The tremor starts at the center and works its way out. Down to tingle the toes. Up to fry the brain. It's an explosion. It's a chaos contained, harnessed, held into a single point of contact, all heat and humidity, all pleasure and pressure and play. It's fleeting, fleshy, freshly discovered appetite. It's intriguing, arousing, mouthing all over the skin. It's the race, the racing beat, the beating drums that sound as one. It's the best dance I've ever known. It's the only one I couldn't live without.
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