Phonograph
Added 2022-10-23 22:58:34 +0000 UTCYou were walking past the club when the music inside beckoned you in.
* * *
You opened the door, enthralled by the enchanting music coming from within the room. An earworm that pulled you closer, played on a phonograph. It seemed like you weren’t the only one. There must have been twenty, maybe thirty others in the room, all listening, all quiet.
As you were all standing, waiting, listening, the music changed tempo. What had been a gorgeous violin solo found a beat. A rhythm. Before you knew what you were doing, you had taken a person’s hand. You each bowed to each other, and then came close.
In unison, the room began to dance, swaying, pivoting, twirling around. You couldn’t tell what was going on in everyone else’s heads, but you knew that you had to be here. You had never danced like this before. But you didn’t care how you knew. You only wanted it to go on.
The music sped up. The dancing with it. The violin was still playing, it sounded like the bow was flying across the strings. It all came together in a collaboration of movement and sound that became faster, and faster until, finally, it sounded like the violin snapped a string.
The music paused. Everyone stopped moving. For a brief second, you wondered what you had been doing. How you had got here? And then the music began again. Louder. More insistent. And you weren’t dancing this time. Clothes came off. Moans accompanied the song.
The room devolved into passion and pleasure just as quickly as it had started dancing. And all along the phonograph in the middle blared its tune. Nothing could stop it. Nothing would stop it. And tomorrow, with the pleasurable energies of tonight, it would play a little louder.
