Finish your drinks and head inside

Tipping back your cup, you gulp down the remainder of the foul mixture. At this point, your head is fuzzy, and you can tell you're drunk. You worry you might have trouble getting in the door, but the doorman, one of the teachers, is sitting in his chair, playing Candy Crush or some equally mindless, but addictive and time-consuming game. He looks up at you as you enter.

"Ah, look who it is, my favorite student," he says, staring at Lukas. "Are you going to cause problems tonight?"

"Never, sir! I'm a sweetheart!" Lukas says, his voice filled with fake outrage.

"Alright, alright. I'm not going to pat you down, but if you're seen drinking ****, you'll be expelled here and now, understood?" he pauses for a moment, before pushing his glasses up his nose. "We're not checking the bathrooms or outside the hall, so anything that happens there means nothing to me. Don't make this night difficult by just being stupid."

"When have you ever known me to be stupid?" Lukas grins.

The teacher sighs loudly, before turning his attention to Lukas' date.

"Maura O'Grady. You realize you could do a lot better than him, yes?"

Maura blushes, before Lukas nods and drags his date inside. You follow suit.

The gym has been transformed into... well, still obviously a gym, but it's dark now, with a light set shining multicolored lights around the floor. A large, poorly made disco ball hangs from the ceiling, scattering light beams around the room as it shimmers, drawing the students further into the mass of bodies dancing away in the center of the room. A table is set up on one end, with a large punch bowl surrounded by red plastic cups. The punch is a dark red color, and you can only hope that some brave soul has managed to spike the drink by now. Beside it stand four large bottles of off-brand cola. You smile as a drunken girl with a flush red face sneaks one into her purse, attempting to sneak it off to the corner where her friends are no doubt planning to use it as a mixer for whatever foul concoction they have planned, but a teacher spots her, hurrying over to reprimand her.

Your eyes turn to the dance floor, which is occupied, mainly by crowds of women whooping, cheering and hollering as they dance wildly before you. At the sides of the room, where the hanging lighting array's beams of bright lights fail to reach, the wallflowers, emo's and shyest of nerds cluster, talking in groups of one or two. Towards the back end of the room, there's a large audio mixing set, where one of the students, some dumbass with dreams of becoming the next big DJ, is playing some new song, one you vaguely think is by Coldplay. You wonder to yourself briefly if that's true, or if your memory is correct and Coldplay retired, or died, or something. Shrugging, you realize it's irrelevant, and decide to focus on your night.

You turn to your date, who smiles at you.

"What should we do now?" she asks, slurring her words very slightly.

You realize with that line just how drunk she is. You go to ask her if she's alright, but the words muddle in your mind and then muddle further in your mouth, and you realize you're equally drunk. You take a deep breath, eyes focusing down on her cleavage as your cock hardens slightly in your pants.

"Should we dance? Or maybe... slip off to the bathroom?" your date asks you again.