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For what has to be the tenth time in the five minutes I’ve been here, I ask myself again, “What are you doing here, Sonmi ?”

The answer to that question still eludes me, all I know is that when Khaleed, my colleague at work mocked me, albeit jokingly for not having a life, I decided to do something about it. So, when the guys asked me to go out with them this evening, my airy reply was, “Yeah, sure. Pick me up around 9.”

An outsider hearing that would have thought going to the club every Friday night is my jam, what with the life time performance I pulled. But, my colleagues looked at me like I had grown an extra ear.

Now that I’m here, growing an extra ear wouldn’t be such a terrible idea. How do people stand this? The music is too loud to enjoy, there are too many bodies pressed against one another on the dance floor, and the air smells sickly sweet.

The drink though, although ridiculously overpriced was actually very good. The names were rather trashy, but if you can look beyond that, you can enjoy a drink called Slutty black girl, or a Blowjob.

Since I couldn’t just up and leave, I settled down on a bar stool to drink and people watch which was really difficult with the epilepsy inducing light the club favors.

“Disgusting” I muttered to myself.

If you ever find yourself in a place you’d rather not be, and you need something to entertain yourself, people watching is one way to go. There was the dark girl in a too short pink dress, with boobs spilling out, and a blonde wig. Under the light, the overall effect isn’t so flattering. Her shoes looked too high for comfort, and I could bet anything that she’d fall down soon if she didn’t get rid of them. There was also the guy that kept drifting from girl to girl, grinding against any free, soft surface . What he was looking for, I don’t know, but I have a strong feeling he’ll not find it. Except he pays for it, of course.

Many more characters came and went, and it was good while it lasted, but they weren’t interesting enough to keep my attention, and I got bored again.

“Hey, can I have another one of this?” I asked the bartender, showing him what was left in my glass.

“It’s called a Blowjob. You know you can say that, right?” he teased, already bringing out bottles from the shelf behind him.

While I watched him work, I felt a shift in the atmosphere behind me. You know how they say everyone has a certain energy they carry around with them, and how they can transmit this energy through a vast range of emotions? Well, that’s the thing responsible for the shift in the atmosphere.

Right before the bartender handed me my drink, the light in the bar seemed to dim, and I could swear that the music reduced by several notches. I had an overwhelming desire to turn around, and I yielded to it.

“Oh.”

 

 

Next part will be out on Friday!

Image credit: j-s-graphics.myshopify.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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