: A/N: This one was inspired by Kerri Beary. Love you babe. I'd be so fat without you. Oh and by the by, it turns out I had food stashed away after all. -cackles- :

Dead To The World.
Chapter three:

A whopping 45 minutes later we finally arrived at the bustling and busy city. We'd stopped at the first club, our favorite ever since we knew what fake-I.D's were.

"Jaguar Nights" was glowing with black cursive electric lights. It was busy and packed, as usual. It may have not been the smartest idea to come on a Saturday night, but I'd been in that damned hospital and house to make my fresh brown tan fade. I didn't really mind, seeing as the only reason I had it was because I was outside gardening almost every other day I wasn't working.

We started for the back of the line, before someone called out loudly for Sam. She turned in those pink pumps of hers, her extremely long white legs turning with a hardening of her calves that I didn't think I had. Her white smile widened as she bounced happily towards the bouncer with a squeel and a jump. Landing may I say very unladly like around his waiste. Parker. Her husband, I shook my head.

"I should've known you'd get a job here, why didn't you tell me?" She slapped his face hard, making him growl at her with a hard kiss to her pouty-cherry lips. Parker and Sam had been sweeties since highschool. Sam had always been the long haired, big boobed, tall girl with legs up to her neck. The kind of girl you wished you were. Parker had been the jock of a lifetime, popular and hot. Ever since grade school. His arms were probably as thick around as my waist, he was tall dark and handsome. Went to the gym every weekend, got jobs that let him use all those years in football and gymnasiums to work with. He flashed me a devilishly leg crimpling smile.

"Zowie." I would've probably had a crush on Parker when we were in middle school together, but the big-bad-I'm-going-to-break-your-neck muscles just weren't my thing. I gave him a smile a flip of hair greeting. People were griping behind us to get 'the fuck back in line'. Parker slowly put his tall and amazingly beautiful wife on her high slamming 5'11 heels. He walked back into the line, grabbing the man by the collar. Followed by the man's short and chunky partner.

"You say something to my wife?" The guy gave him large frightened eyes, shaking his head vigorously. Parker threw him back into the line, rolling my eyes at his testosterone. I didn't and couldn't see how Sam liked at that in a man. It only embarrassed and annoyed me, and as I knew she was smiling with both of those full lips, large baby-blues, and that million dollar smile. He walked back to her with a hand on my back and a kiss on her cheek. He wasn't as bad and tough when you got to know him, in fact when I 'did' finally get to know him I thought he was gay.

"You ladies go ahead, will I see you after my shift is done?" He asked, all that thick brown hair falling into his eyes. He looked at her with such a look that said "I don't love you because you're drop dead gorgeous, I love you because I'd drop dead for you." She returned the look with such love in her eyes that it made my throat tighten, making me look away.

"When does your shift end?" He grimaced, which looked strange for such a muscley drop-alive handsomeness.
"I'm bouncin' till 4 a.m.." She frowned, "So long?" He smiled, pushing her perkily sprayed and tamed curls behind her ear, "Actually that's early. The club's open till eight a.m.. Joshs' got that shift, I practically begged the man for another time." She smiled and gave me pleading eyes.

"Can we wait for him?" I looked at her, then my cell phone. Damnit, it was only 10 o'clock. I winced, looking back at the couple. He had those huge tanned arms around her shoulders, their bodies close. She had her head turned towards me, his large hand cradling her blushed cheek, their honest faces turned towards me pleadingly. God I hated that.

"Why not?" I said with a grin that made me grind my teeth to keep it in place. They both smiled mirroring faces at me, "Great. Thanks Zowie, I'll buy dinner on me. Eer can I say breakfast?" He said with an appologetic scratch to his head. What a dunse. I smiled and rolled my eyes, "Fine fine fine, can you let us through or do we have to wait back there." I said without turning, pointing to my side at the never-ending-highway-blocking line of people. He smiled, unhooking the red velvet hook, "Ladies." He said with a smile meant only for that one woman he devoted his young life to. She returned it with all the love she could muster on her face. I hugged my arms insecurely thanking him quietly as we walked through the dark enterance.

The place was thriving with people, everywhere there was lights and sounds. I watched Sam's hips as they swayed half walking half dancing with everystep towards the bar. Her long red hair brushing those straight postured shoulders, I slowed through the thick amount of people almost breaking our chained hands, she finally slowed dragging me back against her back while she took the lead. I didn't really mind.

