I sat at the bar, waiting for the first tequila shot to take effect. Nothing. Not even a vague good feeling. I ordered another shot, threw my head back, and let the liquid burn down my throat. Maybe it would burn away my heart, too.
"You're supposed to use a lime and salt," a voice beside me noted. I turned my head slowly. My friend Cindy was smiling at me. I grinned back, and signaled the bartender.
"That's for sissies." It was an old joke between us. Cindy knew that I needed to forget about my breakup with Jorge, and she had offered to be the designated driver on our night out. I turned around with my shot, and looked over the crowd, while she sipped her water.
I nodded at a few men who looked promising, then I threw back my third tequila shot. I was finally starting to feel numb to the world, just like I wanted. I turned and signaled the bartender for one more. He looked a little concerned, but an extra tip salved his conscience.
Cindy was talking to a good looking college boy when I felt a hand on my bare thigh. I looked around, then up into the very intense stare of the man attached to the hand. As he stared, his hand began to move up my thigh, under my skirt. I was mesmerized by that stare, swaying a little into his body. He put another drink into my hand, then led me toward the dance floor. I was no longer sober, blind enough to make a bad decision. I pulled on the hand that held me, and then led the way to the exit.
This is fiction, but it's based on my college years. At least, what I remember of the drinking is.
