Grabbing a mouthful of the ice-filled drink to wet my lips I slid off the stool (no mean feat at my height ) and cup in hand, started to grind my hips...to the beat and rhythm of the music, occasionally banging my ass against the rasta’s until he eventually turned towards me and started dancing more intensely. Carefully so as not to spill my drink, I leaned up towards his ear and asked him if he wanted to dance. He didn’t understand me at first so I asked him louder (the music was pulsing all. Uhm, Marc.”“So, Uhm Marc, I haven’t seen you around her before, did you just move?”“Yea, I uh...” he pauses again, for the sake of her lips, “I just moved from Portland.”“Why?”“Well, I just go the feeling nobody wanted me there any more.”“I know how that is, I live by myself and have since I was fifteen.”“That sucks.”“I don’t know, sometimes it does, and sometimes its great.”“Yea, I guess. Oh, do you have anything?”“Yea, I’ve got some OC’s and a spoon of coke, and I might have a paper of. More

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