It hurts so good.

My feet are bound tight in my Bloch jazz trainers, a bead of sweat is swelling on my brow while another two chase each other down the small of my back.

Head thrown back, the water feels like it is being injected into my veins as soon as it hits the back of my dry throat; a cool wave of hydration that rolls and crashes over my body from under the skin.

I don't think I have drunk so much and pissed so little in my life.

Bringing my eyes back to level I smirk to myself noticing that my foot is still tapping in time with the music despite the ache in my joints and the thigh that threatens to cramp.

As the music builds to the end of the phrase I scan the floor for the best couple to see how they will work the hit - always looking, always hungry for more style and ideas. I count down the beats in my head and cock my head as the guy leads the dip early then snaps his partner back up right on the hit. Her hair flys forward and her head rests on his shoulder. Classy.

As the song fades out I see a pair of hands point towards me and roll outwards, palms facing the ceiling. Her smile in concert with the hands draws me onto the floor.

I don't know her name but she is smooth as silk. I need smooth right now and the song that starts is just right for my mood as well.

Better Than Ezra – Juicy

The first few moves are like sampling a fine wine. There is cascade of sensations that are intoxicating. A splash of enthusiasm mixed with fear of the unknown. The scent of magic yet to be unleashed.

We roll around each other, gently guiding and exploring how the other reacts to the music and our signals. I keep it subtle but firm and it is working well. The smallest pressure and body lead sends her where I want her to go. We are connected in dance and lock smiling eyes.

The pain fades. The aches are forgotten and there is only the two of us moving as one with chests expanded and shoulders back. We are in a ball of colour and the world is grey around us.

Two songs later and we are done for. The weekend has caught up with us and the last schooner of water has been boiled out of my muscles already - it is time for more.

We leave the floor hand in hand like life long lovers and with a gentle squeeze say our thanks for sharing that moment in time. It has meant everything and nothing all at once.

As out fingers part I am dragged back into the present. The pending cramp is back and demanding my attention. My body screams abuse at me and I feel the first mouthful of water evaporate on my tongue in a puff of steam.

Friday seems like a week ago. Counting on my fingers I realise that in the past 42 hours I have been on the dance floor in one form or another for about 28 hours.

I have done kicks, tricks, threesomes and competition styling workshops. I have had an hour of yoga and Tai Chi which hurt as much as anything else but I am sure was the only thing that got me though the two hours of lifts and aerials. Now it is time to stop. My body has quit and wants to go home.

Another pair of hands beckons and I follow my legs onto the dance floor before I even know what is happening.

I smile warmly to a new stranger with soft hands and the most incredible triple spins.....