This story includes explicit sexual content. Please use discretion.

Enjoy.

01: I'm So Over This

Zola sat deep in the curved sofa in the private area in Monaco, the newest underground club to open in Austin. The low glass table was peppered with bottles and glassware. The long, narrow club was end-capped with bars, and the DJ setup was centered in the wall directly across from her elevated section and featured Reezo Hassan that night.

Zola watched the crowd move rhythmically in front of her eyes. The music was deafening and vibrating through her body in an overwhelmingly hazy way. The lights, the thick and heavy air, the booze, it all made everything seem surreal and disconnected.

"Heeeyy baby ..." Harper's voice was slurred and she fell into the sofa smelling of alcohol, vape residue, and sweat. "Come dance with me." Zola's on-again-off-again girlfriend was in rare form that night. Zola watched her dance, drink, and flirt with men and women all night. She wasn't particularly interested in any of her behavior.

Zola heard her own voice and it sounded like her tongue was swollen and her throat was dry, "Nooo, Harper. I want to go ... I'm over this."

Harper pouted, pushing her bottom lip out as she whined. "Zooolaaa. It's still early. And, Harry's having a thing at his place after." She pressed into Zola and kissed her in a sloppy and unsatisfying way. "Please? Here ... have a drink."

Zola turned her head. "Noooo ... I don't want ..." In her half-drunken state, Zola barely put up a fight. Once the glass touched her lips, she drank instinctively, gulping to try to keep up with the steep angle of the glass as Harper pushed the stem of the glass up.

"See?! That's better. Let's dance." Harper pulled Zola out of the VIP seating and past their personal bouncer and into the crowd. Zola felt like she was moving through water. She found the rhythm of the music and was vaguely aware of the people surrounding her.

Harper pulled her in and groped and fumbled as she pulled and pushed Zola's body, creating friction. Zola felt Harper's mouth capture hers. Harper's tongue invaded and there was a sweet and sour taste from the evening's libations. Zola kissed her back, gaining a second wind. She could feel Harper smile victoriously into the kiss.

By the time they moved back to the private seating, Zola's head was spinning. Harper drove her back into the sofa and continued to kiss her and run her hands over her hips.

Zola gasped for air and perspective. She called out over the music, "Harper, stop! Let's go home!"

"Zola, please don't do this again. I want to party." Harper stood and tugged at Zola's hand. "Come on ... let's go to the bathroom."

"Harper, that's all you do! No ... I don't want to." Zola knew that Harper intended to drop some designer drug in the bathroom and then make out. "Please, Harp ... voglio andare a casa (I want to go home), with you. I'm so over this."

"Come on!" Harper grabbed her clutch and pulled. Zola stumbled after her toward the private bathrooms for VIPs.

----

Harper moved the two of them into the bathroom. She could see that Zola was struggling. Her body was flooded with alcohol and the haze of nicotine and pot from a night of clubbing.

"Come here, Baby." Harper pressed Zola into the counter. She kissed her deeply and with purpose, forcing the woman to writhe and gasp for air. When Zola broke away, Harper slipped a small white pill onto her own tongue and pulled Zola back in. Thrusting her tongue, she pushed the "Skittle" deep into Zola's mouth.

Zola gasped. "No, cara (dear)." But, her mouth reacted in muscle memory to Harper's strong, stroking lips and tongue. She kissed her and felt her body relax and tingle with sexual desire. Her mind was foggy and she was trying to reconcile her body's rising desire and her realization that she was being drugged and seduced, yet again, by her girlfriend.

"See? This is all you needed." Harper's hips pressed into her and her hand slipped up underneath her dress. It was metallic, skin tight, and came down just inches into her upper thigh. Harper stroked Zola through her silk underwear, running her fingers along the seam and her skin.

"Harper, per favore, amante (please, lover)." Zola grasped the counter and leaned back. "Take me home." Zola's body was responding to Harper's deft hands. "Harper ... let's go, I want you to myself."

"It's okay,baby." Harper placed her free hand on Zola's waist to steady her. She kissed her again as she simultaneously pushed her fingers into Zola, thrusting deeply and slowly.

"No ..." Zola panted, trying to deny the woman, but her body arched with pleasure and she could hear herself moan at her touch.

"Zo ... stay with me. We're going to have such a good time tonight." Harper continued to push and draw and she watched Zola's eyes roll and her body rock with pleasure.

