The clock reached 6:00pm and Kayla jumped up in glee. It had been a long week and she was thankful to have her work wrapped up. Kayla was an “Executive Assistant” for an engineering firm. This was her first job out of college and she was not happy with the current situation.
She had attended a prestigious liberal arts college and majored in Psychology. Despite the numerous promises that the admissions office and career counselors had given her that she would get to pursue her lifelong dream of being a whale trainer (real, water-based whales, the other whales in America are trained by PERSONAL trainers, not to be mistaken) at SeaWorld right out of college, Kayla had found the opposite to be true. She had been unsuccessful in pursuing her goals and had been forced to take a job at the firm in order to avoid the embarrassment of moving back home with her parents. The majority of her day was spent fetching coffee, filing papers, and awkwardly warding off the advances of the creepy engineers. She looked forward to going out on Friday night with her girls and getting, as they liked to call it, “cray cray.”
As she walked out of the office building Kayla reached into her pocket and pulled out her smartphone. For the next six hours, she wouldn’t go longer than two minutes without looking at the liquid crystal display of flashing lights and text messages. She had five text messages in a group chat from her friends Jenny, Diana, and Tiffany confirming their plans for the night. She confirmed that Tiffany would pick her up at 9:00 and they would head out to the hottest new club in the city. Diana worriedly asked if they needed to get on the guest list to get in. “Oh, Diana, such a naive little girl,” Kayla muttered under her breath. Four attractive girls looking fine and pretty? Kayla was positive there would be no need to bring anything in her wallet that night except her ID.
On her way home Kayla stopped at Chiptotle to grab dinner. She was tired, and since it was Friday, she felt like she deserved to treat herself. She was very particular with her order. “Burrito with rice, chicken, extra sour cream and extra cheese,” she said to the employee, not once looking up from her smartphone during the entire transaction. A simple “Mhmm,” was all she could suffice as the friendly male cashier told her to enjoy her evening.
“Ugh, what a creep,” she thought to herself as she walked out the door. “Couldn’t he tell I was tired from work? Men these days.”
Kayla unlocked the door to her apartment. It was a nice place, but a little expensive. Kayla wished she wasn’t spending 45% of her income on rent, but rationalized it because she was an empowered woman, who was more than capable of supporting herself. Plus, she never had to pay for herself when she went out, so that saved a lot of money right there. She ate her burrito, and by 6:45pm had begun the process of getting ready for the evening. She adjusted the lights in her mirror, pulled out her smartphone, and snapped the first of many pictures that would timeline her transformation from professional empowered female to jaw-dropping sex symbol. First, she texted her friends the three outfits she was considering; a tiny black dress, a red dress with sparkles that was more modest, or a white thigh-length skirt paired with a top that showed off her cleavage. Her friends responded anonymously to the little black number, citing that it would be perfect for maximizing the amount of money men were willing to spend that night funding the groups drinking.
Second, she shaved her legs, “just in case.” She then began the long process of straightening her hair, applying her makeup, and fixing anything that looked less than perfect on her 23-year-old body. Throughout this process, multiple Facebook pictures, Snapchats, and Instagram hashtags were uploaded to the Internet for all to see. Her friends, who would be seeing her in just thirty short minutes, all commented and liked her photos across all three social media outlets. At 9:10, Kayla’s friends texted her that they were there. Rushing to finish getting ready, Kayla downed a quick pregame shot of vodka and walked out of her apartment at 9:17pm.
The ride over to the club consisted of the girls blasting Shania Twain’s song Man, I Feel Like a Woman. They had the windows down as they shrieked and “woo’d” there way through the streets of downtown. They had to park about 4 blocks away from the club and there was no shortage of bitching coming from the four pretty girls wearing high heels. Finally, they arrived at the entrance to the club. Kayla flashed a smile to the bouncer, a well-built man with a scruffy beard. He gave them a warm smile and opened the rope, allowing them to pass the line of beta men and “curvy” women trying to hide their love handles underneath their tight dresses. Kayla took great glee in the fact that she was one of the hottest girls around, and looked forward to the night of free drinks, male attention, and the satisfaction of shooting down those not worthy of her attention.
