Sunday 22 May 2011

Bliss Junkies

He was on fire tonight, laughing and dancing, living the rhythm, pure trance, pure joy. He was hotwired to the music, hooked on the harmonies. His feet caught the beat, bouncing and stepping as his hips twisted, his torso turned, his hands pushed and flicked to the oontz, oontz, oontz.

MDMA surged in his veins, lifting him up, levelling him out, connecting him with every other body in the room. The edge of speed in the pills pushed him onwards, ever onwards to dawn. Don’t think about dawn, just the music, the dancing, the love... the girls.

He was on fire. Everyone met his eyes, everyone grinned, everyone got it. Pure energy. Everyone dancing with everyone. And three girls kept circling round and back towards him, a dance within the dance. Circling and moving in. One pounced, kissed him, laughed and span away. Then the next, then the next. Circling, and moving in.

Desire surged in his veins. The girls beckoned, with crooked finger; with curvaceous hip and pouting lip; with fluttering lash and subtle and brash. And he followed, he let them draw him away, from the dance, from the rhythm and the herd. He let them touch him, lay their hands and their lips on him, and, out of sight, have their way with him.


He was cold. He felt drained, worn out. The concrete floor seeped into him, turning him to stone. He drew a ragged breath. Thoughts were jagged. Rhythm broken. Stutter starting, like his heart. Memories. Remember. Remember. Three girls. Lips on skin. Something like mist rising from him, breathed in. The ecstasy on their faces. His high sinking. Three girls. The last apologising, even as her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned with bliss. His bliss, in her.

Torpor crept through his veins. His blood, his body, his mind were slowing. His heart beat. Beat. Stopped. Time coalesced, dripping languorously down the walls. Someone was beside him, then. The last girl, the one who said sorry, sorry, had slunk back. Drifting in slow motion. Apologising, again. Lifting him up. Looking in his eyes. Sparking something. A heart beat. Beat. Beginning to beat.

Reommended reading: Chimera, Inc. by FARfetched. Greek myth meets mad science via time travel.


  1. It would seem the girls are hooked on life, life-force that is, essence of man maybe.

    i wonder what the climb-down from their high would be like?

  2. A vampire myth! Very well done. Very cool story, John.

  3. Thank you, Steve, Mike. =)

    I think certain lifestyles would appeal to succubus/ vampire hedonistic sensibilities, and offer opportunities...

  4. Hi there John -- Liked the rolling rhythm in this piece, which really suited the subject matter. Like the up, the down, and then the beating again...


  5. Thanks, Stephen. As I was writing I tried to keep rhythm in mind, on a sentence level and for the overall structure. The ending kind of surprised me too, I don't know that it was my original intention, but when I got there it just fitted... =)