"Harper ..." She was panting now, her body tensing. "I want to ..."

Harper smirked and grinned, loving her manipulation. She cooed into Zola's mouth, nipping at her full lips. "You want to, cum? Don't you?"

Zola whimpered in frustration, need, and surrender. She hated herself at that moment. "Yes. Si, I want to." Harper pressed in deeply, pulling down her slicked walls as she sucked hard on Zola's neck and pressed into her body. Zola seized in pleasure and shame. "Oh, fuck! Monellaccio (you little devil)!"

"See? So much better." Harper kissed Zola now she was also drunk with dominance and power. "Meet me back at the table for shots." She left, not looking back and not bothering to wash her hands.

Zola moved slowly, straightening herself and trying to regain some emotional balance. She was normally a beautiful Italian woman with dark thick hair and cinnamon-brown eyes. Her skin was more olive than light, supple, and well cared for, her features symmetrical and soft.

As she looked into the mirror, she cringed at what she saw. She looked disheveled, her eyes clouded and beginning to dilate from the MDMA. Harper and Monaco 1, Zola 0. Zola felt a sob rising in her throat but knew she had to make it back to their table before she lost herself entirely to the jitteriness and 'bump' of the drugs.

The next day she would have no clear, distinct memory of her reflection, just a foggy, thick sense that Harper was not good for her.

----

The two women danced and drank deep into the night. Local socialites moved in and out of their section, the bouncer always checking with them before allowing entry. By the end of the night, their tab would reach well into the 4-digits and Zola's driver and handler Anthony, would make sure everything was taken care of.

Both Zola's and Harper's families tolerated their behavior because neither had compromised their family standing in any serious manner. There was also a degree of social status that was to be gained by having a young, beautiful, clubbing daughter who "occasionally kissed girls."

Zola Basilio's family came from "old money." Her great grandfather immigrated from Italy and was a fashion icon in shoes. He spent a good bit of time in Hollywood catering to celebrities in his early years. The family company pioneered shoe design for women. Their company was international and their handmade designer shoes started in the 1000s of dollars and could be found on the feet of only the most elite. Zola's family's net worth was well over 5 billion dollars.

Harper Embry's father was a tech billionaire who started in Silicon Valley but moved into the Austin area with the early wave of "Dellionaires." Her family didn't quite have the same social prestige, but when her father left Dell and started DigiSol, specializing in social media marketing for celebrities and elite organizations, the company skyrocketed in value and DigiSol was valued in the 100s of millions of dollars.

----

Anthony loaded the two women into the back of the black Cadillac SUV. He could smell the sweat and alcohol emanating from them and their eyes were dilated as drugs washed through their bodies. Once he had them strapped in, he looked in the rearview mirror.

"Home, Miss Basilio?" Anthony was an employee who once worked for Zola's older brother, Dominic. But, now he was charged with 'babysitting' Zola.

"Si, Anthony, mine please." Anthony pulled out into almost no traffic.

Zola shifted and looked around, still stimulated and on edge. She had a headache and realized that she was not going to be able to settle down easily. She glanced over at Harper and her eyes were glassy and wide. Zola could barely see the edges of her brown irises.

"Not yet! Please ..."

Zola readied herself for another round of debate. Then, before Harper could continue, Zola saw a split second of panic flash across Harper's face. As if in slow motion, Zola saw her vomit and began to seize.

"Holy shit! Jesus! Anthony, stop the car! Che cazzo (What the fuck)?!"

Anthony swerved, pulling the car over. He opened the back door to try to assess what was happening and realized almost immediately that Harper wasn't throwing up from just alcohol. The seizing was not heaving in the throws of vomiting. Something was beyond wrong.

"Fuck! Fuck! Miss Basilio, we're going to the hospital. Now!" Anthony jumped back into the driver's seat and sped toward Seton Medical.

"Jesus, what do I do?!" Zola was panicking now. Harper's body was tight with uncontrollable thrashing and there was vomit everywhere. "Anthony!! What do I do?"

"Just try to stay fucking calm! Don't let her choke! Fuck!" Anthony was driving dangerously fast but they were close to the ER.

"Harper it's okay, cara!" Harper's seizures continued and Zola unbuckled and tried to shift her slightly so her head wasn't tilted back. "Oh, cazzo! Harper, come on Baby, it's okay."