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This is a question Nightclubs

Thinly-disguised entrances to Hell where bad things happen. Tell us your dancefloor disasters.

(, Wed 8 Apr 2009, 12:35)
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Ultra Violet Loving
Back in the day, back in Caversham of all places there used to stand the worlds grottiest nightclub. It specialised in ‘ladies’ nights, bizarre PA’s by third rate celebrities and a special line in mopping up the cast offs from Washington Heights and the Afterdark over the river in ‘proper’ Reading. The one thing however that is did do well was the Sunday night Indie night. Oh yes, for just £5 you too could be buying drinks for just 50p all night. In short it was underage carnage.

At the time I was going through the throes of that great self destructive break down of the relationship with my-first-true-love and in the cycle of off-on-off-revenge shag-on, we in an on stage of the relationship. However an afternoon’s drinking in Twyford, a belly full of fishunchips and a bottle of something in the Taxi there had left me somewhat lacking in the finer points of judgement.

Anyway, the usual get in, blah, drink, blah, blah blah, turn to dancefloor and BAM. And I say again, BAM. Oh my word, there she was undulating under the UV lights, a voluptuous beauty sheathed in a floor length halter neck silver dress amongst a sea of greebo girls and tatty DM’s. The men (well lets be honest, boys) were transfixed, the girls staring daggers of hate and jealousy and why? Apart from her beauty that is? Her dress under that UV light was utterly transparent, and the only underwear she was wearing was more delicate than the finest gossamer strand.

“Right chaps. I must have her”

I hit the dancefloor, I shook my thing, while the boys jumped and headbanged I made moves to the music, when they poured beer down themselves I sipped my scotch, all the time moving closer and closer. I watched these fools bounce into her, talk to her breasts and get soundly rebuffed, we made eye contact and shared a smile over these juvenile idiots. We moved closer. Fate played its hand, the perfect song to dance to with someone, I moved into her space, I looked her in the eye and we danced. She moved closer, she ran her hand down my face and held my neck, I wrapped my arm round her waist and pulled her closer. Lost in the music we writhed together perfectly in time expressing our horizontal desires in a vertical position. Over her shoulder I could see a space had cleared around us, all eyes on our display of barely controlled animal lust. At that moment we owned the dancefloor.

The song finished, we paused still entwined and she leaned in for a kiss. For the length of that song we explored each others lips, speaking unspoken promises of what would come later with our tongues and hands, still alone in our island of calm, spotlighted in the middle of the floor. We stopped, we hugged, I looked up and there at the side of the dancefloor, just 3 feet away sat a table of girls from college, girls who knew my girlfriend. My girlfriend who was sat right in the middle of them.
(, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 13:32, 7 replies)
Sympathy click!
(, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 13:35, closed)
Fucking hell
I remember those nights...
Good description there, fella.
(, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 13:42, closed)
brought back many memories, have a click.
(, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 13:44, closed)
Beautifully written,
enticing to the last, and real humdinger of an ending.

*Tips hat*
(, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 13:54, closed)
Nue Valbonnes.

Now a curry house, I believe.

The bald DJ from there still does a rock night at Sakura on Monday nights, just doesn't have the same grottiness as Valbonnes though
(, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 15:24, closed)
That's the place!
I've been racking my brains to remember the name

(, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 16:29, closed)
What's weird is...
We may have actually met - I was there pretty much every week for 3 years
(, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 16:33, closed)

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