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A wandering, lustful beaming blue eye, a ripping rim shot, beer, cigarettes, some guy in shorts with an unlit cigar in his mouth, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked, didn’t have the nerve to light it and blow smoke in Jack’s face. The Blitzhaus rhythm that night was deep, sharp, fine, the music loud, all the sounds confused with the colors, the bass and all the black merged, emerged, throbbed, and blue eyes flashed like a cymbal, beacons of unwanted delight. Jack had had enough, just wanted to go home with Dorsey. But Bernie and the others were still at it, Dorsey was off somewhere, and Jack couldn’t pull himself away from them. He couldn’t say enough god damn it, he couldn’t move an inch away from the stage, he just bounced, shook his fists, nodded his head, didn’t even smile, he just floated there hardly there at all. Dorsey floated before him and pecked him on the cheek, but Jack was hardly there and her lips hit a numb spot, he didn’t feel a thing, just the flash of strange blue eyes from the girl behind Dorsey, the eyes transfixed, transmuted by some unknowable desire that kissed some numb spot on Dorsey’s smiling, hot, tired lips. She had white teeth, no smile, a bare shoulder, a shock of blond hair and muscular tan shoulders and a blue cymbal crashed all over Jack’s hot, exhausted, flaccid dry tongue.

Bernie leaned over and mouthed something, Jack nodded, didn’t know what Bernie said. Bernie turned away to get closer to the dark-haired woman in the red shirt with the zipper down the front. Jack reached for the edge of the stage, wished he were drunk and not just unhappy, not even sleepy, just anxious. Dorsey had gone off somewhere. Jack couldn’t leave without her. He was stuck at the Blitzhaus, not even room to breath, stuck with the bands and the gang and Dorsey and a devastating flash of hot flesh blue.

Dorsey, condensing out of the cigarette smoke, wrapped her arm around Jack’s waist.

“Aren’t they great?” she shouted. The band started up again so he didn’t even try to answer. He just nodded in agreement, caught a whiff of Dorsey’s magical hair, then gone as she evaporated again into the crowd. He tried to follow her but lost her somewhere near the end of the bar.

It was a funny crowd that night at the Blitzhaus, half of them sitting at tables silent, sullen as if concentrating on the music like it was some sort of subtle art, some sort of delicate performance. All the college girls with cigarettes twitched their painted fingers, watched the stage,  watched the singer twist his hips, the keyboard player ran his fingers through his long curly hair, the drummer bounced his bald head like a third drum stick, and the bass player was more sullen than the audience, a stone, only his fingers moved up and down the instrument, and in front of the stage the other half of the crowd gave the explosive music its dancing due, Jack dragged up front by Dorsey and Bernie and Pete and Percy. Dorsey wanted to dance, Pete and Percy wanted to get laid, Bernie, he just wanted to move, get into it, feel good, and that was cool, Bernie needed to blow off steam, they all did and they dragged Jack down too, but he wasn’t into it and Dorsey kept running to the back of the club to say hello to someone or other. “Shelby’s here with Jay. Ruth and Blake broke up.” Jack was tired and he didn’t want to dance and he didn’t want to spoil it for Dorsey. She wasn’t mad or a flake, just doing her thing, hugging and kissing. She had so many friends. Jack just wanted to go home.

Bernie was going after the girl in the red. He might get laid and leave Pete and Percy to settle for late night donuts at Dillon’s. Jack wanted a chocolate glazed donut, his stomach demanded it, but he knew there was no point in pursuing it. Dorsey was gone, they were broke and he didn’t feel like driving.

It seemed like each song was a little louder than the last. That’s what the singer was shouting into the microphone:

“I’m louder now, you hear me?

I’m louder baby, you got to hear me.”

The drummer pounded on his snare, an amplified jack hammer. He was drenched in sweat, smiling, his head bounced along. It was a hot, crowded room. Jack just wanted to get out of there.

A hand squeezed gently on his shoulder. He turned, expecting Dorsey, but it was the blue-eyed demon he’d been staring at all night. Her eyes glowed, she looked into him, took his hands and they danced.

Her movements were obscene, but just a blur in the obscene, damp hall. She twisted, gyrated, moved her groin, tugged on her shorts. Her legs were strong, her upper body firm, her teeth white as porcelain, her lips thin, glossed. She smiled, said something. Only she knew what she said. Jack smiled, still moving, bouncing, pushing his legs left, right, snapping his fingers, trying to keep up.

It was so hot that night, killing him, strangling, boiling his eyeballs, he felt them bubbling, oozing, and where the hell had Dorsey gone?

The blue woman held Jack’s hands, pulled herself into him, bounced against his chest. He felt her crush against him, and then she pulled back. She pulled forward again and licked his ear. The volume increased with each new song, the lights grew dimmer, nearly everyone at the Blitzhaus was drunk, but Jack was just dizzy from exhaustion, from the weariness of blue fright and the unthinking smoky noise. He couldn’t utter a word while her hands clamped onto his, then released. Then she turned and he turned to look for help, for Bernie, for Dorsey. Where was she? Why did she insist on this game? Why couldn’t they leave like he’d asked an hour earlier? He turned again and the blue woman was gone.

Dorsey again, her arms wrapped around Jack from behind, her hands on his soft stomach. He twisted within her arms and smiled, wiped the perspiration from his brow.

“You want to go?” she mouthed, pointing toward the back of the club and the exit.

Jack slapped Bernie on the shoulder and waved, Pete and Percy too, then took Dorsey’s hand and they made their way to the exit, down the stairs and out to Massachusetts Street.

He breathed easier, but there was a lasting ring in his head and a fading glimmer of sweaty hip-grinding blue. Maybe blue found Pete or Percy

“You okay?” Dorsey asked. They held hands, strolled along Mass in the cool September air toward home. Dorsey’s question was a faint echo from far off. Jack feared he’d really messed up his hearing this time. She asked again, “Are you okay Jack?” Looking at him, walking beside him, holding his hand, admiring, loving, he squeezed her hand, breathed in the balmy night air that felt cool compared to inside the Blitzhaus, and without a word told her he was okay. The night air revived him.

“It was so hot,” he said. “So many people. So loud.”

“I know,” she said. “You know I don’t mind it.”

“You know I do.”

“I know. Was it bad?”

“No.”

“The band was good, weren’t they?”

“Yes, and loud.”

“I know.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist and her squeeze eased the ring out of his head. The strain of the crowd and the claustrophobia  floated off into the starlit sky and he turned and kissed her on the forehead.

“Got to make some money,” he said.

“We don’t need money,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “But we need some.”

“I know. We’ll find a way.”

“Yeah.”

The neighbor’s black and white cat was still out, it walked to the sidewalk and meowed and rubbed against both their legs. They stooped down and stroked the cat. It rolled onto its back and they rubbed its stomach, its head, its neck.

Jack unlocked the door and they climbed up the stairs. The downstairs girls were still up watching television. Jack locked the door and followed Dorsey up to the bathroom, then the bedroom. She had already pulled her yellow sun dress up over her head. Jack wrapped his hands around her, slipped them under her clothes, kissed her hard on the mouth, down her neck, her nipples, down her stomach to her navel, down, down, he kissed her thighs, knees, ankles, toes, she raised her legs and they pumped in deep, sharp, fine rhythm.

They slept naked, first in each other’s sweaty arms, then just lightly touching, their rears and fingers brushing every now and then beneath the sheet. It was a warm night, cooled by air conditioning that soothed their long, deep sleeps after the summer dance.