Ford Escort

10 - Dress Up

Ava had graciously guided me through the night-out preparation process. Early on it became apparent that I had never gone out to anything close to a nightclub. I had only been a legal adult for a year, and I had spent half of that year still in high school, and the other half prepping for college.

My friends back in Sacramento weren't what I would call "good influences". They would always somehow manage to get ahold of cigarettes and booze, and they would frequently pretend to be sleeping over at a friend's house, but really they were humping their boyfriends in the back of a Toyota Corolla. We would have co-ed parties whenever someone's parents were out of town, and on our 18th birthdays we had all gotten small tattoos in easily concealed places.

But I had been the only person with strict religious parents in my friend group, so while no one else's parents were happy with some of the things they caught us doing, no one got the "You're going to hell" talk like I did. Because of my parents, and the fear of God they had raised me with, I had definitely been the goody-two-shoes of the group. I was always talking my friends out of doing things that I didn't think would be worth the trouble, I had always been deemed The Responsible One.

As Ava straightened my hair and helped me into some two inch heels, I had to remind myself we were both adults, and there were no parents here to chastise me. But due to my protesting, she did lend me an oversized denim jacket to wear over my skin-tight silk dress, at least until we were at least inside of the dimly lit club.

Just after 7:30 we called an Uber and headed out, my bare legs turning to ice as soon as we stepped outside. Ava assured me it would be warm inside the club, and I would be glad to be wearing "light" clothes. As we climbed into the backseat of our Uber, no doubt looking like freshly turned prostitutes to the people on the street, I started to regret my decision to tag along.

"I feel like a sixteen-year-old dressed up as a hooker for Halloween." I pulled again at my dress as my upper thighs clung to the leather seat.

"Rude. I spent like 30 minutes doing your hair." Ava punched me firmly in the arm.

"The hair is great, it's the dress and these monstrosities I'm referring to." I lifted up my half-pound heels for emphasis.

"God, Roni. You don't look like a hooker," She pushed my leg down, "Trust me, once we get there you'll see. This is how young, hot women dress. You're going to fit right in."

I glared, unconvinced, at her mature and feminine figure. She looked more than a little promiscuous - but on her it looked right, on me it looked like dress up. I had, of course, gone through puberty, and the good Lord had kindly blessed me with C-cups, but there was just an air of maturity in the way she held herself that I clearly lacked.

"How old are you, Ava?" I knew she was a few years older, but I'd never asked her actual age.

"I'm 22." She was checking herself in her compact, but glanced over at me when she answered, "Why?"

"You just seem so much older than me. In a good way."

"Yeah? Why's that?" She wiped a little stray lipstick from the corner of her mouth.

"I don't know, you're just so.. confident and experienced. You know so much about sexuality..."

"Honey, that's got nothing to do with age." She snapped her compact closed and turned her whole body towards me, "Experience comes from getting out there and doing shit, no matter how old you are. I've pretty much been the same person since I was 17. How many guys have you slept with?"

"Uh..." I considered lying, but the truth tumbled out, "Two."

"Me too." She shrugged.

"No way." I argued.

"Yeah! What, do you think I'm a slut?" She teased, "I don't give it up for just anyone."

"It's just, you said the point of going to clubs was 'getting a little something if you're lucky'." I pointed out.

"Yeah, that was open to interpretation. Some girls like to go home with a new guy every night, some girls just appreciate going to third base in the bathroom, you know?"

I nodded, envisioning myself making out with a handsome stranger in a bathroom stall, and trying not to blush when the imaginary stranger turned into Mr. Ford.

"You can gain experience, and sexual confidence without sleeping around." She continued, "It's about being comfortable with yourself, and not letting anyone make you feel like you're not sexy just the way you are."

I liked the way Ava talked, her voice was calm and elegant, but she was bold with her words. I had seen her every day for months, lived in the same cramped room with her, and I was shocked to find that I honestly loved being around her. It was obvious to me now that she was someone I wanted to be friends with, but it had taken me too long to see it.

"We're here!"

The car pulled up in front of a large warehouse, windows just below the roof flickered colorful light coming from inside. Before Ava even opened the car door you could hear the loud pop synth music pounding, once we were standing on the street I could feel the bass in the pit of my stomach. A substantial line was forming on the street as people waited to be admitted, I started for the back but Ava grabbed my arm and steered me up to the bouncer.

"Hi Stanley!" She shouted over the noise at the burly man guarding the door, his resting brute face switched to a welcoming smile, "We're meeting Marcella, is she already inside?"

"Yeah, they went in maybe 5 minutes ago." He replied, reaching out to open the door for her. She started in and I went to follow, afraid he would stop me, but Ava's grip around my forearm seemed to be my ticket in and we were quickly swallowed into the dark, swampy club.

As soon as we passed through the doorway, I could feel the music in my bones, it vibrated my fingertips and synced with my heartbeat. The club was filled with people, moving spastically to the fast-paced beat. Fog hung in the air, catching the flashing lights and giving them structure, the whole place looked like a kaleidoscope.

I reached out to take hold of Ava's shoulder, her hand still firmly hanging onto my arm, as we started pushing our way into the crowd. She had been right, every woman we passed was wearing something just as revealing, if not more, than we were. I felt strangely secure knowing that as out of my comfort zone as I was, I looked like I belonged.

After shoving our way to the other side of the warehouse, we finally broke out of the mob and into a booth on the edge of the floor. The three girls in the booth stood and hugged Ava, shouting barely audible greetings and scooting down to make room for us.

"Who's this?" Asked a woman with jet black hair and almost nothing covering her ample breasts.

"This is my roommate, Roni!" Ava shouted back, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

I waved and offered a smile, expecting an onslaught of unenthusiastic but polite smiles in return. Instead, all three women grinned widely and shouted enthusiastic welcomes. The woman with long blond curls complimented my dress.

"It's Ava's!" I admitted, "I don't go out much!"

"She's never been to a club before!" Ava informed them, causing all of them to stare at me, wide-eyed.

"We'll have to show her a good time then!" The blonde insisted.

Without bothering with further introductions we were all getting to our feet and heading back onto the dance floor. Ava led the way, again grabbing ahold of my arm, while the rest of the girls formed a chain behind me as we snaked our way to the center of the floor.

In the center of the mass of hot, writhing bodies, I waited to feel overwhelmed or claustrophobic. But as I started to move with the rhythm of the music, the uncoordinated, chaotic movements of the people pressed up against me started to feel oddly harmonious. I let loose, the dark sea of dancers swallowed me up and suddenly I was one of them, grinding up against faceless strangers.

"Isn't this great?" Ava shouted in my ear, her voice a muffled buzz.

I simply nodded back, my hands in the air, unable to stop smiling. It really was great, and for the first time since I'd moved to Maine, I felt happy.