Liz By Jonathan Olvera

Liz

by Jonathan Olvera

Liz was in the bathroom of a nightclub, her heart pounding with excitement and anxiety. She wanted to look good for all the other women in the club that night.

The mirror was extra reflective, revealing the stretch marks on her skin and the stains on her clothes. Liz splashed some water on her face, pulled on her hair, twisted it, and set it over her left shoulder. She didn't have much hair--just about nine inches of a blonde, frizzy, stylish mess.

Liz was a lesbian, and she wanted to party.

The music suddenly shifted from salsa to a more electronic, fast-paced beat.

Some meth would have been alright.

Luckily, she didn't have to go far. In the bathroom, a woman was snorting meth off a glass mirror. Liz knocked on the door and pulled out five dollars.

"Hi, can I party with you?" Liz asked.

"Sure."

The woman took a sealed bag from under her dress and poured out a small mound of meth.

Liz's excitement grew. She snorted the meth, and the effect was immediate.

Liz was flying. Liz was on ice.

She reached into her pocket, feeling the mascara brush and lipstick inside. She toyed with them for a moment before deciding, Why not?

"Thank you! That was alright!" she said, grinning. "I feel awesome!"

"I'll be around!"

She shut the door of the bathroom stall and headed for the main floor, ready to party the night away--looking different.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The music was loud, and it became faster.

Zip! Zap! Zonk!

It was an electronic dance beat. The darkness of the scene was illuminated by a cloud of fog or smoke blowing across the room.

It smelled like tobacco, hot sugar steaming, and food.

"Whoo! Yeah!" hollered Liz. She was ready to have a good time.

There were so many women dancing, shaking their hips, and showing their breasts off to the men.

Liz was sure she could get lucky!

"What's up?" asked a blonde woman wearing a pink shirt and athletic bottoms.

"Are you trying to get lucky?" she asked.

The blonde had a yellowish tint to her hair that matched something special about her vibe. She had small but round, noticeable breasts--like jumbo mandarins.

"What?" asked Liz. She couldn't believe she was getting lucky so soon in the club that night.

"Do you want a man?" asked the blonde.

"No!" replied Liz.

"What are you, gay or something?" the blonde asked.

"I am a lesbian!" Liz shouted over the music.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Tit! Tit! Tit!

The music was loud.

"I'm not gay!" the blonde replied.

"I like porn, though! I know what you need," she said.

"My name is Dariel--like a boy."

"Hi, Dariel! I just snorted some meth. I like porn too!" said Liz.

"Wow, that's extreme! I just drink and like caffeine."

"What does that do?" Dariel asked.

The dark, smoky scene shifted as lights and lasers lit up the space.

"I'm not sure," yelled Liz.

"Let's find out!" said Dariel.

"I have a room at the hotel down the street," Dariel said.

"Let's go then," Liz replied.

The door was twenty yards from the center of the warehouse club, and they started toward it. It took four to six minutes of saying goodbye to everyone and making preparations to leave the building and head into the street.

The air was moist, and the night was crisp and cold. Winter was blowing through the city.

The road outside stretched a nice distance in both directions--east and west. The concrete path was simple to follow east, where the cracks and crevices between blocks were lined with grass, leading through a neighborhood of two-story houses and up to a five-story hotel.

"Wow, that's nice," said Liz.

"I know!" agreed Dariel. "I got it for myself to spend the night. I wasn't planning on doing anything, but then I ran into you, and you're high on meth--so now we can go together," she expressed.

Liz's heart was racing now. The thought of being in a hotel room with Dariel--nude, high, intoxicated, and under the influence--was thrilling. The anticipation was nearly unbearable.

"Whooo!" exclaimed Liz.

"Are you that excited?" asked Dariel.

"Yes! That club was live!"

Ten minutes of walking and making sure there would be cigarettes. (Dariel had a pack of cigarettes, and Liz had a bag of tobacco and rolling papers.)

The five-story building was tan and gray with signs of wear. A sign above the door read HOTEL, and a clerk stood at the front desk, ready to assist customers.

Together, they made quite a scene--two blondes, one with black eyes like Liz and the other with yellow-tinged whites--checking into a hotel together, ready to be together.

"What's up, ladies? How can I help you?" asked the yellow-haired, green-eyed clerk.

"I'm here to check in," said Dariel.

"What room?"

"Room 22," Dariel replied.

"Does your friend have ID?"

"Yes," said Liz.

She reached into her underwear, pulled out an ID, placed it on the counter, and framed it with her fingers for the clerk to see.

"I can see your name and age. It checks out," said the clerk.

"Alright! Let's go!" exclaimed Dariel.

The night was coming to an end as they passed from the lobby into the next passageway--a decorative square that led into the body of the hotel.

Room 22 was down the hallway, in the corner of the building, and up two flights of stairs.

Boom, Boom, Boom! said Liz.

"Hahaha! The music was awesome!" replied Dariel.

"Look!" Dariel pointed.

"Room 22! Let's go inside and get nude!"

Liz agreed.

Dariel had the key tucked into her bra. The door opened, and the two immediately started undressing, throwing their clothes in decorative places.

Liz was nude, and so was Dariel.

"You're going to have fun, aren't you?" exclaimed Dariel with a mischievous grin.

"I like sex on meth!" Liz admitted, laughing.

"I'm not on meth, but I know you are. I can take care of you," Dariel teased, running a finger down Liz's arm.

Dariel suddenly grabbed two pillows from the bed and tossed one at Liz.

"First game--pillow fight!" she announced, striking a playful stance.

Liz caught the pillow and smirked. "Oh, you're on!"

Feathers flew as they swung at each other, giggling, stumbling, and falling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

"Alright, round two!" Dariel gasped between laughs. She reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a deck of cards.

"Strip poker?" Liz asked.

Dariel raised an eyebrow. "We're already naked."

"Then let's make it interesting. Loser gets tickled!" Liz challenged.

The night was just beginning, filled with laughter, teasing, and a series of ridiculous, improvised games that neither of them would forget.

Tonight wasn't just about getting lucky--it was about being wild and free.