I danced where the fat girls had danced. I licked the floor where their sweat had been spent, where their drinks were spilled, where they got their men. I licked it like a dog would; face between my hands, hungry. Stale, salty, black, grit, strange. I ate it all up … sucking it from my tongue, and brewing it in my saliva like sex tea.

“The fat girls danced here!” I brayed at the neon.

“That’s just a dirty floor.” Dominic was a buzz kill. “Get the fuck up. I can see your underwear.”

Eyes closed, kneeling, my ass on my heels, I imagined them around me … crushing me with their enormous disco asses. My face suffocated by their delicious fields of flesh and folds and funk, surrendering me to them, beat by beat. Their diesel thighs the boss of me. I wanted to be sat upon. Smothered. I wanted piles of naked flab and dripping hair exploiting me like rape. Challenging my airways like a bad, bad girl. Like sweet drowning.

Dominic pulls me up hard, by my wrist. “The fat girls are gone!”

He yells this into my face … my chin, my cheeks in his harsh fingers. If only I had more chins, more cheeks, I thought, his fingers would be swimming in them. Sexy.

“Can you put your belly on me tonight baby? Like last time?”

Dominic, still pissed, not stupid, assures me I will get his belly … and maybe his fat ass … if I am a good skinny bitch and stay off the fucking floor.

He makes me promise.

“I promise baby …” because I am not stupid either, and underneath his ass, I will think of them and their dancing, while fighting for each rancid breath.