This is a true story, at least to the best of my memory. The names of all involved have been changed for obvious reasons.
Okay, so I guess I should start at the beginning.
My friend Jenny ran a rave-themed party business near downtown Denver. It all operated out of an old converted warehouse. She owns it, though I'm not too clear on why or how she got this place. Maybe it was given to her or maybe she just stumbled on to a good deal. She hired all the staff and entertainment herself. Her fiancΓ© and his friends built the stage, the DJ booth, and all of the lighting.
There was a good amount of space too. I've seen like 500 people packed inside, though it was really tight and sweaty. Usually there were more like 250-350 people that pay to get in, though some of them hung around in the loading bay area to smoke and drink. The cover fee to get in was 40 dollars, and she threw the parties every weekend. Invites to the party were usually circulated only via social media and word of mouth.
Jenny was definitely making a little money from this, but I honestly think she just likes to party.
There were metal bleachers and a couple of street artists with booths on one wall of the main dance floor. The opposite wall housed a bar and a body painting station that Jenny ran herself most of the nights.
The three girls that worked the main floor would often come in early to get their bodies all painted up in intricate glow-in-the-dark designs. They were from a company called Party Poppers and their official job title was Party Motivator. Their whole job was to dance on people and to be the life of the party, and they were fucking good at it. Creeps and stalkers are basically built into their job description, but these beautiful bitches definitely got paid way more than anyone else. Not to mention their bodies were basically supermodel-perfect, especially in the tinted bask of neon lighting.
So, the body painting served two purposes. First, it made the girls even more of an eye-magnet for the crowd. Second, it made them easily identifiable in case security needed to get involved. They even had their own security escorts to the parties, and Jenny had some scary-ass security around the place as well.
I was definitely jealous of the Party Poppers. It's not like I'm ugly or anything, and I'm in decent shape, mainly because I like to jog. I'm tiny though (barely 5'1), and I never had a feminine figure. I also never really learned how to be "sexy." Most of my life I was a tomboy, and I barely grew tits. So, being around the Party Poppers' insatiable energy often made me feel awkward, but Jenny was there was give me courage.
All that to say that I generally felt safe and protected at these events. They were pretty professional.
And yeah, the parties definitely got pretty wild sometimes and people got really fucked up. Officially, they served NOS balloons, ten dollar pre-rolls, and a variety of alcoholic drinks at the bar. Unofficially, if you knew the right people, a lot more could be served. I'm not really sure how the police never showed up. The industrial area that it was in was empty at night, and I assume that Jenny took care of the permits and/or paid off the right people.
Anyways, Jenny hired me to be a hostess for $200 per party, plus I got to keep all my tips. I had been working as a barista for a coffee chain, so this seemed like a good income supplement. Not to mention Jenny is a good friend.
The job was easy enough. Once every two weekends, I just gave out wristbands and greeted people at the entrance for a couple of hours. Then, I walked the floor and checked on the guests for the rest of the night. I would hand out free bottles of water and try to guide people to the bar, which is where most of Jenny's profit came from. The only stipulation was that I had to dress like a rave-girl.
You know the type.
Still, the money was solid and I had reached a pivotal stage in my life where I was finally independent and exploring my sexuality. It seemed like a way to break out of my shell.
I had a few skimpy outfits that I kind of rotated through for the parties, but at the party that changed everything, I was just wearing a bikini with a neon green top and a hot pink bottom, along with black full-body fishnet and matching fishnet pumps.
It looked good in the blacklights, and I got a lot of tips wearing it.
I learned pretty quickly that even B-list celebrities made appearances at these things. I met a couple semi-famous rappers and some local influencers, so the tips could be pretty substantial.
The party that night was actually pretty chill. There were only maybe 80 people inside and a few groups of stragglers/smokers outside. There were apparently some good drugs going around too that had people really vibing out to the DJ, and the DJ was putting on a good set to boot.
My two hours up front were done, and I started making my way through the crowd and socializing. I noticed that the Party Poppers were dancing really hard and hanging all over everyone, maybe even more than usual, but it was hard to tell. I figured they were just trying more for tips because of the low turn-out. It was a bit hotter than normal too, and people were starting to sweat a lot. So, I started the first round of waters early.
That's when I noticed two guys sitting together on the bleachers by themselves. It looked like they weren't really socializing or dancing with anyone. They were a little older, maybe late 20s or early 30s. I finished my round and headed over to the benches to see if I could get them more into the mix, since there weren't that many people in attendance and the Party Poppers seemed busy with people on the floor.
The intention was to just chat them up for a moment and offer them water or something. But, as we got to talking, we ended up quickly clicking with each other. They introduced themselves as Cody and Dravon. They both seemed really funny, and they even knew the DJs songs. Eventually, the conversation drifted back to the party itself, which reminded me of my hostess duties. I asked them who they were with and why they weren't dancing. It turns out that they both had break-ups with their girlfriends within two weeks of each other and got invited to the party by a friend.
I guess they figured they could meet people or at least get a rebound.
But, their friend who invited them ended up backing out at the last minute. They seemed like they were kind of let down by the low turn-out and by the fact that most people there were already sectioned into couples or groups. I felt bad for them, so I offered them two free pre-roll joints and showed them the hotboxes.