Because girls can soak the sheets, too...
As I drifted off to sleep, my mind transported me to a huge, lavishly decorated warehouse. The walls, covered in metallic black and purple foil, were splattered with blood and had fake corpses and severed body parts hanging from them. A steady supply of glittering confetti rained down from the ceiling and came to rest upon the hundreds of costumed attendees of this Murderers' Ball.
I looked down and realized I was dressed as a dominatrix who, by the looks of the black vinyl costume, had taken it a bit too far. Little drops of redness speckled my bustier dress and the ample amount of cleavage it caused. I had my weapon, a bullwhip, wrapped around my fist. My platform knee-high boots were the worst though; everything from the ankle down was smeared with blood, indicating that I probably stomped on my victim in addition to beating him to death.
Thinking I might run into some friends, I pushed my way through the sweaty dance floor crowd to the bar. All that was being served was a green glowing cocktail, made of god knows what, so I took one and didn't ask any questions. I was sipping the bittersweet concoction and searching the room for familiar faces when I saw her.
