So I was dancing to this awesome song, and the music was up SO LOUD and the only thing that kind of ruined it a little bit was the fact that some weird guy in the background kept making funny yodeling sounds, but whatever, I was there to dance. I had gotten all cute, too. My black heels made my usually short legs appear long and lean and the fact that I had been practicing dancing to Bachata at home meant that I knew exactly what I looked like. All smooth curves and fluid hips.
I wasn't surprised when this guy started toward me from across the room. He'd been eyeing me for a while. He was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt underneath. I thought it was odd because I was getting so hot suddenly.
He started dancing with me, and I smirked at him innocently enough. We moved in unison for a few bars before he leaned into my ear.
"I know you want me," he half whispered. He looked a bit dazed, but actually pretty sexy.
"Excuse me?" I said. "Perdon?"
"I've made it obvious that I want you too."
I focused at a certain spot on the floor, still dancing, and wondered what the hell he was talking about.
"So put it on me," he said. "Lets remove the space between me and you." And he took his hand around my back and leaned in with his hips so that we were scissor-legged.
"Whatever, dude." I looked around a little bit to see if anyone was watching us. They weren't. But it seemed like everybody else was getting closer together too, not just me and this dude.
"Hey what's your name anyway?"
He didn't answer, but shook his hair out of his eyes and made a face. What a poser!
"Now rock your body," he whispered, and I started laughing.
"Who are you, Justin Timberlake?"
"Damn, girl, I like the way that you move."
Rolling my eyes, but still dancing, I chose to ignore him. "Shut up and dance with me, bro."
It was almost like he was totally ignoring me. I cocked an eyebrow and looked around.
"So give it to me. I already know what you wanna do."
Sighing heavily, I stopped dancing and stepped back from his scissor-legs. "Alright weirdo, TU NO HABLES INGLES??? You're weirding me out. So I'm about done here." And I turned and started walking toward the side of the dance floor.
Just as I got to the edge, he grabbed my arm and I turned around cringing.
"Look, here's the situation." He said. "I've been to every nation. And no one's ever made me feel the way that you do."
"Oh, really." I jerked away, but he had a firm grip.
"You know my motivation given my reputation. And... I don't mean to be rude, but tonight I'm loving you."
Suddenly I realized who I'd been dancing with. It was Enrique Iglesias. What the hell? His eyes were all warm and brown, but they were hollow looking in the flashing red lights with the suddenly very loud techno music pulsing all around us. The yodeling guy was still singing away somewhere, and everybody dancing seemed to be gyrating wildly. Where was I????
"Tonight you're LOVING me? What the heck are you talking about? You're dancing with me, okay? That's all. And who are you to be LOVING anyone for only one night anyway. Thats not quite my definition of LOVE."
Suddenly the music stopped and everybody froze, even me.
"--okay I really mean that Tonight I'm f***ing you. But I seriously don't mean to be rude. Plus, the censors will get all over me so I'm gonna keep saying that I'm LOVING you as opposed to F***ING you."
The music started again and everyone kept dancing, and my jaw dropped.
"You nasty man-whore bastard!"
I jerked away successfully this time. Oh yes! I knew about Enrique Iglesias' repuation. Practically having sex with Anna Kournikova in his videos, sweating profusely, getting moles removed, never actually being ANYONE's hero, and causing more pain than he could ever kiss away, he was a regular Cassanova.
"You're so damn pretty." He was chasing me, now, and no one seemed to notice. "If I had a type then, baby, it'd be you."
"Stop. Calling me "baby" and making lame sexual innuendos. Its not getting you anywhere."
"I know you're ready." He said. "If I never lied then, baby, you'd be the truth."
I stopped and turned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway, Enrique? Are you drunk? Seriously, I'm not lying you need to get your filthy hands off me."
And he did. Because that's when he repeated himself for like the thirtieth time and tried to explain to me that he'd been just about everywhere and that I was special but at the same time he was a player and blah blah blah tonight he was LOVING me even though he really meant that he was F***ING me and only this one time.
Just after he repeated himself, five half-dressed girls came out of nowhere and started groping him and taking off his shirt.
"Security?!" I pointed, and looked around for the undercover guys I'd seen in the past, but couldn't spot anyone.
That's when the crowd on the dance floor opened up and parted for this black guy I recognized from the movie Crash. I liked him in that movie. What was he doing here with Enrique Iglesias? He started rapping, and all the people were dancing, and the girls were stripping Enrique pretty quickly, and I turned away because I didn't want to see anymore.
And when I opened my eyes all I could hear was that weird yodeling guy, and everybody was gone.
It was the weirdest night at the club EVER.
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