Little Black Dress

In the mirror of the restroom, I found solace. A rich choice of candy and grooming articles was laid out around the bathroom. Women in suits were handing paper towels out. There was a big tip jar filled with a ball of one dollar bills. I looked in the mirror and saw my worried face in the clear light: fear, anger, and exhaustion.

We can see in our own faces so much more emotion. Any guy looking at me would only see that cute young girl that is so sexy. I could see how deeply this night had cut. I could catch that little shadow in my eyes that told the stories of dark nights full of crying. With x-ray vision, I could see through energetic and attractive look that the makeup created. There is that girl full of inadequacies. There is that girl struggling with a shitty job and no boyfriend. There is that girl that can't make herself study harder on the weekend and gets a C on the pathology exam. There is that girl that missed going to the gym again. There are all these sad feelings that make absolutely no sense, yet are still coming up each time I get quiet.

"My power belongs to me. They have no power over me. I am no longer helpless. I'm a grown ass woman. The power of the little black dress must be restored." The bathroom attendants were probably used to crazy people talking to themselves.

I glanced around the room. In a little Asian girl, I found what I was looking for. She was dressed like a club rat. She was lingering around the bathroom without doing anything. I walked up to her. "Can you help a sister out with some blow?"

She seized me up. Her face was round. She looked Chinese. Her luster black hair was shaved on the left side. A green hair strand hung down her face. She had blue lip stick on. Her t-shirt was a wife beater type one with the hem ripped off to leave a coarse edge and an overly wide cutout that revealed a lot of her boob. There was a print of a taxidermy deer head with a Reggae beanie smoking a blunt. She was wearing tight black hot pants.

"Put twenty into the tip jar and take a packet out of the drawer under the third sink," she instructed me.

I walked back to the sink and did as she told me. The bathroom attendant was watching me carefully and nodded back to the Chinese girl. I took the white packet of powder and knocked on Lisa's stall. She let me in. her dress was pulled up to her waist. Her panties were rolled down to her ankles. I didn't care. I kneeled in between her knees to tap the snow onto the toilet rim between Lisa's knees. I carefully divided the snow into two lines.

"Ugh," Lisa gasped and a water stream shot into the water churning the placed toilet lake. "Awkward! It finally let go!"

I so didn't give a fuck drawing the blow through the rolled up toilet paper, which was fuzzy as fuck, into my nose. My cheeks were pushing against her thighs as I followed the line. My forehead pressed against her pubic bone. Her shooting piss misted my face. Oh, that was good! My brain narrowed, focused, and revitalized. The feeling was spreading through my nose straight to my brain.

Lisa eagerly leaned forward, not even waiting to finish her piece, to snort her blow line. Her spine was heavily curled forward to get the blow this close from her rump. I picked up a little leftover on my ring finger and smeared it into her gums. "Glorious!" she smiled.

The power of the little black dress was restored. Lisa wrapped the toilet paper five times around her hand to prepare to wipe. I was already bouncing on my heels to the subdued bass that even emanated into the distant reaches of the bathroom. "Let's go!" I cheered.

We strutted out of the bathroom. The crowd had thinned a bit. People's faces had lost the excitement of the beginning of the night. Instead, they looked like they had been there for a while. They were letting the night seep in. The bar was under siege three layers deep. The bartenders were pouring double-handed.

Girls in hot pants were pushing from the outside area to the main stage. They filled the ambiance with excitement. The pumped their arms in the air. They danced in a wide stance. The music cut out. It was 1 am. The DJ changed over. The big display behind the DJ booth exploded the word "Diplo." The thunder of lightning struck the sound system. The volume was turned up way too much, so that the detail of the music distorted to rumbling noise of an overpowered system. A cheer went through the crowd of girls.

Some hot pant girls climbed the stage. Some staked out the space in front of the speakers. They all turned to stand on their hands and lean their feet against the wall. Then, they started twerking. The bums were jiggling at breakneck speed. There were tight hot pants. There were skimpy hot pants with ample ass sticking out. There were pink hot pants. There were big butts. There were firm butts. There were butt bubbles twerking everywhere.

