Placing the glass on the table, she moved off to the dancing crowd. The dance floor was packed as always. The sweaty bodies parted slightly to let her to squeeze through. The beat of the music vibrated through the air. She began shimmying her hips, the hem of her short sequined dress moved up and down her bare thighs. The dress was the one she called her hooker dress. Thousands of little sequined discs sewed onto the sheer material. Occasionally the spotlight would shine on her and bounce off the sequins in reflected rays. As she moved, sequins fell from her. But she still had enough left over, to hold the dress together. Funny how a zillion sequins could weigh so much, weighing the dress down. She moved her arms above her head, occasionally punching the air above. The music was not to her liking however she had enough alcohol in her body not to discriminate against the DJ’s picks. He must have caught sight of her dancing alone in the mass of people because after four songs, he appeared at her elbow with another vodka orange. Without asking whether the drink was meant for her, she took it and drained the contents of the cold glass. Dancing made her thirsty.