“Were you a stripper in a former life?” he eyes me doubtfully.
“Don’t underestimate me,” I tell him stoutly. “Just because my boobs aren’t gigantic doesn’t mean that I couldn’t be a stripper.”
“She could totally have been a stripper,” Alli defends me loyally in her Daisy-Dukes and cowgirl hat.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
Sam looks at the both of us like we’re on drugs. “Okayyyy,” he says, and it’s more of a question than a word.
“Don’t do that,” I snap at him.
He stares at me. “What did I do?”
“Don’t sit there looking all handsome and being all condescending when you don’t know me at all. I’m awesome, goddamnit. And I’m a badass.”
“She is,” Alli pipes in.
I nod for good measure. “A total badass.”
“I have no doubt,” he assures me.
Alex pours us all drinks to change the subject, which to me, is always an excellent subject changer.
“To us,” he toasts, when we’re all holding champagne flutes. “To Alli and me, and to our last night of being single. To Sam, for being the best brother, and for Sara… for being… well, Sara.”
“A badass,” I interject.
“A badass,” he agrees.
We clink glasses and I knock mine back like a bottle of water after spinning class. They’re all sufficiently impressed, so I pour another.
“To Alli,” I toast. “For being the best friend in the world. You’ve been with me through brazilians, and men. Through heels and through flats. Through botox and benders. You’ve held my hand and slapped me. You’ve been with me through our Boone’s Hill phase years ago, to our expensive taste now. All in all, you’ve been like a sister to me. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”
I start to choke up and I don’t know why—I haven’t even been drinking much yet. This can’t be possible. I DON’T HAVE A HEART, DAMMIT.
Alli throws her slender arms around my neck. “I’m not going anywhere,” she assures me. “Nothing will change but my last name.”
“Promise?” I ask tearfully.
She nods. “Yes. I promise.”
“Ok,” I sniff. “Then let’s get this party started!”
I startle everyone by jumping to my feet and screaming “Ai-yi-yi-yi” and then grab the champagne bottle, drinking from it. I can’t stay sentimental too long. It’s just not me.
I hit the switch for the music, and when it blares, I dance.
And dance.
And dance.
Because if we’re weepy at a bachelorette party, then I’ve failed at my job of Maid of Honor. And I don’t fail.
“Open the sun-roof, driver!” I request at the top of my lungs. The roof slides open and so of course I have to climb on a seat and stand up so I can see the countryside.
My skirt is short, and I’m pretty sure that my ass is in someone’s face, and all I can do is hope that it’s in Sam’s. He should see my assets.
I wiggle my hips.
I stomp my high-heels.
I accidentally stab someone with said high heel.
Said person swears.
I think said person is Sam, but I don’t know for sure because the limo swerves and I go tumbling back inside, and I spill my champagne and I land in Sam’s lap.
All in that order.
It all seems to blur together, and in between the blurs, certain things happen.
Certain unfortunate things.
Somehow, my shoe comes off and smacks Sam in the ear.
My champagne splashes all over Alex.
And right before I land in Sam’s lap, I elbow Alli in the face.
Everyone is howling as I struggle to sit up, and Sam only holds me tighter.
“Be still,” he tells me. “Let’s assess the damage, you little wrecking ball.”
“Damage?” I perk my head up and Alli is clutching her eye. Alex is wiping his face, and Sam’s ear, I swear, is bleeding.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“I’m going to have a black eye,” Alli moans, and Alex quickly yanks the liner out of a small trashcan and fills it with ice. Alli presses it to her face, and from around the giant icepack, she glares at me.
“My wedding day is tomorrow,” she tells me, like I don’t know. “And I’m going to have a black eye.”
“We’ll fix it,” I tell her and I wrap my arms around her shoulders. She glares at me again.
“There’s no way to fix it,” she growls. “I’m going to be wearing white… and now black.”
“You look amazing in black,” Alex offers. She glares at him, too.
