Chapter Two

Sherl swept her long, hair behind her shoulder as she leaned against the wall of the crowded Goth club. She took a sip of her Long Island Iced tea and froze. Nervously, she realized that she could feel eyes boring into her flesh. Sherl could feel someone's stare brushing like ghostly fingers across her body, lingering on her breasts and her far-too- exposed thighs. Nervously, she dropped a hand tot he hem of her leather mini-skirt and tugged in a futile attempt to cover herself.

Apprehensively, Sherl looked around her, seeking. But no one seemed to stand out as the source of the gaze she felt. She'd received a lot of curious looks, which she'd attributed to the shortness of her skirt and the tightness of her blouse, but this was far more intrusive, almost aggressive. She felt vaguely threatened.

"God, I should've never let Kristy talk me into wearing her clothes," she sighed ruefully. Sherl pulled at the buttons of her sheer white blouse, fidgeting unconsciously. Her full breasts pushed relentlessly at the tiny pearl, opening gaps in her blouse. Her exposed virginal, white lace bra glowed brightly under the black light.

"Everything's too damned small, I'm gonna pop a button any second," she told herself. She tugged up the tops of her black seamed stockings that refused to hide beneath the hem of the leather skirt. The lacy straps of the snowy white garter belt showed every time she took a step. Perturbed and growling in frustration, Sherl took a swallow of the sweet, potent drink. The harsh Gothic-Industrial music throbbed loudly, and she felt it pressing against her flesh like hands, closing in on her.

All around her people were dancing to the heavy music in slow, exaggerated movements. As she focused on the exotic costumes and heavy theater make-up they wore, Sherl realized that she still looked like an innocent schoolgirl compared to everyone else. There were people in leather, vinyl, lace, and velvets. Many were wearing considerably less and showing far more skin and cleavage than she.

Sherl took a healthy swallow of her Long-Island Iced Tea and realized for the first time how strong the bartender hand made it. The alcohol slid into the pit of her empty stomach and she suddenly felt light-headed.

"Maybe I should go outside," Sherl mumbled out loud as she felt the alcohol hit her brain. "Thank God I didn't wear those spiked heels Kristy tried to talk me into, or I'd be flat on the floor by now."

With careful steps, Sherl walked to the doorway of the enclosed outside porch. Practically no one was out there. She walked over toward a dark corner. The crisp autumn breeze blew some of the fumes away and a Sherl's mind cleared a little. Breathing deep, she smiled as she looked up at the clear stars, turned and promptly walked into firm, her-muscled body.