I fiddled with my fingers with impatience, waiting for Clara to show up. Patience was neither a virtue I possessed nor one I was willing to acquire. I hate waiting for things. An irony considering the fact that I am almost always late.
I was about to get up and call it a night when the asshole decided to finally grace me with her presence. She was glowing, as usual. Her long box braids were carefully pulled into a bun with a few strands left to frame her tiny oval face. Her big brown doe eyes were framed by long lashes, which I was desperately jealous of. Her thick well well-shaped eyebrows, tiny nose, and thick lips set her apart from any crowd. Clara was a beauty, and she knew it. She was every inch a Gemini. She was also the only bitch who could tolerate me and vice versa, my best friend.
We met at a karaoke bar. I had literally just gotten out of a relationship, and it had been exactly five hours since my boyfriend had walked in on me tonguing his best friend's neck while dry humping him. He had been livid, understandably so, and threw me out. After an hour of regret and another hour of sorrow, I got all dressed up and went to sing my heart out. The karaoke bar had all the crowd favorites, and I picked 'Bust Your Windows' by Jasmine Sullivan. I am a hypocrite, so what?
A line in the song, and a random female from the audience decided to hop into my session. I contemplated throwing her off stage, but I was feeling generous or maybe guilty that night, so I let it slide. She had a mediocre voice that complemented my slightly above-average voice perfectly. I invited her to my table, and three tequila shots later, she was giving me her life story. Turns out, much like me, she had been caught in an embarrassing situation. Around the same time I was caught red-handed, she had also been caught with her tongue down her boyfriend's younger sister's throat. Needless to she was shown the door after which she came to release her stress. Her Chaotic bisexual energy was in sync with mine, and just like that, we decided to be problematic together.
"Oh my god! You look amazing! Not better than me, but you could pull a lot of guys with that look."
She wasn't wrong. I had opted for a little black strapless dress. The dress had a solid bottom piece with a low cut at the back and laces holding the front together. My hair had been nearly braided into a Ghanaian high ponytail that extended to my ass. I had never had any trouble getting attention. I wasn't a classic beauty like Clara; my features, individually, were unappealing by society's beauty standards. My dark skin, my monolid eyes, and my tiny nose with a high bridge gave me a perpetual baby face that transformed into sexy with a bit of makeup. My silhouette, on the other hand, was nothing short of art. I love my hourglass figure, and when dressed properly, it has most people drooling.
"You are late! I've waited for hours."
"I was late by ten minutes. Don't exaggerate, last week I waited for an hour for you, and what did you do? Nothing, not even an apology," she said, adjusting her position as a waiter put down two menus on the table. I grabbed the drinks menu while she perused the food menu. After switching our menus and placing our orders. She paused, glaring at me with raised brows. I knew what she was waiting for, so I did what any good Kenyan friend would. I changed the subject. I may be hyper self-aware, but that does not mean I took responsibility for my transgressions.
"So where are we going to turn it up?" I asked, sipping my Long Island while peaking at her from the rim of my glass. She raised her left brow, knowing fully well I was changing the subject. She, however, probably against her better judgment, took the bait. Raising her margarita to her lips, she took a long draft from the straw before setting it on the coaster.
"I was thinking about Area 51, and before you ask, yes, there are both Male and female strippers there," she quickly added before I got a word in, knowing I would consider it an added advantage. What can I say? I happen to enjoy sampling the best of both worlds, and who better to enjoy it with than my best friend?
"Okay. Now that that's settled, who did you terrorize this week?" I asked, leaning against my chair to make room for the waiter to set down my food. I inhaled the aroma wafting from my steaming pasta, forking into it as soon as it landed on the table.
"Well, somebody is hungry!" She laughed as I cut into the piece of steak that was laid out next to my pasta. I moaned, throwing my head back as the flavors melted into my mouth.
"This is so good," I said in between mouthfuls. She shook her head at me, taking a tentative bite off her smoked pork ribs. I watched as she had a foodgasm.
