Performative: Part I

It’s Friday. Techno music blares through the surrounding speakers, pounding your skin with each beat. You keep tapping your fingers to the rhythm of the song, another hand holding your glass of martini. Most people are grinding on each other by now; it’s eleven, but not you. Not yet. Your eyes scan the crowd for someone to catch your eye, someone to look at you and say: yeah, this is the guy I’m taking back to my room tonight.

You and this club go way back at least three years — from a freshman to a senior. The first occasion was a big deal — your first time at the bar and everything, singing, dancing. Then, there came the first girl that picked you up to her place. Again, that was a big deal. The police would pay the bar a visit sometimes, and you’d have to leave the spot early as it got cleared. Now, as a senior student, and with a few women that have passed by you, you can’t help but think about the good times you’ve had with this place.

Still, right now, time’s running out. You need to change your location, or it’s a bust tonight.

You get up from your seat by the bar before going through the crowd slowly — step by step. Your body takes a few hits from the lustful folks grinding on each other. The place reeks of a combination of perfumes and a little sweat. You’re not much better — CK One. No sweat, at least. You sweep the crowd with your eyes to find your potential lucky girl for the night — the girl that’s going to take you back to your room tonight.

Until you find her.

Kim Jiwon, or westerly: Liz. A hundred and seventy centimeters tall. Factor in the fact that you don’t stand straight, and she has to look down when she talks to you. You’ve seen her in your classes — same major after all — sitting beside Yujin and Leeseo in the back of the classroom. They’re mostly on some MOBA game you’ve never cared to learn about the name. Now, she’s dancing alone under the flashing lights of the club, looking so gorgeous.

The black strapless dress hugs her curves well, showing off her upper body where she needs it — waist, abdomen, tits. Your eyes feast on her body in a haste, trying to get the most of her as much as possible. The lower part is rather short, giving a view of her delectable thighs for you to see — smooth, milky. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail, draping nicely along her back. She just keeps moving along with the beat — eyes closed, lost in the music blaring down the speakers. Put it in slow motion and you get a decent movie scene. Just need a tad brighter lighting to make it all work.

Until suddenly, her eyes meet yours.

Liz smiles, giving you a wave. She can remember you as much as you do with her.

So, you begin your next move, stepping towards her cautiously. You are trying not to look like a weird guy who has just seen a woman for the first time here. She’s still smiling. That’s good. Keep smiling. As you get closer to her, the curves become more and more prominent to your eyes. Her cleavage looks fucking exquisite to your eyes. She looks taller when you get nearer, practically towering over you now. Your hands don’t shake one bit. You’re still holding your martini firmly in your hand, dodging the lusty patrons with ease. The light hits her face in a mysterious way that makes her look so resplendent under it. She just looks lovely.

And you start.

She looks so tall.

“Didn’t expect you to be the bar type,” you greet, almost shouting against the music, tilting your head slightly to the side.

“That makes us two, I guess,” Liz responds, also almost shouting, smiling so casually at you. What a princess.

“You look great tonight!”

“What?” she asks with a small laugh, leaning slightly closer towards you.

“I said, you look great tonight!” you repeat under the thrumming music into her ear.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, but can you say that again? I didn’t quite catch it,” Liz shouts, leaning even closer towards you. The smell of her perfume hits your nose now — summer.

Chuckling, “You look great tonight!” God, the music is just so loud here.

“Oh!” Liz pulls back slightly, covering her mouth with her left hand — two rings, index and middle each. “Thanks! You look great too!”

You shoot her back a smile. The shirt and jeans sure are a killer combo. “Thanks.” Alright, find something to talk about. Her looks are gone, no need for more compliments. The weather? No, that’s too lame, and you’re in a club. Maybe go with the fact that she’s … alone?

“Where’s Yujin and Leeseo, though?”

“Oh, Yujin’s here,” Liz says, pointing to your right, and you see Yujin flirting with some guy in a leather jacket on the dance floor. He’s shorter than her. They’re all chatty and sparking. She leans in close to him, palming his crotch with a sly smile on her face. They look good for each other. Yujin’s going to either riding him until he’s dry or plow him senseless with a thick strap — good for him, either way. “Leeseo’s studying back at her dorm.”

