[Log - Jacek Wozniak and Debbie]

[jacek_wozniak]

Fade in, compress. Flip back and equalize. Jacek's fingers flew from slider to knob behind a spread of turntables and mixing gear, twisting beat and pinching sound until the rhythm echoed back at him just the way he liked. He was in prime form tonight, livemixing for a feverish audience. And you couldn't tell from where he bobbed his head and shoulders in shadow, but he was almost smiling about it, almost a person instead of a metronome.

It was hot in the club. Hot and dark, but for the strobe lights bedazzling the place like psychedelic dalmation spots.

But it was hotter in Jacek's blood, even though he'd yet to break a sweat. On nights like this he liked to let go of his senses and allow his heartbeat to roam, closing his eyes against the flicker of red lights to see things a little differently.

Comments

[ofhamelin]

She had her passport, but no one checked it as she pushed the heavy doors and stepped through the looking glass into wonderland. The club looked just like the google image search had said it would, but there was no way she could have been prepared for how it felt. it almost knocked her over, the smell. Fruity alcohol and sweat, smoke from the dry ice machine stale and weird against her nose and heat. It was so warm, like going into the reptile house in a zoo, and just as weird and colourful.

For a few moments, she just stood there, not sure where to go or what to do. This was probably a mistake, but she was desperate. She had to do something to prove she wasn't whatever they kept saying she was. A prude? Frigid? Shut in? Crazy cat lady? Whatever...

"Eep..." She squeaked as she pushed past a few bodies to try and find a clear space where she could watch the lights and music.