We packed in tighter and tighter.
Searching in the dim-lit room for a proper foothold.
The only space for my arms
Was close by my sides.
Movement was limited.
***** of sweat condensed
All over my skin.
It served as the perfect glue for my clothes.
My shirt wrapped tightly
Around me
As if it was holding on for dear life!
I felt imprisoned in black and white stripes
And donning a blood-red skirt
That just had to come off.
I grappled with the clenching fabric
As a steady, percussive beat
Rumbled through my head.
But no, it would have been wrong.
What kind of sick pleasure
Would I derive from this?
So what if another girl had
Teased him
With her stripping?
So what if others had chosen to fling their
34D size bras at him
With pleasure?
And he hung the black cups
From his neck
As if that was the civilized way
To catch sweat
Dripping from his moustache.
But the crowd was entertained
The band played on.