Drunk Tank Pink Novels & Stories

“I’ll be nineteen in three months, y’know. I can get married at my age.” He chuckled. This woman… she had spirit. The other bouncer, twirling a Rubik’s Cube like it was no big deal, called out, “Just let her in, Borg. As long as she’s over eighteen and can pay, she’s good.” And just like that, they were in. Two steps past the entrance, there was another set of doors. Bright pink. They opened the moment they stepped closer. He didn’t know why, but his gut dropped as he glanced inside.

"She faints at the sight of blood. How could she possibly hold a scalpel?" As if to spite me, he deliberately drank a lot more alcohol. Marcus had never been much of a drinker, and after finishing an entire bottle, there was no way he could perform surgery tomorrow. Just then, my aunt, who was caring for my mom, called. "Claire, something terrible has happened. Your mother has gotten worse..." "Aunt Jane, wait for me. I'm coming right over..." Aunt Jane's crying made everything go blank. Marcus, despite all the alcohol, went pale too. He reached for me but lost his balance, crashing into Hannah instead. Their lips collided.

Their Don, who never broke, was hollow. He didn't remember driving to the hospital. Didn't remember walking to the room. Her scent hit him in the doorway, that perfume she always wore, the one he'd always thought was forgettable. Sometimes even mildly annoying. It cut him open. His eyes went red, and the tears came before he could stop them. A sound came out of his throat, low and wrong, like an animal in a trap. One of his men came in fast, holding a folder. His face was strange.

She craved to be chosen openly, shamelessly with no hesitation. When he entered her life, he gave her exactly that, intense affection, gentle touches, long conversations, and a kind of desire she had never known. For a sheltered girl who has always felt invisible, his warm affection always felt like a light at the end of a tunnel. But behind the desire lay something heavier. His temper, his violent stories, the weight of his complicated past, and the quiet way he consumed her emotionally began to drain her. Torn between the only man who made herpersonal story about the dangers of being intensely desired and the courage it takes to choose oneself over the person who makes you feel everyth

They were attired differently; some of them were in an elaborate evening gown, a number of them were wearing jeans with a cute top, a few of the group were also in shorts and a t-shirt, but almost everyone was dressed in striking colors. Marie was dressed in a knee-length, dusty pink dress which had a small slit on one side. It was an A-line dress and had a boat neck at shoulder level. The fall of the dress was pretty natural, and she looked stunning the way that she was carrying her dress with the perfect hairstyle, and she was wearing just the right amount of make-up unlike a lot of others who had applied everything in excess on their faces that made them look a little scary.

Ryan locked himself in the lab for three days and three nights without eating or drinking. The caretaker brought food. She never got through. She could only hear things being smashed inside, loud and irregular. On the third day, the door opened. He came out with deep bruising under his eyes, lips cracked, research coat sleeves rolled to the elbows. There were a few half-healed cuts on the back of his hand, untreated. He was carrying a small vial with a pale blue liquid inside, like diluted seawater.

' I stared at Jack's clumsy explanation and replied simply, 'It's fine. Colin's birthday was two months ago. His sudden obsession with pink had started only a month back. Another excuse full of holes. Looking around at the pink couch cover beneath me, I finally sent a message to my assistant. 'Find out what Colin's been up to.' Once that was done, I took a slow look around the house at all the pink things scattered everywhere. From the smallest utensil to the largest piece of furniture—even the curtains—everything pink seemed to crawl across my skin, filling me with a wave of unease and disgust.

” Drake ~”I think it looks nice boss. Jackson ~”Nobody asked you what you think.” Anthony ~”I think it looks hot boss.” Jackson ~”What the fuck is hot about pink?” Drake ~”They look like nuns.” Jackson ~”Would you fuck a nun?” Anthony ~”Yes I would.” Jackson ~”You fucking sick.” Kayley ~”Stop bitching. We late and we are not changing.” Jackson ~”But baby.” Kayley ~”No baby buts. We are not changing.”

The entire front of the building was glass and I could see dozens of people in multiple states of sweat working out in the facility. Tank parked the car and handed me a tiny vial. “Just get this into his drink,” he instructed. “I’ll be in the car.” He leaned forward and looked at my breasts. I was amused until he reached for me. I realized he had been looking for a place to put them microphone.

Theo I’m in the middle of playing Fly me to the moon, one of the crowd’s favourites when the manager, Andrea, places a tall glass filled with a colourful drink on top of my piano. I raise an eyebrow at her. The only person who buys my drinks is Lyla, and she’s not here tonight. She places a thick card next to it, nods at me as I mumble a weak “thank you”, and leaves. I force myself to play one more song after this one before I can check it. I don’t want to seem desperate, and I’m bracing myself for the disappointment of knowing that whoever bought me a drink is not who I want.