Cayetana gave Mikaela the basilisk's look, as she grabbed Irene from her side and took her to the dance-floor. She had barely managed to introduce herself, when the Inquistan came out of nowhere and took the Red Croatian queen away.
"Damn it." she thought. "What's with all the fine couture? I thought the dress code was business formal."
"I have to find the way to attract Irene's attention, and what I'm wearing could only attract an angry mob of fashion designers."
Cayetana approached the bar and asked the waiter if there was anywhere that she could get changed. Gladly, she had thought about the possibility of a state dinner being held at the Spanish royal palace, so she'd brought a stylish and fiery black silk gown with her, just in case.
"All these hoes are wearing their pristine white dresses, as if they were prudish teenagers at a cotillion. But I'm going to be the black pussycat of this party!" she said to herself while trying to get into the dress, bumping her arms and legs against the 2m^2 toilet's walls.
When she came out, though, nobody was to be seen.
"Ladies, where are you? Is this a prank?" gasped Cayetana. "Man I hate clubs. You always get lost."