I listened as my screw-me leather black 4 inch heels clacked against the black tiled ground. My whole onsomble actually black, the short leather mini-skirt, the leather top complete with no shoulders, barely covering my C cups. I'm not saying I wasn't pretty, I'd been told that by both of my best friends. We were just all very pretty in our own ways. I was only 5'3, where as Sam was practically 5'11 to 5'12 with the right heels on. Lizzy was around 5'8, showing our different parts of 'pretty.' I had long virgin black hair that hung around my bottom, Sam had red hair that touched her shoulders whicher were slightly broad but strong. Lizzy had short high-maintenance blonde hair, kind of a working upper middle class cut. We were called the trio in High School. Since Samantha was all about the cheerleading squad, Elisabeth was the honest-to-God beautiful brainiac, and I was the artist. Best friends from 14 onto 20, Sam being the youngest 20. Me the middle 20, Lizzy the almost-21. Vula! The magic Trio.

My attention fell away as I realized she'd slammed and pushed her beautiful-way to the bar. Squinting at the harsh blinking lights illuminating the many-thousand bottles of different alchoholic beverages that I just knew Sam would induldge herself into before the night was even near finishing. She patted two black and broad shoulders, making them turn, they gave her the full look over and scooted aside with stupid grins. Where she shoved me beside her with a brush off for both the guys. I didn't know how she did it, but that was just Samantha for you.

She leaned both those C and half cups against the bar, catching the attention of all the eyes of the horrozontal bar. "Tommy!" She squeeled, reaching out for a hug from the short and lean gay bartender. Again, one of our own from Middle-school and on. He squeeled back ignoring the hundred demands for different drinks as he rushed over to us. I caught the scent of the new Victoria-Secrets Body Love Yourself scratch and sniff I'd induldged in while I was in the hospital. Should've known he'd be the first to get some, little bastard. I hugged him with just as much enthusiasm as he gave me, we'd bonded through the similiar groups of friends; and he'd been a living genious with a paintbrush, naturally we'd become best friends. He was like one of the girls.

"Samantha Darling, Zowie you're looking rather whorish this evening." He winked at the lot of us while I jokingly zipped up the zipper that had unjokingly found its couple-inch way down my breasts, exposing a tad more bit of cleavage than I'd originally intended.

"You homosexual bastard! What about me?" Sam asked with a pout, he growled at her touching her pouty bottom lip. "How could I forget you Dawlin', you're looking disgustingly beautiful this evening also." She giggled and asked for a drink. He straightened his back and raised his chin, "May I see your fake I.D. please?" He asked so seiorusly I thought he was actually seroius. Sam stood up so straight I knew without looking her boobs were bouncing with the bralessness that they were. She put her hand againt her forehead, standing at attention.

"I would sir! But you already know it is fake sir! Can I have a goddamned drink before I rip your Martha-Stuart butt loving frosted highlights out sir!" She said with a giggle threatening to escape those red china-doll lips. I turned back to Tommy, a dainty hand raised to attempt to cover the whole-hearted laughter that was coming out in choking breath. He smiled and pouted.

"You didn't have to mess with the hair. C'mon, you don't like it?" He turned back around, again dodging the angry glares and curses of the hundred different people, grabbing the drink she drank ever since highschool. Coke and Crown, extra Crown and a green slurpy straw. She was so strange at times. He reached under the bar and pulled out a long green gangly, child's straw. Plopping it in, "There ya go Darlin'." He said with a wink, she squeeled and took it happily. It'd dissapear in a bout two minutes. Or at least her third one would. He turned towards me, "I s'pose you don't have any hot chocolate huh?" I asked with a dramatic sigh. He laughed that laugh that had caught so many teenaged girls heart, I almost felt bad for him.

He looked at me through on fire green eyes, "I think we're out of hot-chocolate baby, but would a Shmernoff be alright with M'lady?" I laughed, again, my usual. I nodded as he plucked a bottle out of the ice box beside him, ripping off the top with the speed only a stripped/bartender would ever have. Oh, didn't I mention he was a stripper? My mistake. I giggled when he handed it back to me.

"I have to be off, lots of rude and ugly people wanting my attention." He sighed rolling his eyes, returning back to his work.

"Oh and Zowie girl?" He turned back around to face me, "A very important person is looking for you." He said with a sharp-witted smile. I looked at him strangely with a small gulp of Shmernoff, a little running down my lip as I brushed it away. "Who?" I asked curiously, he looked at me as if I were crazy, rolling his eyes he walked away returning back to his work.

I looked at him strangely along with Sam. "Are you supposed to know who?" She asked with the same burrowed brow theme as me. I shrugged and took another swallow. "Who cares?" I said, remembering why I had come in the first place. I grabbed her hand pulling her away from the bar, already a swarm of new people squeezing in to take our place. "Let's dance." I said, now me being the leader. I heard her 'whoo' behind me with that pure-woman voice she could always make when she was excited; as I half danced, half ran to the middle of the room. I spun around dramatically while she looked me up and down, raising a defined eyebrow, smiling that smile that had gotten her the hottest guys in High School, one of the winner's of her never ending man-list being Parker. He was definitely one of the winner's, she'd told me once before years ago.

