3.02 The Bachelorette Party pt. 2: “Lady Luck is Clearly Smiling on My Gamblings”

First and foremost, thanks to Lani’s creator! Not only does DJ get to corrupt Lani in this and the next 2 installments, but we have Neteya (Lani’s older sister), Amber & Anita (sisters), and Jennifer aka “Barbie” who are ALL her sims. So thank you, J. 

Link to her account:  www.sweetdreams25.wordpress.com

WARNING: contains sexual content, highly blurred/censored images of naughty bits, drunken shenanigans, and minor profanity.

Spice level: 2 outta 5

Saturday, April 16, 2022: 

Jewel Nightclub at Aria – Las Vegas, NV.

“Place looks dead.” Anita observes, surveying the the various lackluster crowds of men in cheap, lazily-buttoned suits and strewn-about women dressed in sex. 

“That’s because it’s only 9:30, and things don’t start poppin’ until after 10. C’mon, sis, everybody knows that,” Amber states. 

Anita scowls at her younger sister’s chide. 

“Well thank you for humoring this new mom’s request to start things early,” Neteya says, adjusting the top of her dress. “I know I ain’t gonna be able to hang with y’all partying late. Not with little man refusing to sleep these days.”

“We got you, Net,” everyone but Barbie says.

Barbie awkwardly bops around as she surveys the crowd.  “I ain’t ever been up in the club sober,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes and sulking.

“Well I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Lani says, also taking in the lights, music, and people. Lani hasn’t stopped smiling since we met up a few hours ago. It probably doesn’t hurt to have a penthouse suite all to ourselves.

“Speaking of first times…” I say balancing six, sweating glasses, “Virgin Mojitos for all! You don’t have to drink if you don’t wanna, but you will pose with it in your hand, and pretend you’re having a good time.” I say as I pass out the drinks.

“We are having a good time.” Anita says, taking a sip.

“Your idea of a good time is different from mine,” I say, positioning my phone for a selfie. “Okay, ladies! I want to see smiles! I want to see teeth! I want to see titties!”

Neteya, and Anita turn to look at me with their what-the-fuck expressions. I press my phone’s screen, taking a photo.

“Joking,” I say, smiling the cheesiest smile I can manage. I look at my drink as the other ladies take dainty sips. I toss the straw behind me, “It’s been awhile since I’ve had a virgin in me,” I smile.

Lani chokes on her drink, “You better quit. DeShawn gonna come for you if I die tonight.”

“You’re in good hands,” I say as I plant my free hand on her boob. “If DeShawn is gonna kick my ass then this should be the reason.”

The others don’t so much as bat an eye at my boob-grab. When it comes to my friendship… Let’s just say I take the term “bosom buddies” litteral. I remove my hand from Lani’s chest. “Okay ladies, sound off. Name the celebrity you want to fuck most. Lani, you’re the bride, so you get to go first.”

Lani shakes her head, “What is this?”

“A party game! Aren’t there supposed to be party games? I specifically Googled Bachelorette Party Games and this was one of the better ones.”

“Good heavens, fine!” Lani blushes, mumbling, “Jensen Ackles.”

Who?” Amber asks

“Jensen Ackles!” Lani shouts over the music.

“But who is he?” 

“The other hot brother from Supernatural.” I blurt as I turn to look at Lani. “I never wanted to bed two brothers at the same time until I saw that show.” I turn to Barbie, “What about you? Which celebrity do you wanna get freaky-deeky with?”

Barbie shrugs, “It’s a toss up between Idris Elba and Michael B. Jordan.”

“Hmmm.” I tilt my head in thought. “Idris is older than Michael B. Jordan, so I’d definitely let Idris be in control…while Michael B. Jordan watches…”

“Have you thought about this before?” Barbie asks.

“Maaaaaybe,” I say, feeling my face flush. “Did you know,” I gush, “that Idris used to DJ and was known as DJ Big Driss!”

