Maybe it was the drugs, the pounding, permeating beat, or simply my libido that crawled into my head and spat words and feelings into my body. But I knew one thing for sure, when I set my eyes on a target, the intended activities don’t just possibly happen, they always do. But that night was not only different, but also peculiar and eye opening. I was the Devil’s Child, the Avid Maneater, and ultimately, and most vaguely, a tease. And damn good at it. But that night was the night for change.
 I could feel it, even on the train ride over, and the long walk to the club’s entrance. Something potently different in the air. Even while I watched people practically compete for my attention, pleasure, and overall exceptance. Of course the smart ones tend to avoid me all together, which is wise. The atmosphere had changed significantly from my other nights out. It was so unlike me to feel inadequate and unnoticed. It all seemed so new to me, the turned about type atmosphere left me awkward and apprehensive like a new born baby dear. Which also made me feel worthless. Because without respect, you’re worthless, right? Of course I’m right, I always am.
 The night started with a series of small, inconvenient, instances that at first I thought nothing of, but as the night continued and the instances got increasingly worse, I started to catch on. And that’s when the uneasy ambiance really started to set in.

Insodent number one: The staining of my dress
It was a cute little white number. We were having a glass of red wine and I got ahead of myself and stained it. I thought I had brought it on myself.
Silly, me. I thought as I scrubbed the stain in the sink. That’s what I get for not heeding the warnings of wise old dry cleaners.
That-a-girl, laugh it off, right? Play it cool, the first rule of socialism. But I’d find that task quite difficult by the nearing of the middle of the evening.

Incident number two: The groping on the train
After I had changed my dress(I went wise with black) and the moment of feeble shame had bypassed me, we headed out to the subway.
I was never a fan of the subway but with the traffic of Manhattan how else would a gal expect to show up to a club at a reasonable time? So we all held tight to the poles and waited. Checking our watches and looking busy.
That’s another rule of socialism for you, always seem like your too busy. It’ll make you seem like you’re too busy to be bothered and that attracts people. Folks want what they can’t have.
Anyway, so here I am, my spirits high and the whole night ahead of me when I feel a creeping up my legs. Almost like… fingers, gently stroking and caressing my thigh. Nonsense! I thought. who would dare inappropriately touch a woman of my stature? So I did the noble thing and ignored it. Playing it cool remember? But how many would play it cool when the touch began to advance into places unknown. I momentarily glance behind me and do a double take at the culprit. A homeless man, dirtier than sin, was admiring my glowing white legs.
I slap his hand, “Stop that! What is wrong with you?! Don’t you know who I am?”
He smiled, his teeth yellowed and I’m sure he was aware of it.
I drew back in disgust as he spoke, “No, but I’d like to.”
I didn’t hold back, I let the contempt show on my face unabashedly and as the subway stopped I didn’t take my time to coolly sweep off and onto the platform like I usually would have. I just bolted. And I swear I could hear the echoing of the old bum’s laughter in my ears.