She gasped when she saw the sign, trying to cover her shock. For a moment she stood still, halting Martin on his walk to the door. Oh no, she thought. I can't… but… I'm a grown married woman now. I can take this. She giggled again trying to suppress her strict Midwestern morality and walked through the doorway, followed by Martin who tipped the doorman his usual exaggerated tip.
Janet felt her sobriety weaken as she entered the club. Strobe lights beat a weird rhythm to the music. For a brief moment she focused her eyes to the strange light and discovered that she was having trouble walking with the lights beating at her eyes in the off and on strange patterns.
She glanced at the stage to see six overlarge breasts bouncing to the wild music. Quickly she lowered her eyes to the floor to watch her feet follow Martin and the Maitre d' to their table.
"Anything wrong," Martin asked her, knowing all the while she was shocked.
She shook her head bravely and he ordered cocktails from the waiter, her moving head only further confusing her senses. The strobe lights beat a strange and haunting rhythm on her brain and body. The potion in the flash had taken effect, but she refused to recognize it at first. She watched the dancer until she heard Martin's voice at her ear.
"Where are you, Janet? You look a thousand miles away."
"Oh, no, Martin," she quickly apologized. "It's just that I've never seen anything like this before. I wonder how those girls must feel up there with nothing covering them, dancing hour after hour. They must be awfully bored."
"Probably no more bored than you."
"Martin, no. I'm having a wonderful time," she apologized again. "If I'm a little silent it's just the liquor. Really, you could never bore me."
"That's not really what I'm talking about," he said.
"I don't understand."
"I mean Greg. I know it's probably none of my business, but I've noticed that he doesn't pay any attention to you anymore. I wasn't surprised at all that you had been drinking when I picked you up tonight. I've been hitting the bottle pretty hard lately myself because of Darleen. So I know how you feel."
Janet listened to him, feeling the warmth of his breath as he talked to her. He had moved closer so that she could hear him over the pounding music. She suddenly felt very close to this man. They were sharing an experience and she felt a kinship that only a shared loneliness can bring.
"I didn't know, Martin. I thought you and Darleen were happy. I've never noticed anything that would make anyone suspect you were having problems too."
"Oh, we're good actors, Janet. It's been almost three years since we've really gotten along. We haven't even been to bed together in the last year. I sleep out in the guest room."
Janet was shocked. "I had no idea. Here I've been brooding about my life and I'm in heaven compared to you." She leaned over and kissed his cheek affectionately.
Martin smiled under the flashing strobes. It was going even easier than he thought. "Is it alright to ask what is wrong between you and Greg?" he said.
"I'd tell you if I knew," she said. "But there seems to be no answer. I've thought it was his work, but even on the weekends he is too busy for me. I guess I'm just losing my sex appeal. I'm old before my time."
"Nonsense," he said. "There isn't a man in this room who wouldn't want to take you to bed right now."
"Martin, you're so sweet."
Yeah, I'm sweet, he thought. "Let's dance. The music is slower for a minute or two. They've got to give those dancers a break sometime."
The couple joined the throng that headed for the dance floor. There were always more people dancing when the music slowed. Janet swung into Martin's arms and felt them close protectively around her. The drug's effect was at its full power as their bodies met and started to dance to the slow rhythm. The drum and bass beat in tune with Janet's heart as she followed Martin slowly around the floor.
Her breasts were straining through her dress against him. She wore no bra and the taut nipples nearly pierced the thin, sheer material. Greg had never let her wear a bra, saying that it weakened her pectoral muscles. He was right, she thought, as she felt her breasts crushed harder against Martin's strong body. She could feel his leg slip between hers as they danced. A light dampness eased its way from her vagina to the pink lips of her vulva, giving her warning. She had never felt like this by just dancing. There seemed to be no explanation for the fire that was building inside her. She tried to pull away from Martin. Making Greg jealous was a good plan, but she didn't want to go too far.