She swayed her hips, tapping a random person on the shoulder, handing ,who actually turned out to be a him, her empty glass. Told you so. He looked her up and down and licked the glass. I practically wanted to gag, I'm pretty sure Samantha would have taken it as a compliment if she were watching him. But her eyes were all on me, made me feel squirmish to see that mouth-droping gaze on me. She swayed towards me with her blue-jean skirt to the extreme of low on those perfectly boney hips. Her white lace corset showing peeps of her pierced navel, we'd gotten it done together. Tonight it was adorned with a white fake jewel to match her top, a long metal chord falling into her worn jean-extra-extra-short skirt. Made me worry it would get ripped off.

She ran her fingers up my ribs, pushing extra hard on my breasts as she went up, looking down at me through the fall of professionally dyed red hair. I think her natural color was a deep auburn, believe it or not.

She laced one of her delicatly muscled thighs in between mine, parting my legs for her enterance. She always knew how to own the dance floor. Her 'moves' practically getting us kicked out of prom on our senior year. I always felt squeamish doing this with her in public, not because we were actually in public, but because she was so good at it it got so much attention for her efforts. Oh and not just her, the damned sexual attention was a double edged sword. Again, not saying that I wasn't pretty, but I just didn't give off as much, euphorameans as she did.

She practically bent in two to reach my neck, kissing along the long delicate length of it, reaching up to my ear, licking a wet and visually public line up to my jaw, lacing it with hot little kisses. I felt her perky breasts press forcefully against my-also-perkilly-braless ones. She was like a figure eight, me matching her, only becoming a smaller figure eight. One thing she was always, not jealous but more friendly envious, of me was my figure. She was tall and lean and curvous, but more althletically modelish type. I was shorter and tanner, a very small waist and very wide hips. She gloated over my much smaller weight, while I argued over her height giving her more weight. I didn't understand how she couldn't see her beauty, surely she did?

My attentions were ripped away as her mouth found its way down to my collar bone, joyously happy that she didn't actually kiss me, but extremely let-down from the new direction she'd found for herself along my body. Her hands pushed at my breats, making them plump up to practically shove at my collar bone. It was embarrassing to me, but practically off-the-charts to everyone else staring. They did the kind of look where they were barely an inch away, but watching every move we made, stealing some to use on their own sex-standing-up partners.

She yanked on my zipper as it came down completely and utterly willingly, parting it just enough to show the true-perkiness, letting them finally seperate a touch. From where they were constantly shoving together. The only reason I had the muscle in my stomach that I truelly did was because of my job, working as a bartender was not a sit-down kind of recreation, especially if it was a popular kind of scene place. And by all means was it. I breathed heavily as my hair tried to shield my body, but she yanked it back with a force that brought my head with it. I cried out weakly as the bass and music drowned out my weak attempt before it left my pale and pouted lips. I felt her tongue slide across my navel to suck on my plain spiked barbell that was my piercing. I tried to control my breathing as I stared up at the ceiling, reaching down to pat her on the shoulder, begging her to let me go. This was so embarrassing.

She took my hand, leading it behind me to grab at my bottom, I squeeled unhappily. Feeling the hot musky air against more exposed cleavage. It wasn't 'Oh my God look at her tits!' open, it was more like 'Wow, what a skank.' open. Sam knew I'd be angry at her if she allowed it that far. I tried to reach for my zipper, but she painfully dug her nails into my ass for trying.

I could already picture what I looked like from the shocked faces around us. My short and tanned 5'6 self (3 to 4 inch heels included) standing in the middle of a heated swarm of grinding bodies. Head yanked back with my baby hair matted sweatily to my forehad as I breathed frantically for air, my large firm breasts half-showing through my almost-completely unzipped leather halter top, my small rib cage heaving in and out for oxygen, my delicate muscles expanding and detracting with my breaths. My also, hypocritically extremely low leather skirt showing off all of my boned hips. And may I say that small stretchy leather skirt riding up as she pushed it up. I bit my lip as she used those maicured red nailed fingers to push my skirt higher, feeling her lips kiss my upper thigh. I clenched the Shmernoff to a breaking point with my other hand. I felt her pierced tongue run along my thigh, and that was all I could take.

I tried to think of someway to turn her attention of off that! But the only thing that could come to mind, I still wouldn't like. I yannked my hand from hers, which was gripping my bountyful bottom all too tightly in that small skirt. Grabbing her by the hair I pulled her up roughly, having to let her go as she stood to tower down at me, I whimpered to myself lightly. She smiled down at me, winking innocently, running her finger through the still-wet trail from the button of my skirt up between my breasts. I felt sweat drip down my tight stomach sensitively, making me shiver. She took that as good. Shit. I shook my head and got on my tippy toes, making it look like a kiss to trick her I went for her ear. I felt her shiver. Shit.

