I looked over at Tara, anticipating her reaction. Instead of a mischievous smile or even just plain rapture, she was staring vacantly at her phone and pawing at the screen with her thumbs.

“Tara?” I moaned. “You’re missing it!”

“I’m watching,” she said, her eyes still glued to the small screen instead of the big one.

“Ughhhh!” I folded my arms. She always did this. I’d show her my favorite show, she’d sit on her phone the whole time and then at the end she would say ‘yeah it was okay.’ It infuriated me. It was like she purposefully didn’t pay attention because I liked it.

“The guy with the hair that looks like Tom Hiddleswitch fucked the girl who looks like Olivia Rodrigo, right?” Tara said, lowering her phone for a second, and looking at me with an expression that showed she was perhaps 70% sure about this.

I rolled my eyes.

“I mean, yes,” I replied. “That happened earlier, but we just found out that Claire actually knew about it.”

“Which one is Claire, again?”

“Uggggh, you’re useless. I don’t know why I bother,” I pouted. “What’s so interesting going on on your phone anyway?”

Tara laughed.

“Actually, a lot.”

There was that mischievous smile that I expected earlier. She looked back at her phone and continued, while biting her lip, as if trying to make a decision.

“Oh my god, are you on the apps right now?” I asked, copious amounts of scandal dripping from my words.

“Lol,” she said, like the idiot who actually says that aloud. “Nooooo, not. On. tinder. No, I’m chatting to NJ.”

NJ stood for Nicola Jane, one of Tara’s friends. They weren’t super close, but when they hung out, things always went a bit crazy. A bit wild. NJ was into “the scene” as she called it. She hung out with Burners, poly, queer, super-woke people, and didn’t she just Love to act like that made her more enlightened then everyone else. I hated to admit, but they were usually a lot of fun, even if a bit ‘up their own asses’.

“And what does NJ have to say?” I asked.

“She’s invited us to a party tonight,” Tara continued. “It’s at House of Love, not too far from here.”

That was totally NJ’s scene. A grimey, hipster, Burning Man style warehouse party in Bushwick. Neither Tara or I had been, but it had always held a bit of an allure. It did look fun, even if a bit self-obsessed. Of course Tara would be more interested in that than the show her own Sister recommended.

“You know I can’t get in though.” I moaned. “Like they definitely check IDs there.”

“So yeah, she says she can get us in. Free. No questions asked,” Tara said, as if reading it off her phone. “We’ll skip the line, no entrance fee. Apparently it’s a special night or something, the best one… apparently. Invite-only”

“She can get us in?” I sat up and paused the episode, turning seriously to my Sister. “Like she can really get us in. Because I don’t look twenty-one. I barely even look over eighteen. I don’t want to get dressed up, go all the way there, and then get bounced at the door and have to uber back here while you go off and get fucked.”

Tara laughed. “You don’t like NJ, do you?” she asked.

“I like her just fine,” I replied. “I just wouldn’t say she’s always the most reliable of friends, right?”

“I think you need to loosen up a bit,” Tara replied. “God, you’re a teenager. At your age I’d be wet for the chance to get into a club, especially one as wild as House of Love.”

Uggh, I hated it when she said wet like that. To me, it robbed the word of its meaning while simultaneously demanding good fun.

“I mean.” I replied. “I am interested. I’m just a bit worried.”

“Look I just confirmed,” Tara leaned over and showed her screen to me: The message conversation with NJ saying ‘Oh yes, 100% I can get you and Emma in. It won’t be a problem. I promise. <heart emoji> <eggplant emoji> <splash emoji>”

“Eggplant?” I asked. “Really?”

“You know NJ.”

“I mean, you do need the eggplant,” I said, smiling at her.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she replied.

I throw her an “isn’t it obvious” look.

“How long has it been?” I ask.

She opens her mouth in an uncertain blend of fake and real shock.

“And what makes you think I haven’t caught a D in a while?”

If I had known this would have been her reply, I would have tempered my previous expression. That way I would have been able to amp it up further. Instead, I had to re-widen my eyes to symbolize how obvious the answer should be.

“We live in a studio,” I said, through a chuckle. “You’re not quiet.”

I glimpsed only the slightest flush on her cheeks, before she turned it around.

“Ditto,” she countered. “When did you last get laid?”

I did my best to imitate the awkward teeth grimace emoji.

“Fair.”

“Sounds like we both need to go to this party,” she smiled.

I stayed silent, but couldn’t keep the grin from surfacing on my face.

