The thump of the bass is making your teeth shatter. You're smashed between the sweaty pumped pecs of a beefy Italian on one side and the sequins of a drag queen's dress on the other. Your arms sway to the sounds as rainbow-colored confetti falls lightly on your wet shoulders, sticking to your hair. Your drenched tank top is shoved into the pocket of your pants. Who the hell needs a shirt when you have the Manor? Chandeliers and disco balls hang mostly pointlessly as laser lights shoot through the dense air, thick with beats and human heat. The best decorations in the room are the go-go boys flexing and pumping the air. From the DJ booth, Kidd Madonny, or maybe it's Tracy Young, spins and strikes poses. The only cool thing in the room is the fog machine, which makes it even harder to see the dude you're grinding up against. Your boyfriend and your bottle are waiting for you at VIP, but they'll still be there when you're done with this song and maybe the next one too. This is the most fun you've had in years. Nothing, not even love, will drag you off this dance floor.