Anyways, Max’s girlfriend Rachel was horrified because she thought I was having sex with Max. But everything got cleared up, and now, we’re all on good terms.
I smile with guilt at the memory.
“I’m not just about hooking up, Ems. I’m about a guy’s personality and his brains too,” I proclaim airily.
Emma merely giggles. “Yeah, right. Please Katy, I know you too well. Are you wearing panties under that dress, by the way?”
First, I begin to nod but then it turns into a slow shake of my head. Emma lets out a knowing giggle and winks at me. “Good, because neither am I, which means we’re ready to par-tay! Come on, I’ve already called an Uber.”
It only takes a few minutes before her phone dings with a notification that our driver has arrived.
“That was quick,” I remark.
My friend grabs my hand and pulls me out the door, practically tripping over herself in her sky-high heels. “It’s Friday night. I’m sure they have lots of fares, so we need to hustle because this driver’s not going to wait. Let’s go meet some hot guys.”
With that, I follow along behind my best friend as we clamber into the back of a large black SUV. As my friend chatters away, my mind drifts and circles before landing on one man: Brad Landon. He’s gorgeous with midnight hair, piercing blue eyes, and the physique of a gladiator. Even more, the truth is that I’m actually not really interested in college boys or even guys in their twenties. Instead, I love older men and I’ve had a crush on Brad for what feels like ages now. The only problem? Brad works for my dad, Senator Joseph Mellon.
But with a giggle, I shift in my seat, pressing my thighs together hungrily. I’ll find a way to seduce Brad. I know it. After all, I’ve been flirting with the older man for ages now, and he’s not invincible. I’ve seen how those blue eyes gleam, and how his crotch stirs and jerks imperceptibly when I shake my titties at him. Something tells me that soon, the handsome alpha male will be mine, whether he’s ready or not.
2
Katy
The further the Uber drives into Brooklyn, the more the hair on my arms stand up. It’s dark out, and honestly, these roads don’t look safe. There aren’t many street lamps, and where there happens to be a pool of light, shadows slink in and out of the darkness. A chill runs down my spine. Is this party really a good idea?
I turn to Emma with worry in my eyes. “Emma, this place is sketchy as hell. Should we turn around? Seriously. I don’t want to be mugged.”
My pretty friend waves her hand dismissively.
“Oh no,” she says with a reassuring air. “You’re just being paranoid, Katy. It’s not sketchy, and it only seems dark because we’re used to the bright lights of Manhattan. Seriously, this is how the real world is.”
Somehow, I’m not convinced.
“Yeah, but for some reason there isn’t a single working streetlight on this road. What the hell? You know it can’t be safe for two women alone at night.”
She merely shrugs. “This is just how the outer boroughs are. We’ll be fine, don’t worry. Besides, we won’t be alone. There will be tons of people at this party, and I’m sure we’ll find some men to go home with tonight.”
I shake my head at her. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
My buddy smirks.
“That’s why you love me.”
Still nervous, I watch as the Uber rumbles down a darkened street before coming upon a huge parking lot. There’s a large warehouse off to the side that has slivers of light peeking out from behind taped windows, and the pulse of a beat thrums in the air.
“Well, I hope we’re safe,” I say with some trepidation.
Emma merely laughs, and gets out of the car before leaning in and dragging me out with her. With that, I take a deep breath and force a smile as we teeter towards the warehouse entrance. I try to remind myself it is Friday night and I want to have some fun. Maybe I won’t bump into Brad Landon here, but surely, not every guy is going to be horrifically immature?
As we approach, the music becomes louder and the bass rumbles through my bones, even shaking the walls a bit. Good. I feel safer the closer we get to a crowd.
Meanwhile, Emma approaches the bouncer out front. He’s a solid guy who looks about four hundred pounds with a bald head and a scar on his cheek.
“Hi,” she says flirtily. “Two?”
Evidently, there’s no guest list, or at least one isn’t needed when you’re wearing skimpy outfits like ours. The bouncer merely looks us up and down before jerking his chin to indicate that we should go inside. I nod gratefully, and follow behind my friend into the darkness. To be honest, there isn’t much light inside the warehouse. Instead, strobe lights flash as colored beams dance over a packed crowd. Bodies pulse and gyrate, and sure enough, there’s a bar humming in one corner decorated with light-up glow sticks.