LADIES’ NIGHT
by Cheri Fuller

I could feel the beat pumping through my entire body. My eyes were closed and I just let myself feel the music. I was pretty optimistic about the evening. It was only our second date but Janet and I had chemistry. I opened my eyes and realized that my dance partner was nowhere to be found. I dropped my shoulder and pushed through the crowd and over to the bar. It was noticeably cooler and the drying sweat on my neck and chest sent chills down my spine.

I caught the eye of the young bartender. “Corona with lime?” She nodded and turned for the cooler on the back wall.

I half turned and leaned my back against the padded rail, scanning the dozen or so tables. Where the hell is Janet?

“That’ll be $5.50.”

Returning my attention to the bartender, I pulled a five and a couple of singles from my front pocket and laid them on the bar. I poked the lime slice into the bottle and slowly walked toward the back of the room, all the while looking for my date. I saw a small group of women surrounding the pool table, seemingly negotiating the terms for the next game, but no Janet.

My last chance was the restroom. Rounding the corner, I ran into a tall woman with a large Adam’s apple coming out of the ladies’ room. “Sounds like someone’s getting lucky in there, sweetheart. You may want to give the other one a shot.” She motioned to the men’s room with a point of her chin.

I shrugged and continued on to my original destination. Pushing the door open, I was immediately hit by the glaring fluorescent lights and then by grunting coming from the large wheelchair accessible stall. Facing the mirror, I quickly took in my pale, disheveled reflection, and then focused on the two sets of legs in the large gap under the door behind me. The high-heeled boots belonging to the woman pressed against the wall looked very much like the ones Janet had worn with her tight jeans. The other woman wore stilettos and black hose. I didn’t feel jealous – we’d only been out once before and there was no commitment – but it was tacky to simply abandon me on the dance floor to fuck some anonymous woman in the bathroom.

I could see that Janet was having a hard time standing, her boots were sliding out from under her and it seemed that the other woman was crouching and leaning in to keep her upright.

I set my beer on the counter, turned, and called out, “Janet? Is that you?”

There was a weak thud and a groan. I charged forward and yanked the door open, the sliding lock clattered to the ground. Standing before me was a wild-looking woman with blood running down her chin and dripping from her elongated canines. She dropped Janet, smiled, and said, “Well, there is a two drink minimum.”