Nothing could stop her.
As soon as they stepped into the darkened club, the game began. As Kayla saddled her way up to the bar, within 30 seconds there was a male to the right of her, opening her with, “Can I buy you a drink?” Of course, she accepted and told him she would have a Long Island. The man ordered her drink and a rum and coke for himself. Kayla heard the bartender say, “That’ll be twenty-three dollars.” The man handed the bartender $20 and $5 bills, muttering for him to keep the change.
Kayla turned her back to him with a smirk.
The rest of the night started to become a blur as the alcoholic effects began to take it’s toll on Kayla and her friends. She saw Tiffany making out with a tall, well-dressed gentlemen, and Jenny grinding on the cock of a fat guy on the dance floor. Diana, being the “good girl” of the group, was nursing her drink by the bar. Kayla had one hand on her drink, and the other in the air as the DJ blasted yet another bass-filled EDM song out into the crowd. She realized she was starting to stagger a bit when she walked, but continued partying on. She did fall once and banged her thigh on the edge of a table. She winced in pain and cursed that she would probably be left with a bruise because of it.
Daniel had come out to the club with his friends. He was a 22 year old mechanical engineering student at the university in town. He wore glasses that shaped badly to his face, a polo shirt that was too baggy, and a casual pair of grey Vans sneakers that barely passed the club’s dress code. Daniel tended to be the awkward geek of the group, and always had been. He struggled with girls, and in fact had only kissed three women in his life. The furthest he had ever gotten was one blowjob from his college girlfriend, who “wanted to wait until she was sure.” Well, a month ago, she had been “sure” she wanted to bang the linebacker on the football team, so that had ended things. He had been depressed for the last month but his friends had dragged him out that night, promising they would find him a girl. They proceeded to buy him shot after shot and encourage him to walk up and make conversation with girls.
Eventually, the paths of the two drunks, Daniel and Kayla, came together.
Fueled by the harassment of his friends for being a virgin loser, and with decreased inhibition due to what was probably at least a dozen shots at that point, Daniel came up behind Kayla on the dance floor and started to grind against her. Kayla turned around and saw what, at the time to her, appeared to be a nerd. Not the gross kind of nerd, but the sexy kind of nerd that all girls like these days, a la Joseph Gordon Levitt. In her impaired state, Kayla greatly overestimated Daniel’s value and pressed her ass against him. After a few minutes of dancing like this, Daniel became more alpha than he ever had, and spun her around and kissed Kayla full on the lips. She responded enthusiastically, grabbing his neck and pulling him into her. Daniel’s friends hooted and hollered in the background and took photos of their buddy, the typical engineering beta nerd, making out with one of the hottest girls in the club.
Feeling sexy, wanted, and with some alcohol induced courage, Kayla whispered seductively in Daniel’s ear, “Wanna get out of here?”
Barely coherent at this point, but high off the tongue down of the hottest girl he had ever been with, Daniel managed to nod his head. They headed for the club entrance. Daniel’s best wingman, Fred, helped them hail a cab outside and bundled them in.
“69 Front Street,” she told the cab driver, “Actually, pull around to the alley and we’ll use the back entrance.”
They tipped the cab driver and stumbled blindly into the stairwell of Kayla’s apartment. Clothes were already starting to come off as they finally reached the door. Feeling more masculine than he had in his entire life, Daniel forcefully pushed her in the door, causing her to stumble over and knock a lamp to the ground, where it shattered. Kayla giggled in delight as stood up, walked through the glass with her bare feet, and continued making out with Daniel. They made their way to the bedroom, nearly naked at this point. Daniel attempted to roll a condom on his dick, but was unable to get going. “FUCK,” he cursed himself, getting his first taste of what whiskey dick felt like. Kayla whimpered and told him she wanted him. Try as he might, Daniel was unable to get his act together. Upset, Kayla began to cry.
Daniel laid beside her and let out an exasperated sigh. Eventually, they both fell asleep.