Screw it. Leave the shirt and head down to the front door

Fuck it! You had a fucking awesome night, and you don’t care who knows it. Likely the ecstasy has more than a little bit to do with your attitude, and you're stunned to realize you're still semi-hard.

You leave the shirt, and come down the stairs in your spattered jeans. When you get to the bottom, the bouncer turns around, keys in his hand, and sees you.

“Damn,” he says. “Looks like you had a rough night.” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling a little. You’re not sure he’s interested, but at the same time, the way he’s looking at you makes you wonder.