The dance floor is a writhing sea of flesh, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. As the bassline of 'Calabria 2007' throbs, bodies entwine, hips swaying in sync with the explicit rhythm. Hands roam, caressing, grasping, as the dance becomes an elaborate, kinky foreplay. The crowd is a writhing mass of lust, each dancer lost in the graphic, lewd dance of their own desires, fueled by the raw, primal energy of the music.