Fame and Consquenses

3: Dress

After ordering her drink, Audrey turns back to me.
"Your dress is gorgeous," she says, the words inflating my ego.
"Thank you darling," I reply, allowing myself to sit back up at the bar. I call people by pet names pretty often, but do I see her blush this time? I don't get a chance to double check before the lights turn blue and flush out both of our complexions entirely.

I mustn't have been listening to her order properly, because the sudden appearance of six shots on the bar in front of us surprises me. She grabs one, knocking it back quickly, and her face wrinkles for a moment before she smiles.
"Tequila," she says, gesturing to the glasses as if she means for me to have them. I laugh, picking up a glass, her eyes following my hand. I take the shot with a straight face, giving her a wink as an impressed expression crosses her face that I can tell she was trying to hide. The next two she does in quick succession, and I'm starting to wonder how much alcohol she had before I even got here. I wave off her offer for the last two shots, but I regret it twice as fast, watching her down them both for me.

"How much have you had already?!" I ask, having to lean toward her to be heard over the music.

"Seven!" She yells back, her volume notably misjudged. I smile skeptically, hoping she doesn't order any more while we're up here. I look around as I finish off my first drink, and then I'm on my feet again and she's leading me onto the dance floor. This I can't complain about, but I do feel a little bit of a power shift as our dancing goes from mellow, to actually quite fun, to her basically grinding against me in her drunken state. She's swept away by a couple people trying to talk to her, but quickly finds her way back to me. The next time her hips connect to me, I notice her dress is riding up higher than my protective ass thinks is necessary, and I give the sides of it a little tug back down.

Audrey flips to face me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I giggle, my hands meeting her waist and moving them side to side. I start to enjoy the dynamic as she stays clinging to me, ready to protect her at all costs, but I keep reminding myself that she's drunk and I'm not allowed to kiss her.

Each time I say it to myself, my mood dampens. Eventually I decide I need another drink, and I gently pull away from her. She pouts, but I can't tell what she's trying to yell at me, so I let her follow me back to the bar, her hand in mine. I order a shot of tequila, which is stolen right out of my hand by a mischievous Audrey who then wraps her arms around my waist. I order two more shots of bourbon, something I hope she won't want to drink. Thankfully she lets me have them, and I start to feel a little more relaxed.

I sit down on a bar stool to have a break, and to my surprise she hops up onto my lap. Her dress comes up again, and I feel her bare ass shift on my thighs as she turns to put a hand on my shoulder. I have to take a deep breath, resting a light hand around her waist to keep her steady, and she sends a chill across my skin with her whispers in my ear.
"You make a nice seat."

I give her a squeeze and a little laugh, shaking my head at her. "Pleasure to have you sit on me," I respond quietly. I'm a little disappointed that her drunk flirting remains as tame as her sober flirting, but I guess it's putting me in my place. She just likes to flirt.
All too soon, Audrey scoots her little butt off me and pleads for another dance. I shake my head, taking a strand of her hair and twirling it in apology.

"It's all kind of overwhelming. Can you stay a bit longer?"
Her answer is a clear no from the way she rolls her eyes and gives a little toss of her arms. "Come find me when you get underwhelmed!" She slurs, sticking her tongue out at me before letting all the people on the dance floor swallow her whole.

I don't see Audrey for an hour. My attention has been focused on the other people sitting at the bar, telling stories, entertaining me, but now I'm alone. I figure abandoning me is her way of luring me back over to dance, but I'm not falling for it. However, as I spend a few minutes observing the crowd, I don't spot her. I start to get worried, vacating my seat to go look for her.

I check the balconies and the other sitting areas, circling the place at least two and a half times to make sure she's not just occupied by someone else. Then I walk down a narrow hallway that leads to a bathroom. There's only a dim light shining through the cracks in the door, and there's no sound coming from inside. I push open the door just in case, enjoying how quiet it is with a few walls between us and the music. It is very quiet. All the stall doors are unlocked, and all I can hear is the slow dripping of a loose faucet and the low whir of an extractor fan. Then, right as I'm turning to leave, retching.