“I had no idea,” Barbie says.

“You know he’s gotta be good with his hands,” I whisper into Barbie’s ears.

“I imagine so….Okay, I’m gonna need a refill.” Barbie turns to Lani, “I’ll be right back. I’m feeling thirsty.”

“Remember you’re married.” Lani warns

“What does that gotta do with being married? You think you don’t have thirst once you get married? What ‘bout you, DJ? You ain’t ever get parched?”

“Uhhh. This looks like an A-and-B-conversation, so I’m gonna C my way outta it.” I turn to Amber. “So which celeb got you thirsty?”

“Henry Cavil. I love me a white boy with dark-ass hair.”

“Ew!” I say, playfully hip-checking her. “You like ass-hair?”

Amber laughs, “You know what I mean!” Her face grows serious, she pulls me close, and whispers, “I’d floss with Henry Cavil’s ass-hair.”

I cup my hand to my mouth and we giggle like silly teenagers. 

Once I compose myself I make my way over to Neteya and Anita who have distanced themselves from the rest of us. They tend to think that because they’re older than all of us, it somehow makes them more mature.

“How are you ladies enjoying the night?”

“I’m struggling to stay awake,” Neteya says, yawning. Her eyes are heavy, and she forces a smile, “I just want to lie down. It’s taking all I have not to crawl up into a ball and fall asleep on one of the couches.”

I shoot Neteya a sympathetic smile, “Newborn keeping you up?”

“Every two hours to feed. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hang with y’all tonight. I’m gonna need to pump again soon. Otherwise I’ll leak.”

I stand there, an absolute socially-awkward-mess, with no idea how to steer this conversation away from Neteya’s milky-boobs, so I exclaim, “And which celebrity would you like to breastfeed, if ya know what I mean?” I somehow manage to wag my eyebrows and wink an eye simultaneously.

“Uhhhh?” Neteya looks startled. She looks from me to Anita. 

Anita turns to look at me with the most serious expression I’ve ever seen on her face. “Ask me,” she states.

“Huh?” I say dumbfounded.

“Ask me,” she says again, this time her voice is filled with annoyance.

 “Um, okay,” I say catching onto what she’s asking, “What about you, which–”

“Leonardo DiCaprio.”

I sneer, “Ew! He’s old.”

Anita places her hands on her hips, “He’s younger than Idris.”

“Oof, did he age poorly then.”

“Excuse you.”

“Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to burn your celeb crush.” I can feel my sneer starting to return when thinking of current-Leo, “I’m just not into old, white dudes, but cool…we all have our kinks. Now young Leo I can get behind. Like literally. I’d be Jack and he can be Rose and we can roleplay Titanic if that’s what he wanted. My God, young Leo could sink me. BE THE ICEBERG, LEO!” I scream. Thankfully, the music is too loud for anyone other than Lani’s bridal party to hear.

“What was the point of this game?” Anita asks, rolling her eyes as she places the now-empty glass on the bar.

Shit, I think, I’m really fucking this night up. “Uhh, thank you for asking, Anita! Okay, Ladies, gather around Lani!” They get close to Lani. I hold out my phone, moving the angle this-way-and-that until we’re all in the frame. “Imagine your celeb crushes…” smiles begin to form, but they’re minimal and not good enough, so I begin to describe a certain sex act…which involves melted candle wax and clothespins… and their smiles slowly lessen until they’re completely gone and replaced by revulsion and horror. Ah, I think. Wrong direction.

“I wanna dance. C’mon y’all, let’s hit the floor.” Anita commands, as she places her arm in the crook of Lani’s and leads her to the dance floor with Amber and Neteya trailing behind. I stand there sulking as I watch Lani and her bridesmaids hit the dance floor.

“I thought Lani’d never leave,” Barbie announces, pulling me to the bar. “Just cuz she don’t drink doesn’t mean it gotta be that way for us all.” 

