The Main Bar and Dance Floor

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

From the main lobby all visitors are ushered through a hallway that splits off into two directions. On the left they will be taken to the lounge as well as the stairwell to the upper floor. If they continue ahead, however, then they will ascend the steps to the main bar and the dance floor. This is, by far, the loudest spot of the club, where you can barely hear yourself think and have to shout in order for the bartender to maybe, possibly, hopefully hear what drink you've ordered. Often the first destination for those new to the club, either because they are just used to walking right in, getting a drink, and hopping onto the dance floor like all other clubs, or are interested in getting into "the action" with as few words as possible.

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

The bass was already near deafening as Xander stepped through the entry hall of the Garden, the glowing rosebud stamp on his hand the indication to all security and employees that he was paid and permitted to enter. The place had only opened an hour ago and yet it was already bumping, filled with customers fresh-faced and familiar, young and older (but not too old, of course), bodies pressed together as whole groups tried to direct themselves one way or another. It was no surprise to feel an errant grope here or there just as you made your way to your first destination, and Xander certainly gave as many as he received. Though he preferred the more quiet environs of the Garden, he found the main bar at the first floor a perfect vantage point to see if any familiar faces had made their way into the club. He did have a few favorites, after all, though it was inevitable you'd always make some new... "friends" in the Garden.

As soon as he approached the bar Xander spotted a young woman leaning over the counter-top on the other side, her skirt hiked up and a man already pounding away into her just as she pounded shot after shot, ordering one after another. He could not help but smile and shake his head, recognizing a newbie that didn't know how to pace themselves in booze or in pleasure. She was going to be feeling awful in an hour, he could tell. Waving down the bartender, he ordered himself a whiskey on the rocks, allowing them to scan the barcode on his wrist to open a tab. He then turned, leaning against the counter of the bar, eyes glancing about his surroundings. Indeed, most of the faces headed this way and towards the dance floor were fresh-faced newbies, many excited to be visiting for the first time. There wasn't that much activity quite yet, though he could see one young man on the dance floor was already losing his load, his cock spewing forth strings of cum already as the girl he was dancing with had ground it between her thighs. Too excited, too over-stimulated, but he'd recover, no doubt. There was a mingling of cheers and laughter but otherwise the dancing kept going on as normal.

Most of the regulars were either headed to the lounge or headed upstairs, and as he looked above to the second floor he could see friends and girlfriends greet and embrace. It put a smile on his lips, brought back to to the here and now as a woman stepping up to the bar beside him grasped his crotch, her fingers and palm squeezing and caressing over his junk. He smirked, looking over his shoulder as the bartender came to deliver his drink, their eyes on those of the woman as they took her order. He took the glass in hand and simply enjoyed the groping, his body swiftly responding to the stimulus with a hardened erection. Once the woman had her own drink, however, her delicate fingers slipped away and led her elsewhere, his eyes following the sway of her ass, leaving an obnoxious bulge in his pants.

Well, obnoxious anywhere else. Here? Here, it was commonplace.

[Chiyako]

In some circles there existed a sort of stigma about arriving too early to a party. Such things were beyond Evi's understanding. She had arrived to the club with the opening swarm of party goers, not wishing to miss an entry into the club. This was the first time she'd been to any similar place. The dull thudding bass of the music playing within had her regretting her choices before she entered. Not that entering was without it's own little adventure, of course. There were some hiccups at the entryway. Given her fairly short stature and the years of less than ideal feeding conditions it wasn't out of the ordinary for her age to be mistaken. They didn't even believe her ID until they scanned it. Eventually however she did manage to gain the coveted rosebud stamp on the back of her left hand.

The way she dressed was perhaps another indication of her lack of experience. Basic running shoes. White and blue horizontally striped socks to match her bra. She didn't wear underwear, preferring a pair of black spats with a small v-cut in the back for her tail. A white tank top covered her upper body, and was long enough to partially cover her hips. On top of all this was her white hooded jacket. It was big enough to act as a sort of dress, properly covering her lower extremities and providing enough room to hide her tail. The hood itself was designed in a way to give her cat ears, which was perfect for covering up her real ears. Plus it looked cute, or so she was told. Perhaps it wasn't the best outfit for a party, but then she was still a stranger to such things.

It's too loud. I can barely hear my own thoughts.

Another benefit to wearing her hood. It helped a little, especially as she made her way deeper into the club. When she spotted the bar Evi made a bee-line towards it. Being so small made it both easier and necessary to slip through the crowd, but even she was not completely safe from the errant grope or squeeze. In fact she almost turned and socked the first person who touched her rump, only to remember that such things were common in this particular club. By the time she slipped up onto a stool her face, thankfully mostly hidden by the hood, was beet red.

Of course he had to choose a place like this.

A hand was raised, and once the bartender responded she ordered a soda pop. She had to keep her wits about her. Not that the other patrons were going to make that any easier, of course. Even here seated at the bar the occasional passerby stopped to rub their hands along her back, or her hip, or her rump, or her pale legs, or even the cat-like hood that she wore. Of course she did her best to ignore them, but she did at least have to smile at them when her gaze was met, else she risk outing herself any further as someone who didn't belong here.

Let's just hope he comes here early too.