I Heart New York by Lindsey Kelk

make too many choices about going out shoes,’ I held out a foot for inspection to approving hums and nods.
    ‘Well, you did good, honey,’ Gina said, sipping her cocktail. ‘You’ll be just fine.’
    At least I’d got the level of dressing up right. Gina looked ridiculously sexy in high, high heels and a knee-length, skin-tight silk dress in a rich purple. Jenny was putting her namesake to shame in a plunging cream dress that cut way past her cleavage and the other two girls had really taken the ‘short is the new black’ mantra I’d seen in fashion magazines to heart. Individually they looked super sexy but as a pack, they looked unreal. If I were a man, I’d have been terrified.
    Not at all strangely, for five scantily-clad women, we found cabs right away and were climbing out at the Soho Grand in minutes. From the outside, nothing really looked that grand but the ordinary façade belied an amazing interior. Like The Union, it was dimly lit but decked out with chandeliers and amazing wrought iron-work. The Grand Bar was lined with chrome stools that were occupied by equally beautiful people befitting the decor. Jenny had reserved a section of the lounge, which was already spilling over with people I recognized from the hotel and people I didn’t. Everyone was all about the hugs, kisses and ‘you rock’ affirmations, but I wasn’t drunk enough not to feel self-conscious.
    ‘Hey, you really do look great,’ Jenny whispered in my ear as we were ushered through into our own private slice of opulence. ‘And you’ll be just fine. Just talk to people, you’re practically a local celebrity and shit, you look so hot!’ A reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and she was gone.
    No matter how great I was told I looked and how fabulous my surroundings, I still felt like a fish out of water. The first two drinks were wearing off and all of a sudden, I was just Angela Clark in a room full of strangers wearing a really short dress. For the want of something to do, I went to the bar. If I was holding a drink, at least I’d have something to do with my hands. Even though it wasn’t even ten, the bar was busy with hotel guests and after-work drinkers but I managed to slip onto a stool as a sweaty man in a suit vacated, and checked out the cocktail menu. From here, Gina’s group looked as if it could be any A-lister’s after party. I didn’t think anyone at home would believe me if I told them that the gorgeous, groomed minxes in the VIP area were hotel workers and hairdressers. They looked like movie stars to me and no matter how many makeovers I had, it had still only been three days since I was just Angela Clark, nobody. Maybe I wasn’t ready to become Angela Clark, somebody, just yet.
    ‘Waiting for someone?’ asked a voice at my side.
    If this man was going to offer me money for sex, I would have had to consider it. Please ask me how much for a blow job, I prayed. He was tall, broad shouldered and very handsome. I instantly imagined him to be called Chip or Brad and to ride very fast, manly motorcycles on the weekends.
    ‘I’m actually with some friends,’ I said, pointing over at the group who were getting louder by the second. ‘I was just taking a break. Getting a drink.’
    ‘Me too,’ he said smoothly. His eyes were a light blue and even in the dim, sultry lighting, I could see them twinkling as he nodded towards a group of guys sitting around one of the low coffee tables opposite the bar. ‘I needed two minutes out of the zoo. Don’t you hate it when you go for a drink after work and then just talk about work?’
    I laughed, not really sure why. It wasn’t even vaguely funny. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had after work drinks,’ I said, thanking every god I could think of as the stool next to me freed up and he sat down. ‘I’m a freelancer so I work from home most of the time.’
    ‘What’ll it be?’ the bartender interrupted. I looked down at the menu, flustered. Not a Sex on the Beach or