Give her another ten minutes.

You are getting quiet impatient by now and have begun to pace agitatedly about the kitchen and living room areas. If she hasn't come back in ten minutes you are leaving and will just have to explain it to her next time.

It's then that she steps into the living dressed to kill. She is wearing a sheer red top the looks like it must be painted in it that tight. It stops an inch above her naval which has been pieced with a silver bar that ends in a blue gem. You can clearly see through the top that she has a black lacey bra on. It pushes her already perky tits up into what could possibly be the greatest piece of cleavage you have ever seen. A little black skirt follows the womanly swell of her hips. It reaches three-quarters of the way up her thigh and is split up each side so that you can just see the beginnings of her tight butt as she walks. Heavens knows what you could see were she to bend over. She has on knee high black "fuck me" boots and her make up looks like it has been done by a professional make-up artist.

You compose your self enough that your voice hardly croaks when you ask, "What took you so long. I was getting ready to leave."
"Changing," is her only reply to your question. "Now stop wasting time and lets go."
Your mind reels how she can possibly say you are wasting time when she just took the best part of an hour to get ready. You let it go as she is already halfway out the door and you doubt she would care even if you did say a thing.

You lead Sarah to your aging Land Rover and open the passenger side door. You could have sworn that a look of contempt crossed her face when she saw what kind of vehicle you drove. She gives you directions to where the club is as you drive. You have heard that the place you are going to is quite trendy and extremely popular at the moment. You wonder how on earth the pair of you are going to get in. You are dress reasonability in the suit that you wore to work, minus the tie but still you don’t fit the description of the normal clientele. Sarah, on the other hand is well dressed for these sort of places but her problem is slightly different.
"Um... Sarah, are you twenty one yet?" you ask cautiously.
"No. Why?" she replies.
"Its just that I was wondering how you are going to get the club. Your underage," you elaborate.
"That won't matter," Sarah says ending the discussion.

Parking surrounding the nightclub is extremely scarce so that you have to park some distance from the entrance. Sarah strolls confidently towards the club with you following. A large queue has already formed outside and the bouncers don’t look in the slightest hurry to start letting people in any quicker. One of the doormen would intimidate Michael Clarke Duncan he is so big and the other looks like a professional wrestler. Sarah cuts right to the front of the line and stops in front of the thick red rope guarded by the two men. You have the horrible suspicion that things are going to turn bad any moment now.