To Dance With The Devil. Literally. -PART 1-

I WAS PUMPED. So pumped that my in - built music player was spinning dance beats so loud that I couldn't even hear my own voice. A little malfunction there, but surely it can be overlooked. Anyway.

So pumped I wasn't walking, I was dancing. I wasn't climbing the stairs, I was jumping from step to step. My brain was producing an overload of the dancing hormone. There is a dancing hormone actually - even if it only exists in my anatomy. But nonetheless.

And I was ready to break it down; wherever, whenever. I was even in my gear. Even the fact that I did not pay for my ticket and had to come up with a cock-and-bull story so I could get it in - did not bump me out of my zone. I was ready for a hurricane. I was ready for an earthquake. I was ready for anything.

Except a Sheep.

Yes, a Sheep could strongly defy a hurricane. And win.

I walk past two very handsome figures (Don't ask why - I might have been feeling slightly lesbian at that moment) all the way to greet my Cardboard Box. And just as I turn to walk back, I stare straight into the eyes of the Sheep.

The Sheep I had not seen in seven days. Wearing a brand-new shirt and jeans. And he is standing next to a Dark-Hunter.

People die for good reasons. This was one of them.

So, we all know what Sheep looks like. Let's describe his DH friend then. Six feet tall, broad shoulders, longish curly brown hair, dark eyes, and a fabulous posterior. Need I say more?

I name him Kyrian of Thrace. Eventhough he looks like a Valerius - Talon hybrid. Wait.

Val-Tal. Awesome.

So, what happens when Sheep and I meet? A loving embrace, of course. A much-needed one indeed. I mean, even if we don't kiss passionately - we still hug passionately. Not complaining.

And just as I move away, he gives me a kiss on my cheek. Boy, is he working hard to prove to me he's good in bed.

But it's alright. I'm already convinced.

So, I'm forced to leave my Sheep and Val-Tal because I can't make a scene in front of Cardboard Box. Oh, and I forgot to mention how positively GIDDY I felt as well as how I wanted to puke my last meal all over my dancing shoes. Perfect.

My music player has died. My zone has been infiltrated. And my body just feels like vomiting. All this from a Sheep. Great. My life is being rocked by farm animals. Soon, I'll be slitting my wrists over a chicken. Anyway.

My good friend Turquoise is trying hard to help me maintain my composure. Even forcing me to have a drink to calm me down. But alas, it was all to no avail.

I nearly break off the rim of the cup with my teeth and scream randomly to the ceiling. Which people still manage to hear through the noise. Amazing. And we all know nothing works better than a good slap.

So, after a good few minutes of Sheep not being in the room, I sit down to devise a plan. First - the ultimate goal ... eliminate all skanks. Second ... make sure my Sheep stays long enough for the party. And third ... get some booty-shaking with my baby. Done.

The night begins. I must admit the performance by a team of breakdancers was fab. Next, a weird - looking guy starts doing random movements to a song. A little gay at first, but it turns out okay in the end. And then, it was time for the open dancefloor. Showtime.

The backlights suddenly switch off. I began to lapse into my zone once again. The music is then turned up. I start to let the music fill my mind and clear out all my thoughts. And the room becomes pitch black. Bingo - I've gotten my freak on.

So, you should know that you can NEVER stop me when I'm dancing. And my body parts move in all directions so you might just get hit and die. I'm like a speeding car - a drunk driver at the wheel and fatal should you stand in its way.

And I see Val-Tal all alone. Moving his ass side to side like as if he's from a different planet where dancing is an offence. And by the way he was dancing, I could see why.

And what can't I stand for at dancing parties? People who don't dance. I grind my hips so hard in front of him, that he decides to move left and right a little faster.

For the sake of the Dark-Hunters, let there never be a Valerius - Talon hybrid.

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