Barbie eyes me critically, “You stressed? You look stressed.”

“Uhhhh. Didn’t you just come from the bar?”

Barbie doesn’t look at me as she says, “What can I say, Vegas got me thirsty. Must be the dessert.”

“You mean desert.”

Barbie smiles mischievously, “Ain’t that what I said?” She pushes her way to the bar, and barks at some guy to move so I can squeeze in. He unhappily obliges. “Bartender!” Barbie pounds the bar with her open palm. One of the bartenders immediately looks in our direction with annoyance. She finishes serving a client and heads over to us with a neutral expression that suggests that she would be stellar at poker. 

“What’ll ya have?”

“Two shots of tequila, por fa-vor,” Barbie exaggerates in what I call broken, white-girl Spanish.

 I rub my temples. 

“Am I embarrassing you so soon?” she chides, keeping her eyes planted on our bartender.

“You know it takes a lot to embarrass me.”

Barbie smiles slowly. “Well, it’s Lani’s bachelorette party, and a lot can happen!”

I arch an eyebrow, but before I can think of a response, our drinks are placed in front of us.

“Can we get some lime wedges and a saltshaker?”

The bartender doesn’t say anything. She reaches for a small, plastic container, and uses a pair of tongs to fish out a few lime wedges from a shiny, metal condiment tray. She transfers the lime wedges into the plastic container, and places them and the saltshaker between our drinks. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s all.”

“That’ll be fifteen-even.”

Barbie hands her a twenty-dollar-bill.

“Thanks, Doll,” the bartender winks.

“It’s been some time since we’ve done this,” Barbie says, eyeing the amber liquid.

I smile, “You wanna do it like old times?”

“Is there a better way?” Barbie pushes the saltshaker towards me with enough force that I have to scramble to reach for it before it slams into the hand of the guy next to me. 

I sprinkle salt over Barbie’s décolleté. The salt gravitates towards her cleavage.

“Tits out!” She loudly remarks as she thrusts her chest at me. A few heads turn our way, which incentivizes us to put on a performance. 

“Bottoms up!” I say, equally as loud.

We look intently at each other as we shout, sing-songy, in unison, “THAT’S THE WAY WE LIKE TO…” I tilt forward, and tug her shirt down so low that the tips of her areolas show. I stick my tongue out, carefully, as my tongue is small and pierced, and slurp salt from Barbie’s cleavage. We “WOOOOOO!” in unison, as I let go of her shirt and she adjusts it to cover herself, but not before winking at a few very appreciative hotties. I grab the tequila shot and down it with professional ease. The onlookers attention shifts from Barbie to me as I slam the shot glass against the bar, grab a lime wedge, and suck it dry. I remove the lime wedge and lick the flaccid lime pulp slowly, allowing my tongue ring to slide against the entire piece.  I put down the lime wedge, grab the saltshaker, and hand it to Barbie. “Your turn,” I croon. 

Barbie plucks the saltshaker from my fingers, unscrews the cap and pours salt over my chest. “This is new” I observe, but not really caring as I feel my inhibitions melt.

“Go hard or go home!” She slams the uncapped saltshaker onto the bar. The cap rolls off the bar and is lost in a crowd of feet. 

“Tit’s out!” I say, presenting.


“THAT’S THE WAY WE LIKE TO…” Barbie ravages my cleavage in what one could only call a motorboating accident. Barbie then looks behind her right and left shoulders, bestowing the onlookers a wolfish grin. She pulls the top of my dress down with such excitable-force that the right side of my chest is completely exposed. One of the guys closest to us whips out his phone and takes a selfie with Barbie, me, and my exposed-tata. I shrug internally. Not the first time I’ve been naked in a club, and it probably won’t be the last. She gives the mightiest slurp, complete with sound effects, that leaves a slobber trail.

“WOOO!” Barbie, and the crowd we have drawn, shout together.

I am feeling very good, and just stand around with a dopey grin. 

