up a notch as the DJ smoothly transitions into dancehall. Dancehall Queen starts blasting through the club, and it's on. Time to show these suckers who the real dancehall queen is. As I bump and grind on this stranger, his grip becomes firmer, and it awakens my curiosity. Without being too obvious, I decide to see who I'm dancing with. The club is dark, and so is he as I catch a glimpse of him. Just enough for me to confirm that I like what I see. In one smooth movement, I turn around, and we're now dancing face to face. He's wearing a black satin button-up that shows a big part of his chest, which is glistening with sweat.