Please Don't Stop The Music

This is an excerpt from a short story that I am in the process of completing...keep in mind it is just an excerpt....= )

 

“Please don’t stop the music…”

It was 1:45 in the morning and my girls and me were at our favorite Friday nightspot, Intense. Intense was a mostly white establishment, but we didn’t care. We loved to dance, and at all the other clubs, the girls just went out to look cute. Granted, we always went out in our best, but we were there to dance to the music.

With an apple martini in one hand and my gold sequined handbag in the other, we worked our way through the crowd. It was tough, but we did it. By the time we made it over to an empty booth on the back wall, we noticed a group of guys posted nearby. One of them looked as if he was gay and another looked like he hadn’t bathed in a few days. Needless to say, we knew why they were only posted as opposed to dancing with any females.

Over to the left side of them were about 3 girls. These girls looked so trashy. One had on a bustier top with her fat pouring from the top and the bottom and she had the audacity to have on skinny jeans with patent red leather pumps that clearly did not match her purple top. Her counterparts both had on tube dresses that barely covered their china (well, in their case, plasticware) and thigh-high boots. And skunk streaks went out in the eighties girls.

For the many times we’ve ever visited the establishment, never have we been graced with such tackiness. Normally these white girls come dressed to kill, even if their velvet pumps came from Payless. But it seemed as if tonight brought about a different kind of couture; “Goodwill Couture” if you must. And these makeup selections? These girls looked as if they played “Pretend Princess” in their little sister’s makeup.

Now don’t get me wrong, we have reason to look down upon these other females. If you could see how we look compared to everyone else, there would be no questioning our criticism. For example, Tina, my best friend since high school, had on an orange rouched dress she got from Cache’ with these gold-stallion pumps. She was beat! Tiffany had on black tube top and pencil skirt with a wide lime green belt and pumps to match. Obviously you can see where this is going.

With fits this hot, we needed to be seen. I don’t want to contradict my statement earlier about wanting to dance while we were out, but tonight was different. We were too hot to be stuck in the nightspot with the nobody’s and way too hot to be in reckless neighborhoods dodging bullets to get in. So we decided on a middleman: Tahiti.

Tahiti is on the west side of the city, so it brings a mixed crowd. There were mostly college age kids, just barely legal to drink, frequenting the establishment. So you can imagine the crazy energy in this place. But the boys were cute, and the girls, well…haters. Those are just what we needed to end the night feeling accomplished.

As we approached the entrance, the line was horrible. It wrapped all the way along the side of the building. This was a reason why we avoided this spot: It was normally at, or close to reaching, its maximum capacity. And it can take hours to actually get in. But tonight, we were getting in and we were not waiting.

We headed to the front of the line, everyone with their fiercest walk into action. Before we could even put on the sexy voices and stick our asses out, the bouncer dropped the rope and said come on. No cover charge and a courtesy escort to the VIP section. If we had known it would be this easy to get in, we wouldn’t have wasted as much time as we already did, trust!

 

Author's Note

Let me know how interested you would be in reading the remainder of the story....

Reviews

[Debbie Barry]

The writing is good. The fashion stuff is lost on me, but that's my problem, not yours. The personality of your main character was coming through in living color, and that's important. I'm interested to see how these sexy, sophisticated ladies make out in the VIP section of a mostly college crowd. You've got me on the hook.