“So are you in?” she asked.

“Fine!” I caved. “Let’s do it.

—

Tara and I stared at one another. We always made an effort to not dress alike. We looked similar enough that it would end up with me looking like a younger version of her. Or a hotter version as I liked to say. We were both petite. We both had straight long dark brown hair, past our shoulders. We were both kinda pale, but I had smoother skin (Yes!). We were both short, but I was shorter. She’s about 5’5, and I’m 5’2 and not even 100 pounds. She also managed to get all the tits in the family. She was a generous 34C, I barely managed a B cup.

We’d checked out the dress code for the event… and it was wild. You had to dress up. It was a rule. And not just like you couldn’t wear jeans and a t-shirt, it said ‘fabulous sexy, slutty, kink-wear, chic, evening attire, festival-gear or nothing at all’.

Tara and I had laughed about it. We knew what kind of place it was, but we did wonder exactly how wild this party would get. They tended to be quite vague about the details, but that sounded like the kind of thing you’d do when you wanted to insinuate sexiness despite the party itself being pretty standard. There were the standard consent agreements on the website ‘I understand that consent to touch must be enthusiastic’ and ‘I understand that no space can be entirely safe’. We could tell it was invite-only. The event was online, but the actual ticket-purchase was behind a password. I assumed there was more detailed information there, but who knew? I was excited thinking about the possibilities though, and nervous. Naturally, I hadn’t really been to clubs like this much before, because well I couldn’t get in. I had heard a few stories from NJ before.

We had both already been pregaming, drinking vodka sodas and White Claws as we got ready. We already had a bit of a buzz going. I was playing music through the second-hand bluetooth speaker that I had “borrowed” from a friend, years ago. It was shaping up to be a fun kind of night. I could feel the energy in the air, the electricity of a night out.

Tara was wearing a black, mesh halter top boob tube thing, with a pink bra underneath. She had lumo body-paint and a black thong, Ass cheeks out. She looked very much like she walked straight out of Coachella. She was lucky she had the Ass for it.

I had gone a bit more classy, I think. I was wearing a slinky black dress with a long V, choker, garter and stockings attached to my lingerie bottoms. I couldn’t wear my lingerie top with this dress. I feel like it maybe made me look a bit older? I go heavy with make-up too. Dark, thick eyeliner and shadow in comparison to the sparkly glitter and lumo of my Sister.

“What a Hot little goth!” Tara said, looking at me with a bemused expression

“Oh be quiet Kesha.” I retorted.

She stuck out her tongue and turned around in front of me.

“But really, how do I look?” she asked.

“Honestly, like a slut. But you do look Hot,” I replied. I was about to ask her how I looked, but she cut me off.

“That’s fair,” she laughed. “Are you ready? Our car’s going to be here any moment.”

“You got a car?” I asked. “How much is it?”

Tara glared at me for a moment. She often reacted like this. We were barely scraping by, and I was the more frugal of the two of us. At the same time, she earned almost all the money we made, so she hated it when I criticized her spending habits.

“It’s close by, so not expensive,” she said, clearly swallowing her rage. “And it will take double the time to take the subway.”

“Fine!” I said. “I think I’m ready. I mean, what else do I need?”

“Just dat fine Ass of yours,” Tara replied absent-mindedly, on her phone again.

—

I noticed the driver’s eyes lingering on us in the backseat of his car. Two young white girls dressed to party; he knows the drill. He was playing top 40 hits in the backseat, and Tara and I sang along. I was nervous, but singing and amping up my excitement seemed to help me deal with it.

Tara was right though; the journey wasn’t long. We soon found the car slowing to a stop. We could see the large colorful sign of House of Love, graffiti-style across a facebrick wall, lit by the glow of the streetlight. Outside, a long line of people waited. It was clear we were in the right place. The line itself looked like a pinterest board for the scene. Multi-colored hair, feathers, boas, drag, leather, corsets. Much of it was still covered by coats, but the wild party-wear beneath was obvious with even a cursory glance. There was a nervous energy rippling out across the line and e-cigarettes glowed in the darkness being passed between lips.

“Do we have to stand in that?” I asked, peering out the window.

“I don’t think so,” Tara replied.

We thanked the driver and exited. Tara was back on her phone, this time calling NJ.

