The club was ear-bursting and beautiful. There were more sexy men tonight than I've seen in my entire life and I didn't know how to respond. I sat coolly with my Smirnoff on the rocks and scoped out my potential candidates. My best friends sat on the left and the right of me, adjusting their water bras and fidgeting with their hair. They weren't at the club as often as I was, they felt out of place and nervous. I came here almost every night after my parents went to bed, with my fake ID and $20 of cold, stolen cash from the "emergency" jar at home. This was an emergency in my mind, if I didn't come here for two nights in a row I felt lonely. After all, I had turned 18 only six weeks ago and had just purchased my first fake ID. These men were my prey for the night. I felt like a majestic female lion.
I subconsciously winked at a 30-something year old man down the bar. He grabbed his beer and ordered a margarita for me, then made his way down to my bar stool. His eyes grazed my chest and managed to get stuck on my cleavage. I smiled, and glanced as his package cautiously fluttered upwards.
"I... erm... bought you a drink. Fan of margaritas?"
"Ahhh yes, I am very fond of them thanks."
I sipped on the drink and turned my back to the man to talk to my best friend Madison. I could tell he had a look of fear on his pale skin. I snickered to myself and went on discussing what us girls should do this evening with Madison. She didn't like the club, she said, and she wanted to go home.
"Already!?!" I blurted, dumping the remains of my strongly mixed margarita on the bar, "Ah, fuck!"