Inspired by a story about a rave, this ends up about how being comfortable with oneself - and open to new things - is really fucking hot.

It took place years ago, after I had returned home from a long working holiday. The transition from living in the mountains at an amazing ski resort and playing in the outdoors almost every day to city life working at an 'ok but not great' government job and living alone was really shocking.

In retrospect it was the most isolating time in my life (including COVID) and I was almost certainly a little bit depressed.

Having led a fairly sheltered, conservative life in my early 20s there was really not much context for the night ahead. Clubbing and dancing wasn't yet my scene and though I'd had a few hookups in the Rockies my outlook was decidedly heteronormative, monogamy programmed, anti-drug (apart from alcohol which plays a part as you will see) with a general 'straight white guy that has sports/outdoors as his main thing' vibe.

I was invited out for drinks with some uni climbing club friends, and this went well enough. I had a few beers, chatted and watched a latin dance thing that was happening in a darker section of the big pub we were at.

I was single, and would have been pretty happy about even just the social aspect of being out with friends. Eventually the call was made to head out to the next place and this is where the chance thing happened - I became separated from the group. Stumbling past the line for a really loud club, I recall thinking damn those are some really hot, cool looking people waiting to get in. On a whim I went in and got a drink. I switched to gin and tonics, thinking that's what cool people did at clubs. There were three or 4 dancefloors going and it was overwhelming to watch some of it - in retrospect there would have been so much MD flowing that the vibe was fundamentally different (and sexier) than anything I'd ever encountered on a night out.

After awhile, I saw a gorgeous young woman casually smoking a cigarette in the smokers lounge. Smoking was and still is a huge huge turn off for me. She was so beautiful, I think my brain broke a bit. I definitely went straight up to her, which I never did. Shabby, slightly drunk me rocked up to this unreal mystery club goddess and just came out with 'I was watching you from over there, I think you're beautiful and wanted to know if you feel like a dance.' She said some stuff (she was a nurse visiting from the Sunshine Coast) I must have said some stuff possibly about having lost my friends.

But it was a blur because she really wanted to dance with me.

Like a switch flipping I wanted to show off for her, watch her move, get close enough to smell each other. Everything else was just gone. I didn't think once about calling my friends.

And I moved, moved like I never had before that night. It was surreal. We kissed after about 20 seconds at the edge of the dance floor swaying close and slowly checking each other out. Kiss isn't quite right because it was like a taste. The music got a bit slower and bouncier, and she led me into the very middle and we settled - it was like arriving at the exact right moment at the exact right place. I jumped higher than anyone there along with the music, without getting bargy or out of control, then dropped down low coming closer to her and twisted my hips into her from behind in time with the music...

One thing that stands out so clearly about that night is how confident and happy we were with each other and ourselves. For total strangers it felt incredible - she would dance over to someone else and just say hey or encourage them or even show herself off and do a little sexy grind, but it was as if she was charging herself up and bringing this energy back to me, and we got more daring. I could stare in awe and without a hint of jealousy at her distinctive upper thigh tattoo as she flashed it at a gawping bunch of younger guys.

I'd switch it up, borrow her moves and grind my ass against her compact, firm hips covered only by a short, soft skirt - slightly surprised and thrilled to find myself really enjoying the softer, sensual and definitely feminine moves.
I could feel her movement showing me what she wanted, and I tried to give this feeling back tenfold and we'd switch back and forth, back and forthhh...

It felt at times like a whole song would be spent just grinding and writhing to the music as if no one else was there; I'd caress and lift her tits up then smooth her top back down over them and flow my hands down her sides and guide her firmly into my grinding rock hard cock as if in a trance. She'd grab it through my snug jeans, lock eyes with someone nearby and then kiss me deeply.

At times we knew it was too much and just seamlessly bust out into corny moves, or danced with other little groups forming around us, or darted off to get a drink and catch our breath. Nothing needed to be said - if I left to get another gin she'd be there ready to get dirty again and if she danced away to the other rooms I knew I could stay and keep on feeling the music until she got back.

We kissed like fire again and again, almost merging. It was truly the sexiest thing I had ever experienced. It actually might still be my top non-naked sexual memory.
However, unlike lots of gonewildstories it wasn't a massive fuckfest ending, though I still fantasize from time to time about how that would have gone.

As the gins piled on I definitely wasn't able to continue. If somewhere along the line a cool teacher at school, my parents, maybe older more worldy friends, or idle reading had led me to other drugs apart from alcohol things might have gone differently. But possibly anything in excess would have still been the wrong option.
We danced for a bit in the slower room with another girl she seemed to know, but I was really really drunk, starting to get in my head and must have seemed a bit different. The club was also winding down. At some point she explicitly said the words 'we should fuck sometime'...and in a total reversal from the energy of the last 4 hours in my brain it was somehow time to bail.

However!!! I did manage to stumble back to her, get her name and number. I tried to walk home, only ten minutes away. I woke up to aggressive daylight and an old dude gently asking me if I was ok and if I could get out of his driveway.

Her number was real though, and we texted a bit even going so far as to book a hotel and plan to meet up; alas I got really, properly sick and couldn't make it. Must have seemed flaky.

Life happened. Other jobs, lovers, friends and partners happened. I eventually lost her number. I'm a different person now, and it's only fairly recently that I've been enjoying dancing like that again. Sometimes with more than one person, once or twice with other men and sometimes being OK just doing it by myself in a crowd.

So because sometimes the universe is weird, if you are out there club goddess I'd totally go for another round at the same venue (it's still open and going strong I believe, starts with an M). I hope you managed to quit smoking ;)

For all the rest of you some unsolicited advice - be open to trying new things (safely) and if possible go out and dance with a stranger like you're making love to the music and each other at the same time. Thanks for reading! -CM