Texas Nights - Book 13 of the Damned of the 2/19th

After Action Injury (Rough)

Wrecking Ball
Austin, Texas
CONUS
Friday
11 Oct, 1991
2200 Hours

Gasping I collapsed in the chair, sweeping my braid back behind me and reaching for my seltzer-water and lime. Misty was sitting across from me, her lipstick still unsmudged, eyeshadow still perfect, shrinking back slightly as I smiled and wiped my arm across my forehead.

"Know what I love about dancing?" I asked her, leaning forward so she could hear me.

"What?" She asked, looking around nervously.

"A little bump and grind and you can tell what you might bring home," I laughed. She blushed and I could tell she was giggling again.

She leaned forward, "Why do you talk so dirty?" She asked.

I just grinned, "I'm a dirty girl, Misty, what can I say?"

She just groaned, sitting back in her chair.

"Why aren't you dancing?" I asked her, sipping my drink through the straw, "Plenty of guys eyeing you, Misty. Don't you want your guts stirred around tonight?"

"Quiiiiit," Misty drew the word out as she flushed again, deeper.

"Come on, I gotta pee, come with me," I said, standing up. She started to stand up and I pointed at her glass, "Finish your drink. Never drink from a glass you left unattended, never drink a glass someone else carried to you that doesn't work in the bar, never drink from someone else's drink."

She nodded jerkily, abandoning the straw and pulling down the rest of her drink, spitting the ice back into it before swallowing. She stood up, dusting off the little mid-thigh skirt she'd decided to wear, and took my hand so I could pull her off the floor and into the bar/pool area. The music level dropped almost as soon as we went through the door.

"Bathroom?" I called out. The bartender, a cute girl with a neck tattoo and a purple mohawk, pointed at the hallway. The hallway was painted in a mural of the Flintstones in bondage gear, which I paused to admire for a moment before my bladder twinged, reminding me.

We leaned against the wall while the women in front of us went into the bathroom ahead of us.

"So, Misty, what do you like?" I asked. I'd kept the radio turned up the whole drive, not letting her really talk, and I kept darting out on the dance floor every time she tried to get serious.

"Um, what do you mean?" She blushed.

I jerked my thumb at a leather clad metal head slouching by. "Like him? He's probably a turbo lover," I grinned at her.

The guy gave me a wink and a nod and kept going.

"I don't get it," Misty said.

I sighed. "Judas Priest?"

"Who?"

I just shook my head. "Do you even know who made who, Misty?"

She shook her head. "I don't get it," she said.

"Next," the girl called out, flouncing out of the bathroom. I grabbed Misty's wrist, pulling her in behind me.

"Hey, no nasty stuff, we gotta piss too!" Someone yelled. I just gave them a grin and shut the door.

I moved in front of the sink, the paint splattered and stained sink giving me something to put my hands on and lean against. "Go piss, Misty."

"I thought you had to?" She said. "Um, there's no stall door."

"So? You've pissed in the bushes before, just piss," I told her, digging in my pocket for my lip gloss.

My hair was teased out, white glittery eye shadow smeared slightly onto my temples. Heavy metal T-shirt with the sleeves missing, torn Levi jeans, bra, and... dun dun dun, sans panties. I smiled into the mirror while Misty blushingly dropped her panties down around her knees and sat down, making sure her skirt covered herself.