“In,” Emily replies immediately.
"Me too,” I say, thinking about how to diffuse the tension. “Let’s go show some of the local boys that we’re waaaaay too good for them.”
Sadie grins, but it’s tinted with anger. “See, Liaden gets it! Now, I’m going to finish this…” She does exactly that, downing the wine with remarkable speed and a small burp at the end, “and then we’re outta here.”
Sadie’s boughtus all two rounds of shots before we’ve even found somewhere to sit.
I can see we’ve got our work cut out for us tonight.
The Lair is packed, but that’s hardly surprising for a Saturday. The music is loud enough to sizzle straight through you, high energy dance beats filling the floor as red, orange, and yellow lights swirl over us all. There’s a strong smell of beer, sweat, and various perfumes and deodorants, and an atmosphere that reeks of hookups and fun bad decisions.
We end up perching at the edge of the bar, scooching in to avoid being jostled. We’ve already been eyed up by some of the men here, but Sadie is getting the lion’s share of the attention,because, as Em said, she’s dressed to kill. And the looks the men are giving her are bordering on predatory, like lions sensing a gazelle has an injury they can take advantage of.
If Sadie was dressed like this just for herself, we wouldn’t be half so watchful. Bared flesh is a feminist issue, and whether a woman chooses to cover up or not is her personal choice for her personal reasons, and she should never be shamed for that by anyone. But she’s trying to prove a point, and she’s going about it in an unhealthy way, aggressive rather than assertive, and unheeding of any normal sense of caution. In fact, it’s almost as though she’s actively defying safety rather than ignoring it. She’s not going to the bathroom without us accompanying her, that’s for damn sure.
“Come on, Em,” she shouts over the noise as she slams her second shotglass down, “you’re already two behind!”
“I don’t like shots, babe,” Em replies, raising her voice over a sudden track change that has everyone whooping.
“Oh, right,” Sadie remembers, shrugging as she reaches for the glasses, “I’ll have both of yours, then.”
“Whoah, whoah, whoah,” I say quickly, inwardly wincing. Three shots is a lot all at once, but I can’t let Sadie have four this fast on top of the wine. “Share, missy.”
They’re all strong and artificial tasting, but I get them down the hatch with a grimace.
“Em, don’t be such a downer,” Sadie growls. “I can see you there, all pouty and squirmy. I’m fucking fine. Loosen up.” She nudges Emily, who smiles, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Now, which lucky gentleman is going to get the Sadie treatment… Fucking ages since I had a good shag.” She scans the room, eyes glittering, holding onto her bar stool. She’s well on her way. “Peter couldn’t have given an orgasm to a nymphomaniac with a vibrator.”
“Just make sure he wears a condom, babe,” Em says resignedly. “And don’t have anything else to drink,please. Drunken consent is not consent, you’re always saying that - ”
“Well, I’m full of shit,” Sadie snarks. “Sometimes, alcohol is a social lubricant, and lubricant sounds like a lot of fun right now.”
Em presses her lips together, giving up on trying to talk her out of anything. There are times when you can hold someone up, and there are times when all you can do is catch them when they fall. This is very much the latter. Sadie wants to jump off the high dive without looking, and we can’t stop her.
“You should see the twat he left me for,” she carries on, scathing and cruel. “All Birkin bags and Hermes scarves. Total empty headed mannequin. I bet she gives good head, but just like, lies there like a fucking dead horse, with dead eyes, thinking about handbags and shoes while Pete pounds away like a dog humping an anorexic pillow.”
Whoah. “That’s a lot of internalised misogyny there, Sadie,” I say before I can stop myself.
She looks abashed for a moment, and then shrugs. “Tell me how a woman whoknowinglysleeps with a man who has a long term girlfriend deserves me being sweet about her.” She waves the bartender over and orders a round of drinks.
Em takes a deep breath. “If you want to talk about it, we’ll listen, but I think the best thing for you to do right now would be to focus on what would make you feel better.”
Sadie smiles tiredly. “Well, first, I’m gonna pound a few more drinks, cos I like how they’re making me feel all whirly. Then,” she says, grabbing her fresh glass, “I wanna dance my arse off, because Pete was always such a spoilsport who never did anything fun. Andthen…I’m gonna play.”
“Sounds good,” I say, giving Em a look. “We’ll join you.”
Sadie snorts. “You guys are spoken for. I’m talking playing with the hot boys, since I’m the only single one.” Her jaw is tight.
“Fine, but you can’t stop us dancing, booboo.”
She shrugs, nodding. “Fair. Now, let me get my drink on.” She signals the bartender again.
Oh,hellfire and bollocks.
Sadie’s completely and utterly bombed out of her skull. Which is what she wanted, so at least that worked out for her.
But my god, the hangover she’ll have tomorrow doesn’t bear thinking about.
For someone who’s drunk, she’s an amazing dancer, albeit careless. She twists and turns in a way that is pure sex, sensuality radiating from her with the smell of Southern Comfort. I’ve stayed with her, trying to act as a body shield or discouragement to the men starting to edge closer to her, but there’s only so much I can do when she’s tossing her long, silky hair around, giving playful come-fuck-me looks to several of them.
