Time for some grindcore-- and I'm not talking Metal.

Your breathing grows slightly heavier, your heart beating faster-- both for the physical action and the presaged attention. As the music changes, a slightly slower tune taking over, the body moves even closer. Whatever had possessed you to come here in the first place returns, fighting your conscious mind to change your initial plans.

There are no rules saying you have to flirt or go home with some stranger or anything like that. Then again, you are here for a new experience. Why not try at least one of them? What happens at Pyramid Club can stay at Pyramid Club.

Your hips practically move independent of your mind, subconsciously pressing against the halting form. They do not stop their swaying, rubbing against your spontaneous dance partner. Despite your lack of direct experience, you instinctually are able to determine from what you feel that your companion is male. The evidence you picked up on hardens as the two of you move your bodies against one another.

His second hand is now mirroring his first, running up and down your side as your arms raise into the air. Occasionally, they "slip" forward slightly, fingers finding their way into your cleavage. Some small part of you realizes that your current "dance move" is shifting the hem of your skirt, slowly raising it above your ass cheeks. The flush washing over you is not one of embarrassment.

As your breath grows heavier, making you feel as if you're running a marathon with all but your legs themselves, you can hear his own breath doing the same, his hands slipping more frequently, grip tighter. Occasionally, they now slide at the bottom of their descent as well, fingers finding their way under your short dress so much it surprises you that he hasn't dragged that side up to your stomach to match the back.

Any thoughts you had about "no rules" are out the window. You are doing exactly what you had planned:

Having fun, letting go of your fear.