Cobweb designed room for fornication
“Drink! Drink! Drink!” strangers that I must have chatted the night away with or have never spoken to chanted behind me as I downed a glass of tequila barely squirming now at the foul taste. That should be enough clue in the past to make me stop.
But right now, even though my vision was blurry and my best friend since we were in diapers had her hand draped around my waist to support my wobbling knees, proof that I was beyond wasted, I couldn’t stop.
Styrofoam cups overfilled with strangely colored alcohol and a billow of smoke, evidence of the party favors that featured all kinds of hard drugs.
The hip-pop music with its resounding speakers blaring in the room making it hard for the simplest communication, and sweaty bodies grinding into each other wasn’t my typical scene.
My whole life had been about being flawless.
The perfect grades, the perfect extracurriculars, the perfect college.
And now Law school.
Yet, life had a way of teaching us that none of us could escape flaws.
My cancer. That was the lesson.
Nobody should be that flawless.
So here I am, grinding against Skylar, while wearing a dress which will serve more as a handkerchief than actual fabric and six inch stilettos which was one of the reasons I had one of my hands around her.
The other being, she was as drunk as I was, if not worse.
My phone buzzed and even in my drunk state I couldn’t help but worry if it was important since it had been going off incessantly for a long time now.
I tapped Skye and pointed towards what I hoped was the exit. She nodded probably because I was right or she was too wasted to care but I wobbled my way anyway toward that direction.
My phone had stopped ringing and the loud music was barely a whisper now when I finally approached the exit.
A buff-looking man who looked scary and towered over me stood at the exit door making me peer up at him wondering why he was blocking my entry.
He looked me up and down with a hostile glare that made me feel ten times smaller despite the heels I had on. I wonder why the scrutiny was that much to leave than it was to go in because all Skylar had done was flash pearly whites to cut the line and led us right in.
“Are you the dancer?”
I smiled. It seems like my dancing prowess will finally be acknowledged, I thought to myself before I enthusiastically nodded.
He silently backed away from the door and still frowning at his cold disposal, I used the door expecting the chilly air to hit my face and help my journey to sobriety.
Rather, I was welcomed into a world of draped red-colored curtains, women holding trays in fishnet stockings, lacey masks, and matching underwear.
They are waitresses I think because a man wearing a suit just stopped one of them.
He took a champagne flute off her tray and when I thought if he leered any harder at her I might get more than nauseated at the sight and throw up for real, she turned to leave and he hit her on her left ass cheek.
I held my breath waiting for the outburst, for her to threaten to sue him, for the manager to come running and see the need for the waitresses to wear actual clothes but she looked at him over her shoulder and curving a finger at him, winked.
He smiled at her and encircling his arms around her waist, he followed her while my mouth dropped open. I hope that I was seeing things because did they just enter a room together?
Stunned, I stumble farther trying to remember the door that had brought me into this strange place now frantic and desperate to be out already.
A lifetime should have passed or mere 3 minutes but I wouldn’t know the difference because I was seconds away from going mad at this cobweb-designed room for fornication and embarrassing erotic moans of pleasure.
Every room looked the same and regardless of how many turns I took, I couldn’t escape people in different states of undress indulging in erotic activities.
Everywhere I looked—bodies. Hands. Skin. Half-dressed strangers tangled together in ways that made heat crawl up my spine, equal parts shock and something I didn’t want to name.
I turned a corner next to a room expecting to see yet another drunk man with a woman or women depending on the case allowing him to grope their asses while they dance provocatively around him but stopped in my tracks.
I saw his eyes before I took in his face.
He was sprawled on the couch fully dressed in a crisp white shirt that was loosely tucked into a suit trouser and from what I could see of the woman, even though her back was towards me she was decent too.
Yet, I felt no relief.
