↬ a d r i a n n e ↫
I am currently applying my black eyeliner, making it sharper than Paul Wesley's fangs. I'm doing my makeup beautifully, like I always do, to go to a night club with my girls.
Partying has always been a regular thing for me to do my whole life, although I wouldn't say I'm a party animal, I do appreciate a little bit of entertainment now and then.
The muffled sound of my bell makes itself be heard, working as a cue for me to make the last retouching to my face.
"Coming!" I shout out to the door once I finish up what I was doing beforehand.
It must be Francesca, my very first friend when I moved here to Italy seven years ago, and one of my best friends at the moment.
We met in college when I was only eighteen and we've been friends ever since.
My hands, in a swift manner, turn the doorknob, "Come stai, ragazza? Pronta per la festa?" her blond hair appears on my front door as she spills the words enthusiastically. {How are you, girl? Ready for the party?}
With a joyful grin on my lips, I greet her with a warming hug.
"Honey, you look splendid," I tell her, eyeing her ocean eyes decorated by the pink smokey eyes as well as she plumped nude lips.
Exceedingly beautiful.
Just as I was about to take ahold of my designer purse to leave, her eyes start to wander around my living room, that in consequence of the minor fun I had last night, was all over the place.
My lingerie was thrown out on top of my lamp; my leggings and top were scattered across the sofas and my hair ornaments stood on the floor.
"What the fuck came to pass in here?" her thick Italian accent comes out as she talks while walking over the dirty room to give it a more generous look, "You are only getting wilder, Adri!" she exclaims smirking.
I scoff in annoyance. She knows how I live, and how things are with me, it should not amaze her.
My eyes follow her motions calmly, and shortly after I distract my gaze from her to take my bag from the table close to me, I look back at Francesca and find her sniffing my underwear like a fucking patrol dog. I swear she does the oddest thing.
This lady is another kind of interesting.
"Smells like 'daddy dick me down me immediately, I'm so fucking soaked'," she ridicules my voice while touching her couchie in a parodying manner, making me feel stupid.
What occurred last night should have never happened, I still can't believe I stooped to that low level. A police officer? C'mon!
Adrianne Jacobs can do much better than fucking a 'man of the law'.
But the sex was impressive. That officer did have some good traits within himself. And let's not talk about that dick.
Instances of the prior night start flashing back to me, and I don't know if I should feel satisfied with the good sex or disappointed at myself for making a man skip his duty to fuck me.
"You nasty little pussy, take that off your hands" I hiss at her idiotic ways. And finally, she lets it drop down on the floor, displaying a mocking smirk.
"I think you're talking about the wrong pussy, baby" pointing at my lower region she chuckles intensely.
I roll my eyes.
"Let's just go meet up with the others. It's getting pretty tardy, " I mumble already wanting to have a blast at the club.
"You don't even know his name, do you?" asks Francesca striding behind me to reach up to the doorframe I have cleared.
This was perhaps the last time I brought someone to my apartment.
"Should I?" I inquire passing past the door and locking it behind me.
I can never recollect the names of my... The men I use for pleasure.
"You're so awful!"
"One hundred percent agreed!" I jokingly say.
"Not better than fucking me, I bet"
Oh. Francesca and I were once friends with benefits.
After moving out from the U.S. I really wanted to discover myself and learn what I like and don't like, so I tried it with Fran and at first, it was amazing, but later I came to the realization that I'm not into girls so we stopped and became pals.
"No comments on that" I smile and wink.
I was still figuring out myself and I'm glad I was that curious, because of those experiences I evolved into the woman I am today.
=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=
My hips sway seductively to the sound of the pounding sound of the music coming from the massive speakers.
The atmosphere is one of the best things in the world; there are people everywhere but we are not agglomerated and me being in the VIP area, of course, made me feel more confident; the place is decorated with beautiful neon lights; and the best of all: alcohol is being served like fucking water.
At this point, I'm already in a very different state of mind than a couple of hours before. All that I see is hazy, but who gives a fuck.
The only thing I hate the most about getting drunk, aside from the hangovers, are the urges to constantly go to the toilet, which I fucking hate with all my soul at the moment.
Moving with difficulty, I walk towards the bathroom, many times tripping against walls or even people. I have to admit that my body doesn't have a very pleasant reaction to alcohol.
All the stools are occupied by random drunk girls so I have to wait by the metal door praying that I don't pee myself.
Discreetly squeezing my thighs together I hope the liquid doesn't leak while I'm next to the lady in front of me.
I feel tipsy, although I do see a resemblance to someone I am certain that I know. I just can't put a finger on it.
"Posso farti un favore?" the Italian woman speaks to me, looking me straight into the eyes. {can I do you a favor}
Generally, when I am intoxicated I tend to make even worst decisions than when I'm sober.
I think to myself: 'what could it be?' So I nod my head yes intensively.
"Tieni questo," she demands nervously as she swiftly hands me a leather jacket. {hold this}
It is a very beautiful greige jacket with a symbol on it that I can't quite comprehend at the moment.
Maybe I should stop drinking... But where is the fun in that?
"English, please!" I plead knowing that with a drunken brain I won't be able to understand a word of Italian.
"Okay..., " she starts to trail off, "I want to retouch your makeup, is that okay?" she asks, yelling because of the booming sound of the music.
Do I really look that bad?
"Sure!"
She does literal magic on me because, looking at my reflection in the mirror, everything she did on my face, makes me feel soberer, and she did paint my lips the same height shade of red as hers.
What a nice girl I've found.
Thereupon, when one of the stalls was available, she quickly told me to wait for her and then disappeared from my sight.
What happened next was unexpected.
On the mirror appears two men to my sides. Both of them wearing black. I may be drunk, but I'm not stupid, and even if I was, anyone with a tad bit of intelligence would know that these gigantic men are not to mess with.
"Puttana!" They both groan in unison.
One has a gun resting on the hip and the other has a cloth bag. My heart instantly skips a beat and I don't know what to do.
Still facing them through the reflection, I drop the jacket on the floor and put my hands up in defense.
My mouth opens up to speak a word, but it is immediately shut up by the force of the arms of the men holding me tightly against their bodies.
A white cry leaves my mouth, hoping that someone would help me, but as soon as I try to scream furthermore, the bag goes over my head to cover it and everything around me seems to lose color.
All parts of my body go numb and weak, which I hate, and my eyes slowly close.