“Nice tits, er, tit, but I’m sure the other one looks equally nice,” Mr. Selfie says to me.

“Thanks,” I blush.

“I’d love to see both–”

“Nope,” I say, fixing my dress. I look over at Barbie, who is twerking against a group of guys, and I stumble away from Mr. Selfie and try to locate Lani in the crowd on the dance floor. It shouldn’t be that hard finding a woman in an all-white dress with a tiara, but, given that it’s Las Vegas, Lani isn’t the only bride-to-be dressed in all-white. I sigh, debating calling it a night, and possibly being ousted from my role as Maid of Honor for lacking in duty.

“Oof, there you are!” 

I feel my body suddenly grow tense as Barbie grabs hold of my arms, trying to right herself from face-planting onto the floor. 

“You looked cozy back there,” I tease.

“Girl, my ass just got invited to a 3-some!”

“Just like old times,” I wink. 

“Bitch, I still got it!” Barbie does an exaggerated celebratory-twerk against my side.

I laugh and join in, our butts bump to the beat of the song currently playing. Moments later, Barbie drags me over to an empty table and we plop into the seats. 

“Soooooo,” Barbie purrs, sliding next to me. “You and Darius had a baby, hmmm?”

“Yeah, I’m still wrapping my head around Hera and how–”

“Okay, lemme rephrase.” Barbie clears her throat dramatically, “You fuuuuuuuucked Darius!”

I blink at her a few times wordlessly. 

“Girl! Spill!”

I giggle nervously, “What is there to spill? We fuuuuuuuucked,” I say, mimicking her exaggeration of the word.

Barbie rolls her eyes. “Gimme your phone.”

“My phone?” I ask, flabbergasted. 

“Yes. Gimme.”

“No!” I say, swatting her hands away. “What do you want with my phone?”

“Dick pics,” she says, wiping drool from the corner of her lips.

“Didn’t I show you Cato’s dick when he and I began dating? You don’t get second-glances!”

Barbie’s nose curls, “I don’t wanna see your man and his monster-dick! Girl, it’s a wonder you don’t walk bowlegged!”

I gasp, trying to contain laughter. “Well whose dick pics do you–” I gasp, “Oh! Darius.”

“B-I-N-G-O was his name-o!” Barbie sings. 

“I don’t have pictures of Darius like that on my phone.”

“I don’t believe you! Hand it over then. Hand over your phone and prove you ain’t got his dick stored on your phone.”

I laugh, “You’re married! Calm your tits.”

“My tits can’t be tamed! I want photos! I want details.”

“There are no pics. For reals. But…I’ll give you one question. What do you wanna know?”

“Was he…good?”

I smile wistfully, “He made certain I was satisfied. There was only one time when he came prematurely. He planned to make it up to me, but…”

“But what?”

My smile fades. “He broke up with me.”

“Dang. You should text his ass and tell him he needs to make it up to you.”

I cackle like a madwoman, “Barbie, you’re too much! Could you imagine?”

“Why imagine? Just do it,” she winks.

I eye her suspiciously. “You’re just hoping he’ll send me a dick pic. I’m onto you. Okay, enough of Darius, let’s go find Lani and the rest of the bridal party.”

“I’ll find y’all. I need another drink,” Barbie says as she slides out of the booth and heads to the bar.

I shake my head as she fades out of sight. I reach for my clutch, open it, retrieve my phone, and send Darius a text. 

“I thought that was you, Tits.”

I look up and see Mr. Selfie sliding into the seat across from me. My smile instantly fades. 

“That’s not my name.”

“What’s your name?”

I want to be rude to him. Almost every part of me screams to tell him to fuck off and walk away, but the sensible part of me insists that if I strategize correctly I’ll be able to get that semi-naked pic he took of me deleted. What’s the saying? You can kill more flies with honey than oil, or something like that, I think to myself.

“DJ,” I say, forcing myself to smile.

