If Honey had one thing to complain about after rebirth, it was the lack of cake.
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"3-E?"
The blond nodded, his purple eyes slightly narrowing as his mind drifted to one annoying redhead.
"Yes, we must put them in their place."
The strawberry blon...
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Music blasted throughout the floor, covering the cheers and chatters of the intoxicated teenagers. Bodies moved at the pace of the beat, colliding and mingling with one another. The scent of sweat mixed with that of the alcohol permeated the whole floor, leaving only a light fading smell of drugs for those who had a nose sharp enough to smell.
The dance floor covered about three fourth of the story, with bars boarding it, while the remaining fourth of the level had couches and tables for people to "chat," and exchange. Or, in other words, to flirt, gossip, fuck and do drugs.
It was a floor of abandonment where blackmail material ruled, and strong backing prevailed. Apart from the few teenagers who had more than a trick to escape the many traps laid in front of them, most youngsters found themselves embracing the night, disregarding their images and status. Forgetting their responsibilities and diving further into a pool of lust.
Lust for what?
It depended on the people. Some lusted for power, holding onto the strong and leaving them in the dust the moment they found someone more powerful. Others aimed for money, gambling their "pocket money" away as they tried to build a one night fortune before losing everything. Of course, there were also several youths that wished to possess the body.
This floor wasn't for the faint-hearted. Most of the girls and boys knew of it, and while they were aware of the black material they produced, they mostly chose to ignore it in favor of a one night bliss. Who told them to be born with a silver spoon, without proper guidance as they squandered their parents' money away?
At one of the many bars, a glass of coke with ice cubes in hand, a girl threw her head back to bark a laugh. The motion didn't have an ounce of elegance and didn't reflect her pedigree in the slightest. She slammed the glass down on the counter and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her Bordeaux red sweater. She slumped on her seat, her eyes misty from the night, and lips pursed in a slight pout. Her lips seemed glossy under the lighting, probably because of her drink, and her slightly disheveled look from all the dancing highlighted her cheeky and childish dispositions.
"Had fun?" the girl, with a face almost identical, asked as she tilted her head. In her smooth hand was an orange-colored cocktail that faded to red, a small parasol floated atop of it as if to give it a Summer vibe. Her neatly polished nude nails patiently drummed against the counter as she followed the beat of the loud music, eyes half-lidded and slightly dazed from her intake of alcohol.
Unlike the other girl who wore a pair of high waist dark brown shorts with golden zipper and a comfy Bordeaux sweater with some velvety black lining and thread, the other girl sported what looked like a wool dress that fell right above her knees. The dress showed off her shoulders, and underneath it was a skin-tight high-collared, sleeveless body with some lace patterns that allowed a bit of skin to peek out.