"I want to do that. It looks like so much fun," I yelled into Lisa's ear.

I jogged in my heels to find my own space at the wall. I swiveled over. My hands were on the grimy floor. I didn't care. The cocaine made me exuberant. I had this joy of life. The music kicked in. I shook my behind. I tightened my gluts. I could feel the flesh's rhythm as it jiggled. Instinctually, I dialed into a good shaking. The bottom of my little black dress slid down to my waste. My black G-string and pasty ass was as visible as anything was in the dim light interrupted by blinding flashes of color.

A black girl walked up to me and spanked my ass. "I like it," she yelled with a smile. I cheered in response. I was lost in the twerking and music like a little girl. The moment drowned out everything. I was pure, happy, and lost in abandon. Lisa did the wall stand next to me with her own dress slipped to her chest to reveal her butt. She smiled big. That's why we love Vegas. No judgement!

A suave black guy walked up to me and smacked my butt in three quick strokes as if I were a percussion instrument. He smiled and walked on. I cheered to let all the excitement out. The party was here. These were good and happy people.

A blond girl, who was clearly a lesbian, walked up to me with a sheepish look. She was hesitant, yet quickly slapped me on the butt, leaving me with a quick flash of joy on her face from having stolen a smack on the butt of a girl whom she found hot before running away. I cheered. Her coyness made me all giggly. I loved getting my butt slapped by random strangers. When else do you get to experience something this wicked? I only shook my ass harder hoping to attract more slappers.

Two dozen girls were twerking hard with us. We were a girl posse. I got horny seeing all of those juicy asses. The booze and blow were working there thing. My body was covered in sweat. With the blow, I hadn't even realized. I was itching to show more of my body. I was seriously high. I was fearless. I got on my feet. I looked around. There was a tall French guy in a preppie jacket. I walked right up to him, pulled his neck down to me and started making out.

I dove my mouth deeply into him to taste and feel all that slippery flesh, the lips, the tongue, and the mouth. I got so wet. He was tall. He grabbed me to lift me up to sit on his hips. I locked my ankles behind him. His boner was so evident. When I couldn't take it anymore, I unhooked my ankles to slip down his tall body. I pulled him with into the shadow behind a ten foot tall towering speaker.

As easy as getting a glass of water, I slipped his penis out of the zipper. I turned around to face the wall and pulled that long, skinny worm inside of my vagina. He knew what to do. He grabbed my body, bit my neck, and rabbit fucked. I felt the wall. It's nastier from behind. I wondered if anyone saw us in the shadow. Probably, a handful of people noticed and pretended not to see us.

The thing with blow is that I can't orgasm. I simply keep going until the drive goes away. He shot his load inside of me. He probably was a good fellow. I'm a good judge of character. I don't even know his name. By my subjective experience of the music slowing, I could tell that the cocaine rush was turning into depression.

"Do you want to get pizza?" he yelled into my ear over the speakers blasting at hearing damaging loudness next to us.

My mood felt somber. I noticed the dirt, discarded drinks, and bored faces of people standing around. The drop was coming on fast. I needed to get out. Lisa was still head over twerking. "I have to get out of here," I told her. One look into my face told her what was going on. Wordless, she pulled her dress down, grabbed my hand, and walked out.

"Can I at least have your number," asked the tall French tourist.

We disappeared into the crowd. The lobby of the club was a deserted battle field. Flyers, cups, and garbage had been tossed on the ground. The long lines were gone. The restaurants near the entrance were all boarded up for the night. The casino lobby had that empty, deep in the night feeling. A few slot machine zombies were still hanging on. Hookers with their large handbags were waiting for Johns.

As soon as we made it to the room, I curled up against Lisa's body. She held me. There is a bitter sweetness in feeling sad. It makes one open up so much that the warmth of the other person can pour right into the sole. It always gives me this juicy feeling in my mouth. My mouth gets full of sweet saliva. I was so deeply exhausted that I fell asleep in her arms with my head resting on her arm. She pulled the sheets over us.