Charlotte's friend leaves her in the middle of the night out of her element; at a night club.
And then ditched me.
Honestly, I could have been raped by now, or dead, and she's back at her place, probably getting laid with one of those "entertainers," or so she called them.
My friend, Bella, she dragged me to this new dance club/unisex strip club downtown for a celebration of me graduating my online classes.
I really didn't want to go, but she was so... So rude about it.
Apparently I'm stuck up, frigid, no fun, etc, etc. I was tired of it so I finally agreed. Now I'm sitting here alone, it's like eleven, and I have no ride.
I know, I shouldn't really be friends with Bella, she's such a bitch sometimes, but whatever. She's actually pretty awesome, considering she only took ten minutes to get me to look like I do; I've gotten cat-calls, drunks asking for my number, people flirting when I don't really want that. Yeah.
I ask the bartender, a young handsome man (yet obviously playing for the same team as me), to get me some whiskey.
I take a swig, let it burn, and someone sits next to me.
"Always nice to see a woman who drinks the hard stuff rather than a frilly little fruity drink." The dancer says in a very apparent Southern Georgia accent.
I clear my throat "Thanks?" And go back for another sip.
I saw this guy earlier. When Bella pulled me to the back, and we went through the strippers of the world. It was like a cultural zoo, but with more sex-defined clothing and poles.
English, Irish, Native American, Latin American, etc etc. each was more slutty and plainly racist than the last.
Honestly, I could care less what people do with their lives, prostitution, contract killer, abortion doctor, but I just don't want any part of it if it makes me uncomfortable.
Anyway, this guy was was obviously from the American 'Hoe-down' section. I think his stage name was Ryder.
He wore a classic cowboy hat, slim, but made up for it with muscles. Had a bit of tan from what I could see in the flashing lights from the dance floor, a flannel with the sleeves cut, and opened nearly all the way. Tight jeans, big belt buckle, boots, the works.
"You know what darlin'? I'm on my break, so how's about we get out on that dance floor?" He scoots a little bit closer to me, and I'm actually surprised that he doesn't smell of strong liquor. He's really handsome too.
Still, I should probably get going. This isn't a good place of me to be.
"I don't think so, I have to get home—" I go to get up but he blocks me and cuts me off "To what? Worried your cats might miss you? Come on sugar, have a little fun!" He laughs, genuinely, and winks before grabbing my hand and leading me, wobbling on my heels, to the pulsing dance floor.
I nearly fall, but he catches me and holds me by right above my hips as we sway to the music. Very respectful, rude to drag me out here, but not groping me kind of makes up for it. I almost think he's sincere when he twirls me.
Too soon, the song ends, and I'm laughing and actually having a great time. So is he, and that smile of his is contagious.
He walks up to the DJ and speaks for a second. I see him point his thumb at me and the DJ nods.
As he walks back over, a slower country-rap song comes on. I usually think that these songs are terrible, but, not so much right now.
"May I?" He asks, holding out his hand. I laugh and take it. He twirls me and holds both my hands crossed as he towers behind me, leaning and putting his chin on my head as we sway to the twangy beats of the music.
The song speeds up a little and people around us give room for him to twirl me.
As we dance, he pulls me close and smoothly says "You got a name sweet pea?"
Feeling more comfortable than I probably should in this scenario, I stand on my tip toes to whisper in his ear "I'm Charlotte," and I peck his neck lightly before breaking free and doing a little shimmie of my own, smiling.
"What about you cowboy?" He dances his way over and we are pressed against each other again, soon he dips me, a few people whistle, and woot at us, and he leans in close.
"Landon, remember it, I'm sure you'll be yelling it later." He winks and I giggle.
What am I doing, pick ups never work on me, and I've never fallen for anyone, especially at some night club.
Then again, what's the worst that could happen?
Later we are both back at the bar.
I don't wanna be drunk, so I just drink some water.
"A lady who can dance, and knows when she's had enough? My my aren't we talented?" Landon jokes, rests his hand on mine and I take a sip, curious about something.
"Hey Landon, when you get home and take off that getup, do you still talk like that?" I laugh a little at the end for no reason.
"You wanna find out sweet stuff?" He winks and looks me up and down, laughing a little at himself.
"Excuse me?" I nearly choke on my glass of water.
"What can I say? I think you're pretty. Thought I'd try my luck."
Maybe it's the music pounding ideas into my head, the little whiskey I had, or maybe it was just the way he was looking at me.
"Not tonight big guy." I say, finishing my water and paying the bartender.
Landon puts on a sad face. "What a shame, I—" whatever smooth move he was going to use on me next was blocked by the receipt I shoved in his face. He looked at it and back up to me.
"How about you call me tomorrow, and we'll see. I think at least one date is in order before anything serious happens." I smirk and stand up.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta get home." I sway my hips purposely as I walk out.
I decide to spend a little money on a taxi back to my place, and once I step inside, my heels are off and I'm sinking to the floor against my door.
Did tonight really happen?
I gotta call Bella.
/(Hey, sorry but the next thing I wrote seemed too short for its own chapter so here./)
"Hey, Bella, it's me, Charlotte? Yeah you're probably either wasted or having sex or both right now, but when you can stand, please call me back, as soon as possible. I have so much to tell you."
The message receiver beeped and I ended the phone call.
What did I just do?
You gave your number out to a random stranger at a night club, that's what. Now he's probably going to use my number to hack my bank records, open a new credit card or worse!
No, no, I think as I step into the shower, he seemed a little dumb to do any hacking, otherwise he wouldn't be a stripper.
I do my lather, rinse, repeat routine, arguing with myself back and fourth about if it was a bad idea to give that Landon guy my number.
He could look up my address, come to my house and rob me, or he could be in a gang or something and— Why am I even thinking about this? This is all highly unlikely, and furthermore, I'm arguing with myself!
Bella might be right, I think, putting in conditioner. Maybe I do need to get out more.
I try to comfort myself as I towel off and blow dry my hair, thinking about how nice he was, and how fun it was out on the dance floor. I replayed him dipping me, drunken partygoers howling at us in slow motion.
I slip on an old shirt and some sweatpants. The second I spot my bed, I realize how tired I am.
Snuggling under the covers, I hear my phone vibrate across the room.
"Booooo." I moan, then get up from my bed and almost trip in the dark towards the small light coming off of my phone. I got a text from Bella, and two from an unknown number.
Hey gitl I judt got ur v-nail, I'll be over tomorrow k?
Classic drunk text spelling, via Bella. I text back 'k' and open the other text, eyes struggling to stay open.
Hey Charlotte, it's Landon, from the club? I was wondering if you would have any plans next weekend, since I'm working this one.
The next one is kind of cute.
Sorry, I just got off of work, forgot not everyone stays up this late, you're probably sleeping. Anyway, reply when you can.
(Quick A/N: I don't know whose number that is I made it up don't call it omg I don't want the NSA on my tail or something.)
I smile, and decide not to reply right now; it's almost three am, and I would only start a conversation I could finish. Like I said. Three am. Too tired for this stuff.
I plug my phone in and change the numbers name to Landon. Now time for sleep.