Return To The Dance Floor Last Part

Previously on Souljacker

Let us slow down the frame rate at which the club scene is rendered. Imagine an invisible camera panning down towards the crowd. Its glassine lens float past the nicotine mists and beams of disco lights revealing frenzied faces held spellbound by Kylie's re-engineered sounds.

And there was I, with my hands in the air. I was nearing my sonic orgasm, the music could no longer hold my moist body in place. With my shirt slightly unbuttoned, my hips crouched like it would spring at the next beat, and with Nishiboy looking up from the ground unfazed with my awakened demons, I have once again staked my claim to the ledge, with two affams, and a couple of trannies sharing my space.  

"Just this once," I breathed heavily, as I bend my legs as low as they could. "After this, I'll go down and pretend that nothing ever happened." 

At last Jap and I finally made it. After getting our first beer, we waded across the sea of fairies to get at the far end of the dance hall. Old, familiar faces were everywhere. Some were once runaways from the places we used to call home. Others were acquaintances from a time when the uninitiated differentiated their love for boys over girls on MiRc. 

A head nod, a fist bump, a small talk, and ties were again cemented. Strange how some people become friends - even lovers, while others straddle at the peripheries of your social circle, but for some reasons the two of you never get close - even when you know each other for a lifetime.

The long wait for Kane was rather uneventful. In fact, the first few monotonous minutes were only broken by the random and rudimentary (read GPRS) accesses on Twitter to check if the partner had replied.

The timeline was still silent.

Fortunately, the growing panic was muffled by Kylie's breathy voice. For a long time, I had turned my back on the diva, but when "All the Lovers" played, there was instant attachment. Not even the worrisome me could resist the euphoric beats coming out of the overhead speakers. The slight bouncing of the head to follow the thump of the anthem's synth beats give way to more graceful hand movements - only to be rudely interrupted by the song and dance drag shows that cut you just when you have finally found your groove.

Some things never change, and for a balik-dance floor like me, the familiarity seems to tell that the clubbing instincts never truly left.



The DJs next set was about to begin when someone called my name.

"Joms!" It was Kane.

First thing I noticed was his braided hair and then, there was his slightly more youthful appearance. I don't know if its the effect of too much alcohol, or the games he played just a few weeks ago, but boy it did some enhancements. I was almost short of saying in a falsetto voice, "Ang ganda ganda mo talaga ate," but of course, doing so would break my character and Kane would step back, stunned. So I smiled ang gave him a manly hug.

"Guess who's with me," Kane grinned like a la petite thrilled to introduce her pony-tailed lollipop-licking bff.

"Waaaah! Ang tagal ni Kane, Alas dos pa ako dito!" It was E. The Chronicles of E.

The last time the three of us were at a party, a private one hosted by a blogger friend, Kane and his entourage (including E) brought the house down. The best thing about the duo is that you can be yourself as long as you won't stress the crowd. (read, throwing out on the floor, making hysterics to scare even the most wasak of the drunkards) And you get to meet all the beautiful people too who would most likely snub when you solitarily offer your friendship.

"Humanda ka Jap, Aalta tayo," I whispered to Nishiboy.

So what does Alta meant? Actually I just coined the word that night to reflect the sudden kick up the social ladder. The hunky boy ex-varsity Eugene, the boy next door Carlo and the gorgeous tranny I often see at BED ages ago are not my crowd, not even in my twisted imagination, and to be lumped with them and have fun, just for a night is what partying with Kane is all about.

Well-placed social orders suddenly become undefined.



And like staring at the beer bottle half-filled with booze, with all the shaking stirring a mini-tsunami within the round amber glass, the rest of the night was spent dancing and drinking.

The flashes of bright light beamed from overhead systems merely skinned the superficialities of the memory, but I remember exactly the sights and sounds and the words that left my lips while being surrounded by souls who brought out the inner Dionysus in me:


There I was, talking to Kane. It was about the merits of a monogamous relationship and why I'd stick with one even when teased by the hottest guy the horny devil throws at me, when some lumbering mass of party pooper bumped my hand easing my grip on my precious Red Horse. The bottle slipped and fell to ground. It made a crashing sound. Instead of moving elsewhere, I stepped on the broken glass as if it wouldn't pierce through my shoe. Taunting fate eh? No, I think I was just too lazy to move my ass.

***

I was asking Kane how could he make a boy slave out of Eugene. Imagine our girl asking the boy to get him a bottle of San Mig Light at the counter. I didn't even hear him say "please." Eugene, with his good looks and very manly appeal and big dick (according to Kane) could have easily make a gay guy become his slave - even moneymaker. How such reversal happen - self assured demeanor. Show someone who's the boss and even a model-modelan would kiss the ground you tread on. Tell someone he's the master and you would probably become his personal cum rag.

***

We were talking about this blogger who ditched a blogger because he found someone more interesting, and then after a year, he exchanged his old boy for a new one. His previous ex said the blogger dwells on self-imagined realities - even romances. Once he finally wakes up realizing there's no spark anymore, he won't hesitate moving on with another guy who could supply him with endless daydreams and cold-blooded fairy tales.

What's fascinating about this boy is that he has a face of a child and a voice of an angel. (That's what I've been told) Unfortunately, he plays his role differently when he starts making boys cry.  

Not to mention, between the two of us - especially in such bacchanalian setting, I'd be easily judged as the heartbreaker and him, the damsel in distress. Funny how impressions run against our true nature.



Talk about someone's being out of character.

I won't deny that when I was out there - dancing - glances were at me. I might be out of the market these days but you cannot turn your back at what the dance floor had already taught you. In the past, I could have taken advantage of these glances. These are the glances that made me grope someone, kiss someone, and sometimes even open my gates to know someone better.

But it wasn't what I came for.

Remaining true to my character, the "Amasonang Pulis," some of the Encantos have begun to associate me, I was able to take the strongest of temptations by its neck and slam it to the ground. At one point, I was too fucking drunk to open my eyes that all I did was to squint at the person in front. But never did I let myself get compromised by keeping my hands answerable only to my body. I know what happens when it makes touchdown on someone else's skin.

"Ngayon alam mo na bakit ilag sa akin ang mga pasaway sa grupo," I told Jap in a slurry voice while dancing some more.

It was already 5 in the morning and the crowd wasn't done yet with the party. Kane and E were nowhere to be found and with Jap finally exhausted, agreed for our departure.

"Basta ha, isa lang ang request ko habang nandito tayo." I told my companion earlier that night.

"Ano yun?"

"Pumunta tayong magkasama, uuwi tayong magkasabay." It was a rule I've always imposed when bringing friends to the dance floor.

The sky was still dark when we left the club and after giving Jap my parting words - the groups conveyance of support should he decide to break free again, I let Nishiboy get inside his cab. After saying my goodbyes, never did I bother to look back at the pink-lighted O-sign behind me.

I immediately sat next to the driver in the cab parked behind Jap's. 

- end -