Modern Romeo & Juliet

The bass was pounding in my ears, or was that the speed coursing through my veins? I wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t the place or the time to be occupied with these silly thoughts. I was free like a long term caged bird that finally got the latch to fall. The blinding lights that reflected off the disco ball specked all over me and the beautiful girl that was pressed up against my crotch. It felt nice as the voluptuous redhead shook her bosom against me.

The smoke machine gushed what appeared to be a thick fog. It tumbled its way out of the hose and onto the floor, covering my boots. The redhead flickered her head up and straightened her curvy body to full height. My eyes gleefully appreciated her amazing curves as she danced closer. My head cocked back, relaxed, and I swayed back and forth to the beat of the music. “So Romeo, come here often?” The redhead finally spoke. Her heart shaped lips hovering above my ears. Her voice in no way matched her face or body. Her voice was like a cackle and she looked more like a fair maiden with her gigantic green eyes surrounded by thick lashes. She could blow someone away with a quick bat or two.

“No first and last time actually.” I lied deliberately. For the record, my name’s not really Romeo. Almost everyone who doesn’t know me personally calls me that. Just how you would assume a guy penned Ace is great with cards, Romeo is great with ladies.

Her dainty hands wandered over my chest and down my abdomen. Something inside me twitched and itched. Her full lipstick smeared lips pressed against the trunk of my neck. My blood pulsed rapidly; I could hear it despite the massive bass booming from all around the club. I clutched redhead’s hand and pushed her softly aside. She gave me a quizzical look before scurrying off with some other dud. I stumbled around the dance floor, people surrounding me, suffocating me, drowning me as if I was stranded in the middle of the ocean. I can’t swim for shit, is all I’m thinking as I stagger clutching people’s shoulders. Most shrug me off thinking I’m stupidly drunk, but I’m not. There’s something else wrong and I open my mouth to ask for help, but no luck. It’s as if someone stuffed a billion cotton balls down my throat. The feeling drains from my limbs like a vacuum. Suddenly one of the club owners pounces towards me. He’s a family friend so it’s no surprise when he cups my face in his hand and screams: “Zayn? Are you listening to me? Holy fuck you still have a pulse! Somebody call 911!” His voice rang in my ear, the last thing I heard before everything went fuzzy and then just black.