Stranger Danger

“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.

I grab the back of his neck and push my body against his as the music transitions from dancehall to some real adult grinding R&B. My hand slips a bit as his neck is soaking wet with sweat. As the DJ slowly fades in Pretty Ricky’s Grind on Me after Juvenile’s Slow Motion, this oh-so-charming stranger and I really get into it. Our bodies melt into each other, and for a moment, the music seems like a distant noise in the background. Small hot drops of sweat fall from his forehead onto my lips. Without hesitating, I slightly open my mouth and take it in. The taste of this stranger felt oh so sweet. Little did I know that this sweet taste would turn sour very, very quickly.

“Let's go to the bathroom,” Maria screams in my ear as she grabs my arm. Maria has been my best friend since elementary school. On the first day of school, she walked up to me and asked to be friends, and we've been friends since. Maria has always been the assertive one between us, very impulsive and taking action before she thinks. As we push and pull our way through the crowd, we finally reach the bathroom. Maria immediately pins me against the wall. “That was intense, you and…” she says as she nods towards the dancefloor.

“I blush and look away.”

“No girl, tell me,” Maria says.

“There isn't really anything to tell,” I say softly.

“Ugh, you're such a wimp,” Maria sighs.

“Listen,” she continues, “by the end of the night, you'd better have a great story to tell me about this handsome stranger. Promise?”

“Promise,” I say, and for a minute, I feel like that little girl in elementary school trying to act tough to impress her friend. I walk towards the mirror and lick my lips. A sweetness overcomes me. All I can think of is how good this stranger must taste if his sweat has the sweetness of a fresh Bordeaux red cherry.

My hands search in my small crossbody bag as I look for my lip combo. I line my lips with the perfect shade of brown. When I grab my lipstick, I pause for a minute. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I think about the guy. Thoughts of whether I look good enough to take our dancing a step further run through my head.

“Hello,” Maria says as she snatches my lipstick, and I snap back to reality.

“I am good enough,” I quietly mumble to myself as I grab my lipstick back and throw it in my bag.

“Let’s go,” I say, and we make our way to the dancefloor. As we walk onto the dancefloor, I instinctively look around. I don't see the handsome stranger anywhere. Suddenly, I feel a firm grab around my waist.

My heart skips a beat. “Hey, you,” the handsome stranger whispers in my ear. I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “Keep cool,” I mumble to myself. I turn around and smile. Before I get the chance to say anything, a fight breaks out. He grabs my hand, and we rush out of the way. I notice people start getting rowdy. Suddenly, the lights go off, and it's pitch dark. A loud noise echoes through the room. I let go of his hand and cover my ears. Without hesitation, he swoops me up.

We make our way to the VIP room upstairs. Unlike the dancefloor, it's chillingly cold. He puts me down, and we stare into each other's eyes for a minute. Another loud noise from downstairs. I try to reach over to look, but he pulls me back.

“Don’t,” he says and slowly kisses me. While chaos interrupts downstairs, we share an intense kiss. He tastes even better than I imagined. With passion but care, he puts me down on the big couch. We continue to kiss passionately, not caring about the drama going on downstairs. Carefully, he places me on the big couch. We continue to kiss passionately, not caring about the drama going on downstairs. Both of our hands are now everywhere. He cups my breasts, and things start heating up. I reach down my skirt and pull my panties to the side. He caresses my body on his way down. Quiet. Absolute quiet as I don't hear anything from downstairs anymore as he reaches his destination.

When he comes back up, I feel little sweat drops fall on me. Just like before, I slightly open my mouth to catch one. As I swallow the sweat drop, I feel a sharp, breathtaking pain. My body pulls into the fetal position. The stranger now stands over me. I reach to my stomach and feel a deep cut. As I lift my hand, covered in blood, I catch a glimpse of the stranger. He is smirking.

I scream out for help, and the stranger now starts laughing out loud. “Save your breath. Nobody can hear you. Well, actually, some bodies can, but they are dead. Just like you will be,” he says. I feel my body being lifted, and he throws me over the balcony. I land on the dancefloor, broken. The same dancefloor where the stranger and I danced. I lay there, barely able to move. Then the lights start flickering. I see dead bodies all around me on the floor. I want to scream, but I can't anymore. The words won't come out of my mouth. I hear people talking in the distance. And then footsteps. Footsteps that seem to come closer and closer.

From the corner of my eye, I can see that it’s the police. They’re getting closer, but are still too far away to notice me. Blood is rushing out of my wound, and I start to feel lightheaded. Then I remember that I still have my lip combo in my crossbody bag.

I start to doze off and stare at a lost white napkin right in front of me. Then I remember that I still have my lip combo in my crossbody bag. I kept it on me the whole time. I try to move my hands towards the opening. The movement hurts, and the pain shoots all through my body, but I keep on trying. It feels like hours are passing by, but it's just mere seconds. Finally, the bag opens. Slowly, my hand reaches into it. With my fingertips, I can feel my lip liner.

I'm struggling to grab it as my fingers are bruised and some even broken. But I keep on trying and trying and trying. Finally, I succeed. With the lip liner in my hand, I reach for the napkin. Just as I want to start writing, the lip liner slips out of my bloody hand. The lip liner rolls away with what seems to be the speed of light. More tears stream down my face. You can't give up now, I say to myself as I try not to lose hope.

In my crossbody bag, I still have my lipstick. I struggle again to grab it, but this time I manage to succeed faster. The only thing going through my mind right now is to not let it slip out of my hand. This is my last chance. I cannot ruin it. Don't let it slip, don't let it slip, don't let it slip, I repeat like a mantra. With a shaky hand, I manage to write help on the napkin. And then… I lose consciousness. One of the police officers makes his way to the area where I'm lying.

“No survivors here, chief,” he says out loud. He keeps walking around and unknowingly steps on the napkin. My napkin, the last chance I had to get out of this terrible nightclub alive. He continues to make his rounds through the lifeless bodies, which mine is now one of as I lay on the ground, bleeding to death.