Chapter Two: Dignity

Yolande drove, naturally. She was the only one who had a car big enough for all five of us. Brittany rode up front as usual, while three of us squeezed into the backseat. I found it harder to breathe due to two factors. First, I was not as skinny as the other two and second, the dress Brittany had lent me was a size too small. It was squeezing my torso like a corset and the edges and seams dug into my skin uncomfortably, nipping at them. I think now would be appropriate to use the phrase "my boobs were spilling out". Sounded crude but the theme was slutty. That being said, everyone had on a certain degree of make-up and I had to fight from grimacing when Brittany applied rouge to my cheeks. Or blush. Was there a difference?

The products made my skin itch, left me feeling like there was a layer of grime on my face instead of quality make-up.

"I heard a couple of the boys will be there later," Yolande said, flipping her blinker on at a turn.

"No, they cancelled." Justine's thumbs were dancing furiously over the screen of her phone, nails softly clicking against it. She had barely looked up from the thing since we got into the car. "Luke just texted me. There's another party going on at the club house so they're headed there instead."

"Should we take a detour then?"

"No," the queen bee said. "We go after the club."

The way she said it made it sound like she had made reservations to get into the place. Maybe she had. I, for one, had no idea which club we were headed to. After following the girls to one too many clubs and getting unwanted attention on numerous occasions, I'd come to the conclusion that any club other than the seedy clubs Crawl and Expectations was a good club. As long as there was alcohol.

"Where are we headed again?" Josie piped up from beside me. She was in the middle, leaning forward in her seat to better see out the front windshield. Her seatbelt was pressing into the exposed skin of her chest and belly.

"You'll see," Brittany replied with a wicked grin.

About ten minutes later, we rolled into the more glamorous part of town, the jewel in the crown, so to speak. Cars lined the sidewalk, filling up every possible parking space. The shops on both sides of the road were still open and plenty of people were still milling around. We drove past all that, turned down another road and came in view of a single block that had deep neon under-lighting at the entrance. Above it hung a sign in deep blue and purple light: The House. Outside, running along the length of the building that seemed to dominate the entire block, was a line so long that it stretched right to the end of the building. People all gussied up in dress shirts and skimpy outfits stood waiting.

"Great. We'll be waiting till dawn to get in," I groused, clambering out of the car with Josie close behind. The three inch heels I had on were already hurting my feet. Yolande locked her car and we made our way towards the club.

"Don't be such a grump, D," Brittany said with a smile. She looped her arm through mine, dragging me along behind her, walking much faster than me despite wearing five inch heels. If anyone had mastered walking in these weapon-potential shoes, it was her. And Lady Gaga. "Let me handle things."

The other girls followed behind us, strutting their stuff. We headed straight for the front of the line where a mountain of a man in a dark shirt stood with his arms folded. His partner, smaller yet equally tall, was guarding the entrance. Brittany parked herself in front of the first bouncer and flashed him a sultry smile, the one that could literally charm guys into doing things for her.

"My boyfriend told me to meet him here," she began in a low purr. "Said that they'd let me in."

I was right next to her, witnessing her seduction powers up close. It was her superpower. Seduction.

"If you're on the list then I'll let you in, sugar," the bouncer answered, his eyes raking appreciatively over her body. She knew the effect she had on him and was just beginning to pull out some of the stops.

"Well, I don't know if he put my name in." She stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm and peering up at him through her lashes. "I don't want him to get mad at me for being late."

For a moment, I thought the bouncer was going to fall for her tricks. He was staring at her, looking like he wanted to attack her right there and then. It was obvious in the way he was pulling in measured breaths. All Brittany had to do was flash a bit of skin and no one could resist her. Girls these days were scary, really.

"I'm sorry, sugar, but no name means no entry." His voice was clipped, obviously having enough restraint to do his job professionally. Brittany, used to having her way, pouted.

"Check the list then, if you don't believe me. His name is Lars Rayeson and I'm sure he'll come looking for you once I tell him you kept me waiting outside."

At the mention of that name, the bouncer's eyes flickered with recognition. The guy mentioned must be one of the regulars or something because he cleared his throat and stepped aside to let Brittany pass, looking away as he did so. She flashed him a victory smile and beckoned to us.

"Who's Lars Rayeson?" Josie asked after the door closed behind us. We were in a small rectangular room. Dimly lit. Across from where we stood was a set of double doors. Heavy bass music pounded from behind it.

"He is the reason we got in so easily," Brittany said mysteriously. She pushed her hair off her shoulders and made for the double doors, looking like she'd snag a couple or so guys home with her tonight. The girl bounded from guy to guy so fast that it was easier to keep track of guys she hadn't dated. It wasn't surprising to any of us anyhow. The rest of us exchanged looks then, one by one, we filed in after her.

Picture a regular club but bigger. The lighting was impressive, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere, flashing in deep purple, red and green. Generally, the place was lit by dark blue lights. At the far end, where the light seemed to fade into the air, was a DJ booth. A woman with short spiky hair and a cropped top stood in it with warm yellow and white lights pulsing rhythmically behind her. Below us, on a lower level was the dance floor were hundreds of gyrating bodies writhed together in time with the music that blared out from speakers that were placed evenly apart near the ceiling. Off to one side was the bar and across from that, booths for lounging.

Oh, this was one of those rich, prestigious clubs with VIP lounges that cost more than my monthly rent. I could rest assured it wasn't going to be too bad here tonight. Club quality was important because it determined the type of people that were let in.

"Ladies." A man in an expensive gray button down approached us, eying us one by one. Eventually, he held his hand out to Yolande and soon they were pressed up against one another on the dance floor. Josie giggled, running off to find her own partner, disappearing into the crowd of bodies.

