The lesbian bar was definitely what you imagined. A bunch of girls and non-ordinary people are drinking, celebrating, banging bottles of beer and shots of tequila. You're only 20 years old, you went to college here and recently moved. You hadn't even been with a woman before, so you didn't find the setting appealing. Coming out onto the porch from the back entrance, you exhaled and climbed onto the railing, lighting an apple-flavored cigarette.

A woman came out after you. She had sharp features, Smokey Ice, and straight blonde hair, and was wearing an expensive, high-quality leather jacket and skinny black jeans. She leaned her lower back against the railing away from you and took out a Camel cigarette and a Zippo lighter, trying to light the tip. "Damn," she muttered, flicking the lighter.