Sure enough, a group of three guys starts crossing the street, clearly heading in our direction. They look like your typical Saturday night bar-goers, just out to get drunk and laid. They're already on their way to being one of those, and by the predatory glint in their eyes, it looks like they're working on the other one.
"Ladies," the leader of the pack slurs. "How we doin' tonight?"
"We were fine up until about ten seconds ago," Remy snaps. "Get lost, we're not interested."
He holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. There's no need to be so aggressive, I haven't even said anything yet." His eyes trail the length of my body, taking in my short dress and non-RBF expression, and he smirks when his gaze settles on my face. "How's your night going, beautiful?"
I shuffle awkwardly, not used to drunk guys hitting on me so blatantly. Or at least, it's been a while since I've been in this kind of situation. Working at the bar when I first moved to the city was different, since I was eighteen and not really the partying type. And I already looked so much younger than I was, so between my overprotective coworkers and the fact that I looked like jailbait, most people stayed far away from me. Then once I started dating Steve, I never went out anyway, so the situation just never came up.
Now, I'm forced face to face with it.
I want to tell him to fuck offso. badly.The take-no-shit Philly bitch in me that’s been hiding for the past year is practically demanding it.
But all I hear is Steve’s voice in the back of my head telling meno one wants a loud-mouthed, aggressive woman. And he’s only complimenting you—you should be thankful for the attention.
"It's going okay," I manage to mumble.
"Take a hint, assholes, we're standing in front of a gay bar," Lucy snorts.
Captain Dickhead never takes his eyes off me. "She doesn't look gay to me." He grins.
"And what exactly does gay look like to you?" Lucy snaps, now clearly irritated.
He breaks my stare for the first time to turn to her with a grin. "Like you. Although, I'm sure you're just one good dick away from reevaluating that choice. I bet my buddy here could prove it to you."
On cue, said buddy sidles up to Lucy with a sleazy grin, growling, "Sure could, baby."
Remy starts to laugh. It's loud and raucous, and it catches the guys off-guard.
"Oh my God, I cannot believe you just said that,” she chokes out. "You really think your dick is so good that you could get a lesbian to change teams? You're insane. I bet she eats pussy ten times better than you do."
Her crude language and obvious distaste cause Captain Dickhead to frown, his brow furrowing in anger. He turns his attention back to me, the sleazy grin returning.
"I'd love to show your friend here just how well I could eat her pussy," he says. "I bet I could have her screaming my name in less than five minutes."
Remy reaches her breaking point when she grabs my arm at the same time that Lucy lets out a loud, mocking laugh. "Five minutes? Fucking amateur."
I'm still frozen in shock over the whole encounter as Remy starts to pull me away, but my arm jerks when I feel Captain Dickhead latch onto it.
"Come on, baby, gimme a chance," he purrs. "I promise I can show you a good time."
Finally, fuckingfinally, a little bit of my inner bitch overpowers Steve’s voice. The second he makes aggressive physical contact, I feel justified in striking back.
I yank my arm from his grip. "I'm good, thanks. You should get lost."
Thankfully, we've reached the front of the line during the interaction, so by the time we turn away from the guys, the bouncer is standing in front of us, waiting for our IDs.
The very tall, verylargebouncer aims a glare at the guys. "You wouldn't be bothering this nice group of ladies in front of me now, would you?"
Sensing his defeat, Captain Dickhead just huffs his frustration and walks away without responding.
The bouncer checks our IDs without another word, but as he waves us in, he says, "If for some reason those assholes come back, I won't let them in. Have a good night, ladies."
I smile my gratitude before following Remy and Lucy into the bar. They immediately push their way up to the bartender, ordering for us without asking me what I want. Yet when they return to where I've claimed a high-top, my eyes light up at the beautiful cotton candy-colored drink in my sister's hand, complete with an umbrella.
"They make the best fruity drinks, pun intended," she says with a laugh, handing me one of the cocktails. And sure enough, at the first sip through the straw, my taste buds explode with the fruity, slightly sweet, barely-there alcohol taste.
"Good, right?" Lucy asks with a grin, sucking down some of her own drink.