A knock on my bedroom door interrupted the finishing touches on my makeup. I pulled it open. Kayla stood there with a huge smile on her face that immediately turned to a frown as she saw me.

"No. No way," she said. "You're not sitting next to me front row looking like that!"

Well. Fuck you too Kayla!

I didn't give voice to that particularly nasty thought though. Mostly because she was right. I'd deliberately dressed down for the occasion. Call it my own form of protest.

If she was going to drag me to this thing, if she was going to talk about front row tickets as though they were a magical ticket to catch the band's attention and get backstage passes where we were going to fall in love and live happily ever after, then I figured I was going to dress down and annoy her as much as she was annoying me.

Besides, I wanted to put on frumpy clothes. I wanted to act like the complete opposite of every woman who’d ever thrown herself at them. I'm sure it would confuse the hell out of the guys in the band if we did by some miracle end up meeting one of them.

It was obvious Kayla was having none of it.

"There's no way you're going to the concert with me dressed like that," she said. "Honestly, even if you're willing to embarrass yourself you sure as hell aren't going to embarrass me!"

I sighed. "Fine, makeover?"

"You bet your ass!"

Kayla descended on me. I don't know why I thought I could get away with this. It's not like Kayla would ever in a thousand years allow me to go out anywhere dressed like I was. Why would it be any different now when she expected me to dress like the perfect little groupie? And boy was she already dressed the part of the perfect little groupie.

Her clothes looked like they were painted on. They plunged in all the right places. Her shorts were so short they might as well be underwear, and I could see her underwear if she moved just right which I’m sure was totally intentional.

I was also sure I was going to be dressed like that before we went out. Damn it.

And so I found myself back in my bedroom where I'd spent time meticulously going over my wardrobe trying to find the perfect combination of clothing. Something that would be acceptable for going out while clearly communicating to a bunch of aging rock star wannabes trying to go back to the well one last time before they faded permanently into pop culture obscurity that there wasn't a chance in hell they were going to have a chance with me.

Only now Kayla was going over everything in my wardrobe looking for an outfit that screamed the exact opposite of everything I wanted my original outfit to scream. I wasn't surprised, but I was a little disappointed I didn't get away with my scheme.

"Damn! Don't you have anything halfway slutty in here?" Kayla asked.

I sniffed. That wasn't a very charitable assessment of my wardrobe. Then again, she was looking in the complete wrong place if she wanted to find any of my "slutty" outfits.

I sighed. I could continue to protest, but really this was ruining Kayla's night. This wasn't being a very good friend. I'd put up my token resistance, she'd shot me down, and that was that. There was no point in continuing to resist.

"You're looking in the wrong place," I said.

Kayla turned and eyed me with suspicion. "I am?"

"Look in the dresser. Bottom right drawer," I said.

Kayla arched an eyebrow at me, but she followed my directions. Her eyes went wide as she saw what waited there.

"Damn!"

"What can I say? I was optimistic when we moved to the city."

Optimistic that I'd actually have time to go out. Optimistic that I'd be able to do all of the fun night life stuff that young twenty somethings fresh out of college were supposedly flocking to the city to do.

All of that was before I discovered the joys of office work. The joys of being so damn tired when I got home that the only thing I could consider was heating up some dinner before I crashed. Going out was a distant fantasy most nights because I was too damn tired to do anything by the time I finished the work day.

But I still had a wardrobe from those days when I'd been slightly more optimistic about my chances for having a social life. Even if that optimism hadn't paid off in the broad strokes, at least it would allow Kayla to have some fun tonight. I suppose that was a small bit of consolation.

She pulled out a perfectly folded top. It was so sheer as to almost be see-through.

I shook my head. "No. No way!"

"Come on!" Kayla said. "This might be your only chance to meet Twenty Promises! Actual rock stars! And they're still in their prime no matter what you say! Mostly."

I rolled my eyes. "If you think that aging rock band is still in their prime then you're deluding yourself."

Kayla rolled her eyes. "You have to at least act like you're having fun tonight. You promised!“

"Fine," I said. "That was the last jab. I promise!"

"You'd better!"

She tossed the sheer top down next to me. It was a tank top, but it was so thin that it barely even deserved to be called clothing. They'd be able to see my bra under the thing. At least I could wear something sensible under it. Maybe something dark that would blend in with the top. Definitely not something…

Red. Lacy. Designed to draw every male eye in the vicinity.

"You've got to be kidding," I said.

"You promised!" Kayla said as she tossed the bra down beside me.

“I promised to go to the concert with you. I didn't promise to go to the concert dressed like I’m about to hop onstage and do a pole dance,” I said.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I needed to go with the flow. To give in. This evening would go a hell of a lot easier if I did.

Besides, even if I was dressed like this it's not like any of the members of Twenty Promises would notice me. There’d be plenty of girls dressed like this. It’s not like they’d have a chance with me if they did notice.

And so I found myself pulling on the sluttiest outfit I'd worn in years. At least since we'd graduated college and moved away. Which wasn't that long ago, even if it did feel like an eternity!

It's not like I was against getting dressed up. Far from it. It's just that I wasn't exactly a fan of getting dressed up for an event where I wasn't interested in attracting any of the men who were on offer. Which I figured would pretty much be the guys in the band.

Finally I stood in front of my mirror looking myself up and down. A dark see-through top. A red bra underneath that was painfully obvious. A skirt that barely went past my ass cheeks. A thong under the skirt. I don't know what the hell Kayla thought was going to happen tonight, but her imagination and the reality in my mind were two very different things.

Still, I was dressed similar to her now. At least I was showing solidarity with my friend, even if there was no chance any rock star hands were going to be making their way up my skirt.

I was sure that was what Kayla was hoping for. Again, fantasy and reality were two very different unrelated things in her mind today.

I looked at her and arched my eyebrow. "You're not going to redo my makeup?"

"No," she said. "Your makeup is cute. It's the rest of your frumpasaurus outfit that was the real problem."

I smiled and resisted the urge to reach out and smack my best friend. That would really put a damper on the evening before it started. Instead I reached out and took her hand.

It was time for us to go out on the town. Tear it up like we hadn't since we both got full time real world jobs.

As we walked out dressed to the nines my excitement was only slightly tempered by the knowledge we were going out to tear it up by seeing the biggest bad boy rock act in the world ten years ago.