“She seems to be having fun,” you state before turning back to Liz. Should be talking about her instead of Yujin, however. “I wanna know more about you, though.”

“Oh.” Liz’s eyes widen just a little, mouth opening slightly as your words reach her ears. It’s making her heart flutter. “Well, ask ahead! I have nowhere to go anyway. Yujin’s devouring that guy,” she says with an eye roll, crossing her arms with a soft simper.

You chuckle softly, pointing your thumb back to the bar behind you — a crowd of horny people away. “Let me buy you a drink, then. Anything on your mind?”

“I’ll walk with you there. Don’t wanna lose you in the crowd,” Liz says, smirking at you. She looks so good when she smiles like this. You notice the small dimples on her cheeks — gorgeous — and your brain short-circuits a little, to be honest. “Let’s go. I could do with a martini.”

So, you lead Liz through the crowd, eyes trying to keep her in your sight. The two of you make contact with the lusty folks in the club, saying sorry as you go through them to the bar with her. The place reeks of the blending perfumes, deodorants, and alcohol. Blaring through the speakers are techno music and the occasional shouts from the DJ to hype the patrons up. You two reach the bar eventually, clothes tainted with others’ sweat and aroma. Liz seems happy, however, still smiling at you cutely from behind.

“Two martinis, please,” you shout at the bartender, taking a glance at the happy Liz. She walks towards the bar before setting herself on the stool beside you. You settle yourself next to her under the loud music and the aroma of alcohol, eyes raking over her body—

Chuckling, “Enjoying the view?” Liz asks.

You scoff at the statement, “A lot. You look great tonight.”

“Better than those classroom outfits?” she quips. Those hoodies and sweatpants that hide her curves under the fabric? You’ve always thought that she looks good regardless.

“Trick question, and you always look splendid,” you fire back with a simper.

Liz lets out a polite laugh at your words, mouth covered by her hand. “You’re unflappable,” and the words are making you smile.

The martinis arrive in your hands rather quickly — clear with a pierced olive inside.

“To … Yujin?” you quip with an unsure smile, picking the glass up.

Liz laughs again, lifting the glass up close to you. The light of the bar shines on both of you — under the raucous music, under the smell of alcohol. “To Yujin.”

And the glasses clink. You take a sip. She takes a swig — down in a single chug. That’s rather fast of her, so you take a swig as well.

“So,” you start, looking into her pretty eyes. They spark with excitement, and you can tell.

“So.”

“What is a gorgeous woman like you doing in computer engineering?”

Liz pouts, tapping the bar casually, probably trying to recount the story of her life. “Well, I got an A in Python back in high school. They had you do a whole lotta stuff — Matplotlib, NumPy. You know, and my teacher told me one day that I’m good with logic and thinking, which is fitting for an INTP, not that I firmly believe in MBTI, but …” and she pauses, chuckling at you. “I should speak slower, shouldn’t I?”

You laugh reservedly. “I’m still on it, don’t worry.”

Liz smiles. “Thanks,” and she puts her purse on the bar. “I’m still not a believer in MBTI, though.”

“We’ll work well together if you want to know about me on that,” you say. “Compatible functions and all.”

Liz leans in slightly closer, giving you a delightful view of her ample cleavage on the edge of your vision. You’re trying not to take a glance. “Work on what, exactly?” she whispers. Her lips look so full — glossy, rosy. You can see the pimples on her face — those imperfections. They somehow look good on her, even if it’s your lust doing the talking.

Now, for the next words, answer carefully. Answer fucking carefully. Make her feel desired. Make her feel wanted. Make her feel safe with you.

So, you lean in closer towards her, and she seems to play along — not backing off. As you get near her, you can smell her warm breath — alcohol and mint. The features are becoming more prominent in your eyes — dimples from that sly smile, pimples, brown eyes. Your heart beats a little faster, but you’ve done this so many times — fake it until you make it. Staying at women’s dorms is your expertise, and you’re not fumbling it tonight.

“Would you like to know, Miss?”

You don’t have a damn thing in your mind, really. There’s a chance that you might just kiss her, even. Your fingers tap on your thighs in a rhythm along with the beat of the music. Her eyes are so dreamy, so easy to get lost in, and you just can resist chuckling out of the unwanted shyness.