The Collector | 18+

【20】Sh*t-Faced

Since it was nearly one in the morning, we started with three shots of vodka each, to catch up with everyone else in there. It was only when I'd swallowed the last one that I wondered if it was such a good idea. I'd barely eaten tonight, half a bag of chips and some olives, so alcohol might work much faster than usual.

It did, but by the time it kicked in, we were in the middle of the pit, dancing our hearts out to the catchy tunes. The lights were flashing, the music was blasting, and my head was spinning. But I had my Gigi with me, and she acted like my anchor, my lighthouse. We danced until our feet hurt, sometimes together, sometimes with others... I ended up sandwiched between two men at some point, their hands holding me by the hips and waist, and I'd reveled in the moment. The dashing Mr. Westergaard might not want me, but many others did. I was worth wanting.

When the one in the front bent to take my lips, slowly enough for me to refuse, I didn't fight it, welcoming the gesture, even. Bold, he slipped his tongue into my mouth, and I answered with matching intensity, sampling whatever drink he'd had earlier. He was attractive, with soft features, lightly tanned skin, and curly dark hair. But to be fair, everyone was relatively alluring at this point. The man behind me left, probably deciding he'd lost this one, and I remained with the front guy for a few more minutes, kissing and dancing, vaguely enjoying the touch of his hands on my ass and back.

It was Gigi who pulled me out of his arms, gesturing that she wanted a drink. Damn, she was right. I was parched. I left the man without a look behind as we made our way to the bar again. It took a moment to get the bartender's attention, but when we did, Gigi ordered us Jägerbombs, as well as another shot of vodka each.

I watched as the person prepared it, realizing I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. Was I so far gone, or was this person's style androgynous and gender-neutral? The short hair and masculine clothes were countered by plump lips and feminine traits, their black shirt too baggy to guess the shapes beneath.

"Do you two want a glass of water?" they offered once we'd downed our drinks. Even their voice was unreadable.

"Nah, we're here to get shitfaced," Gigi countered.

I stumbled on my feet even though no one had bumped into me, and the bartender raised a skeptical brow at me. "Maybe one for her?"

Gigi turned to me with inquisitive eyes, trying to gauge how far gone I was already. I did my best to hide that the answer was "very far." The night was only just starting. I didn't want her to become a party pooper already.

"Do you need water, sweets?" she shouted into my ear.

"No, I'm not thirsty."

"You sure?" I nodded with determination, and she turned to the bartender again. "We're good." They raised their hands in rendition and moved on to other customers.

She held my wrist and pulled me behind her, taking me back to the dance floor. The hot guy from before was still there, but dancing with another woman. It didn't matter, though, because a new guy quickly replaced him.

Damn, men were actually so easy to get. What was the point of getting hung up on one of them? There was plenty of fish in the sea, and I was like a fish magnet in this dress.

Fuck Ulrik Westergaard.

I completely lost track of time, barely noticing the songs changing from one to another. When the guy grew too enterprising, trying to slip a hand under my dress, I shoved him away harshly, calling him a pervert. Gigi came to my aid when he insisted. True to her fiery self, she threatened to gouge his eyeballs out. That was when the first guy came back, and we resumed our earlier making out and dancing.