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I dunno about you guys but I love to dance. I agree with Britney. Sometimes you just hear a song and it makes you a slave to it - and you know me, I have no problem succumbing. As much as I love hitting the dance floor, I don’t get to do it that often because the club I like to go to here in Atlanta, my boyfriend hates.

In case you ever visit Atlanta on a Saturday night, the club I’m talking about is called Heretic on Cheshire Bridge Road. It is small, kinda dingy, and the parking sucks but inside you’ll find some of the hottest, sweatiest guys, and some of the best tunes in town. Make sure you wear some tight jeans and a shirt you won’t mind pulling off or losing. See, the dance floor is small and the guys have no problem packing the place like a can of sardines, which is why my bf doesn’t like going. He gets grossed out when he rubs up against another guy that has his shirt off and is all sweaty. Hell, that’s one of the best parts in my mind and as Nelly would say, It’s hot in herrre! So be prepared to take off your clothes! They don’t call it Hotlanta for nothing baby!

So last night the bf was out of town working so I decided to head over to see what trouble I can get into at the Heretic. I get there about midnight and as usual the place is rockin’. I pay the cover, get stamped and make a B line to the bar. For me, dancing is simulated sex, so I need to loosen up a bit with a shot of inhibition before shakin’ my thang on the floor. I order the usual shot of tequila, undressed of course. I like it rough. What can I say? Hehe. I must have downed a gallon of water before I left the house so I wouldn’t get dehydrated so I had to take a serious piss when I got to the club. I downed my shot of liquid pant remover and I headed for the restroom, which is very cruisy, and waited anxiously for a stall.

Good to go, with a nice burn in my chest, bladder drained, now was time to find the hottest motherfucker in there and get him to dance with me. To make myself feel better about going out alone, I always play this little game. I look for the most unattainable, tighest jeans wearin’, dark-haired guy in the place and set my sights on him. The object is to end up dancing with the guy. Now I could probably just walk up to him, shove my hands down his pants and say ‘follow me,’ and most likely he would, but where’s the fun in that?

Finding the guy can sometimes take a while. Since it’s a game you have to plot out your strategy before you set the ball in motion, so here’s what I do: you go out into the dance floor area, and you stand just off to one side of the dance floor. You set a very determined, sexy, I’m so over this place stance, then put on your game face. In my case, this means I don’t smile or make eye contact with anyone. Casually scan the room from side to side until you spot your guy. You don’t have to worry about looking awkward because half the guys in the place are cracked out on tina, so to them you probably look like some scary monster with nine heads. The other forty-five percent are X-ing, but we are on the prowl for that one percent that is in their right mind, and out to get dirrrrty.

Now let me give you a little 411 on things I absolutely cannot stand while I am trying to work a room. Guys, if you cannot handle your liquor, do me a favor and do not try and navigate your way through a crowed dance club, okay? There is nothing worse than some drunk guy charging like a bull through a china shop, and you better hope I don’t see you coming. If I do spot you, let me warn you right now: I will trip your ass. Another annoyance is guys that try a cop a feel as they are walking by. Now I understand this is probably the most action these guys are gonna get from a night out, but if I want your hands on my body, I will make it very clear when and where you can do so. To all you guys that think catcalls are a compliment, let me tell you something: I know my shit looks good. If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask you; and yes, I did hear you, and I intentionally did not acknowledge you because I am simply not interested. All you sketchy meth heads…don’t even get me started. If you’re gonna smoke or snort anything intentionally that is going to make your dick limp, don’t even try it. I’m a bottom, and in case you’ve fried your brain, that means you put your dick in me. I’m an not vers, so if you want a flip-flop, go to Target and buy yourself a pair.

Now that I got that off my chest, let’s continue. So I spot my guy, right? He has been dancing for me for about five minutes now. How do I know he’s dancing for me? Well, he is trying really hard not to be obvious, which is kind of cute, but every time he turns his back to me, he looks over his shoulder to make sure I am still watching him. Indeed, I am. I’m watching for just the right moment to disappear to the other side of the dance floor. Although I hate playing games, you’re not coming anywhere near me without working your shit for me first. This is what I do next: I make my way to the middle of the dance floor and get a groove going, keeping my guy in my sights of course. I wait for some other guy to put me into a slow grind. The purpose of this is to make sure the guy I really wanna dance with can see what I can do. This is also where I let him know without a doubt he has an all-access pass.

At this point the ball is kind of in his court. Most guys will try and make their way over to me now, if they haven’t already. The guy last night played my little game very well and did make his way over by the time the song had changed. He reached up under my shirt and grabbed the waistband of my jeans and pulled me closer to him. Of course by this time, I would have relinquished all control and am like wet clay in a potter’s hands. My guy had apparently been dancing for a while because by the time he got to me, the beads of sweat were rolling down his chest, which I took as an offer for refreshment.

I ran my hands down his shoulders to his hands, which were on my hips. I took his hands and placed them back on his hips so I would have something to hold on to as I lowered myself to his hairy navel. He had a nice hairy chest and thick treasure trail. The beads of sweat were collecting in his hair and I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I licked his tummy and could taste the salt on my tongue. I worked my way back up his torso, alternating kisses, licks, and blowing. He loved it. (I could tell by the bulge in his pants becoming more prominent.) When I got to his neck, he wrapped his hands around me and pulled me into him again. He took his hands, which were so sexy, and put them on the small of my back and then he ran them up underneath my shirt and proceeded to remove it. We carried on like this for a couple of hours before my dance craving had been satisfied and decided I was ready to leave. He was so cute. He walked me to the front door of the club. He told me to call him as he handed me a card with a number written on it. I assured him I would. I kissed him and left.

As I made my way across the parking lot I crumpled the card the guy had given me and dropped it. I always do when I get numbers from guys. It’s cool though cause I go out so rarely that I never see the guys I flirt with again anyway. All in all, it was a fun night. I came home about 4am, snacked on some turkey lunchmeat and watched infomercials until I feel asleep.