Draft
The floor was a deep marbled black that shone with a metallic glint under the soft blue lights that danced across the bodies of furs from all ages, species, and backgrounds, mostly in groups of twos or threes. On the left side was a bar table lined with drinks, most of them alcoholic and each with their own colorful label, and the odd assorted nut dish. In the far back were the restrooms and four velvet-lined booths that stood back to back, just in case the younger couples got a little too "wild". Right across from the entrance a skinny teenage cheetah sat boredly behind a turn table and a row of synth boards, stereos, and computers. He was most likely bored stiff, poor thing. To wrap it all up a raised platform stood to the left. That, my friend, was the dancefloor, woefully empty-looking as it was only 9:00 PM. Still, the night was young, and it would house many eventful happenings once the hours progressed.
The muscular, formidable-looking Rottweiler in black uniform moved aside with an indifferent grunt. "Enjoy Club Moonshine, lass." A nod, a smile. The door opened, and in stepped her. The 20-year-old feline was dressed in a black minidress that complimented in her conveniently-placed curves. It fell just above her knees and was cut in a low v-shape. At least, interesting enough to catch someone's eye. Her fur was a pure snow-white, complimented by dark black hair that fell in waves around her pointed ears. Her sinuous tail swished in sensual time with her hips as she sauntered forward with nary a care in the world. It was a Saturday night, her boyfriend was away, and in her current sex-starved state she was determined to have fun.
In more ways than one.
"What's your name, darlin'? Can I getcha somethin'?" the bartender drawled in a heavy Texan accent. He was a short, stocky fellow wearing a kindly smile and a casual green polo. He raised an eyebrow, trying not to inhale her provocative scent too much; what was a young girl in heat doing in a club full of horny male furries?
"Evie Jones. And a cold beer would be nice, actually," she replied, flashing a crooked smile. Her eyes were a bright ochre color, lined with long, mascara-laden lashes and darted about the scene before settling on the bull's face.
"Comin' right up." He served the beer with a unique degree of finesse before winking and turning to address the next customer.
Evie clambered on to the stool closest to her and whirled in a circle until she faced the rest of the place. Her tail twitched with excitement as she surveyed the dancefloor with an experienced eye and an almost empty can. Bodies covered in everything from fur to scales to feathers gyrated on each other in time to the pulsating techno beat. Another beer followed, courtesy of the still-grinning bartender, and another and another until she was quite thoroughly... drunk. (A/N: Please excuse the hasty paragraph TT_TT)
(Will add more tomorrow.)