"You have to go out, Maggie." Roxie pleaded with me. "Its been 3 months and you haven't set foot in a club since you were 19! Its about time you let loose and forget about Chris. And, of course, being your best friend, I will be there to help you come out of your shell." She flipped her short, maroon hair back over her pale shoulder and smiled at me with a devilish grin. Roxie and I have been best friends ever since I started taking classes at North Texas University. I'm the voice major and she's the cello player. Dorks, the pair of us.
Roxie is a lesbian and she is proud of it. She is very petite and always looks quirky and fun in whatever she is wearing. Not one for commitments, she gets around the girly circuit, a lesbian sexual conquistador, if you will. Roxie is the classic player and is all for having a great time, and with her short skirts and braless excursions, it's a wonder she comes out of the bedroom at all. I was completely bowled over by her once I found out she was my roommate. Here I was, Maggie Plain-and-Tall, with a long-term boyfriend a thousand miles away and a 4.0 paired with the liberal, outspoken gay roomy.
About 3 months ago, my boyfriend, Chris, told me that he had been seeing someone else for about 5 months, since I left for college. Roxie immediately informed me that I needed to get out, maybe try girls instead of guys. I was so tired of men and their shit, so I finally was wore down by my friend. She dressed me up and made me over and we were on our way to the club, Dress Hoppers, a lesbian club on the outskirts of the campus.
I never wear skirts, but Roxie shoved me into a blue jean skirt with heels and a flowing silk pink top. Oh yeah, and I didn't wear a bra. My 38B breasts pointed forever forward and I knew that she was right. Maybe I should try girls.
Roxie pulled into the DH parking lot and parked about 20 feet from the door. Her chunky wooden heels hit the pavement and her normally short frame looked about 5 inches taller. The short, yellow skirt and dark green halter was only accented by the two entwining female symbols in between her chiseled shoulders. She paid the entrance fee and turned to face me.
"Now, Maggie, this is what you do. This is called the rebound. You find a random, drunk girl, dance with her and fuck her. No strings attached. Just random sex, okay?" Roxie told me, all-knowing, of course. "I'll be at the bar finding you a good one. Now, go dance, you!"