You Must Be the One

Black-Mystery 1/2

She's not a stalker. She's not.  She likes the bar. True, it's a hole in the wall and the beer is usually warm and the bathrooms probably violate just about every health code in New York City and their pool table looks like it's seen better days...but he isn't the only reason she's been there three times this week, hoping to catch him. 

She's also good at telling herself lies. It's an art form, really.

Earlier that week---

"Let's just walk...fuck going uptown. I don't wanna deal with those bougie assholes tonight," Stefani declares, taking a shot. "I'm not in the mood."

It had been a fucking *day*.  She'd slept straight through her alarm and then the train was delayed for a good ten minutes, making her even later for class. When she finally showed up, she'd been in such a rush to get the lecture ready that she spilled coffee straight down the front of her favorite blouse, the one that cost a fucking fortune to get dry cleaned.

There was something to be said for being single. Actually, there a lot of things to be said for staying single, largely among them was not having to answer to anyone when she went out on a Friday night, no one to send a text to, letting them know what time she'd be home, no one to give her grief if she decided to stay out until closing time. It felt decidedly good to be able to blow off steam in any way she saw fit without having to take anyone else into regard.

It was also nice to be able to focus on her career. She loved teaching, loved writing more, and the concentration required often meant that everything else suffered, which was definitely the case for past relationships.

Still, she could admit she got lonely from time to time. The lack of a boyfriend or girlfriend to cuddle with on the couch while they watched a movie or just someone to have dinner and a conversation with...the little things, it got her down if she lingered too much on the thought.

However, tonight is not one of those nights. It's the beginning of the weekend and Nikki, her roommate, is the best person to pregame with; she also happened to make fantastic Jell-O shots that she foisted upon whoever happened to step into the door.

"We can go wherever you want," Nikki sweeps her long violet streaked hair over her shoulder, "anywhere that makes you forget your day."

Stefani sighs wearily, tossing off her glasses and watching as they land gracefully on the kitchen counter. "You are an excellent friend, do you know that?"

Nikki smiles indulgently, patting her head, "likewise. Alright, go get dressed."

Once she's in her room and standing in front of her closet, Stefani comes to the sad conclusion that all her clothes are either for work or definitely too casual/too sophisticated for where she's thinking of heading tonight.

Then she sees it, shoved into the far recesses of the closet, the place she sends items that she'll never wear to, but this is absolutely perfect.

She takes it out, runs her fingers across the leather bodice. She'd bought it on a total whim, peer pressure from her sister and Nikki both, and subsequently shoved it away, never to be worn.

It takes her approximately thirty full minutes to get dressed and put on make-up; a smoky eye with thick liner, a full red lip. She looks good and she knows it, so there's a little extra swagger in her hips when she goes into Nikki's room.

"Holy fuck," Nikki looks up from brushing her hair. "You're so hot."

"Too much, though?" She glances down at the tight bodice, the matching leather pants. "We aren't going to a bondage club."

"I bet I could find one if you want," Nikki grinned and knowing her as well as she did, Stefani saw she was only half kidding.

"Just get me somewhere that has drinks as strong as the ones you make. Stronger."