In the quiet corners, hands are roaming, and the smell of arousal and sex is in the air. Plenty of dudes lean against the bar, drooling all over themselves at the curvy women gyrating to the pulsing hip hop song blaring through the speakers, and the bartender keeps their drinks full so they don’t have a reason to leave. The drinks keep flowing, the music is good, and the girls dancing in cages along the walls and over the bar are hot. It’s one of the more popular clubs in Detroit, and I can tell why. The patrons of the club I’m in grind on each other or hold drinks over their heads as they push their way through the crowd of tangled bodies, heading from the bar to the dance floor or over to the tables and couches pressed into one corner.
Coloredlights flash in time to the beat of the song thumping through the speakers.
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