Linda and Janet grinned to each other as they mingled on the dance floor. It was a lovely summer evening, and the pair were at the nightclub to drink, party, and flirt with boys. Two short, skinny, cute women with bubble butts and tiny skirts were always a popular sight. Blonde Linda placed an arm over her redhaired friend's shoulder. "Your glass is empty. Need a new one?" Janet nodded.
They were walking back to the bar, where Janet hoped she could flirt her way to another drink from one of the young men sitting there, when Linda suddenly stopped, a nervous expression spreading across her face. In front of her stood Lance, an occasional disciplinarian of hers, and he looked far from happy. The powerfully built man in his thirties was slightly less than six foot high, but when he approached them and scowled down at Linda, he towered over the little woman so that she looked like a small child. "What are you two doing here?" he asked with a voice that made both of the girls shiver. "The age limit here is twenty, last time I checked, and you're both nineteen."
"I'm dancing," Linda responded, scowling back at him. She was having fun, and she had no intention of listening to anyone asking her to behave.
"That's not what I meant, and you know that very well, little miss," he said, his voice somehow even sterner. "How did you get in?"
"I flirted with the bouncer, and he let us pass," she explained, grinning. "But what's so wrong about dancing a little?"
"What are you drinking?"
She tried to hide her glass by holding it behind her back, even though she knew it was far too late. "Soda," she responded while avoiding his gaze – Lance was a little TOO good at picking up when she was lying.
He grabbed her arm and forced her to hand him the drink. He lifted it up and sniffed the contents. The look he gave her made her bottom tingle unpleasantly. "You're also too young to be drinking spirits, Linda. That means this place can lose their liquor licence if anyone discovers it. Do you want the nightclub to close just because you can't wait for your next birthday?" Janet didn't even try to resist when he grabbed her glass as well. Even though it was empty, he could smell clearly what had been in it. "You as well?" he said, scowling at her. "You two are coming with me, and we will discuss this somewhere more private."
Linda folded her arms in front of her chest and poked her tongue up at him. "We don't want to. Me and Janet are going to continue partying."
"I wasn't asking," Lance responded calmly. With little effort, he picked her up and placed her over his shoulder. He glanced over at Janet, who took a step forward as if to show that she was a good girl and would come along without needing to be carried.
With one girl squirming on his shoulder and the other obediently following him, Lance started to move away from the crowd. Linda blushed so much she was struggling to breathe – to be scolded like a little girl in the middle of the club was bad enough, but to be placed over his shoulder and carried away like a sack of potatoes? How embarrassing! She struck her fists against his back to make him put her down, but he responded by smacking her butt with his palm, so she quickly stopped. To be carried was embarrassing, but to be slapped on the butt while everyone was watching was even worse, and she also didn't want to make him any angrier than he already was. In addition, his smacks were quite painful.