after midnight one's own heart is the only thing more treacherous than a girl's smile

they drift away, without saying goodbye, fade away like ghosts. the crowd never thins, or never seems to, he would just look up from time to time to realise that he knew less and less of the people in pulsating mob of drunken bodies. he couldn't blame them, sneaking off to perform their midnight vespers of the flesh and teeth. he knew that was how she would leave, she had done it so many times before, slipping out between the reverb, leaving only the slightly bruised semi circular indentions of her teeth, from when she had bitten him a handful of moments before, on his left pectoral. he saw it happen. had a moment, a few poundings of the 808 to decide, swallowed most of his drink on the way to the door behind her. she had cut across the near empty street, he imagined she had crossed quickly pacing the strides of her long lovely legs. ten steps back from her he called her name not much louder than a whisper. she turned, her face one of poorly feigned surprise. it was all a game, he knew that: arrive, taunt, tease, flee, be chased, be caught, flee again. any of the disdain that should have been present at such an obvious confirmation of all his previous assumptions was gone though as soon as she leaned into his chest.