I’m not wild about Britney Spears or nothing, but she was correct in saying "boys… sometimes a girl just needs one." How true? It was my new motto, at least for the night.

Boys can be used and disposed of easily. Boys are like paper towels; you only need them in certain situations and when that situation is over, so is their time with you. Boys are exactly what I’m looking for. I wanna fuck and run. I don’t want his number. I don’t want dinner or a movie tomorrow. Get me home, get in me, get me off, get out.

Boys get a bad rap, but I really think it’s men that deserve that. You have to do a man’s laundry, cook a man’s dinner. Men don’t fuck, they make love and wanna cuddle with you later. It’s missionary for seven minutes, girl on top for three, he cums, asks if you did, you nod but stay unsatisfied, he takes his ass to sleep. You bring handcuffs to bed to mix things up a little and he just smiles uneasily over his wall street journal. Why do I want things differently, he asks. Why am I not satisfied? Forget about men. I’ll call a man up when I’m ready to settle down.

I called up Christina, she was always ready for a wild night. We were standing in my bathroom, fixing our hair, applying blush and listening to our standard hype-up music.

"Do you want some China white?" Christina said.

"Uh... I haven’t done it in a while."

"You gotta do something, you can’t just go out to party and be straight. I got X too, I got you covered tonight."

"Fine. Give me a pill."

It was a dark blue pill with the Apple Computers logo on it. I shrugged it off, popped it in my mouth and put my lips to the faucet to wash it down.

"Let’s go, dude, it’s almost eleven."

"Alright."

We went to the same club we always went to in this dick deprived state, Sundown. It was a big place, the tourists always came here to let loose. The tourist boys were the best. Most of them didn’t know the South Beach area code, so you could make up any number you wanted if you wanted him to get off your back for the night. 808, 262, 817, 639... didn’t matter. They’d take it and feel awesome about "that hot chick he met in South Beach", but he’d never get to talk to her ever again. Poor thing.

The ecstasy was kicking in. My body was tingling and a little shaky. The spotlights seared into my brain, it was fucking beautiful. It’s like the stars were dropping with the beat of the song. Christina handed me a drink and ran her finger around the rim, meaning she’d put something in it.

"What is it?"

"A vodka and cranberry."

"No, what’s in here?"

"Vodka and cranberry juice."

"Bitch, you know what the fuck I mean."

"Enjoy the ride, bitch. You know I’m gonna show you a good time."

I nodded and sipped as carefully as my numb lips would allow. The drink was hot, it made my chest feel red and raw. I couldn’t taste anything but vodka. Christina was good at this, putting shit in my drink and not letting me know what it is. The ice cubes melted in the cup, leaving purple swirls. They danced like concubines, mixing with that alcohol and juice.

"Wake your punk ass up, it’s time to get the kill of the night!"

"Dude, what’s in this?"

"It’s fucking uppers. Get hyped, bitch. You’re going to be a little sex machine tonight."

"Are we going home with the same dude or not?"

"I planned on crashing in your extra room, but if you think someone can handle us, by all means."

I stared at one guy for what seemed to be forever. I was grinding on something, making eyes at him. He approached me, trying to look cool and failing miserably. His hands gripped my hips. My spine felt like warm rubber when he touched me. I got

"Hey sweetheart, how’s your night going?"

"Pretty awesome, I just wanna dance right now."

"Cool, cool. I understand, it’s all good."

I was twirling about, spilling my drink all over my face when I lifted it to my lips. My shirt was soaked, but this guy didn’t care. He kept whispering things to me. His breath was hot. I didn’t give a fuck what he was saying or interested in talking back, I just wanted to keep the heat on my ear. I was sweating, teeth chattering and skin balmy.

"Drink this water." Christina yelled, thrusting a bottle in my face.

I abided, leaning back onto the random guy dry humping me for support. I felt amazing, as if I were floating on a cloud. I closed my eyes, letting the swirls of red, yellow, blue and green take me away. I was outside of myself. I watching myself dance my ass off. I was watching myself fuck this guy later. I was waking up with a brownie and a can of lemonade. I was snoring loudly next to Christina. I was fucking alive, man.

"Give me your car keys."

"What?"

"Give me your car keys." Christina yelled.

"Do we have boys?"

"Yeah, we’re getting it tonight, they’re going to follow us to your place."

