SUGAR DADDY STUDENT

The lights are dimmed down low, except for the spinning array of sparkly lights from the strobe machine.

Scattered orbs of colored light dance across the walls and dusty furniture pushed off to the sides of the room. Shadows of distorted dimensions grow and writhe as people come and go from the improvised dance floor.

The pulsating glow matches up with the driving bass beat of the music playing.

I can feel the musty old wooden floor of the fraternity house thrumming with vibrations under my feet.

The beat pulses up through the pointy spire of my stiletto heels. I feel it in every white cord and...