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"Yeah, girl."
"I think my grandmother was trying to get me drunk. She gave me two double shots. I think I'm tipsy."
She laughs. "Gotta love Grammy. Let's do this!"
Four
"Damn, Gina, you look fine as hell," Natalie says in her best Martin Lawrence voice.
I grin at her Martin reference because it's too hard not to when she's being funny like that. Natalie and I are '90s sitcom junkies.
"Oh my God! You are so embarrassing," I say, exaggerating a little. We fuck with each other all the time.
"Seriously, girl, you look good. Give me those shoes back," she jokes.
I laugh and look at myself in the mirror. Lush, dark curls surround my face and drop past my breasts. My rich chocolate eyes flicker against the light. Spellbinding, an old boyfriend once called them, like I could read the darkest secrets in his soul. I line my plump, Cupid’s bow lips in red, then fill them in with a matching shade. I turn to the side and run my hands down the gold minidress Natalie insisted I wear. The dress is sleeveless with a deep slope between my breasts, accentuating my full size Cs. It hits a little higher than mid-thigh and has a revealing open back. With the gorgeous black high heels that sealed our deal to go out, my legs look even longer and I stand at about six feet tall now. I could be every man’s wet dream.
"I clean up well, don't I?" I say, feeling so sexy.
"You sure do."
I look over at Natalie, who’s adding a few last-minute curls to her platinum hair. Her bright red, lacy strapless dress is sexy and even smaller than mine. Being a shot girl, she’s used to wearing dresses like that. She has the seductive temptress style down and wears it well.
"Aren’t you worried your boobs are going to pop out?" I ask.
Stunning navy blue eyes that clearly know too much stare at me through the mirror. Her mouth pulls to one side, and she says, "They’re supposed to look that way." She pauses and flashes me a wink. "I used double-sided tape. Trust me. They're not going anywhere."
Natalie is confident and outgoing. She embraces her sexuality and gives no fucks. I love that. She lives to make men crawl on their knees for her, and I do too.
"Wing my eyes like yours when you're done?" I ask. She always has the perfect Adele wing and I want it too.
Once we have our faces on and our hair styled to perfection, we take a ton of selfies, then she reaches into a dra
wer and pulls out a little baggie.
"It's time to pregame," she says, dropping a pill into my hand. "We're celebrating this birthday in true New York City fashion—with a few shots and some Molly.”
I've only done Molly a handful of times, and every time I did, all I wanted to do was dance all night and have insanely hot sex.
"I'm gonna need to find a hot rando tonight if this is what we’re doing."
Natalie takes out the bottle of tequila and pours two shots. She eyes my body. "That won't be an issue for you. And if you don't see a rando you want, I got your back. I have a couple of friends who are dying to bang you."
Natalie is a wilder version of me and makes for hysterical memories. She likes to party hard at the clubs. Her nights usually end with one shoe missing and her earrings long gone while she sits on a dirty curb eating pizza in the city. Or with a few guys in her bed. Whatever she's in the mood for.
"Cheers, bitch," she says, and raises a shot to me. "This is going to be the best birthday ever!"
I'm glad I had a huge dinner so I won't get drunk too quickly. I want to remember as much as I can of this night. We both take a pill and wash it down with a shot. I place the back of my hand to my mouth and grimace over the shock of the first taste of tequila and shiver all over. She waves her fingers at me and takes my mini red Solo shot cup and fills it again.
"You're fucking crazy," I say, and take another shot. "Holy shit, my fucking throat is burning."
"You love it," she counters, and I shrug. I do love it.
I'm a little anxious and my chest flutters with eagerness as I anticipate the effects of the Molly. This is why I rarely experiment with drugs while I party—I'd want this high all the time. Everything will be tingly, and I know that constant rush will arrive soon that I'll never want to end. We take one last shot, then walk downstairs to a town car waiting to take us to the Meatpacking District.
"Natalie, there's no way we're getting into this club," I say as we pull up to a dark building about twenty minutes later. It's a little after midnight, and I can feel the bass pounding through the closed doors. The tequila is streaming through my veins, warming my body. I’m feeling really good. Too good.
She gives me a sly look and grabs my wrist. "Watch me."
