“Alright, who’s ready to get down tonight?” the DJ called over the loud thumping music, teenagers and adults dancing in the club.
Cheers resounded from every corner of the heated club while the DJ changed song and put on some really sucky song that everyone immediately cheered and started to grind on their partners in a way that they apparently considered ‘dancing.’
While everyone else was ‘getting their freak on’ I was sitting at the bar watching them all act like drunk idiots.
I don’t even know why I bothered to come tonight; it was a pointless effort to make my friends feel better but to put me in a bad mood. I disliked clubbing and going out shopping and all those other silly things my friends had decided was perfect therapy for a newly single girl. Don’t get me wrong, there's absolutely nothing wrong with those things. I just don't exactly jump for joy at the thought of grinding on strange sweaty people and spending money on clothes I won't wear. I stick to whatever is in my wardrobe, or borrow what I want from my mom, but my style is pretty casual. Of course, when we all went clubbing I had to trade casual comfort for skin tight and uncomfortable.
I searched the dance floor and saw my friends getting it on with a few strangers. I snorted at them before I thanked the bartender, who I knew quite well from all my trips here since I always stayed by the bar. He knew I didn't like being here and knew I didn’t like getting drunk so he always had water and other non-alcoholic drinks on hand.
Of course, tonight I was having an even worse night than usual. My boyfriend of six months just dumped me because he was cheating on me. Yeah, he dumped me because he was unfaithful. Care to explain the logic to that? I guess he just wanted to do it himself since obviously I was going to kick his ass to the curb the next time I laid eyes on him.
So, since I was in a worse mood than usual Mickey, bartender and my new best bud, had given me a bit of alcohol, even though I was underage. Considering this is only the second time I’ve had any, I thought I was doing quite well.
I stumbled awkwardly in my heels towards the dance floor, finally getting close enough to my friends to shout that I had a headache and was going home.
They simply rolled their eyes at me and nodded. I scowled as I walked away, feeling unstable in heels. I wasn’t used to wearing heels and adding that now I was slightly intoxicated to the equation didn’t really help me much.
It was kind of funny how there were so many underage teenagers at this club, yet the bouncers and bartenders either didn’t notice or didn’t care that we were all here, getting drunk and hooking up with random people.
It was sad.
I found our table, picked up my jacket and headed outside. A few guys on the street looked at me and whistled, “Hey, baby. You want to make a couple of hundred bucks?” one of them called.
I ignored them, zipping up my jacket up against the fresh June night. I walked down the sidewalk of the downtown part of town, feeling the fresh wind brush against my bare legs. Shivering, I hurried and stumbled down the street. My house was about an hour and a half walk away from the club, but I would be lucky if I made it home without getting raped first by one of the freaks out at night.
Since it was a Friday night downtown, there were a bunch of drunks and freaks out on the streets and I couldn’t help but wish I had stayed at the club where it was safe, well...most of the time.
I bowed my head against the wind, keeping my eyes downwards as I focused on putting on foot in front of the other without tripping. It was best not to make eye contact with people anyways, eye contact just called unnecessary attention to you. Of course, being in high heels and tight dress that came half-way down my thigh; obviously made me stick out like a sore thumb, especially late at night on a street with a bunch of old drunk perverts.
I cursed my friends for making me wear this ridiculous outfit. Men tended to take clothes like this as a non-verbal invitation. I was all for freedom to wear what you liked, but in our society, that freedom was often stomped on by pigheaded men who thought they had the freedom to use a woman's outfit as a reason to harass them. Or worse.
Because I'd been looking at my feet, I hadn’t been paying attention to where I was going. Therefore when I looked up, I had no clue where I was but all I knew was that I was so not supposed to be here. Glancing quickly around my surroundings, I heard throbbing music and saw a strip club ahead of me.