“Hey…” Tara said. “Yeah… we’re outside… okay… okay”

I listened with my arms crossed, feeling the chill of the night air. It was already like 10pm. My anxiety was rapidly rising. Was NJ bailing? Could she still get us in? I knew this was going to end badly. My eyes were running up and down the line. It was a young crowd. Looked like 20s and 30s. Pretty equal mix of guys and girls. That’s good. I won’t look so out of and obviously just out of school.

“Okay…. Cool.”

Tara put down the phone and turned to me.

“Follow me,” she said. She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the street away from the main entrance. We walked for a bit alongside the facebrick wall, and through a chain-link door in a chain-link gate. It looked like a loading entrance or something. NJ was standing there in the industrial yard, looking like some sort of cyberpunk hacker giving us “the drive” with “the stuff”. Her hair was short, spikey and purple. She was wearing one black leather strap, covering her nipples in the front and squishing her tits against herself. The bottom was clearly made to match, black leather with metal spikes jutting out. I had trouble keeping my eyes off her, half expecting something to pop out.

“You came!?!” she cooed, playfully. I could see rainbow colored wristbands in her right hand.

“Of course we came, bitch.” Tara said, throwing her hands in the air.

NJ had a big smile across her face and was chewing gum. Her eyes were wide and beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She wrapped her arms around Tara’s neck and kissed her on the cheeks repeatedly.

“I Love you!” she said. “I’m so glad you came.”‘

“Oh my god, NJ, you are rolling so hard, aren’t you?” Tara asked as she broke away from the hug. NJ was still grinning like an idiot. She turned to me.

“Emma!” she announced as if she just noticed me for the first time. “My god, you look so fucking Hot!” She prowled past Tara towards me. I laughed as she wrapped her arms around me as well.

“It’s good to see you too, NJ,” I said. “You having a good night?”

“I’m having a great night!” she shouted, pulling back out of the hug. She held out the wrist bands to us. “So, here’s the deal. Put these on. They’re VIP tickets, but we’ll go in around the back anyway. They’ll get you access to every part of the party. If anyone asks where you got them, you can tell them it was NJ. I recommend you say yes to everything, but if anyone makes you feel uncomfortable just say something to one of the unicorns walking around, they’re called consenticorns.”

She was speaking really quickly, and I could hear the dryness in her mouth.

“But yeah, come on in, follow me and you’ll have a fucking great time!” she finished, beaming ear to ear. She beckoned us to follow her and headed towards an unmarked door. I glanced at Tara with a nervous smile, strapping the rainbow bracelet on and following. I couldn’t help but stare at Tara’s almost bare Ass as I followed her in through the door. I couldn’t help but giggle. What the fuck was I doing here?

The other side of the door was storage. NJ led us through a maze of shelving, down narrow passages. Set pieces littered the area, along with unilluminated neon signs and other elaborate decor. I rubbernecked, trying to catch things, but NJ moved quickly. The thumping of the music had grown in volume quickly.

Finally we reached another door.

“Welcome,” she said, “to House of Love.”

—

At first it looked a bit like any other club, perhaps one that you might see in a movie. The space was a large hall, with a high roof, but every inch was decorated. Velvet red curtains hung from the one side, making the place feel like a theater of debauchery. The floor, and various platforms were filled with people. Everyone looked different and interesting. They were rhythmically swaying, grinding and bouncing against one another, decked out in every type of outfit and costume imaginable. Lights were flashing, UV and regular. The music was pumping, directed by an elevated DJ on a platform jutting out from one of the walls. A blonde female DJ had her hands waving in the air, almost as if she just didn’t care.

I struggled to take it all in. NJ was leading Tara and I through the crowd. She seemed to easily make a path, but bodies were pretty close together. Most of the crowd was too interested in each other, or dancing, to pay much mind to us. It felt odd, dressed as we were, to not turn more heads. My Sister‘s Ass was almost fully out, and only maybe three men turned as she walked by. It made sense, everyone else was dressed similarly, if not in even skimpier outfits. It made me feel a lot less self-conscious.

We finally found ourselves leaving the dancefloor towards a more open area where the crowd thinned out a bit.

“This is intense!” I shouted. I don’t think either of them heard me though. Instead, NJ led us to the bar. I looked up, noticing the woman standing on the bar. She was almost entirely naked, save for elegant high heels and a necklace of what looked like grapes around her neck. She was swaying to and fro nonchalantly, made-up as if she was a 50s pin-up girl. She gazed disinterestedly over the scene, completing the whole look. I could help but stare at her and her brazenness. She seemed unphased, either by me staring, or anyone in the club. And why should she? She was beautiful. She was slim and toned, like a dancer. Her tits were firm, with just enough give to sway as she did.

