Excerpt
If I had known I was going to get screwed metaphorically rather than literally, I probably would have stayed home that night. Or maybe I would still have risked it. I’ve never been very lucky, but I hadn’t had a boyfriend in months, and the lack of sex can make a man do stupid things.

As it was, I went about my preparations with blithe optimism, showering and dressing in my best jeans and button-up shirt. My friend Patrick had told me about a great new club that had opened last month, and I was determined to check it out. As I’d recently discovered, being the low man on the totem pole at a small ad agency meant long hours and not particularly stellar pay. The past few weeks had been nothing but work, work, work, and I figured I deserved a break.

By ten-thirty, I had finished getting ready. A glance in the mirror showed I’d done the best I could with what I had. Although I couldn’t do much about the thin build no amount of working out ever seemed to bulk up, at least the rest of me looked good. The cobalt blue shirt I wore matched my eyes, and my blond hair was artfully spiky, exactly as I’d intended.

After a final check of my pockets to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, I headed downstairs. The cab I’d called twenty minutes earlier arrived when I reached the first floor of my apartment building. Anticipation rising, I hopped in and gave the driver my destination.

Fifteen minutes later, the cabbie dropped me off at the edge of Laclede’s Landing. As was typical on a Friday night, the cobblestone streets were crowded. Not wanting to sit in the cab forever, I’d asked to be let off before we reached the club. Patrick had told me the club was on First Street, a couple of blocks from where the cabbie had dropped me off, so I had a little way to go yet. A short walk wouldn’t hurt me, and the scenery was interesting. The Landing’s restaurants and bars were packed. All kinds of people crowded the streets, from older couples to groups of college kids who barely looked old enough to drink.

I walked along the sidewalk, watching the people and enjoying the sounds and scents from the various restaurants and other establishments. A huge group of tipsy, giggling girls dressed in sparkly shirts nearly knocked me into the path of an oncoming car. I stumbled but managed not to fall on my face. Unfortunately, I also managed to step into what appeared to be the only puddle in the vicinity, soaking one shoe and splashing the bottoms of my pant legs with cold, dirty water.

A couple of attractive guys passing by snickered at my awkward maneuvering, which wasn’t an ideal way to start the night. Hot color spread up my face—not much of a surprise since I’ve always blushed more easily than a teenage girl. Inwardly I cursed my fair coloring.

Rather than turning tail and running, I decided I wasn’t going to give up that easily. Surely somebody out there wouldn’t mind my complete lack of coolness. I shrugged off my embarrassment and walked on. The early spring chill made me wish I’d brought a jacket.

Several guys passed me, laughing and shoving each other. I surreptitiously checked them out. Not bad. Maybe I would get lucky after all.

Finally I reached First Street and turned left. Only a few businesses stood on this section of the street. The club, Red, was right next to a comedy club I’d never been to. According to Patrick, Red was not a gay club, but it was gay-friendly. Not having a whole lot of experience with clubbing in general, I had to take his word for it.

Even from a short distance away I could see the line of people waiting to get into the club. Everyone was dressed nicely, and from my vantage point several of the guys in line looked pretty hot. They would probably be straight, but at least I’d have eye candy for the night. The evening seemed to be looking up.

Of course, what goes up must come down, an old truth I have a bad habit of forgetting.