“Make-up,” I announce. “I’ll do your makeup. No one will ever know, Al. I swear it.”
“We could turn it into a masquerade ball wedding,” Sam suggests. “You know, and everyone could wear masks.”
Alli smacks him on the arm. He shrugs.
“It was just an idea,” he tells her helpfully.
“You know,” I start out, and Alli shuts me down.
“No.”
“But…”
“No.”
“Fine,” I sniff. “You have no sense of adventure.”
“But I do have a black eye,” she glares.
“You’re a bitter old woman,” I announce.
Alex neatly catches her as she tries to fly over his lap to scratch my face off.
“Pull your claws in!” I shout, scrambling to safety. “We won’t wear masks.”
“Damn right we won’t,” she growls.
“You’ve got no sense of humor, either,” I point out. She lunges toward me again, but Alex is faster than she is.
I stand up. “There is no need to freak out,” I tell everyone calmly. “Sam, wipe your ear off. A little blood has never killed anyone. Alex, we’ll get you a fresh shirt and Alli, I’ll fix your face with makeup. Let’s not let this ruin our night. Tonight, we are young. Tonight, we are free. Tonight… we live!”
I make a speech worthy of William Wallace in Braveheart, and I lift my glass to the sky.
“Are you with me?” I yell. There’s no answer.
“Are you?” I shout again, this time with more vigor. I shake my fist for emphasis.
They stare at me blankly, and finally Alli sighs.
“Fine. I’m with you. But only because it’s my bachelorette party.”
“I’ll take it,” I tell her and I gulp my drink. “Prepare to have your pants knocked off in amazement.”
“Please keep your pants on,” Alex requests of Alli. She nods and I sigh.
“See? No sense of adventure.”
I duck when she tries to punch me.
She’s got an amazing right hook, to be honest.
Ten
Just a girl, riding a penis…
We split up on the street in Vegas. Sam takes Alex one way, and I take Alli the other. I have to pull on her arm and Alex tries to kiss her one more time.
“Dude, you’re going to see her again,” I tell him. “Seriously.”
But they both look doubtful.
“I give you my word,” I say stoutly. “On my honor.”
“Do you have any of that left?” Alex raises an eyebrow.
I ignore that.
“Let’s go,” I tug Alli’s arm. “There are shenanigans to be had.”
“Life is better with shenanigans,” she agrees.
“Exactly.”
I glance at her and in the streetlight, I can clearly see the bruise forming around her eye. Sonofagun. I make a mental note to put a steak on it or something on it tonight. And maybe some Preparation H. It’s good for dark circles, so it stands to reason that it would work for a bruise.
“If anyone asks, you walked into a door,” I tell her as we walk into the club.
“If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you elbowed me in the face.”
I glare.
The bouncer doesn’t even look at our IDs. I glare at him, too.
“We’re her
e for the Lancaster party,” I tell him. He gives me an I Don’t Give a Shit look. I have to admit, he’s good at it.
He motions me in, and I give the name to the next staff member I see. She’s a size 0 in shorts that show her perfect ass. Obviously, I hate her.
“Lancaster?” I say to her, and I’m getting short-tempered.
“Oh, right!” she gushes. “Are you Alli?”
“No, I am,” Alli speaks up and Meghan, that’s the name on her shirt, grins.
“You’re in a for quite a night.”
“That’s the plan,” I interject. “I’m Sara. I’ve been speaking to several different people about my arrangements…”
“Oh, you’re Sara,” Meghan says before she can catch herself and Alli hides a grin. I don’t even flinch, even though I’ve been hearing that a lot lately and it’s annoying.
“I just wanted to make sure that my best friend has the best bachelorette party the world has ever seen,” I point out smoothly. “Did the penis bull get here?”
“Penis bull?” Alli blurts. I nod.
“I don’t know what else to call it.”