I was standing directly underneath her, staring upwards as I felt a hand on my shoulder. I glanced down to see NJ and Tara both laughing at me, as I was just obviously gawking at the woman.

“Thirsty?” Tara asked.

“Fuck off!” I retorted, feeling the blush in my cheeks.

“Do you want a drink?” she asked.

“Oh, yes!” I said, feeling even more embarrassed now.

She laughed and turned back to NJ. I looked out over the club, so that my back was towards the dancer, while NJ and Tara were getting drinks. Now that I had time to properly look around I could pay attention to some of the outfits. There were quite a few rique ones, causing me to do a double take, even after the fully naked girl dancing above me. A short and petite Asian girl nearby was wearing booty shorts, boots and was topless besides nipple caps in the shape of stars. She was standing next to a massive white guy, barrel chested and hairy. He was wearing black jeans and a spiked collar, half covered by his beard. They were talking to a slim, but ripped black guy who was wearing a full-on multi-colored suit. As I watched, the white guy’s eyes met mine. In my awkwardness again, I smiled. He returned the grin, I could see him looking me up and down my body, his eyes lingering on my wristband. Then I noticed his eyes dart above my head and linger there. Instinctively I turn and look up.

The woman was now leaning over me. I let out an involuntary gasp, shocked by her being so much closer than I expected.

“Grape?” she asked, barely containing her smile. The bunch of grapes around her neck were hanging just in front of me. “Open your mouth.”

Almost without thinking, I obeyed. I looked up and opened my mouth. She leaned further and lowered the grape into my mouth. I gently closed my teeth on it as she pulled away. I felt the tug and release as it broke off into my mouth. She smiled at me as she stood and started dancing again, swaying to the music.

“God, I can’t take you anywhere.” Tara said as she placed a glass and a plastic water bottle onto the bar in front of me. She also took my hand and pushed something small into the middle. “A gift from NJ.” She sticks her tongue out revealing the small capsule resting on it, before pulling it back into her mouth. She unscrews the bottle and takes a large swig of water.

“What the fuck Tara?” burst out of my mouth. I look around suspiciously before looking at the capsule she put in my hand. “What’s gotten into you?”

She laughed and took a sip of her real drink, a bright colored looking concoction.

“I mean, when in Rome,” she said, gesturing around the room. “Look around. This is like one of the funnest places ever. Just let your hair down for a change, I mean, you just ate a grape from a naked woman’s neck.”

NJ’s arms wrapped around Tara’s waist from behind and she rested her chin on her shoulder, making it look a little like Tara had just sprouted a second head.

“I promise it’s good stuff,” she said. “I took some earlier, and I’m having a fucking great time. This is a safe place. The perfect space to do this kinda thing.”

I look down at the capsule in my hand, feeling like a kid in one of those PSAs about drugs.

“If you don’t want to, then don’t. It’s not a problem at all,” Tara said, dropping into earnestness. “If you’re not comfortable…”

I throw the pill into my mouth quickly, and down the water before I have a chance to change my mind, choking a little bit as I do. Tara and NJ both cheer in delight. Tara moves forwards and hugs me, NJ piling on from behind. I can feel the sweat of NJ’s skin on my shoulders as her arms reach around the both of us. Her hands rubbing against my back as she moans, “You won’t regret it.”

‘I’m going to be where she is soon,’ I thought.

Both of them pulled away. “Dance?” Tara asked. I nodded. We grabbed our drinks and headed back towards the dance floor section. The white guy from before had his eyes on us as we shuffled past him, but his one arm was wrapped around what I assumed was his asian girlfriend. We carried onwards, into the thick of the dancefloor, which seemed even more packed than before. We pushed in as far as we could, feeling the heat of the moving bodies around us. NJ was already grooving as we walked, but she finally stopped and turned to us, making it clear that she had gone as far as she could.

It was too loud to talk here, so we had to rely on verbal cues. That was easy enough. Tara and I were already tipsy enough on booze, and high on the excitement of the night. I could feel the heavy beat reverberate through my body. I followed it. At first cautiously, eyes still darting around, finding Tara’s. NJ had her eyes closed and the music had already taken her. She looked like most of the other dancers, wild and primal in their reaction to the music. She snaked naturally, bumping every now and again. I could see her breasts bounce as they strained against the leather strap around her. She was in the zone. I wanted to get there too.