Mosh Pit

The hand started at her waist and quickly, but clumsily, moved up near her chest.  Bodies in a mosh pit are constantly rubbing and banging against each other, but even a first-timer could tell that this was someone trying to grope her from behind.  Morgan’s shoulder bumped his cup of beer first when she spun around, spilling most of it on her white tank top. 

“You look good in a wet shirt!”  The mouth vomiting the lame come-on was framed by several days worth of stubble; a sleezy grin; dirty backwards baseball cap, and they type of bloated, muscular body most often seen in a fraternity house or football lockerroom. 

Her tank top was already wet with sweat from stifling heat and bodily friction in the mosh pit.  Morgan hoped the beer stain would blend in, but mostly wanted to get away from the creep behind her.  She looked for openings between hips and shoulders ceaselessly banging into and off each other.  She tried one gap but was knocked immediately back to the spot she was in.  Then the same slimy hand slid down her stomach near the waistband of her jeans. 

“Stop it!” she yelled as she elbowed the fleshy mass behind her and wriggled out of his grip. 

He knew she screamed, but her words were incoherent over the noise of the band and screaming crowd.  “You like that?” he asked in the same dirtbag tone he had spoken before. 

Now facing him she thrust he knee up towards his crotch, but he caught her leg and powerfully forced it back to the ground, causing her to stumble slightly.  She frantically threw a fisted hand towards his face but he deflected the blow, spilling the rest of the beer on both their shirts and necks.  With his palm on her forehead and the words, “Little slut,” ringing in her ears he shoved her back into a web of flailing elbows and crashing torsos.  She tried to catch her balance but someone stepped on her foot and she fell to the ground in a heap.  Then her eyes went black.

Brian tried to slither his way from the edge of the crowd, but it was nearly impossible to make any ground.  He constantly braced himself to be knocked from one body into the next, and he had to crouch and sneak under contact most of the way.  When he got close to the girl on the ground he looked up at her attacker and yelled, “Dude, cops!” He wanted to deck the guy, but clearly that would start a fight he would not win.  His squeaky voice wasn’t heard by anyone else, but Mr. Douche turned and bulled his way through the crowd.

Morgan had regained consciousness, but was yet unable to get to her feet.  Brian knelt down beside her but was instantly knocked onto her back, sandwiching her back down onto the ground.  Panicking, and unsure if either of them would escape the stampede, Brian looked up and his eyes met those of guy big enough to stand his ground in the melee.  He saw their predicament and stopped charging into the other moshers around him.  He squatted down and caught Morgan and Brian by the shoulders, yanking them up to their feet with very little assistance from the gawky teenagers.  “Get your sister out of here before you both get killed!”

“Hey,” Brian thought.  “She’s not my sister!”  He knew he was scrawny and nerdy looking, but why was it assumed that a pretty girl couldn’t possibly be “with” him?  More importantly, though, he had a chance to get her out of the mosh pit.  He hugged her with both arms, paying attention to keep his hands in safe places, to hold her up.  She was awake, but groggy and unsure of her footing.  He braced against the crashing bodies and used them to hold the girl and himself up.  Slowly, he shuffled her through the crowd near the bar. 

Once seated, he asked for a glass of ice and the girl put it against the welt on her head.  “Thank you,” she said and then paused to regain as much composure as she could muster.  “I’m Morgan.”

“I’m Brian.”  There was much more he wanted to say, but he was too nervous and flustered by what had taken place.  That and he wasn’t used to talking to girls with such beautiful green eyes and “mature” bodies.  He felt bad that he could see down her shirt as she slumped in the chair, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.  His older brother was nowhere to be found and he was trying hard not to act like a 15-year old tagalong at his first Ned’s Atomic Dustbin concert.

“What happened after I tried to hit that guy?”

“I saw the hole thing.  He shoved you to the ground.  Your head hit someone’s knee and you were knocked out for a few seconds.  When you woke up you couldn’t stand you got stepped on a few times.  I tried to help but I got pummeled too and knocked you back down.  There was one decent guy out there, and he helped us get out.”

“I really appreciate it.  I’ve never been in a mosh pit before and I thought it would be fun to get out there.  That guy was a creep.”

Brian tried desperately to think of things to say.  This girl was obviously older and way prettier than the girls he usually talked to.  He gazed at her bruised face and daydreamed about a question to ask. 

“Thanks, Brian.  I’ve got to find my friends.”  She got up, but as she did she gave him one last peek at her bra and the gap between her breasts as she leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.  It was several songs before Brian rose, and sadly wandered with a story and a first kiss that few nobody would ever believe or celebrate with him.