Post by Bridget Cameron Delaynee on Jun 2, 2011 13:30:00 GMT -5
Bridget’s blonde hair was falling into her face again. She’d sworn she’d shoved a few bobby pins in there to keep the wispy pieces in place. Reading was hard work; especially when you weren’t in the mood for it. But it was the end of term projects and her students wanted to know their grades. It was Saturday, and she was as bored as could possibly be. She’d woken up, and grabbed some coffee from the fancy machine she’d bought and sat down in the sitting nook to dive right in. She’d spent the morning and most of the afternoon reading and grading and grading and reading. Thankfully, she’d gotten through almost all of the short stories and all of the essays that were assigned. With any luck, she’d have them all finished and ready to be viewed by that Tuesday; she crossed her fingers. It was late and she’d pretty much forgotten all about lunch, and now her stomach was finally reminding her to eat. She finished the section she was reading and set it aside after making some small notes. Then, she uncurled herself from the oversized rich chocolate coloured leather wingback chair, stretched and went to the kitchen to check out her cupboards and refrigerator. Weighing her options, she pulled out the makings for a salad and got to work on that.
She kept thinking about that last piece of homework that she’d be reading. It was good, definitely something that would catch her eye if she were in a book store like Borders. She knew talent when she saw it and she saw some great potential in this particular student. Bee brought her salad back to her chair and picked up the story. She was completely absorbed in the work and didn’t want it to end but it was over and she needed to set a grade. The plot had only a few twists and turns, but they were damn good ones, and Bridget hadn’t suspected the ending in the least, which she loved. Sighing, Bee marked down the proper grade in both her notebook, her computer and on the paper itself. She tossed the paper onto the graded pile and looked around. She was done grading for the night and her salad bowl lay empty on the side table. She wanted to go out and dance. She sent a couple texts off before making her way first to the kitchen to set her dishes in the sink and then down the hall to the bathroom to shower.
An hour later, she was showered, still wrapped in a towel, but her hair and make-up were finished. She’d decided on curling her hair and putting it half up with hidden bobby pins. Her make-up she’d gone a little wild with; they almost looked like cats eyes; very Cleopatra. But she still didn’t know what she wanted to wear and it was getting late. The closest club was still a good cab ride away and she wanted to get there before she had to spend half the night in the line outside. Standing at her closet, she pulled a couple dresses, skirts, shirts and jeans. Then she tossed aside half the outfits without even really looking at them. She wasn’t going out to impress anyone. She was just going to have a couple drinks, unwind and dance until the sun rose over the East River and New York’s spectacular skyline. She held up and dismissed the next three outfits, plus two dresses as she stood in front of the full length mirror she propped up against the wall; she’d never actually gotten around to putting it up. After twenty minutes, she was about ready to give in, run down the street for some Ben and Jerry’s and veg out on her couch when she tried one last outfit. A denim skirt and black off the shoulder shirt, not overly slutty, but had just enough club appeal to be nice to dance in.
She slipped into the stylish number, and smiled at her reflection. She wasn’t going out to impress anyone, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to turn some heads in the process. With the clothes on, she knew the perfect pair of heel s that would match it so perfectly. Being the slightly crazed OCD person that she was, all her shoes were kept in cute bright coloured shoe boxes with pictures slipped into the plastic slot on the front to show which pair was in what box. She found the pair she was looking for and pulled the box from the ever-growing collection from the floor of her closet. Bridget tossed the open box on the decorative chair in the corner of her room, slipped her feet into the four inch heels and did a little cat walk from her closet to the other side of her room and back again. Outfit complete, Bee grabbed a little black clutch from the hook on the back of her closet door and in the back of her mind thought she needed more space for all her things. She pushed her hand through a group of bangles, slipped a couple gaudy costume jewelry rings on her fingers and put on some pretty dangly earrings. With one last look, she was ready. As she walked through her apartment, she made sure she’d put everything she’d in her clutch; credit, cash, ID, phone and keys. Then, she locked the door behind her and took the elevator down to the lobby where the doorman hailed her a cab. She was well aware that she could do that all by herself, but really, the sweet older gentleman actually liked doing that part of his job, so, who was she to stop him?
In the cab, she gave the driver the name of the club and the address just in case this man was the only cabbie in the entire city that had never been there before. In the back, she applied one last coat of lip gloss as the cab pulled to the curb. She handed over a couple bills, smiled and said thanks as she slipped out. Outside the club, she noticed that there was a bit of a line, but they seemed to be allowing the ladies in first. She loved that about this place; it meant that if you happened to have two X chromosomes, they just let you bypass the line. Bridget tossed her hair off her shoulder and strode right up to the bouncer with a flirty smile on her face. Her batted her lashes, allowed her hand to graze his bicep and without even paying for cover walked right past the velvet rope. Sometimes it really did rock to be a girl. Inside the place was already pretty packed, making it difficult to move around, even at the door. It took her a minute, but she’d gotten her bearings and gotten used to the loud thumping music, the petite blonde made her way over to the bar and leaned over just a bit. She had that same playful, flirtatious smile on her lips when the bartender asked what she was having and she replied with “Sex on the Beach”. She was only joking around and didn’t take her actions as seriously as she probably should have sometimes. After all, she had a boyfriend and therefore had no need to be at a club scoping out the scene; which she wasn’t doing. She was there to drink and dance.
As she waited for her drink, she remembered that she’d forgotten all about checking her phone for messages. Hell, she’d forgotten that she’d texted people. Some friend she was. There were a couple messages which Bridge replied to, giving the name of the club in case they showed up. But with this crowd it was unlikely they’d find each other anyway. Not unless they just ran into each other. Really, she could only hope that she had a friend who’d had the same though as her and was already at the club; probably even already on the dance floor, shaking to the music. Her head lifted when the glass was set on the counter in front of her and she smiled, digging a couple bills from her clutch to hand over, but the bartender just shook his head and walked away, leaving Bee both pleased and confused. Normally, if it was going on the ‘tender’s tab, they’d say something, and if it was on someone else’s tab, they’d point out who. But this guy had done neither and it raised her brows for a second. That was when she felt the tap on her shoulder.
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= TAG = Open
= WORDS = 1447
= LOCATION = Marquee Club
= CLOTHES = The music's so loud
= LYRICS = The Ocean,, Tegan and Sara
= NOTES = <3 <3 <3[/size]
