Free The Washingtonienne by Jessica Cutler

tomorrow?” I asked.
    “Shit no,” she said, chopping out a line for me with her Senate debit card. “Do you think anyone here is going to work tomorrow?”
    Apparently, the opening of Saki had heralded a huge drop in productivity among the twentysomething workforce in Washington.
    “Do you have any more?” I asked when I finished my line. “I can’t do one line and just stop like this.”
    “
Is anybody carrying in here?
” Laura shouted at the people in the other stalls.
    “
No!
” they all shouted back.
    “Goddamn liars,” Laura muttered.
    “It’s, like,
impossible
to get drugs in this town,” I complained. “April and I were forced to do Robo last week.”
    “A bottle of Robitussin costs what, eight dollars? I should quit doing all this coke and start drinking cough syrup to save money.”
    Suddenly, we heard April’s voice in the bathroom.
    “Jackie? Laura? Where are you guys?”
    I opened the door to our stall, and we stepped out to meet her.
    “Should I go home with that guy I was making out with?” she asked us. “He’s a vice president of a bank or something.”
    “Do you know how many vice presidents you’re going to meet?” I asked her.
    She shook her head no.
    “More than you’ll know what to do with.”
    “What about Tom?” Laura asked.
    “Until I get a ring,” April said, wiggling her left ring finger, “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
    April was obviously drunk, but she deserved a fun night out, too.
    We heard the deejay put on “Relax” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood, and we all ran back out to the dance floor. April and Laura disappeared, so I started dancing with some fool who was wearing a tuxedo.
    Suddenly, Laura grabbed me by the arm and pulled me over to the bar. She had a boy with her.
    “Sean has coke back at his place!” she told me excitedly.
    By then, it was three in the morning, and Saki was about to close.
    “Sidebar, Laura,” I took her aside. “Who the fuck is Sean?”
    “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Does it matter? He’s a guy with coke!”
    Laura and I followed our new best friend Sean up the stairs to the exit. We saw April climb into a limo with the vice president she had met.
    “A thousand points for April!” Laura yelled after her. “Leaving the club in a fucking limo!”
    “Who the fuck takes a limo to
Saki
?” I asked as it sped off to someplace fabulous.
    Sean took Laura and me to his duplex on nearby Euclid Street. He had a big glass coffee table in the living room, perfect for doing coke on. We gathered around it, watching Sean chop out some big, fat lines for us.
    “Dude, we like you already,” Laura said, taking a seat next to him on a black leather couch.
    “How
much
do you like me?” Sean asked suggestively. “Because I have some more stuff upstairs, if you want it.”
    Laura and I looked at each other, not sure if we should be offended or turned on.
    The coke was making us frisky, so she asked me, “Hey, Jackie, do you
want it
?”
    I nodded.
    “Do
you
?” I asked.
    We started giggling as we followed Sean up the stairs.
    SO TYPICAL. HE MADE US snort the coke off his dick. I always felt kind of stupid doing this, but decided it was worth it: It never hurts to make friends with someone who has a lot of drugs.
    “So what do you do, Sean?” I asked while Laura did a line.
    “Like, tell us about yourself,” she said, coming up for air.
    Sean climbed on top of me as I assumed the position. “I’ll tell you as soon as I finish.”
    “I’m a bike messenger,” he said about two minutes later.
    No wonder he didn’t want to tell us before. Girls like Laura turned their noses up at guys like Sean. But I
adored
bike messengers. They looked like rock stars to us girls trapped in offices all day
,
with those big chains around their waists, and the one pant leg rolled up. I creamed my pants whenever one rode by me on the street. The DC bike messengers were that hot.
    Unfortunately, sex on coke wasn’t. It was fast and