after that are going to have to be bought by some other poor schlub.”
“Make that a gin and tonic, and I am more than capable of buying my own drinks from here on out.”
“Oh, gin and tonic. I’ve never seen this side of you,” Jo teased me. “Club One-Eighty has already been a bad influence.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, less talky, more drinky.” I held out my hand, flicking my fingers in the direction of the bar as I made my way to what had to be the only unoccupied table in the entire place; a high top with equally as high chairs that, for a woman of average height, wouldn’t have been a huge deal. But for someone like me, in heels, it felt like I was scaling Mount Everest just to have a place to sit down.
After a few minutes of allowing the ambience of the place to penetrate my soul, I had to admit, it wasn’t as bad as my initial assessment had led me to believe it would be, and I noticed myself beginning to sing along to the songs that were being played on full blast right along with everyone else.
“Ha,” Jo said, returning with my gin and tonic, “I knew you could use a night out. I swear, you get your hackles up for nothing.”
“My hackles have served me well over the years by keeping me away from very awkward social situations.”
“If you say so.” Jo surveyed the dance floor, and I watched as her gaze landed on a cute brunette in a tube top.
“You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to hang around me all night. I’m a big girl with an Uber account.”
Jo smiled. “That’s why you’re my favorite roommate.”
“That’s why I’m your only roommate.”
She chugged down the rest of her drink and plunked the glass down on the table. “Wish me luck.”
“Go get her, tiger.”
Jo didn’t need any well wishes from me. She had it in the bag. Between her natural charisma, quirky beauty, and unflappable confidence, other women had a way of giving into her. If only she would use her powers for good instead of evil, she could go far in life. Jo approached the girl in the tube top, sliding in beside her. At first, she seemed oblivious to Jo’s advances, but then Jo whispered something in her ear and her indifference melted away. She turned to face Jo, her arm sliding around her waist. Jo looked up, offering me a mental high-five.
If you can’t beat them.
In not quite as smooth a fashion as Jo, I chugged the rest of my drink, coughing as I set the glass down on the table. The music being played throughout the club consisted of a techno remix of what was otherwise a slow song, perfect for the venue and for those with any semblance if rhythm. I was not one of those people, but I could fake it. With what little movement my dress would allow, I pulled from memory the moves I used in my early twenties, mainly consisting of swaying my hips and legs to the beat of the music while moving my top half just enough to keep myself from looking too awkward. Of course, I’d never really broken out any dance moves while sober before, so in reality, I wasn’t entirely sure what my moves really looked like, nor did I particularly care.
A few minutes into it, I’d managed to work up a pretty decent sweat, lost in the sea of bodies swirling around me. Strangely, it was kind of cathartic, allowing myself to move as freely as I pleased without a care in the world, like I was purging my body of all worries. Unfortunately, though, as with all good things, some douchebag had to come along and ruin it all.
He came up from behind me, his body only lightly grazing mine at first, until said graze turned into a full-on ass grab.
“If I wanted your hand on my ass, I would have put it there,” I said over my shoulder to the muscular, Abercrombie-wannabe model standing behind me.
“Oh, come on, baby, that dress is giving me all the permission I need.”
“Touch me again, and you’ll be giving my knee permission to ram itself straight into your crotch.”
“Feisty. I like that.” Before I could stop him, Mr. Popped Collar grabbed me tightly, his sheer size rendering me powerless against him while one of his hands made its way down my body to my hip. “You have some