I closed my eyes again. I put my hand up my skirt, just to get a little head start. My pussy was hot, my breasts were bouncing and my sheets were incredibly soft. My pillows were under my butt. Someone’s tongue was inside of me. I was gripping hair. Biting skin. Screaming in languages unknown to humans. Riding a blonde guy. Sucking a brunet off. Kissing Christina. Falling off the bed and being picked up again. Rising, falling. Crescendo, decrescendo. Cumming, coming down, cumming, coming down. Exploding with pleasure. Watching Christina. Smiling. Laughing. Screaming.

I opened my eyes. The two men were sleeping between Christina and I. Thank God for that queen sized bed. I smiled and got up to go pee. My head was fucking pounding. I’d gone too far last night, but I loved it. I didn’t remember most of what happened, but I’m sure whatever happened made me smile.

I washed my hand and looked in the mirror. My night-old eyeliner made me look like a raccoon today. My lips were a little swollen, I had handprints on my neck and a small bruise on my left cheek. I looked down at my shirt, the same I partied in the night before. Did I cut myself? There was blood all down the front of it.

I lifted it, looking for an injury, but I didn’t find one. I checked my boobs, my butt, my neck, my shoulders, my legs… everywhere. I didn’t find one mark. I walked back into the bedroom.

"Christina… Chris… Chris, wake your ass up." I whispered.

"Whadoyouwan?" She muttered.

"Dude, I got blood on me."

"You what?"

"I said I got fucking blood on me, get the fuck up."

She sat up, blood covered her arms, face and shirt. I screamed.

"Hey… dudes, dudes sleeping in my bed. It’s time to go, get your asses up."

They didn’t move. I jumped on the bed.

"Hey motherfuckers, this was a one-night stand, get your asses out of my house."

Again, nothing. Christina looked at the blonde’s face and shrieked.

"Dude, he’s fucking purple and his throat is slit."

"You’re fucking kidding me."

I turned the brunet on his back, he was in the same condition.

"You crazy bitch! How the fuck are you going to kill some dudes in my crib and leave them here? Why’d you do this? What the fuck were you thinking?" I yelled.

"Quit fucking screaming at me. I must have blacked out."

"No, you don’t fucking ‘black out’ and kill someone. What the fuck happened?"

"Dude, I don’t fucking know. Don’t call the cops, please don’t call the cops."

"What the fuck am I supposed to do, man? I’m not getting caught with two dead dudes in my fucking house."

"Let’s bury them somewhere. No one will ever know."

"Don’t you watch Cold Case Files? Everyone gets caught. We fucked them, our DNA is all over them."

"Can’t we bleach them?"

"Bleach isn’t going to do it."

"Aren’t there books that teach you how to dispose of bodies?"

"Are you … why am I responding to that? You better figure this shit out, Christina."

"Dude, I’m sorry."

"Your sad ass ‘sorry’ is NOT bringing these dudes back."

"Let’s put them through a wood chipper and burn the remains."

"A wood chipper?"

"Yeah, they’d get chopped up into tiny bits and then we’d burn what was left. We’ll clean the shit out of it, spread the ashes somewhere and go on like nothing fucking happened."

I thought about it for a second.

"Where are we going to find a wood chipper?"

"Don’t worry about it."

We went on a camping trip two days later. We’d kept the boys in my tub with ice cubes, draining it occasionally. Christina got hold of a wood chipper and had the remains in a black bag. I didn’t want to be there to see it. I couldn’t imagine hearing the bones snap, cleaning out the bone fragments and hauling them around. It made me sick to even think about it. She had to do it though, I didn’t kill anyone, I shouldn’t have to go through the same moral punishment she did. We pitched our tent and started a fire. She bought out the bag.

"Do you want to start?"

"No, but let’s get it over with."

She handed me a pair of gloves. I picked out a small piece and gagged.

"This is fucking sick, I can’t do this."

"You fucking have to. It’s all pretty dried out. The bones can be like wood or something…"

"Christina, you’re sick."

"You put two bodies through a wood chipper and tell me how morally upstanding you are afterwards."

I gulped and threw the small chunk on to the flames. After an hour, I didn’t mind it as much. She was right, the bones did keep the flames going. We finished the black bag, had a few drinks and went to sleep, promising to never mention this again. As we headed to our cars, Christina turned to me.

"Hey, what are you doing next weekend?"

"I don’t know, why?"

"Do you wanna do it again?"

I smiled.