Some New Kind of Kick by Clint Catalyst
The X begins to hit me, tingle in my groin, inner thighs.
Ten after eleven and I’m leaning against the sheetrock of my usual Saturday night spot, the righthand wall of Lillith’s dancefloor. Silhouettes of dark figures sway in the fog of the room, the features of nearby dancers discernible in the faint red overhead lights.