“I think that’s the best description for it,” Meghan agrees. ‘It did arrive. It’s in the room, and most of the guests have already arrived.”
“Guests?” Alli turns to me, surprised. “I thought it was just going to be you and me.”
“While you and I are both insanely awesome, what kind of bachelorette party would it be with just two people?”
My question is valid and Alli doesn’t have an answer for it. She’s speechless for the first time in a long time and I revel in it while we move to ‘the room’.
A group of inebriated women greet us, from all walks of Alli’s life. Old co-workers, her assistant Taylor, and my co-workers because Alli honestly doesn’t know that many people.
“Since you’re a hermit now living in your winery oasis, I invited some of my friends, too,” I tell her in a hushed tone. She examines the room.
“Sara, I think I know maybe five people here,” she whispers to me.
“You’re welcome,” I tell her. “Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet, and how better to meet someone than while getting drunk at your bachelorette party?”
She groans and I grin which is a normal state of affairs for us.
“Let’s get this party started,” I holler, and all the ladies in the room cheer. “Meghan, unleash the beast!”
Alli looks terrified as Meghan struts her stuff to the middle of the room, where the penis bull stands covered in a sheet amid a sea of mats.
She yanks the sheets off, and Alli gasps.
The penis bull stands out under the lights, like a fitting guest of honor. It’s huge, it’s intimidating, it’s pink. Just like every penis should be. Did I mention, it’s a giant penis?
It has a giant mushroom cap and veins and everything.
“We’re not gonna ride that,” Alli stutters.
“Oh yeah we are,” I argue. “Why do you think I dressed you up like a cowgirl hooker? You gotta ride that penis, baby!”
“You’re not going to take pictures,” Alli says, but she knows I am. I don’t even have to say it.
She rolls her eyes.
“I need shots first,” she announces. The ladies hoot and holler.
“Meghan,” I say. “Shots for everyone.”
“Sara,” she answers. “You’ve got your own private bar at the back of the room, with a male bartender, just like you requested.”
Oh, right. I forgot.
“Is he wearing a black bow-tie and no shirt?” I ask as I spin around.
And holy hells bells, yes, he is.
He’s got muscles for miles and a smile as bright as the sun.
I pull Alli toward the back. “Come on, girl,” I urge. “We’ve got a boy to put through college.”
She digs in her heels, but then decides shots are worth it and lets me drag her to the bar.
“I’m Sara, and this is Alli,” I introduce ourselves. “And you are?”
“I’m Matt,” he answers and his muscles flex as he speaks. He slides two shots of tequila to us. “Two for each of you. Did you know… tequila makes your clothes fall off?”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” I smile. “You should have some too.”
“Can’t,” he says cheerfully. “I’ve got to have all my wits about me to take care of you.”
“Deal,” I agree. “I need taken care of. Do you know how to…”
Alli claps her hand over my mouth.
“Thanks for the drinks, Matt.”
“Did I mention that you have to do the shots with your hands clasped behind your back?” he asks, his dark brow cocked. “Because you do. Do the shot with your mouth only, or you get a penalty.”
“And what’s the penalty?” Alli is suspicious.
“Extra time on your penis.”
“That’s always a bonus in my book,” I chirp.
But we do the shots the way he tells us, using only our mouths.
“I’m very skilled with my mouth,” I point out to him, wiping tequila from my chin. “I always swallow.”
“You don’t either,” Alli calls me out. “You hate to swallow.”
“I always swallow tequila,” I clarify.
Alli looks at Matt. “Do you have jello shots?”
“Not normally,” he answers. “But your friend requested them.”
He leans down and pulls out a handful of brightly colored jello shots. “Take your pick.”
Alli grabs a handful.
I think she’s going to give half to me, but she keeps them all for herself.
“Nice,” I approve, taking a handful for myself. “Now let’s go ride that penis. You first, bachelorette.”
