Mia
After leaving the restaurant, Jane refused to let us go clubbing dressed the way we currently were.
“No,” she said immediately after looking me over. “Absolutely not. We’re going home first.”
So we stopped at her place instead.
An hour later, I was standing in front of her mirror staring at myself in disbelief while she fixed the last curl in my hair. The black dress she forced me into was short enough to make me uncomfortable every few minutes, and the neckline showed more cleavage than I was used to.
I complained nonstop while Jane carried on like she couldn’t hear me.
“At least let me keep the makeup light,” I begged.
“That one I can do,” she said while working on my makeup.
The club she picked was packed by the time we arrived. Thankfully, her cousin worked security there,
