To the club!

We ended up missing pre-drinks because we were too busy getting ready - which, let's be clear, wouldn't be my choice of how to spend my time, but society has expectations for women that just don't apply to men, and chucking on a shirt and tousling our hair just isn't enough to meet those expectations. So I think Jack and Tim, who were free from these expectations, were left having an awkward little pre-drinks session on their own.

Anyway, we were still sorting out our hair when Jack announced that the taxi had arrived. We all ran out into the communal area, giving me my first chance to check out Emily and Laura's outfits.

Laura caught my eye first. Or, more accurately, her tits did - to be fair, they were practically falling out of her low-cut top, bouncing and jiggling as she ran into the room; they'd have caught anyone's eye. Emily's outfit was more modest, some kind of band t-shirt over a pair of blue jeans; the t-shirt was tied at the bottom to expose just enough midriff to tease. Her stomach looked flat but soft, and I swore I saw the top of a tattoo poking out from the waistband of her jeans.

We all bundled into the taxi, which was larger than a typical car and capable of fitting us all. I ended up squashed between Emily and Laura, something I wasn't particularly annoyed about, as we sped off towards the club.

The Pink Lettuce was a relatively large club, with multiple rooms. The main dance floor was in a dark room playing aggressive EDM tracks I didn't know, with a bar along one side of the room. It was already a writhing mass of bodies, and the smell of sweat mixed with vodka floated through the air.