You had gone to a random party, you weren't much of a party person, but you liked to have fun. So you went, alone but there would be people there, you assured yourself that you would have a good time. Yeah. Good. You danced with people, laughed and made friends in the ladies' room. You had had too much to drink...

Liquor on your lips can be dangerous...

Yeah, you were drunk in the middle of a party, you didn't care at all—you were aware of everything that was going on around you anyway, the only thing you were worried about was how to get home. But that thought was interrupted when you locked eyes with a man who was... Totally your type to be honest. I mean, he looked like he was stoned as hell. Although, what bad thing could happen? Huh? Before you could get close, he approached you himself. With a cigarette in his hand that had a phone number on it.

He handed you the cigarette with the number in his hand, looking at you with a somewhat stupid and lost look.

—"Do you want it?"

He said to you, maybe your eyes were a little blurry because you were drunk, but you immediately recognized who that man was. Tommy Lee. Drummer of that band called Mötley Crüe. That band that even played their music at that party. Well, the drummer of Mötley Crüe was offering you his phone number with a stupid look. What bad luck you have, huh?

You knew it would be wrong to take it, but you did. You couldn't resist. You couldn't help it. By that I meant that liquor was dangerous, especially in excess. You took it, folded it, and put it in your pocket. The music was loud around the two of you, leaving no room for silence.

—"Tommy. And you?"

He introduced himself, smiling at you like an idiot, approaching you and putting his arm around your shoulders, his other hand going into his pocket. You swore you saw fire in his eyes anyway.