Suddenly Jacques sprang up and danced a little jig. “I’m getting married in the morning! Ding, dong, the bells are gonna chime!” he sang breezily. But soon he sat down, his dejection impossible to ignore, and the mood became sombre again, all present grimly certain that actually they were going to be tortured to death and that the only sound the bells would make would be a slow, funereal toll.
She could dance around the subject all she wanted, and boy did she try, but the fact was that her face was covered in semen and her gob was full of it too.
There was a huge, stinking brown smear all along the gusset of her knickers! For a moment, she simply could not explain it, before she suddenly recalled that she had been for a huge dump twenty minutes ago, quietly doing the saxophone bit from The Heat Is On and dancing as much as the cubicle allowed, and got so into the song that she had forgotten to wipe her arse.
Oh, it was perfect. The feeling from the pill she had taken half an hour ago had just reached the very top of her spine and a gorgeous sensation now exploded through her head just as a thick, pulsating bassline came in to fill the gaps between the beats. She had closed her eyes. Now she opened them again, and it was as though everyone around her had experienced the same rush of joy. Everyone she met eyes with looked back at the same moment and everything was pure approval. They seemed to move together. Everyone glistened with moisture. The floor seemed to vibrate, the bass, the beat and the bodies all moving in sync. Then, unbelievably, Jess appeared from behind to hand her a cold bottle of water too. Neither of them stopped moving to the music and their smiles to one another spoke of love. The cold water slid down her throat. The sensation seemed like a god-given consummation of her life. The whole situation was perfect. Well… it would be if someone hadn’t dropped their gut, anyway. Even that wouldn’t have been so bad if they hadn’t clearly eaten way too much salt. Actually… oh, God, it wasn’t just hot air they’d released. There was an actual log on the floor among the dancing feet. Then one of them trod straight on it and tumbled wildly to the floor. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Suddenly she awoke in her damp bedsit and, crestfallen, realised that it had all been a dream. All except the hot turd, anyway – and, alone as she was, she couldn’t even blame anyone else for that.