The heavy staccato, the ponderous, throbbing heartbeat, pulsating through their every pore, filling them completely. They are beholden to it, quick to relinquish control, released into it, devoured, immersed, completely lost to each pulse, every melody.
All around them the closed eyes of their brothers and sisters cry out, silence roars from deafened mouths as torsos twist in grotesque beauty. The air fills with animal noise, the lust flashes and fades, whilst the gentle sheen of bodies in movement, syncopated in their desires, oblivious to the world, continues to move.
There is no time in this place, no walls or ceiling, the floor rendered in booming sonic waves, the smoke machines billow and bloom, false clouds ripped apart by light after colourful flashing light.
As one they slip and heave this way and that, lost amongst the dimensions, a gyrating, pitching mass. The sounds fade and blossom, spinning through the air, drifting like smoke through hazy arms and swirling legs. They are one, consumed and completed.
They feel it move amongst them, the ebb and flow of an energy and emotion that courses from body to glistening body. It is a raw, ethereal force, tumbling across the floor. It will not be sated but must fed, and willingly they give up their bodies to it, sacrifical and sacrosanct. This night will never end. Every fragment is blurred to the next, the music spins and cartwheels, crescendo after aching crescendo, and all the while the heart, the driving pulse of the beast, continues.
And on they dance.