The flash of the strobe lights burn an almost colorless image on Jeff’s retinas. Still life sceens revealing the mass of sweaty body’s crowding the dance floor.
The intervals between the flashed shortes as the beat quickens.
The individual images begin to form a stop-motion movie. The dancers jerking like puppets in time with the music. Writhing in aural ecstasy.
The music stop and the room is plunged in darkness. The only sounds the heavy breathing of the dancers.
Jeff can feel the sound as much as he can hear it when it returns. He can feel Alice begin to move again. His hands on her hips, her back against his chest. Over the smell of sweat Jeff can make out Alice’s perfume—Chanel #5, his gift strait from Paris. Jeff closes his eyes and dances.
‘This is a good moment,’ Jeff thought losing himself in the beat.