After all those weeks comparing DJs. Was Carl Cox on? Was Judge Jules, Paul Oakenfold, Ferry Corsten, Armand Van Helden? Was it going to be blinding? Or cheesy? Or hard? Or trancey? Who fucking cared? The rain beat down gently, softer than the music, barely noticed on the sweat that already had her hair sodden and damp and lank and sticking to her bare skin. But not for long. Just a shower. Thank fucking Christ for that! Bumping. Thumping. Kicking. Heavier. Harder. Darker. Throbbing. Banging. How it happened, Kirsten didn’t know, but soon there were others like her, naked and boogying, clothes flung aside, more pills appearing and shared and still no break in the dancing. Kirsten bounced off Sophie, whose eyes were rolling no longer, her perky pointed nipples as free as Kirsten’s fuller rounder boobs. Barry, too, had pulled down his pants, his thin prick not as proud as Paul’s even now, shriveled into nothing, but shaking madly from side to side. The music pounding and pulling and. In any event, it was a feast for whoever got there first.The sun seemed to get brighter, attracting his attention. He looked up and saw Lisa floating above him. He smiled at her, then flinched away as another image slammed into him. He and the unseen beast fought furiously for an instant, then he felt himself turning into vapor. He screamed in protest as he evaporated.“Wow!” Macario groaned, sitting up. “Fucking weird dream…”He looked over at Lisa. She was naked, lying beside him, her eyes closed in sleep, her body splayed out like she had fallen from a height. His mind started to coalesce as the images of what had happened became more accessible. ‘She asked me not to kill her anymore,’ he thought to himself.Then, when they were making love, she’d killed them both. Or did she? Was that an illusion? Whatever it was, it had been incredible.He looked down at her again. Her eyes were open. She was watching him.“Did we die?” he asked, needing to know.She pushed up with her arm and sat,.
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