“Do you DJ? DJ DJ!” He laughs at his own joke.

“No,” I say, fake-smiling like a Stepford Wife, “I’m not that cool.”

Mr. Selfie leans back with both hands behind his head. His eyes stare so hard at my chest he looks nearly cross-eyed. “You warm? You look warm.”

Oh, for-fuck-sake, I think, he’s about to make some lude comment. “Sooooo…what brings you to Vegas?” 


“Do you live here or did you come to party?”

“Oh. I came to party, babe,” he winks. 

I shudder internally. This is gonna get icky quickly. “Riiiiiiight?” I giggle, twisting a strand of hair. “I just love to party. Love-love-love it!” I giggle obnoxiously. “Wow!” I say hoisting myself onto the table and crawling towards him. I see a spark of admiration dance across his eyes. Got him, I think. “You’re so swole!” I rub my hands exaggeratingly over his biceps. I slide down next to him, and then smile up at him, “Close your eyes.”


“Shh,” I place my index finger against his lips, but don’t remove it. “Close. Your. Eyes,” I say sternly while pressing my finger against his lips with a no-nonsense look in my eyes. 

He complies. “I like where this is going, Tits.”

My name is DJ! I scream inside my head. “You’re going to really like where this is going,” I run my hands down the side of him, praying that Lani or anyone from the bridal party doesn’t see this, because even I don’t know how I’d supply a believable explanation. 

He sits back and moans. I try not to gag. 

I say a silent prayer that Mr. Selfie’s phone unlocks by fingerprint. I press my body against him as I headily whisper things I plan to do to him. 

I reach into his pocket and slip out his phone. I look down, see the Touch ID button on the bottom middle of the phone, and wonder momentarily if I should hit the blackjack tables after this, as Lady Luck is clearly smiling on my gamblings thus far. I casually slip his finger against the Touch ID button and unlock his phone. I elaborate more sex talk, and am unnerved how well he receives the clothespins and hot candle wax scenario I told Lani and her bridesmaids earlier. I scroll through his phone, find his photos app, and scroll through today’s photos. I find the selfie he took with me, hit delete, empty the digital trashcan of recently deleted photos, and do a quick sweep to erase any copies that were uploaded to the Apple iCloud storage or any other online photo storage application. Once satisfied, I slip the phone back into his pocket and squeeze his leg a few times. I crawl back to the side I was sitting at previously, grab my clutch and say, “Meet me outside in two minutes.” 

I turn and head where I last saw Lani and her bridesmaids. 

Thankfully, I spot the ladies dancing together. I stand back and stare appreciatively at the scene. It’s easy to see how much Lani is enjoying herself, as she laughs heartily at Amber’s inflated dance moves, and mimics them in her own dorkiness. I push my way through the crowd until I’m dancing next to Lani.

“And where have you been?” Lani asks, eyeing me skeptically.

“Taking care of a problem,” I smile devilishly.

“Does that problem have a name?” Lani arches an eyebrow.

I shrug, “Probably, but it wasn’t worth discovering.”

As the song nears its end I notice Amber and Barbie stealing off and heading towards the bar. I shake my head in amazement as a smile creeps upon my face. This might not be Barbie’s night, but it certainly has been her night to relive the past. 

“Let’s turn this night around!” I say, beaming at Lani.

Uncertainty plagues Lani’s face, “What do you have in mind?”

“Come with me if you want to live!” I say in a pathetic impersonation of Arnold Shwartzenegar, as I grab Lani’s hand and drag her with determination towards the DJ booth. A few overly-muscled guys in black, tight shirts with giant white letters that spell out STAFF stand near the DJ, and I begin to lose my nerve. DJs are much more accessible at clubs in SoCal. I roll my eyes.

“Excuse me,” I say, willing my eyes big like an adorable anime character. “We’d like to request a song with the DJ.”

His eyes graze past us, stopping abruptly at times, and then continuing their scan.

