As the night went on, I started to get bored sitting around the table. The bottles were close to empty, and I was borderline being done, too. I decided to hit the dance floor to see if anyone interesting could help distract me. I just wished every song didn’t sound the same.

Out on the floor was a stunning blonde with long, flowing hair and a tight little ass. Black leggings, black shirt, and sky-high heels showcased her hot body. She appeared to be having a good time, laughing, singing, and dancing with her friend. The way her hips swayed to the music, beckoned me to her like a siren’s call. I puffed out my chest and started in her direction. When I approached her, I placed my hands on her waist, moved in right behind her, and rocked my hips in time with hers. Even though she had on stilettos, I was a good four inches taller than she was. Her friend gave her an approving nod and walked away.

“What’s your name?” I shouted over the noise of the bar.

She turned in my arms so we were face to face. “Wendy. What’s yours?”

“Luke.”

Introductions out of the way, we let our bodies do the talking. We danced through a few songs. LMFAO’s “Shots” came on, and the club went nuts. Wendy was a bold little thing. When the part of the song about sucking cocks played, she palmed my semi hard cock. With her other hand, she grabbed my neck, yanked me down to her, and attacked my mouth. It was sloppy, all tongue and teeth, like she was trying to eat my mouth. I pulled away, but she held onto my neck. Damn, she was strong.

“Take me home and let me suck you off,” she cooed in my ear.

Now, I liked a forward woman just as much as the next horny bastard, but she turned me off so damn fast with her unskilled tongue that the thought of that same mouth on my dick, made me want to turn and run the other way.

“Yeah, sweetie. I’m good, but thanks.” I turned and hurried to our table.

Danny and Jeff were laughing their asses off, since they obviously saw Wendy try to swallow my head. Couldn’t say I blamed them. I would have done the same thing if it was them. Wendy went from a fine piece of ass to shoe leather, in a matter of seconds.

“Let’s get out of here. Anyone with me?” I asked Danny and Jeff, since the rest of the crew was off looking for either their next lay or more alcohol.

“Where are you thinking?” Danny asked.

“I want a cigar and a nice bourbon.” And gelato. “Let’s head to the North End. They have that cigar bar there. The IQ and average age will be slightly higher than twenty one.”

Jeff decided to stay and try his hand with the young girls, but Danny was down for a cigar. We hopped in a cab and headed to Niccolo’s.

Chapter Seven

Alexa

The amount of fun Addison and I had was off the charts. Our level of drunkenness was perfect. Neither of us was slurring or tripping over our own feet. We were in the zone, shaking it all night, only stepping off the floor to get another drink. I didn’t realize how badly I needed a night out. Addison wore a huge smile on her face, and kept telling me how much she missed me since I started training. I made a mental note to make a better effort to balance training and fun.

The DJ played all our favorite songs, so Addison and I danced together with only a few men trying to break up our duo. But we had the girls’ night vibe going on, so most men watched from afar and bought us drinks when we took a break.

During one breather, a very tall, dark, and handsome guy approached me.

“Hello there, beautiful, can I buy you a drink?” He looked edible.

“Sure. What’s your name?” I craned my neck to stare into his chocolate brown orbs.

“Dave. What’s yours?” His voice was husky and deep in my ear when he bent down so I could hear him.

“Alexa.”

“What’s your poison, pretty girl?” He snapped at the bartender to grab his attention and grew irritated when he didn’t rush to our end of the bar.

Strike one.

“I’d love a Sweetini. Thank you.” I smiled up at him. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m a financial advisor for a Fortune 500 company.” His eyes narrowed as he searched behind the bar. “And I’m going to buy and sell this shit hole if the bartender doesn’t get his ass down here this second.” He slammed his hand down on the bar, rattling the empty glasses nearby.

Strike two.

“He’ll get here when he has a second. No need to get upset,” I said, hoping to calm him down.

“I don’t wait for anyone. Want to get out of here, Lexie? I can make us drinks at my place quicker than this fool.”

Strike three.

“No, thank you. I think I’ve heard enough. Have a great night.” I walked away without a drink, but more importantly, I walked away from a pompous prick.

After the exchange with Dave, I brushed off any other man’s attempt to talk to me. I was more than happy to remain single if guys like him made up the dating pool.

Around midnight, my feet were killing me, and I needed food. And there was no better neighborhood to get good eats. I motioned Addison to head for the door, signaling I needed food, and she nodded vigorously. When we reached the coat check, we were finally able to hear each other over the blaring music.

“Pizza, cannoli, or gelato?” I asked.

“YES! I want it all.” She giggled, and I was happy she was on my level.

Out on the sidewalk, we looked up and down Hanover Street to get our bearings. Pizza was our first stop. I knew I was going to regret it the next day, but I didn’t care. Pepperoni was screaming my name, and no way would I ignore the call. Using her best telephone sex voice, Addison ordered a slice of meat lover’s from the poor guy, which had me buckled over at the knees, laughing so hard. I turned into a teenage boy when I drank, and thought everything was about sex.

“Addison loves meat,” I yelled after I took a breath between loud, obnoxious laughs.

I inhaled my huge slice, and was ready to walk across the street to get a gelato. Addison preferred a cannoli, so we headed to our favorite café where we could get both. Mike’s Pastry was supposed to be the best in the North End, but it was always packed with tourists, no matter what time it was.

“Why the hell did our forefathers build the sidewalks out of brick? I can’t walk in heels for shit in this town,” I complained to Addison when I stumbled.

Over time, the bricks broke and only half remained alongside a gaping hole, or the ground underneath pushed them up. Either way, the sidewalks were uneven, and a total walking hazard, even to the sober.

“Beats the heck out of me. Every time we go out drinking, we have this problem. Do you think we should either a, not drink so much, or b, not wear heels when we go out?” Addison responded.

“Fuck that. I’m not giving up my sexy heels or drinking. I’ll just say a small prayer that I don’t fall on my face.” I almost tripped again over a tree root, driving our point home.

Laughing like loons, we linked arms and crossed the street Frogger-style, avoiding the cabbies like we were playing the old Atari game. We walked in and waited behind a few other partygoers who had the same idea as us. Finally, I ordered a strawberry gelato, and Addison got a chocolate cannoli. Usually chocolate was my go-to flavor, but for whatever reason, I needed sweet and fruity. The restaurant had a few empty, small bistro tables, which I was thankful for since my feet really killed me. Those heels would be the death of me come Sunday when I tried to run.

Addison and I ate while recapping our favorite moments of the night, and gossiping about the outfits we saw. We were fashion designers/consultants, after all, so we couldn’t help ourselves. And boy, did we see some doozies. One girl wore a white pleather mini, clear plastic hooker shoes that lit up when she walked, and a cotton tube top two sizes too small for her plastic tits. Then there was the guy on the dance floor, doing the worm, hoping the chicks thought it was hot. He missed the mark with his pleated, corduroy khaki pants and his green, argyle sweater vest.