“You have a boyfriend? Actually, who's in the single club?” I asked suddenly. 
“All except Sandra. She's unfortunately been committed for three years to this jerk.” Chanel answered showing a picture of Sandra with a dashing Korean man.
“Damn fuck, you won a lottery!” I said, looking at the photo. He nearly looked like a K-pop idol.
“I know, babe. He's the best!” 
“Eh, I really don't think you should count yourself single, Chanel. Something is always going on with you.” Kylie pointed out. 
“Yeah, hooking up every week doesn't qualify as a single. What about that chef guy you were seeing since the past two months?” 
“Eh, he's old news now. Besides-” Chanel said, smirking. “Sex is too good of an activity to be missed out.”  
“I agree 1000%. I appreciate girls who don't shy away from talking about sex. Why should boys have all the fun? Sex is a two way street.” 
“Exactly! I like you more and more now, Natasha.” Chanel looked at me, her eyes glazed. 
“Same here.” I looked at her. 
“Now kiss.” Kylie teased and all of us started laughing. 
For the next few minutes, Chanel and I engaged in a steamy conversation that involved sexual escapades, kinks and dissing men. 
I slid the glass on the table and slumped my head down, groaning in annoyance. “Ugh, all this sex talk makes me wanna get laid right now. I haven't had a good fuck for a while.” 
“Damn right, it's been three days for me.”
“A week” 
“Eight months.”
“Eight months?!” Both Sandra and I gasped at Kylie's answer. I couldn't even feel bad for myself anymore. Suddenly Sandra stood up, clapping loud. “Stop this! We aren't here to whine about our sex lives... or lack thereof. Let's dance!” 
“I know! We should make Natasha dance to an Indian song.” Chanel suggested. 
“What? No! I suck.” I defended. 
“That's upto us to decide, darling.” 
Somehow, after twenty minutes of buttering and a duet Jarabe (Mexican dance) between Sandra and Chanel, they convinced someone like Natasha Patil to  dance to her feet. That too, in front of foreigners. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking. I danced to Sheela ki Jawani, not missing a chance to shake my hips or boobs for that matter. I was officially high now. 
I didn't remember exactly what was happening at midnight. Music was blasting from the speakers. All of us were prancing and dancing around the house like deranged women who escaped a mental hospital. In the midst, Chanel, Sandra and I took a break by standing at the balcony to light our respective cigarettes. By that, I meant throwing smoke to each other's faces and cracking. All we were missing was a good old pot. Guess I was having the time of my life. 
Everything was sexy until someone suggested drinking- dial our respective exes. 
It started with Chanel who gladly video called her ex-chef boyfriend (or whatever he was). She told him to fuck off and to fuck her ass as per his choice. Hilarious! Sandra's call to her boyfriend was short and boringly sweet. Kylie's call to her mysterious ex didn't go through. Inevitably so, as it was one at night.
Which left me on the radar. 
Obviously my feeble attempts to back off were ignored. It was 10 AM in India. I video called Rithik, internally praying he would be having breakfast with his family. I smiled victoriously when the phone kept ringing but then, it got picked at the last minute. My breath hitched as the familiar face of Rithik appeared on the screen. Even more so when I heard his sexy voice. For a few seconds, he squinted his eyes at me until he shook his head dismay.