Thong Song Days

Jessica and I faced each other on the dance floor, each with a horny boy attached like a parasite to the butt, grinding away to the thump of “Thong Song.” My partner’s bony pelvis hurt against my bony butt. Between that and my anorexia-induced-asexuality, I wasn’t the least bit turned on. But his embrace reassured me like a hug, so it was pleasant enough. I just wished the music weren’t so loud.

“What are you up to this weekend?” Jessica shouted, looking like a two-headed-monster with her partner’s chin on her shoulder. “My mom says we could go out on Bill’s boat tomorrow.”

“Would I stay overnight?” I felt a poke behind me followed by a gasp of embarrassment. Another boner. I think that makes five tonight? I felt a twinge of pride in my numbers. My new three pound Victoria’s Secret water bra, basically a bra with boobs inside, was a real game-changer.

“Yeah, we can sleep right on the boat.”

“I can’t. I need to go to church on Sunday.” I felt the poke soften behind me. “I’m singing in the choir.”

“Ugh, does your choir know you go dancing at Teen Night every week?”

The shame returned. “Uh, no.” I said. Suddenly the boy behind me made me feel filthy. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Pushing through the sweaty crowd, I took a left past the bathroom and out the door to the balcony. The club, called The Pier, was on the West Side of Buffalo and it overlooked Lake Erie. The August night swelled with the hopeful scent of cologne, the sweetness from the cereal factory downshore, and just a whiff of sewage from the nearby treatment plant. I looked at the factory lights twinkling in the water and sighed. Was I going to Hell for dancing? Maybe not, but surely I shouldn’t be keeping track of boners like some sort of self-esteem game.

“Would you like a soda?” A warm Indian voice interrupted my thoughts.

I turned. He was broad-chested and his pearly smile contrasted with his dark brown skin. He had two sweating cans of Sprite in his hands.

Could you stick a roofie through a sealed can? He was a stranger, so taking the drink wasn’t a good idea... but I was really thirsty from hours of dancing.

“Thanks” I popped the lid and took a greedy gulp. “What’s your name?” I asked, stifling a burp.

“Meet."

“What?”

“Meet, like the stuff I can’t eat.” He laughed. “I’m a vegetarian.”

“Oh.” Somehow this information made him seem less threatening. Vegetarians couldn’t be rapists, could they? “I’m Lauren. My friend’s going to be wondering where I am, do you want to go back inside with me?”

I found Jessica exactly where I’d left her, except now her partner seemed to be sleep-dancing, his chin drooped even further on her shoulder.

“Jessica, meet Meet!”

Meet laughed good-naturedly, then turned to me. “May I have this dance?”

“Sure!” I spun around and started wiggling my butt towards his crotch direction. He stood, motionless. I twisted to look at him, confused. Why wasn't he dancing? He took my hand and spun me around to face him. We swayed like that, hand in hand, at least two feet between us.

It was nice.