"Have fun, D," Justine chirped. She and Brittany loped off too, making for the lounges, leaving me standing awkwardly at the top of the steps that led down to the club from the upper level. Having no other choice but to wait them out while they had their fun, I found an empty seat at the bar and ordered the first of many drinks that night.

My ending up alone at parties or clubs was no surprise. Regular occurrence, in fact. It wasn't that I was shy; I just didn't think I could really fit in with the crowd. Everyone was here because they wanted to network, party, get laid. I wasn't interested in any of those things, at least, not until I'd had my fifth drink. Alcohol loosened me, made me forget why I didn't even want to be here in the first place, made the waiting much more bearable. As bearable as waiting could get in a loud club with people grinding on each other shamelessly.

My senses dulled after the third cocktail went down my throat. The smoky whiskey flavor that lingered from my first few shots did not go well with the fruity sweetness of my Moscow Mule but it did make me tipsy. Pinning some money under the glass, I pushed myself off the high stool and nearly fell to the floor. Across the bar, Brittany and Yolande were having the time of their lives with a dozen men surrounding them. My eyes widened in disbelief when I saw two guys grope the latter inappropriately and she led them on with a hand on both their arms. I flagged down the barkeep for another shot, to erase what I just saw before hitting the dance floor.

Time to par-tay.

Leaping into a mass of bodies while drunk and wearing heels seemed much more feasible in my head. In reality, I had to squeeze my way in while elbows, butts and hands all bumped into me. Once I reached the middle of the grind-fest, I stopped to wonder why I wanted to even get in here. There were too many bodies, too little room. Someone was moving against me before I knew it. Hands planted themselves on my hips and a solid chest pressed into my back.

"You look a little lost, lamb," a deep voice said close to my ear. Melted chocolate being poured over warm truffles was what it sounded like. In the fogginess of my mind, my conscious managed to hoped it wasn't some middle aged creep with a balding head and a thin moustache because voices deceive.

I turned my head.

Much to my delight, it belonged to a guy who looked like he'd fit perfectly on the cover of a GQ magazine. Shirtless. Preferably glistening wet with water. He was around my age, if not older. Intense dark eyes gazed down at me and a smirk grazed his lips. That was about all I could make out in the bad lighting. It was enough for me to turn around and lean back into him. Having someone this good looking give me attention was rare. Usually my only companion was the bartender so I decided that I had a right to enjoy this.

"Maybe I was just waiting for a strong shepherd to come look for me," I purred coyly. My playful, flirty personality tended to make an appearance whenever alcohol was in my blood and the sudden appearance of this good-looking stranger was spurring me on. Mr. Dark Eyes pulled my hips against him, swaying us to the beat. He did it in a way that felt extremely sexy but somehow also managing to keep it PG.

"Good thing I'm here now," he said. I heard the smile in his voice and allowed him to rock me, nudging my hips forward with his own, keeping his hands strictly there and nowhere else. The DJ expertly made the beat of the last song fade into a new one, a more sensual one. I spun on my heel in his arms, fully facing him now.

"Show me what you got," I challenged him with a grin. Taking me up on my taunt, my mystery shepherd man dared to dip his hands lower so that they were on my bum. I tunneled my fingers through his thick hair, amazed at how silky it felt. All around us people were moving to the rhythm, swaying slowly or just letting their partners control how their body moved.

"I can show you a whole lot more, lamb," he said softly, a mere breath in my ear. Shivers ran up and down my spine, thrilled at having him so close to me. His stubble tickled my skin. With a start, I realized he was nuzzling my neck, rocking his hips into mine. And I liked it.

"Why don't you?"

He dropped a hand down to my knee and pulled my left leg up so it curled around his thighs simultaneously dropping me into a low dip.

"What did you have in mind?" he queried, slowly drawing me back up to him. Adrenaline raced through me, excited by his hands on me and the smooth tenor of his voice.

Five minutes later, eight shot glasses sat in a straight line in front of us, four for each of us. Mr. Dark Eyes was perched on a barstool next to me, the sleeves of his maroon shirt rolled up to the elbows, vest abandoned on the bar top next to him. Heavy bass music still played in the background but neither of us were interested in dancing anymore. I was more interested in how much he could take.

"Ready?"

He quirked a brow up at me and began the countdown.

"One. . . Two . . . Three!"

Our hands shot out at the same time, both reaching for the glasses at our respective ends and upending it into our mouths. Whiskey was no stranger to me and I loved the smoky, rich feel of it when it came in contact with my taste buds though it didn't mean that it burned any less. One by one, I drained the little glasses, just a fraction slower than my companion who was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand by the time I slammed my last glass down with an explosive yet satisfied sigh.

"Dude." I pushed at his shoulder playfully, head woozier than it was before, certain I'd consumed alcohol enough for a couple grown men. "You beat me."

"Only by a little." He smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled. A cute little dimple popped up on the left of his cheek. "Essentially, we had a tie."

"How chivalrous of you," I crooned. Then I stuck out my hand, likely in the wrong direction. "I'm Deidre."

"Lars." He gently pushed my hand back in the right place and shook my hand with two firm pumps. Very professional.

His name tugged at a memory I was sure wasn't as distant as I felt it was.

"Rayeson?"

"Have we met, my little lamb?"

Brow furrowed, I shook my head. "My friend mentioned you. She used your name to get in here, so we didn't have to wait in that long queue."

"And your friend is?"

"Brittany Sanders. Tall, sexy, brunette in a red dress."

Recognition flickered in his face. "Ah. I hung out with her a little before meeting you."

I leaned into him conspiratorially, beckoning him to imitate me, which he did with an amused smile.

"Personally," I said in an exaggerated whisper, "I think she dresses the way she does and does things in a certain way because she's compensating for something."

"What's that?"

"Dignity."

Alcohol also made me candid.