Prim, Mara’s friend. “I’m getting you drunk Biatch!”

Primrose, Prim for short, was one of Mara’s newest friends. They’d met through mutual girlfriends while out several weeks back and just clicked. Prim was much younger than Mara, 21 compared to Mara’s 30, and infected with a wild and carefree spirit that can only come from so recently being a teen. She was a whisper-thin, petite girl that looked more in her mid-teens than a full-fledged adult. Prim was covered in nearly a dozen tattoos including the most recent, a large Henna inspired underboob tattoo that run nearly to her naval. Not that Prim had any real breasts. She was almost completely flat-chested. Prim made up for it with a ballet dancer’s body and grace to match.

<I’m getting you drunk Biatch!> Prim had written.

<Hey. I’m not sure I’m really in the mood. Hugh and I broke up.> Mara responded back.

<Nooo! I didn’t know. When did that happen?>

Mara smarted a little. Prim hadn’t even seen her status and was just looking to party.

<Just before.>

What time had it happened? Long enough ago that Mara had drunk nearly a bottle of wine since. She could see by the clock on the wall that it was almost 10pm at night on a Wednesday.

<Is he there with you?>

<No. He’s gone.>

<Good! Change of plans. I’m coming to your place instead. Get dressed. We’re going out!>

<I’m not sure I’m really in the mood for anything tonight.>

Mara was feeling emotional still, the **** not helping, and wasn’t sure if she felt like leaving the house and being around a bunch of strangers at the bars and clubs Prim liked to go to. Her energetic friend wasn’t to be deturbed though, texting back a song lyric.

<Give Me One Margarita Imma Open My Legs…>