Dancing days. Part two

Lining the dance floor, the usual suspects: Man-boy, desperately searching for a girlfriend, Boy-boy who always comes with mum and dad, Pocket-sized Buddy Hollie, Mr Shaky Man who combines dancing with a vibrating massage, Flat- packed Man as thin as paper...

I scan the room for my favourite: Mr Psychopath. My heart leaps, he's there. He glides across the room and takes my hand. He drags me around, like a rag doll, from corner to corner, swirling, twisting, flying... He shows no mercy, my only purpose in life at this moment, to keep verticality. He knows where I am, his hand always there to catch me. I feel dizzy, intoxicated. The music ends and I ask for more.