"So...?" I probed, and it took her a minute to recall my question.
"Nobody. I don't go around instilling terror among the peasants." She deadpanned as if her job wasn't to terrorize and dominate men into submission.
When I first learned that Clara was a dominatrix, I was beyond thrilled. While most people like to judge and call out others who have chosen an atypical career, I reveled in the bizarre. I thought it was cool, and I had told her as much, to which she graciously offered to give me a tour of her dungeon. A mistake on her part because at the end of that day, I was convinced that the dungeon was to be my new home. She rejected me outright, of course, and stood her ground no matter how many times I begged, and it was numerous times. I can't speak for any other dominatrix, but when it comes to Clara, getting someone to submit to her every demand gave her a high that nothing else could. Especially if her submissive was a brat. She liked it when they put up a fight.
"Yeah, right! Not even you believe that."
"Whatever! I met someone last week. Oh my god, she looks so good. I've had her in my mind all week."
"Her or her brother?" I interjected. Clara raised her brows at me, feigning indignation before giving up on trying to pretend. Clara had a thing for siblings. She almost always ended up sleeping with the siblings of the people she dated.
"She doesn't have a brother. She has a twin sister."
"You realize there is a special cave in hell just for you."
"Said 'Miss, I am not dating anyone, but has had two men propose and a lesbian willing to come out to her homophobic parents' in the past month alone."
"Those are not my fault. I was very clear when we started fucking that that was all there would ever be between us. It is not my fault they went and fell for me."
"Bestie, if there's a cave for me in hell, there's one for you right next to mine."
"At least we will be together in hell."
"A toast to going to hell together. May the road be paved with sex and money."
She raised her glass and we toasted to hell. After stuffing our faces with delicious food and three glasses each of our respective cocktails, we decided it was time to hit the streets. It was a short drive to Area 51, and when we got there, it was already packed. A fan fact about my peers, they have the ability to party for three days straight without taking breaks in between. Area 51 was a fairly new club, and as such, it was the newest joint, which in my country was synonymous with the hottest joint in town. Not one to be left behind, the club had also joined the trend of hosting 'weekendavaganza'. This was a term coined by the youth of my country to stand for ragers that lasted all weekend long. The weekendavaganza was usually launched on Friday in the respective club, and the session would last throughout Saturday and end at eleven on Sunday. So while we were just getting in, half of the crowd had been in here since Friday night.
We made our way to the crowded bar, and after failing to get the bartender's attention, we settled for hailing one of the shot girls. We had six shots of tequila each before heading to the dance floor. The sweating, gyrating bodies on the limited dance floor, coupled with the copious amounts of alcohol being distributed in the club and the different perfumes of the partygoers, melded together to create the heady scent of freedom. We danced for hours, taking only tequila breaks for more faux energy and bathroom breaks to create room for more tequila.
At around one in the morning, we were given a break as the scheduled strip tease commenced. The first show consisted of girls who were exactly my type. There was an impressively tall light-skinned dancer, her height exaggerated by the pink ten-inch pair of heels she had on. She was curvy in all the right places and small in the places that mattered. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to be her or fuck her. The other dancer was on the shorter and darker side. She also had pink ten-inch heels that brought her to an average height. She has a small, perky frame that I could easily envision bouncing in my lap. They were both beautiful and sexily dressed; their presence elicited thunderous applause as the music was cued. The ten-minute sexy upbeat strip had everyone's voice sore as they screamed at the top of their lungs.
The next team consisted of two insanely hot twins. Clara had, without a doubt, the loudest cheer. The twin dancers were dancing to 'Wet the Bed' by Chris Brown. Unlike the girls, the boys requested participants from the audience. One minute I was seated, and the next I was on stage as Clara practically carried me. The music number started, and we were given the sexiest strip tease either one of us had ever received. I could say it was the best we would ever receive, but judging by the way Clara was gazing into the dancer's eyes as she practically drooled all over him, it would not be the last for her.