I purse my lips in frustration. “Hey!” I say, jumping up and down in his field-of-vision, which is quite difficult to do in heels without breaking an ankle, FYI. 

With great annoyance, his eyes look into mine.

“We’d really like to request a song,” I say, batting my eyelashes, while holding my hands together against my tilted-cheek.

His expression turns stony and he sticks out his hand, palm side facing up, as though expecting payment. 

I stare at the upturned hand for a moment and then shrug. I plop my boob (clothed) onto his hand and smile the ditziest smile I can muster.

His expression immediately grows perplexed, and his eyes dart wildly between me, Lani, the other security guard, and then behind him at the DJ. I stifle a giggle at his apparent confusion. The DJ leans over and asks, “Everything good?”

I boob-check Security and draw myself closer to the DJ, dragging Lani behind. “Hiii-eeeeeee,” I say, in my unrivaled Alaska Thunderfuck imitation, as I thrust Lani in front of me. “We have a Bride-to-be that would LOVE to hear some Beyoncé! Can we request Single Ladies, pleeeeeeease?”

The DJ fakes a smile, “What an original song choice. Yeah, I’ll take care of it.” He heads back to his soundboard, but the moment he turns away from us I see him roll his eyes. What is up with Vegas DJs being so douchey? Maybe they’ve always been this way, and I’ve always been too wasted to notice…or care. 

I shake it off, grab Lani, turn around and nearly crash into Neteya who is standing in front of us.

“You okay, Net?” Lani asks.

“I am beat, and need to get back to my baby and feed him or pump, because I’m about to burst.”

The clap-clap-clap intro of “Single Ladies,” begins to play and I shout, “IT’S OUR SONG!” while standing in a superhero pose, complete with both hands planted firmly against my hips and my chest extended. 

Lani and Neteya turn, look at me, and take a moment to burst into hysterics as I gather them and place them side-by-side, arranging their arms. I take my position, and now Neteya and I are flanking Lani, looking like backup dancers with our personal Beyoncé. 

We bust out in perfect sync to the song, as though we spent hours dancing to the music video. Intensively studying the trio’s dance moves and perfecting them. Because we had when this song debuted. Halfway through the song Anita runs up to us fuming.

“Have you seen Amber?”

Our smiles fade and all I can manage to think is, way to ruin my plans again, Anita.

“I thought she was dancing with y’all? Did you see her before you came and found us, Net?” Lani asks her sister.

Neteya shakes her head, “I haven’t.”

All of a sudden Barbie stumbles through the crowd, propping Amber, who looks like The Grim Reaper’s puke. I tap Anita’s shoulder and point in the direction of Barbie and Amber. Anita turns, gasps, and runs to them. Lani, Neteya, and I follow. 

“Amber?! You okay?” she asks. Amber doesn’t say anything but looks up sheepishly and in pain at her older sister. “What did you do to my baby sister?” She yells at Barbie, who looks like she’s nearly as bad off as Amber.

“Get outta my face with yo stank-breath,” Barbie sneers at Anita and then suddenly starts cackling. “I didn’t do nothing. This Heffa thought she could handle shots of Goldschläger.”

I instantly cringe. You don’t do shots of Goldschläger unless you want to spend your night blessing the porcelain god. 

“Don’tchu worry, Ambie, Big Sis gotchu,” Anita says matter-of-factly to Amber, as she elbows Barbie out of the way. Barbie tilts her head as her lips curl back ready to spring into expletives. Neteya grabs ahold of Barbie as Barbie drunk-shadowboxes the air. 

Lani rolls her eyes as she pulls out her phone. “I’mma grab us an Uber.”

I wrap my arms around Lani’s shoulders, “Sorry that your night was a turd.”

A smile crawls onto Lani’s face while her eyes remain planted on her phone screen, “Don’t be hating on my Maid of Honor. I had fun. We all had fun.” Her smile grows. “Amber had too much fun, and then Barbie…she hasn’t loosened up this much in years.”

