Ash
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After a nice three-hour long nap, I was finallly feeling well enough to venture around the hotel and visit the other club members' hotel rooms.
I sort of wandered around for a while, scared of knocking at any of the hotel doors. I didn't know the room numbers of the other club members, and I was scared of disturbing strangers; fortunately, that's when Ela found me.
"Come on," she said, gripping my arm as she walked by. "Unless you'd rather walk the halls aimlessly?"
I stumbled along after her. That girl walks fast!
We reached her room, which was incidentally right across from mine. I followed her in, and my eyes were drawn right away to a dark figure sulking in the corner, drearily pressing keys on the laptop that cast an eerie glow on her gloomy face.
"Woah," I whispered to Ela, terrified. "Is she okay?"
Ela shrugged indifferently. "I don't think she really wants to be here. But neither does anyone else, so who can blame her?"
I knew I couldn't, especially thinking back to that nightmarish plane ride.
Bridgette continued tapping away at her keyboard, eyes glued to the screen. She was so totally engrossed that I don't think she could hear a word we said.
It was just as well. Things were still a bit awkward between us, ever since the whole hitting her with a car incident. It didn't help that she thought I was a trannie.
"Did you hear that we're all going clubbing tonight?" Ela said, looking slightly miffed.
Oh god. Now that she mentioned it, I do remember hearing people talk about it all throughout the day, with varying levels of excitement.
A sudden wave of panic rushed over me. I didn't know anything about clubbing! I don't dance, grind, or drink. I hate large crowds of people! Personal contact makes me uncomfortable, and I could never stand overly loud music. Not to mention Tommy would probably be all over me all night....I shuddered involuntarily.
And then there was the matter of my hair. I touched my ratty cap with one hand. I didn't have any nicer hats, and they would never let me into a club wearing this dirty old thing. If I were to go clubbing, all that hair I had so carefullly bobby-pinned every morning for years would have to go.
Well, as much as the idea of clubbing made me uncomfortable, the idea of staying all alone in this huge hotel all night was much worse. Besides, my hair was getting too long, and it was a huge inconvenience to have to worry about it falling out of the bobby pins and hat every day.
After thinking for a few minutes, I decided that out of everyone in the club, Amor would be the most likely to have scissors with her, being a fashion designer and all. I told Ela I'd catch her later and I returned to the hotel's corridor.
After knocking at several hotel room doors and awkwardly interacting with a number of members, I finally found Amor, and she graciously lent me the tiny scissors she kept in her sewing kit.
Never cut your hair with scissors from a sewing kit. They're approximately the size of a sticky note and you can barely fit two fingers in the finger-holes. The blades are short and dull and you'll end up accidentally ripping out as much hair as you cut. You'll be left with a patchy, misshapen head of hair and have no other choice than to run to Colette and beg her to even it up for you. Colette handled the tiny scissors much better than I had, and by the time she was done, I had a nice, short, boyish haircut.
After that whole ordeal, it was time to set out for the club. I borrowed a suit from one of the men in the club, and although it was big on me, I looked decent enough to be let into a club. Oh, boy.
...
If there's one thing anyone should know before grouping up with the MCC, it's that there is never a lack of scandal. Before we had even gotten into Sugar (what kind of a club name is that, anyway?), Griffin had managed to deeply offend a good portion of the club by pretending to kiss Violett. Akira then shamelessly flirted with the bouncer, which while highly unorthodox, was super effective.
Once inside the club, stangers were immediately all over us. Several of the male members looked uncomfortable with all the scantily clad ladies rubbing thier mostly exposed strawberry creams all over them, but others looked a little bit too okay with it.
Tommy, who of course followed me everywhere I went, flung himself away in horror from any woman who dared come near him. I guess he felt a bit out of his element, as a gay man in a very straight night club.
A few ladies tried to dance with me, but I told them to sod off and made positive my expression and body language would warn people away. Clubbing is absolutely exhausting; I was getting knackered and I wasn't even doing anything.
