Night clubs story (chapter 1)

I shook my head no, and wined my way through the thick crowd that was moving to the beat of the loud techno music. Why was it so hard for people to understand that I do not drink? Not like I have a problem with people who do, just that I don’t like to. The club smelled of alcohol and sweat, and the flashing lights were driving me crazy. My head was turning and I was getting a little too dizzy, so I headed for the terrace. As the fresh air punctured my lungs and the street noises broke the thumping of my ears, I felt brought back to reality. I could feel my cheeks flushing with the cold night air, and my blown out hair was flying in all directions. That one moment, I remember, was perfect. The loud music could not be heard, I was breathing the not so clean metropolitan air I was so used to, and after all I might just be able to get through the rest of the night. However, this one moment of tranquility was shattered. A slim red head in a tight black tube top and an unbelievably short skirt tumbled on to me, spilling her blue cocktail all over my new brown wrap dress. Her thin stiletto heels dug into my ballet flat clad foot, and I stumbled to the sticky floor. Just my luck, I thought bitterly to myself as the clumsy girl, who had somehow remained on her feet produced a drunken “Oops” giggled and scrambled a meter away, where a tall boy stood staring.
“Come on,” the girl purred, grabbing him by the bottom of his black T-Shirt. The guy stared at me for a couple more seconds, his eyes flashing as he decided if to help me up or not, until the girl purred something inaudible and he soberly followed her inside. I looked around and was glad to see that there was no one else around, what had these two been up to? But in a matter of seconds the gladness was overcome by anger. How dare she crash into me, spill her radioactive drink all over me, and leave me in the floor without offering as much as a word of comfort or excuse. Unless of course the delusional and intended-sexy oops counted, which it most definitely did not. The anger grew until I was also mad at the guy for standing there staring at me with plain surprise in his eyes, as if he did not know that bimbo of his was an idiot, and then for letting her pull him away by the hem of shirt without offering help. I stood up and stared down at the stained new dress. It was soaked through and all blue like. The night was getting colder and now that I was wet and sticky the wind was freezing me. I pulled up my light brown hair into a messy, sticky, smelly ponytail and then walked inside. The air was stale and smoky; even though there were a lot of lights flashing I couldn’t see a thing. What on earth am I doing here, I evaluated the scene and whipped out my cell phone dialing my cousin’s number and pushing the phone to my ear.
“Hello,” A loud voice hollered followed by a hiccup.
“Tess, I’m gonna go home okay?” I practically shouted into the small black flip phone.
“Oh nooo,” my cousin whined with a distracted voice. A mussed giggle and a strangled stop were heard, and then she spoke into the phone again. “Where are you, I’m up on the second level.” I looked up and saw her slim figure, laughing and flirting with a boy I did not recognize.
“I see you, who’s the guy?” I questioned as I moved to the front door of the club.
A hiccup, then, “I’m not sure, but he’s cuute!”
“I see,” I commented out loud while a one word description of her rolled around in my brain. “Well I’m glad you’re having a good time but I am hating it here, just as I predicted. Don’t even say anything because I am not going to listen. I’m calling a cab and going home, so I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” As I looked up I could see that she was now kissing the guy, the phone still pressed against her ear. As no answer came from the other end and I knew it didn’t matter anymore, I just closed the phone and stuffed it back in my bag. I walked outside, pretending to not notice the ogling of the bouncers as my soaked self emerged from the club and hailed a cab, or the bemused glance the doorman gave me when I walked into the elegant lobby of my building all wet, and covered in blue liquid, or the pout my Golden Retriever shot at me when I petted her in the middle of the night with my sticky hands. I’ll put this dress in the washing machine to save it, take a long hot shower, pamper my hair and skin, and then call it a day, I planned silently as I peeled off the wrap dress and put on my long fine bathrobe.