Call Lupe

You call Lupe.

"Hello."

"Hi Lupe, it's Mike."

"Ah. Hi."

"I know it's late notice but do you want to hang out this evening?"

"Oh. If you're going to call me this late, I'm going to have to get my homework done earlier."

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't think--"

She giggles. "Luckily I finished early because a friend and I were going to go dancing. Do yo want to come with us?"

"Sure."

She gives you the address of the club and you promise to meet her there in forty-five minutes.

The club is a tiny place off an alley and the bouncer gives you a strange look when you arrive but steps aside when Lupe appears, grabs you by the arm, and pulls you in. Here you were thinking you were going to have to sneak her in since she is definitely under twenty-one.

"My girlfriend is saving us a table," she whispers as your eyes adjust to the bar's dark interior.

As your eyes adjust, you realize why the bouncer gave you the strange look. You're probably the only Anglo in the place.

You order a beer for yourself and sodas for the two girls and join Lupe and her friend at the table.

Lupe's friend, it turns out, is Angelica. She's a little plump, like Lupe, but pretty with smooth tan skin, dark hair than hangs halfway down her back, and she's wearing a short skirt and halter top that shows off her tits. Lupe wears jean-shorts cut high enough that part of her ass shows and a tube-top. You suspect that she wore something over that tube-top when she left the house because you doubt her mother would have let her out in just that as her boobs are spilling out the top.

After the introductions, Lupe drags you to the tiny dance floor. "Dance," she commands.

Damn, what is it about dancing that women seem to like so much? You're going to have to take lessons or something because obviously this is important.