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I shake my head and walk to the separate set of elevators that take people down to the parking garage.
Vodka is definitely in order tonight. Wine is not going to cut it.
***
Dinner and drinks aregreat, but we collectively decide we need to go dancing after. To expel some of the week’s stress.
It’s a great decision, too. Both Christa and Lauryn are beside me on the dance floor, shaking their butts to Pitbull rapping through the massive speakers set around the place.
I flinch a little when I feel warm hands come up behind me and land on my hips. I crane my head around to see a tall guy with dark skin and a very nice smile looking down at me. He’s moving in sync with the rhythm, and my body, and I grin up at him.
“Well, hello there,” I say, very tipsy at this point and loving the attention.
“Hey, you sexy thang. I love your moves,” he says in my ear, still gripping me from behind, my backside swaying with his front side.
“Fireball!” I scream, along with the whole club, in unison with Pitbull.
He chuckles and turns me around, gripping my hips as we sway to the upbeat tune. I look over at my friends who are having an equally good time with equally sexy men dancing and touching them.
“What’s your name?” he asks me.
“Taryn, you?”
“Hi, Karen. I’m Deke.”
Common, annoying mistake. “It’s Taryn. With a T, like Tom,” I yell in his ear.
“Oh, sorry, girl.”
I just laugh. “You’re a good dancer.”
“You too!”
Another song comes on and we dance for a while. I’m getting sweaty and my buzz is wearing off. I need water, another drink, and a trip to the bathroom. Once a slow song starts, I tell Deke I had a good time and excuse myself.
My friends do the same and I point to the bathroom sign, where they follow me.
It’s of course packed in here, all the other ladies having the same idea.
“Damn, that was good exercise,” I say with a laugh as I use a paper towel to blot my face while I wait for a stall to open up.
“I got that guy’s number,” Lauryn brags, holding up her phone and wiggling it.
I smile at her. “Nice! He was so cute.”
“What about you?” Christa asks me. “He was hot. Get a number?”
I shake my head. “No. I really don’t want to talk to anyone right now. I need to get my shit together.”
“I get it, girl,” she says, patting me on the back and reaching around me for a paper towel.
After we all relieve ourselves and wash our hands, we head back out into the club area. I order a vodka soda with a lime and buy my friends their fruity cocktails. We sip them slowly and look around. Then, a very popular hip-hop song comes on and we suck down what’s left of our drinks, scream, and head to the dance floor to do it all over again.
***
“Thanks!” I say a littletoo loud to the Uber driver as he drops me off in front of my condo. I hiccup and climb the stone steps, then realize I haven’t gotten my keys out and ready.
“Shit,” I mumble, setting my purse down the railing at the end of the outdoor hallway that will lead to my door, and fish around until I find my keys. It feels like everything is happening in slow motion.
