After-hours are for vampires. After-hours in New York are where it’s always Halloween—and never more debauched than on Halloween night at Purgatorio, rechristened PostPurgatorio by the Saint at Large for their All Saints priapic bacchanal. With four deejays and two dance floors, as well as a rooftop lounge for those vampires unafraid of light, PostPurgatorio proved to be the perfect crypt for those unwilling to return to their coffins.

Credit the Saint at Large for knowing how to decorate a mausoleum—and filling it with heartstopping young vampires (clearly prepping for their roles in the next Twilight saga). With blood-splattered urinals, coffins by Gothic Cabinet Craft, and blackened chandeliers, PostPurgatorio was a house the Addams Family would happily call home—and home it proved to be for that inveterate species, the denizens of New York after-hours.

It was humid in purgatory, hellishly humid, a sultry tropical hell—and a significant portion of that heat emanated from the booth where after-hours’ latest vampire, DJ Hector Fonseca sent down an erotic electribal set that was like listening to the future—of now—and kept every budding Beelzebub writhing in ecstasy.

Chalk it up to voodoo—and the release of Fonseca’s alter egos. The steaming floor was filled with nubile Lucifers, their hands in the air to Fonseca’s remixes of “I Got a Feeling,” “Million Dollar Bill,” “Paparazzi,” as well as “Whateva,” “You’ve Got To Believe,” and “When the Sun Goes Down.” And his deliciously demented version of Whitney’s “I Look 2 U” was nothing less than a fierce battle cry for all those demonically possessed.

Fonseca’s thrilling soundtrack for this nightmare fantasyland scorched demons throughout the house—from the fiendishly frisky go-go boyz on the brink of orgasmic explosion, to the bare-bottomed bad boy bartenders, and including Marc Berkley with costumed canine, and Vito Fun as the Naked Chef, with horsewhip, and Ari Gold, in gold, and a bevy of damsels in distress, including a young lovely named Malaika (Swahili for “angel”), wandering blissfully through the devils’ playground.

“Miss Thing, there Is no guest list tonight,” as “Club Lonely” puts it—and in this purgatory, there were no barriers either. All restraints were off as the youthful crowd cavorted through this den of iniquity—and all this before the arrival of New York’s true Prince of Darkness, the immortal after-hours king, DJ Junior Vasquez.

For what is after-hours, but the place where night never ends—and with help from the angels of MedEvent (for even Mephisto danced too close to the edge), the Saint at Large gave New York’s most sexy incubi the definitive Halloween after-hours.