AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We’re having a much-needed girls’ night out. I’ve been living at my mom’s apartment so I can continue working on the bills she was behind on and cleaning out the kitchen along with some of her things. Micky and I haven’t seen each other since the funeral, and I’m hoping I can casually bring up the strange photos I found. She’s one of the most levelheaded people I know, which is precisely what I need right now.
We became instant friends when she and I were paired up in the dorms during our first semester. It was so much easier living with Micky than living at home. Even with all her sarcastic comments, she exuded positivity, and it was easy to see she embraced all the excitement life offered. At first, I was undersocialized and shy, but she gradually helped me grow out of my shell. She’s much more outgoing than I am, and I love that her personality has rubbed off on me over the years. I’ve also rubbed off on her too. We balance each other out well.
Getting an apartment together gave me my first taste of freedom, and I gobbled it up. I had no one to worry about but myself. She introduced me to nightlife, and every now and then we have a treat-yo’self night where we go out to the clubs and give ourselves permission to do whatever we want without any guilt, whether that be shopping, drinks, or men.
Moving away from home taught me I could be myself, do what I wanted, and feel secure in my decisions because they were just that—mine. There was no scorekeeping with Micky; I wasn’t emotionally in debt to someone else. Scorekeeping was a constant with Mom, so I thought that’s how all relationships were. I’ve since learned that’s just a way to manipulate and feel superior to another person. If one person is up, then the other person only has one place to land: down. The game was rigged from the start. Finding independence gave me satisfaction in the rewards and the consequences of my decisions because it was proof I was in control of my destiny. I was alive!
With my newfound freedom came more attention from men. Our nights out taught me there are many people out there who are willing to offer me kindness and affection with no strings attached. Mom always told me it would be hard to find a man who was interested in me because I was too short, my thighs were too thick, or my clothes weren’t flattering enough. I’m learning that’s not always true. There are men who find me attractive.
I have had some great boyfriends since moving out, and I found I really enjoy sex. However, some of my sexual proclivities tend to be less vanilla than my partners’. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s simply a matter of... different strokes. I have come to accept that sexual compatibility is not something to hold out for. I want someone who will bang me like a screen door in a hurricane. Loud, hard, and often. Nothing too crazy, just passionate. I want tofeelwanted by someone.
It feels good to dress up after living in sweats since Mom died. My ensemble tonight is made up of a flowy burgundy mini dress with ankle boots—a graduation gift from Micky. She, on the other hand, wears pieces that merge rocker with classy, and it always looks edgy and timeless. I admire how creative she is.
We open the door to the cocktail lounge and the warm air wraps around my body, inviting me in. The atmosphere is chic and sophisticated. It’s styled like a contemporary arcade, featuring sleek pinball machines, exposed brick, and modern seating areas. It gives off an upscale, retro vibe. I walk by a woman holding a martini topped with a large dollop of cotton candy.I’m absolutely getting one of those before we leave tonight.
We found a spot at the bar but haven’t ordered yet. That’s okay, because we’re gleefully passing the time by appreciating how attractive the bartender is at the other end. He mixes a drink for another customer as we admire his thick forearms, and rolled-up cuffs put his vivid tattoo sleeve on display. He’s scruffy and rugged. His muscles flex as he mixes drinks in a copper cocktail shaker. There’s just something about a tatted-up dude in a dress shirt. Neither of us can stop staring.
“Dinner and a show,” I mutter.
“Goddamn,” Micky drawls in agreement. “I bet that’s what he looks like when he jacks off. Think his dick is as big as that cocktail shaker?”
I chuckle.
“Don’t laugh, that man might be the one to end your dry spell so you can get your rocks off. I mean, look at him.”
“Get my rocks off? Do people even say that anymore?”
“Shut up, you know what I mean. You still want me to order for you?”
Usually, Micky orders since she’s the mixologist extraordinaire.Mixologist is such a douchey word.Her dream is to someday open a patisserie cocktail lounge mashup. It’s so perfect for her. Most of the time, her drinks are better than the ones we get when we go out. But then we would miss out on being able to appreciate fine specimens like this one.
“Sure, surprise me.”
The bartender saunters toward us.
“What can I make for you ladies?”
There’s a twinkle in her eye.Shit, here we go.
“We’ll both have a Woody Creek martini, shaken hard—extra dirty.”
She leans over to amplify her cleavage.Rhinoceroses are less horny.
“Coming right up,” he says as he winks at her.
When he turns his back to grab the vodka, I rotate ninety degrees and judge her with a raised eyebrow.
“What?”
I scoff a laugh and shake my head, she absolutely knows what. The bartender makes our martinis and sets them in front of us.
“On the house.”
We thank him, and he goes back to helping some of the other patrons at the bar.
“Nice work, killer. Cheers.”
“To getting our rocks off!” she says.
