Girls Night Out


A sonic sound wave of synthetic trance punctuates from below. The four girls stumble down the sweaty cement steps descending into the underground hedonistic den. Banging beats detonate in repetition. A screaming siren slashes through the white searing strobe lights. Rainbow lasers flood their eyes.

It's Saturday night and the Bottle of Blue Club is going off. The DJ is spinning an exclusive six-hour set of pure sonorous escapism. The friends embrace in a group hug. This is their reason to live.

Margo, Claire, Sylvia and Danielle swallowed the ecstasy an hour ago along with a potent shot of GHB. Before entering the club they did a few lines. The fine powder cakes their nostrils and numbs their gums. The girl's heads are ready to explode.

The first effects of chemical love start shooting through their bodies. Everything is beginning to flow into them, through them and even out of them. Claire dashes to the bathroom.


Margo closes her eyes. Clenches her hands on her thighs. She is swaying back and forth to an isolated beat. The pounding electronic mantra entrances her. She is rushing on one, coming up in a big wave. Every breath she takes feels exhilarating and essential. She reaches reaffirming heights as the transmission takes hold.

"Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah!" Margo licks her lips.

Margo started out the night depressed. She is having trouble with Peter, the only boy she ever loved. To fuck up an already fucked up situation she has been sleeping with his best friend Dan. Her love life is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.

Dan is sloppy and selfish in bed. His awkward attempts fail compared to the close, passionate detailed lovemaking Peter delivers. When she is naked with Dan she feels bare and raw instead of sexual satisfaction. It's a bad situation. She is going to suffer for weak willed confusion.

Her predicament makes her stupid, but not original. Margo is distressed that all the petty cliches she witnessed her mother go through in relationships, and she swore to avoid in her own life, have come to haunt her. It's impossible to avoid intimate social catastrophes and naive to think otherwise.

Margo didn't even want to go out tonight. Now she can't believe she almost stayed home. Her problems no longer matter. The psychological amphetamine cocktail takes over her psyche. She is fueled by an overwhelming desire for pleasure, lost in the hedonistic trip.

Margo starts grooving about flailing raised arms and bouncing on the balls of her feet. The tight hot pants she is wearing rubs friction into her moistening pussy. The pulsating beats match the throb of her clitoris. A sensational wave of orgasmic climax rushes sensationally over her. She comes. Then she comes again. The music is lust and the dancing sex.


A shear headed shirtless boy in baggy jeans is jumping up and down. His face is sunken with deep skeletal definition and insomniac eyes. He is yelling, "This is fucking brilliant. I'm an all night party person. I never want to stop or even slow down!"

The ecstatic raver gets lost in the sea of steaming bodies.


Danielle is swiveling her hips to the dramatic down tempo bass. Sylvia always thought Danielle was so fucking gorgeous. Through her dilated pupils she can't help but reach out and touch Danielle. Sylvia gives the girl a hug.

"This is so great. I love you." Sylvia says.

"I know, I know."

"I mean it."

"So do I."

Sylvia puts her hands on Danielle's waist and grinds their pelvises together. The girls sway their shoulders so their breasts press and bounce against each other. They kiss. Sylvia slides in her tongue. Danielle takes the kiss, sucking Sylvia's saliva. It's salty and sweet, hot and sensual.

Then Sylvia pulls away in an embarrassed flash of reality.

"I'm sorry."

"Why, I'm not."


Claire can't find her friends. The line for the toilet had been so long she lost perspective of time. She rationally tells herself it's only been a few minutes, even though it feels longer.

The club is packed and heaving. Claire wonders through the throng of people. She ends up outside the DJ booth. The door opens and the DJ is smiling with a massive smoldering spliff between his lips. He motions for Claire to enter. With a rhythmic nod and dexterous flick of the wrist he mixes to a long player.

Claire can't believe her luck. She tries to appear cool and feign indifference. The man gives the joint to Claire. She takes a puff and hands it back. It doesn't do much after the serious intoxicants she has already ingested.

The DJ motions for Claire to get on her knees, like he wants her to pray to a modern day deity. At first she doesn't understand. It soon becomes clear.

His penis remains limp in her mouth and tastes of fetid piss. After a few minutes of unmotivated sucking Claire loses interest. She exits the booth and instinctively lights a Marlboro.

Claire is still high but the music loses some of its luster. She sees Margo dancing in the corner. Margo shares her bottle of water.


Sunday morning is coming up. In the club people are winding down. Plans are made to go home, smoke a joint, drink a few beers and listen to Air.

Tomorrow Margo is going to have a long talk with Peter and a short one with Dan. She believes she can salvage the relationship.

Sylvia hopes she can get Danielle into a bubble bath. With the drugs wearing off Danielle is no longer sure of her amorous feelings for Sylvia. She just wants to get some sleep.

Claire talks to the shirtless club kid. He seems over friendly and not into sex. Just chasing the buzz. There is an after party that goes until noon. They split another tab of E.

The girls converge in the middle of the dance floor. They smile at one another. It's time to face the sun and find a taxi.