Club Night 1 - Her

Perhaps it's time you head home. The club's getting real crowded and the music not any better. Plus, if another sleazy guy starts chatting you up, you might just deck him. Okay, you wouldn't actually throw hands or anything, but still. Sometimes you'd wish you were just straight. It'd be so much easier. Whatever, time to go. It's not too late, so you can maybe even grab something to eat on the wa-

RUMP. You bump into someone as you turn around.

"Woah, watch where you're going, girl." the someone in question says but luckily, a bit of amusement in her voice indicates she's not mad. In her strangely raspy voice?

It's a girl you bumped into, about 5'8, so an inch shorter than you. As you quickly take a hurried step back though, you notice that what she's missing in height she more than makes up for with her frame. She's sporting a black jeans vest and its lack of sleeves draws immediate attention to her broad shoulders and strong arms. One of them is even covered in tattoos that seem to spell out various words and phrases. Oh, you might be into girls but damn, can muscles look nice.

"You good?" the muscular girl asks and touches you arm. That voice, it does sound familiar...

"Y-yes, sorry." you quickly apologize for the crash. Damn, she is beautiful. Or more like handsome? Her face is a little rugged, yet somehow soft - not exactly masculine, but not entirely feminine either. Her dark, brown hair is partly hidden by a black cap worn backwards and it just falls short of touching her shoulders.

"Oh damn, you're cute." the girl says, and the look in her eyes suggests genuine surprise. In the club's lights the color of her eyes is hard to pinpoint, but you think they're green.

"Uhm, thanks?" you reply, a little flustered. It's NOT common for girls to approach another like that. But that might just make this all the more refreshing.

"Ah shit, sorry, that was kinda blunt." the girl cringes with a smile. "Sometimes I talk before I think."

"Oh, don't worry about it." you quickly wave off her concern. Maybe you would've been a bit more critical if she wasn't, well, pretty damn hot. It's not even just her muscle and her rugged, tomboyish charm. She's like the perfect combination of beautiful feminity and rough masculinity. It's weird what some broad shoulders mixed with a bit of cleavage and a sly smile can do to you.

"Well, alright then." the girl nods, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Can I get your name?"

"Ronya." you introduce yourself, smiling over her blunt approach.

"Like the bandit's daughter?" she asks.

"Yes, the bandit's daughter..." you sigh. Of course. 'Ronya the Bandit's Daughter' is the title of a German fairytale and somehow it's all everyone associates with that name.

"A shit, you get that a lot, huh?" the girl asks, picking up on your reaction.

"Here and there." you shrug, trying to play it off since you don't want to sour the mood. "What's your name?"

"I'm Zoey, like no one ever in any fairytale." the tomboyish girl introduces herself with a grin. That voice, that raspiness...

Wait, could it be? God, it's so difficult to say over all the music and the accoustics are obviously completely different than in a restroom! Upon realizing the possibility, you immediately feel yourself growing more nervous. Hold on, you spoke to them too. She would recognize your voice too if she was the one in the stall, right? Then again, if she was, she was probably a bit... preoccupied.

"So, Ronya, you in for a drink?" Zoey offers, pulling you out of your thoughts. "On me of course."

"Uhm, well, I was actually just about to-" you start but honestly? Why not. It's not like the fact that she might've been the one in the stall has made her LESS interesting. Oh shit, if she was, that would mean she has a...

"I mean, uhm, sure..." you finally agree, trying to hide the bisexual panic growing inside you.

"Sweet." Zoey smirks a toothy grin and turns. "Follow me."

She then proceeds to lead the way through the crowd. Albeit being shorter than many, she has no trouble parting the sea. There's a certain air around her, a sort of confidence and swagger that's just doing the trick. Even despite her vest covering it up, her back seems pretty nice too. You can't help but wonder how her abs must look underneath too. If her shoulders and arms are anything to go by, they're probably quite the sight. Speaking of a sight, Zoey is wearing very loose-fitting pants but even so, her ass looks mighty fine. Hot damn, luckily your boobs seem bigger or otherwise she would've had you beat in everything. Well, except height. Even if just by an inch.

"What's your fancy?" Zoey turns to you when she arrives at the bar, leaning her back against the counter. "I'm a beer person but they have great mojitos here."

"Oh, beer is fine." you assure her, not wanting her to spend too much money on you. Plus, beer is genuinely okay.

"Ay, two Kölsch please." the tomboyish girl orders and a moment later, the bartender sets down two pints.

"You, uhm, alone here tonight?" you carefully inquire in hopes of subtly figuring out if she was, well, the one.

"Originally yes." Zoey answers and takes a sip. "Came here alone, met someone but she left by now I think."

Hmm, still possible it was her. But damn, if she was, that would mean, she screwed someone she actually just met tonight. Honestly though, it's not hard to imagine her being able to pull like that.

"What about you, you got anyone here?" Zoey asks, turning the tables and for a moment you consider lying to, you know, not make her think you're a loner or something.

"Nope, all alone." you answer, obviously deciding against the lie.

"Heh, most who go out alone only do so to come home..." Zoy starts with a sly smile but then she thinks, apparently looking for the right phrasing. "Well, not a alone. Shit."

Okay, your mind was already racing for a moment while she was starting her line but they way she failed to deliver it was kinda really funny.

"Smooth." you giggle. "Speak before you think, you said?"

"Thinking's not my strong suit, okay?" Zoey defends herself with a sense of fake-offendedness.

"Well, what is your strong suit then?" you inquire in a surprisingly flirty tone and the nano-second after those words leave your mouth, you're utterly stunned by your own forwardness. You feel blush kreep onto your cheeks as your eyes widen. Still, you try to keep a straight face.

"Damn, that's a good question." Zoey - apparently having missed your panic - muses and takes another sip. "I'd say my strength lies in fixing cars and punching faces."

"Punching... faces?" you ask perplexed and instinctively glance back to her biceps.

"For sports." Zoey clarifies and follows your eyes for a moment. "I do kickboxing. Just something on the side, you know."

"That is... really cool." you admit, genuinely somewhat in awe. So not only could she easily carry you around, she could also beat you up. Somehow, the thought of getting beaten up is suspiciously less unappealing than usual.

"Thanks." Zoey grins and downs the last of her beer. Damn, you've barely sipped on yours. While she's busy downing hers, you quickly adjust your off-shoulder shirt a bit - quite uncharacteristically for you, to pull it down some more.

"So, what do you..." Zoey begins after putting down her pint but when her eyes drift downwards, her sentence trails of.

"Hm?" you hum, thoroughly endeared by how easy to distract she seems. Hearing your voice though, her gaze quickly snaps back up.

"What you, uh, do. For a living, I mean." the tomboy finishes her question, not particularly flustered as it seems.

"Oh, I'm an arts student." you reply. "So I guess that makes me more of the thinker and less the face puncher."

"Shit, art? Damn, I'm so fucking bad at drawing." she laughs a hearty, raspy laugh.

"Maybe you just need practice?" you suggest with a smile.

"Ronya, I appreciate that but no. I am terrible." Zoey insists.

"I'm sure that's not true." you assure her, thoroughly enjoying the conversation by now - even despite the fact that both of you basically have to yell to be heard over the music.

"Alright, you got a pen with you?" Zoey suddenly asks.

"Uhm, think so, why?" you answer, a bit confused.

"Gimme and tell me what to draw." Zoey challenges and grabs the beermat from underneath her pint.

"Heh, alright." you nod and pull a pen out of your purse. "Draw... a cat."