It was the suffocation of the dance floor that made Regina feel good about herself. The ritual behind going out that excited her. The choosing of the dress, makeup, shoes, perfume, and a few dozen other things made her feel in sync with herself. It was a rare freedom that she couldn’t find in other places. Not at work or with her friends or family.
She looked forward to a place where she could surround herself with strangers in dark corners and colored light that glowed softly above her. The look of men who tried to catch her eye or ask her forward questions when she couldn’t even catch their names. She liked to see the jealous look in another girl’s face, and occasionally the look of interest. She didn’t have to think about work.
There was something calming about a warm body and an unfamiliar face toe to toe, swaying up against her that brought her at peace. She could reject and approve whom she wanted. She had power. The ability to choose what hands roamed around her body. The ability to limit their movement or let them go further. Here in the liquor stained floor and the flickering lights she was powerful. If she told any of her colleagues at the lab, she knew the look of disgust and the eventual, and untrue, labels they’d attach to her.
But how could she deny herself happiness? It was the darkness that made her feel alive. It was the darkness that made her mundane life worth living, for the light of the outside was too true and cold to bear.