My best friend never backs down from a challenge. It’s one of the things I love about her. She squares her shoulders, stares at the penis, and walks straight for it, her cowgirl hat bobbing as she goes.
“If I get hurt, I’m gonna bust your ass,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Noted,” I call back. I don’t remind her that I did already give her a black eye. It’s really starting to show up now, too. But I don’t mention that either.
Without hesitating, she swings a leg over the penis and lunges on.
“Turn it on,” she calls, as she swirls her tongue in one of her jello shots, emptying the cup and tossing it over her shoulder.
Meghan flips a switch, and the penis starts thrusting and bucking.
I have to admire the accuracy with which it moves.
In, out, in, out. I’m mesmerized and Alli throws one arm over her head like a real cowboy.
A real cowboy riding a penis.
She only lasts a couple of seconds before she’s tossed to the ground, tumbling on the soft mats and getting up with mussed hair.
“That wasn’t so bad,” she announces to the room. “Let’s have a contest. Whoever rides the longest wins. Whoever rides the shortest time, loses. We’ll ride for the duration of the party, and call a winner at the end.”
“What’s the prize?” someone asks.
Alli looks to me.
“Uhhhhh,” I gaze around the room, frantically hunting for an idea because with all of my planning, I didn’t think about prizes. My gaze falls upon Matt, and I grin.
“The winner gets kissed by Matt, and groped for thirty seconds.”
Matt looks surprised, but then he grins.
“I’m in,” he calls out, and his muscles flex again with his words. The women ooh and ahh, and the competition begins.
Little do they know, I’m going to win it.
I slurp down my jello shots, one after the other, and then feed one to Alli as she saunters over, her cowboy boots thumping on the floor.
“Hello, lil lady,” I say in my best John Wayne voice. “Nice first ride.”
She tips her hat like a good cowgirl. “Thank you.” She slurps the jello shot out of my cup, then licks her lips.
Out of the corner
of my eye, I see other ladies riding the penis, and they all suck, falling off within a few seconds.
“Come on, ladies,” I shout. “You’d think you’ve never ridden a cock before.”
It’s something every woman should say at least once in her life.
The guests are enthusiastic, I have to give them that. They shout at everything I say, and I feel like a freaking rockstar.
Before I get in line, I get another shot from Matt.
“I’m gonna win,” I tell him. He nods.
“I have no doubt.”
He doesn’t look disappointed in that, which I choose to interpret as he’s rooting for me. I grin, drink my shot, suck a lime, then get in line.
I eye the monster in front of me.
It’s huge, maybe eight-foot long, with a huge circumference. But I can handle it. I can handle anything. I’m a red-headed badass. It doesn’t matter that the red comes from a bottle. I’ve got the heart of a tiger and the ass of a young milkmaid and I can do this.
I leap onto the penis, tuck my legs behind the mushroom cap, and hold on for dear life.
It’s harder than you would imagine. The hard rubber beneath me pulls at my legs and the penis bucks and carries on like it’s fucking a two-dollar whore.
“Holy shit,” I screech, and I hold on like a spider monkey. I see Alli from the corner of my eye, drinking a drink and laughing at me, and then I see Matt, and my focus returns.
I hang on tighter, and squeeze my crotch muscles and finally my kegal exercises totally pay off. My legs lock, and the clock flashes through eight seconds, to nine, and then ten before I finally go flying off.
I practically land at Alli’s feet and I grin up at her.
“I’m winning.”
She rolls her eyes and helps me up.
“The night isn’t over yet.”
Eleven
Now is the perfect time to remember Colby…
Alli and I are at the bar having a stiff Hurricane (to balance out the tequila shots, obviously) when Meghan-With-the-Perfect-Ass calls my name through the crowd.
“Sara? Sara? Your workshop instructor is here.”
Alli is startled. “Workshop?”
I grin. “Hell yeah. We’re working on our skills tonight.”
“Oh, God,” Alli breathes. “What have you done?”