Freedom and Choices

Fanguella was starting to feel overwhelmed. Such overt sexuality, so much skin, and people just touching her, and eating her up with their eyes. The music was loud, the woman on stage was girating, and Fanguella could feel the warmth of Richard’s body beside her. And still she hadn’t found the right woman to give her a dance. Honestly, half of them terrified her. But as she drank from her third drink, she was really starting to relax more, and was in fact itching to do something outrageous as well. She wanted to take her own clothes off, and swing on the pole. Something inside felt like bursting, or stretching. She wanted to whoop and yell, to break out of the social binding that had secretly been confining her. Now that she knew this binding was there, she felt some responsibility to act on that knowledge. But just how far? She could start yelling obscenities. She could take her clothes off and just stand where she was and urinate. She could approach some random person and lick their cheek. How far could she go? She only just realized that she made choices everyday, the choice to control her impulses, choices to fit in, to blend in, choices to feel good, to be polite, choices to take risks or not to take risks, choices even to live or to die. It was a strange feeling, this overwhelming freedom. It both terrified and tantalized her. It was like she was seeing the world for the first time, and choosing consciously for the first time. Her senses felt so raw, that the mere hint of perfume, or brush of a hand on her arm had her shivering. This place affected her. It changed her, right when she needed changing. She started watching the girls with a more predatory eye. A couple of them stood out, and she waited for them to approach, staring blatantly, willing them to come over.