The lights in the hallway are dim, and the thump of music is steady as I pass several small groups of people lingering in the hall. I can’t really tell who anyone is because of the low lighting and their masks, but that’s kind of the point at these types of parties.
I pass several more blocked-off rooms, then stop in the doorway of the first party room and look inside. It’s been set up as the chill room with tons of couches and chairs crammed into the space. There are only a couple of small speakers in here, so the music isn’t too loud. You can actually hold a conversation without shouting, and the low lighting with soft waves of colors moving over the room gives it an intimate feel.
Some of the couches are occupied by couples and groups. Most of them are just sitting and chatting while they sip drinks or smoke, but a few are occupied by couples who are making out and humping each other like horny teens.
Stepping back, I continue down the hall. I didn’t come here to chill. I came here to get out of my head and have some fun.
The next room is the largest of the lounges in the house, and it’s actually two rooms that have a partition between them.Currently, the partition is open, and the room is set up like a club.
There’s a full-service bar against one wall, and the speaker and a lighting setup could rival the ones at my gigs. But the bulk of the room is being used as a dance floor.
The crowd isn’t as big as usual since it’s still relatively early, but I scan the area out of habit to see if I recognize anyone.
Most people are still wearing their masks, but not all of them are the type that actually obscure your face. A couple of the guys are wearing ones that only cover one side of their faces, Phantom of the Opera style, and most of the girls are wearing delicate lace masquerade-style masks that look fantastic with their outfits but do nothing to hide their identities.
The lights above us suddenly go off, and the room is bathed in a soft purple glow as the many black lights above us flicker to life.
Most people wear white to this party because of the heavy use of black lights, and the scene in front of me looks a bit macabre as all the white clothing and masks light up while the people wearing them look like shadowy, featureless figures.
The black lights go off as suddenly as they came on, plunging the room into near darkness for a few beats before the rest of the lights flick back on and resume their intricate patterns as they pulse and wave along with the music.
Curiously, I scan the crowd again, this time taking in people’s outfits. Like most Baxter parties, there’s everything from semiformal wear to beachwear to club clothes and outfits that look like a mix between lingerie and swimwear.
The song changes from a heavy EDM track to a mashup of two older pop songs, and I unconsciously wrinkle my nose at the mess of notes that fill the air.
I have no clue whose music they’re playing, but it sucks. Even with all the ridiculously expensive equipment in the room,there’s a tinny quality to the voice tracks, and the bass beats are about a half second off from each other, so the mix just doesn’t sound right.
Those are rookie mistakes that are easily fixed with a few simple effects and some remastering, but no one else seems to give a shit about the subpar music quality as they keep dancing and enjoying themselves.
Instead of joining the throng of partygoers, I slip out of the doorway and into the hall.
On the other side of the main room is a smaller lounge that looks to be the last open room on the floor.
The door is open, but the room beyond it is dark, with only faint flickers of what looks like scattered candlelight creating just enough light to navigate around the room without being able to make out anything around you.
This is essentially the smash room, and a weird heat fills my stomach as memories of the last time I was in one of these rooms flood my senses.
Hurriedly, I turn away and stride back to the main room. I really don’t need to be thinking about that right now, or ever again.
The horrible mashup is still playing when I enter the main room, but I ignore it and make a beeline for the bar. I need a drink.
There are only a handful of people at the bar, and I slide into an open space and lean on the wooden counter as I wait for one of the bartenders to notice me.
“What can I get you?” a pretty blonde with a gorgeous smile asks as she saunters up to me.
The bartenders are all wearing white fishnet shirts that cling to their fit bodies, and black pants. The woman in front of me also has what looks like a bikini top under her shirt, but thetiny triangles of fabric don’t do much to cover her impressive cleavage.
I wait for some sort of reaction at the show of breasts, but other than a faint stirring of appreciation, there’s nothing.
“Cranberry vodka.”
She gives me a sultry smile, and I don’t miss how she bends over in an exaggerated way when she pours my drink.
“Here ya go,” she says over the music. “Is there anythingelseI can get for you?” she asks, giving me a flirty look.
I’ve been to enough campus parties to know that she’s not really flirting with me. She’s hoping I’ll tip her, even though it’s not a cash bar.
I pick up my drink and give her what I hope is a friendly smile. I can’t fault her hustle or her game, but I didn’t bring any cash, so she’s barking up the wrong tree. “I’m good, thanks.”