"I have to go to the bathroom." I practically yelled in her ear, she parted from me and smiled. Dragging her thumb across my thick bottom lip.

"I'll go with you." Shit shit. I grimaced, rolling my eyes as I completed the onsomble. I pouted my lips waiting for her to kiss me. I could feel her smirk as she knelt down, gripping my hair in that-almost painful grip. Yanking my head back, my throat in a clean line as she licked her way up, catching my lips in a mouth bruising kiss. She tried for tongue but I just didn't do that, not even to make her happy. She'd have all the fun she could possibly squeeze out of me tonight. Then again, I'd begged her to come, I was in debt. In a sick and twisted Samantha Connaly type of way.

She finally let me go as I would have stumbled back but she caught me. Not good. I smiled up at her with my sweaty forhead, while hers wasn't sweating at all. I couldn't help it, I wasn't bi and neither was Sam, but I only did it for her. Like I said, in a strange way I was in debt with her. She hugged me as I quickly took two more chugs of my drink, walking past the many-a eyes undressing the rest of my body. I quickly walked past them, just as a hand gripped my ass very painfully. I whipped around angrily, but I only caught a glimpse of him as he flew backwards. I stood for a moment trying to figure out what just happened then, but shrugged it off. He was yanked back into the crowed of darkly dressed people, must've been by one of his embarrassed friend. Ha, I knew the feeling. I shook my head angrily, glaring at the black cursive bathroom sign as I passed it.

"I can't believe it did that for her, again." I muttered unhappily, coming to a slow stop with my hand on the stall door. I turned to look down the long hallway, finding a small sign in black cursive that read, "Jaguar Cave." I looked at it strangely before stepping back into the bathroom. Wincing at the extremely bright lights, stepping in front of the mirror as I checked myself over. Yep, definitely sweating. I yanked out a paper cloth and patted my forehead sharply, suddenly realizing painfully as I sighed, throwing it away.

"You are so stupid my dear." I said quietly, looking myself over. I did look actually, very pretty. I wasn't conceided, and in fact on a normal basis I denied that I was. And honestly, too. There's a point where short and curvious was too much, like looking at Betty Boop, pretty but strange. That's what I looked like. I shook my head still inspecting my eyeliner, tucking the small pincel back in between my tightly clentched breasts, I trotted unhappily back out. Turning, I couldn't help but to look back to the long hallway. Spotting a leather door, closed right above it reading 'Jaguar Cave'.

"Strange." I said to myself, I'd never noticed it before . . . had I? I couldn't remember. I hadn't been to the jaguar in a while, they could've just instaulled a new dance floor. It was better than going back to that preview-porno waiting for me on the sex-floor. I shrugged as I slowly made my way to the leather door, pondering whether I should push or pull on it as it swung open.

I squeeled a squeeky girlish squeel as I fell backwards. Strong arms caught me as I scuffed looking up. I couldn't meet the person's eyes so I quickly pulled out of their reach.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry, I was just going to go inside and-" I shook my head waving it around my face. Finally meeting their eyes I gave them pologetic ones in return.

"Sorry." I said with a small giggle and a half-smile. My eyes dances from the man's chest, which was the color of freshly fallen snow on a December morning, to his naked neck. He had on a mesh fish-net shirt and leather pants. Typical club gear. Short spiked blonde hair and big blue eyes. He laughed down at me, actually bowing. The man bowed. I looked at him strangely with a stupid grin on my face, clutching my arms across my chest instinctively.

"Would you like to come inside, I was going to get a drink but . . . I suppose I really shouldn't fancy myself with another." British? "British?" I asked, awing at the accent. My major in community college was foreign languages, I wasn't exactly flopping over what language he spoke, if any, but his accent. Accents were what got me into languages from the get-go. He smiled a freakishly white smile at me, how the hell do you get your teeth that white? The only reason mine were like that was because I brushed every night and day since I was 4 years old. Welcome to the land of Obsessive Compulsive Disorderness. He laughed the kind of laugh that rumbles deep in your chest and rises to bubble in your throat and fawn out of purely male lips, when you've said something that intrigued them.

"Thank you for noticing." He said, as he heald out one of his arms for me to take. I stopped for a moment, turning to glance at my shoulder towards the dance floor, I turned back biting my lip. Sam could handle it on her own. I smiled with a skip I took his arm.

"Why not?" I said quietly to myself, giving him a flash of white teeth and a hint of a butt-chin. He gave me one sided cheek dimple that made me want to pinch them. Of course, I restrained myself from doing so.