Motough Prompts

Young Girls

Author's Note: Bruno Mars pulled it out of me. LOL IDK. I hope you like it! I made a character of my own as well in this one. Enjoy! Vote! Comment! Entitled: "Young Girls" (After the Bruno Mars song, yes.)
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In the dark of night, she sat; its blackness encompassed the people - those who shined - dripping of a dainty sweat - as their bodies moved to a meticulous rhythm, hips swinging with timed rotations.

She looked to the clock, swiftly, as though not to create a scene - seem standoffish, or, even worse, bored. One hour and they'd be done here.

It was like being in a separate world from where she lived - with her husband and daughter, in a large four-bedroom house, with a big backyard and its tire swing.

It was like an hour-glass, with she moving along amongst the sand granules: trapped. That is, until they all reached the bottom, standing together in unitary exhaustion, nauseousness, and regret, each state of being felt all at once.

A girl's night; she was so stupid to agree, so utterly stupid. It was his idea to get her out of the house, to "have fun." Not exactly.

"Oops! I'm so sorry! So, so, sorry!"

A blonde girl, with porcelain skin and a smattering of freckles along both cheeks, promptly putting the naturalness of her hair into question, turned towards Bethany. Her facial features had an inebriated sheen: her green eyes glassy and cheeks red.

Upon falling into her, the girl apologized again. "I'm such a klutz Bethers, seriously. These margaritas are getting to me, clearly."

In response, Bethany shut her eyes, opening them a second later with an undetected sigh. "Don't worry about it Mads."

Just then, a drink was shoved forcefully into her palm and the person who'd given it retracted their hand a little too languidly, softly brushing her ass as a little giggle burst from their mouth, melding with a burp. "You like that Bethers, I know you do babe."

Bethany shook her head, biting her tongue as she took a ginger sip of the Peach Bellini, orange slush moving like sludge down her throat. "Oh Liv, you've got it wrong hon," she laughed half-heartedly, "that's Taylor's type, not mine."

At the sound of her name, a melodramatic, loud, and evidently drunk, brunette came bounding over, a poor soul of a man on her arm; he was probably already married, just drowning alone in the eventual marriage woes before becoming victim, though not unwittingly, to her seduction.

"Did somebody ring for moi!? You better make it fast babes, because I have something, or rather someone, to do."

Bethany snickered, she couldn't help it. "Yeah well, I have to call my husband."

Taylor scoffed as the man, running a hand uncomfortably through his dark curls, tensed beside her.

"I'll have you know, Bethy, Gregg isn't married...he's engaged."

"Even worse Tay."
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Derek let out a tired breath, picking up the stuffed Tigger with a yawn. He was following a small child, a little girl; she appeared to be about two, adorned in a burgundy jumper with a white t-shirt underneath, and tiny, thin pigtails.

"Alison, please, let's go to bed sweetheart. Come on."

Suddenly, the phone rang and Alison jumped up from the floor, dropping her doll in the process, and ran to get it. "Hi mom-my!"

There was silence - no infant chatter to bridge the gap between question and answer - the phone held up in the crevice of her elbow, to her ear. She began to suck on a strand of dirty blonde hair, with traces of her mother's dark color, and remained quiet.