About an hour passed, and I watched as the other members of the club began their descent into drunkenness and and bad dancing. Tommy began fidgeting after he sent another horde of ladies on their way, and he leaned close to me and shouted over the music, "Do you want to get out of here?"
Now, I don't particularly fancy Tommy. He's a dodgy toff, and he's a bit barmy. But by this point, I was ready to be out of the loud, hot, sweaty, and crowded club.
"Absobloodylootely!" I screamed in response.
If I had known where he was going to take me, however, I would never have let him take my arm and escort me from Sugar.
...
Approxiatley a half-hour later we stepped out of a cab and onto the sidewalk in front of a large building with a brightly-lit, flashing neon sign and loud music pouring out of it. There were two large, intimidating men dressed in suits standing outside the front doors, and a small line of people crowded around the entrance.
"Tommy, where are we?" I ask as he leads me to the back of the line.
"A little place called 'Paradiso Tanzbar'," he answered, pushing us closer to the door.
"What exactly is Paradiso Tanzbar?" I asked, while showing my ID to one of the large men and being ushered inside.
"It's a different kind of club," Tommy told me, gesturing with one arm to the large, open room with low lighting and and a huge bar.
It certainly was a different kind of club. Paradiso Tanzbar was like Sugar in the way that the music was loud, people were dancing in a giant horde, and half the clubbers were arsefaced. That's where the similarities stopped, however.
Everywhere I looked, men and women were dancing, grinding, and making out. You may think this is no different from what was happening at the other club, but here the men were dancing, grinding, and making out with other men, and the women were doing the same with other women.
"Tommy," I whisper, swallowing nervously as I grabbed his sleeve in my hand.
"Tommy," I repeat, much louder, as panic began to set in. "Did you bring me to a gay club?" By this point I had a death grip on his sleeve, and my fingers were turning white from the tension.
He just laughed and pulled me by both hands into the center of the swarming fest of men and women getting their gay on.
"Isn't it perfect?" he asked, pulling me in tight against his chest.
I was absolutely frozen in horror. He was holding me tightly enough that I couldn't get enough leverage to knee his bollocks, and the music was too loud for anyone to hear if I screamed. I tried squirming away, but his grip was like iron.
Just as I was about to give up on ever escaping, Tommy let go, turned around, stuck out his butt, and started hopping back into me. I, of course, screamed and tried to push him back and run away at the same time.
"What," I screeched, just barely dodging his butt attack, "are you doing?!?!?"
"I'm backing it up!" He yelled back pleasantly.
This man was obviously wonky.
"That's not even a real thing!" I shouted as he turned back around, making wild gesticulations and hopping around to the beat of the music.
He just ignored me and continued with his wild, irregular movements that I think were supposed to pass for dancing. I just stood there.
Finally, he gave up trying to get me to dance with him and dragged me over to the bar, where he ordered two fruity little drinks with umbrellas in them. I sniffed it carefully before taking a sip, causing him to roll his eyes.
"You know I didn't drug it. You watched the bartender make it, and I handed it right to you!"
"You never can be too careful," I replied, glaring daggers at him. The drink was pretty good, though. It didn't really taste like alcohol, just like fruit and sugar and delicious.
That's about the time a random guy passing by grabbed my tush. I yelped and spazzed, spilling my cocktail all over my borrowed suit. Tommy immediately stood up and decked the transgressor, who stuttered out an apology and backed away, mumbling under his breath.
And in spite of the fact that Tommy had tricked me into visiting a gay club, had tried to violate me with his butt, and all around made me uncomfortable all evening, seeing him give that guy a face full of fives gave me an inkling of respect for him.
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I am so sorry, guys. How do you write? How do you club? How do you make stuff interesting? Oh well, here it is, in all its unedited glory. I'm sorry it's long and boring and full of suck. D:
