The dance was not what I had expected. The few songs that allowed me to press her delicate form against my chest never seemed to last long enough. Eleven-thirty had arrived and both of our bodies were melting into a single, inseparable statue of passion.
We found a secluded corner of the crowded hall and I looked over my shoulder just before pulling her face to mine. My tongue slivered past the barrier of her lips and found the ambrosia I had yearned for. I allowed my hands to sculpt her form-from the lobes of her ears, to the outline of her erect nipples. Her head thrown back, I proceeded to savor the fruits of her body. Slightly nibbling her collar, I slipped my hand between the folds in her dress and massaged the exterior of the prison cell that confined the angel of glory. I felt my ever-hardening erection released from its own chamber and felt the draft of the open air.
There, in a dark corner of the dance floor at Prom, with her back against a cold tiled wall, I found myself inside the pearly gates of heaven. The music quickened and the people remained unaware of the ecstasy crackling through the air. I pondered the permanent entrance into the Kingdom of God, and partially entered the passageway countless times before I was able to see the light shining from the mighty throne itself.
As the lights dimmed, I looked around and saw that I was once again in the same room containing the jubilant voices of hundreds of well-dressed teenagers. Turning back toward my lover, now a part of me, I kissed her fluttering eyes and placed my hand on her heaving breast. The pace of her heart assured me that we would never again be apart, in mind, or in spirit.