Into The Pit

Into The Pit

Hardcore house music reverberated in the dance club known to its regular customers as The Pit. The place was purposely dark; it’s walls having been painted matte black with only light artistic whirls of neon color here or there throughout the place. Ever moving spot and strobe lights along with the glittering pin rays of several glitter balls scattered light through the club. Only the rest areas had any kind of near regular lighting, which were usually blue, or black neon. A smoke machine flooded the club with a light, wispy haze, while at other times a fog machine would cloud the floor in a blanket of thick white mist. The atmosphere was usually electric. The crowd was open and interested in a good time.

The place was always crowded to capacity on a Friday night. Bodies were pressed so close together in most places that no one minded the occasional stray hand on their backside. So many people in one place made the club a steamy morass from all of the body heat generated by the patrons who danced or milled about looking for something extra. Most of the players hovered by the bar and the rest areas while the serious dance crowd stayed near the standing tables, the restrooms or the sunk in dance floor itself.

It went without saying that the people here were all about losing their inhibitions, cutting loose and relaxing. The guys lowered their standards, the girls lowered theirs and they all showed more skin than they ever did at home while mixing it up in The Pit. Drinks and light food were served to the people in the rest areas or standing tables while they waited, some catching a smoke break, those who still had the habit anyway. Most of the patrons didn’t smoke though. Everyone wanted to appear attractive to the populous of the club for the most part and smoking didn’t help one do that. It was a dirty habit, one that the club goers at The Pit didn’t really appreciate mostly. Even so there were always rebels and they were given their space all the same.

Marie had her back against one of the dark walls behind a pillar on the far side of the dance floor. Her mini skirt was hiked up over her hips clearly exposing her rounded, tanned thighs, which were shining in the clubs light from the light perspiration that covered her whole body. The muscles in her thighs quivered now and again as pleasure rippled through her. She moved her hips rhythmically thrusting forward and back to the beat of the music that made speech all but impossible unless you yelled in a person’s ear.

Maria’s long black hair flowed about her down to her hips swaying as she moved. Her sun-bronzed skin shining, from her well-shaped breasts that were barely held by her corset, to her firm tummy that rolled with her undulations, was with