Writing Exercise: Picture

Bodies are moving and flailing in the tightly packed theater. On the stage, a band plays, their music loud and entrancing. Guys with no shirts, girls in short skirts pump their bodies to the music. Hair whipping from side to side as a girl stands with her eyes closed, swaying to the beat. A man near the stage flings himself towards the stage in hopes of touching the music idol. I look back and see only something I would notice. Everyone was intoxicated by the melody that was muffled in my ears. A deep blue haze hovered above the crowd. The smell of sweat, cigarettes, and beer filled my nostrils. It was hot; there were so many people touching, dancing. I brushed against people as I tried to move, sweat glistening on my face. The hair around my round face was damp, along with most of the crowd. Hands reached towards the ceiling as the crowd's favorite song commenced and a roar of delight filled the air. Things got faster, people got closer, and the music got louder. I braced myself and stood on my tippy-toes to see the band play. After a while, I started to jump to the music. As I jumped, my breasts bounced and made my shirt hike up and my already-loose pants started to sag. As I reluctantly pulled my pants up and tugged my shirt down, I began to sway to the beat. My head bobbed from side to side, my hips swayed, with my hands reached to the sky. After the concert, we'd begin to leave, panting and smiling at each other in harmonized bliss. Everyone stepped out on the street and it was nice and cool. We talked, mingled, and gushed. It was like an evening of glorious sex. In the end, we were all sweaty, exhausted, sore, and pleased.