But Martin had other plans. He knew the potion was affecting the girl as it was affecting him. Instead of allowing her to move away he tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her tighter. Even though afraid, she felt comfort in his arms and her body clung involuntarily to him as though she suddenly had no control over it.
Janet closed her eyes, trying to put the flashing strobes out of range, but their intense light shown through her eyelids and seemed to beat harder into her mind. The tempo of the music had increased yet the pair held close to each other, still dancing with their bodies almost as one. The young wife's mind was playing sexual fantasies deep within her. Her body was responding. She could feel her breasts heaving against Martin, with only the thin veneer of light summer clothing between his chest and her taut nipples.
The music, liquor and aphrodisiac had become too much for her. She opened her eyes, seeing a single topless dancer undulating on the stage. Janet began to dance the same patterns as the girl as she pushed away from Martin.
Soul music, Janet thought. I can feel it! I can feel it! She jerked her body in rhythm, throwing her arms, feeling her breasts bounce beneath the sheer white dress. She was perspiring, aware only of the hot flashes of abandonment coursing through her body.
As she danced, she watched the single girl on the stage. Instead of being embarrassed, as perhaps, she normally would have, she was intent on becoming that girl. The dancer's bare breasts moved with halting grace under the influence of the rotating lights. Janet's imagination transported her to the stage, dancing half-nude in front of more than two hundred people, throwing her arms in the controlled sensual movements of a professional Go-Go Girl.
Her hips jerked to the beat, perfectly in tune with her bouncing breasts. She felt free, alive. She was in a sexual world of her own, but wanting, needing a man. Suddenly the dancer on the stage unfastened her G-string and let it fall to the floor, exposing the thin, open slit of her clean-shaven womanhood.
Janet felt no shock at the sudden display. Instead she remained dancing, now nude in her own mind. To her, reality was not on the dance floor, but on the stage. She was that girl. She was totally naked before the crowd. Her loins were on fire and she was a woman! She was a woman!
She looked at Martin, dancing three feet from her, imitating the same soul searing African movements of the dance. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. She began dancing for him, not aware of who he was. His image was fogged before her. This, for the moment was her man and… she was his woman!
The fire between her legs grew as she threw up her arms and tossed her head from side to side in a dance that imitated the sexual act. Her hips thrust forward, again and again and Martin responded by moving closer, grinding his pelvis at her as though he were taking her right there on the dance floor.
Their bodies were inches from each other. One of Martin's legs was between hers as they danced, rubbing against her exposed thigh. Her miniskirt was hiked high on her legs as she bent backward and forward in the most primeval motions of dance.
She watched Martin's hand come slowly toward her like a snake in the Garden of Eden, beckoning, urging her to come closer. The hand found her waist and drew her closer until their bodies touched at their loins. Janet could feel his penis hard beneath his trousers, straining at her. She ground her hips against him. Her mouth was opening, breathing heavily, spurred salaciously on by the growing fire inside her. The lights flashed in brilliant colors on her half-open lids. She put her hand on the back of his neck, leaning backward, pushing her enflamed crotch against his straining penis. She stared at him, her eyes searching for his identity. Each beat of the drum pounded at her, exciting her further. She could feel their bodies touching, touching. She imagined them to be on a bed, ready for each other, ready for the final thrust that would connect their flesh together.
Martin pulled her closer, then suddenly kissed her, crushing her lips against his open mouth, thrusting his tongue deep into her throat.
Oh my God, she thought. What is happening! The shock of the sudden kiss had awakened her from the wild, sexual stupor. She wanted the kiss, but knew it was wrong. They mustn't. "No, Martin…" she tried to say, struggling away from him. She was frightened, knowing that he still excited her, that she wanted him. But she had gone too far. She must stop. She turned and walked quickly, but unsteadily from the dance floor toward the door, bumping into people as she left. Martin followed her to the outside, picking up her wrap at the hat check.