I laugh, “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, Neteya was practically beaming when we were dancing to Single Ladies. All those hours of her making us practice that fucking song!” I sigh. “I don’t think Anita enjoyed herself,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Lani whispers into my ear, “Don’t tell Anita I told you this, but that Heffa ain’t wearing panties.”

My face contorts and I sputter out a poorly-contained laugh, and nearly choke on my saliva. I whisper into Lani’s ear, “I thought I was the only one who noticed! I swear to God that she unknowingly cooch-flashed me at least 10 times since getting to the club.”

We grab our sides, laughing.

“Shoot! Our ride’s outside!” Lani announces, wiping a laugh-induced tear from her eye. “Y’all, git!” she instructs, pointing to the club’s main doors. Anita and Neteya help Amber outside while Barbie simultaneously trips and twerks her way to the exit. Lani shakes her head, smiling in disapproval. 

I trail behind, shimmying as I make my way towards the doors, as the song currently playing is one of my jams. I feel a hand touch mine and slowly encase it. I turn and look into the eyes of the person who has captured my hand. My eyes flash with panic.

“Where were you, Tits? I went outside and you weren’t there.”

“Take the clue, already!” I seethe, as I break his hold from my hand and run with all the mighty-speed my heels will allow. I fly through the doors. Lani’s sitting in the front seat arguing with the Uber driver. Barbie is standing next to Lani, the front door propped open. Neteya and Anita carefully place Amber inside the backseat. Anita yells at Barbie to get her own Uber, as she’s not welcome to share a ride with the rest of them, which causes Barbie to scream, “Suck my dick!” as she grabs her crotch with one hand and flips Anita off with the other hand. 

“No drunk chicks!” The Uber driver says firmly, his voice rising slightly as though speaking to a petulant child. “Get her out!” he says, turning around to stare daggers at Amber.

Neteya and Amber sit down next to Amber and plead nicely to the Uber driver that Amber won’t vomit in his car, and that she already got it out of her system. 

Barbie starts twerking against Lani’s side, which causes Lani to direct her irritation from the Uber driver to Barbie.

I feel my hand being grabbed again and placed upon bulging polyester. I cringe as I turn to see my palm against Mr. Selfie’s crotch.

“Someone wants to come out and play with you, Tits,” he whispers huskily, winking. 

I tear my hand away from his crotch and yell, “HE’S GOT A GUN!” Lani and Barbie turn, stare at me, and scream. In a state of panic, Barbie scrambles into the front seat, squishing Lani. I run and dive into the backseat of the car.

“FUCKING DRIVE!” Anita screams at the driver, while pounding against his headrest. Thankfully, his brain catches up, and he peels away from the curb in seconds. The car zigzags as he drives, and the backseat passenger door swings around. 

“CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!” The Uber driver screams at us. I right myself up, hold onto one of Neteya’s boob’s for support, reach for the handle and close the door.

“Shit!” I say as I feel wetness against my palm. I remove it and there’s a growing wet spot on Neteya’s dress where my hand was moments ago.

I look at my palm and then at Neteya who sighs in exasperation, “Great! I’m leaking.”

And then the leak turns into a gusher, and a geyser of milk shoots me in the eye. “I’VE BEEN SHOT!” I scream, which causes Barbie, Lani, and the Uber driver to scream in turn. The car lurches as the Uber driver speeds up, weaving through traffic with the grace and speed of an Olympic sprinter. 

“Oh, please,” Neteya rolls her eyes, “Don’t act like you never got someone else’s body fluid in your eyes before,” as she takes the complimentary box of Kleenex, and starts stuffing tissue into the top portion of her dress.

I slouch against the seat, rubbing my violated eye, “Only Darius’s,” I huff.

Barbie squishes her face between the tight opening between the headrest she shares with Lani and the front-passenger-side window, and says, rather obnoxiously loudly, “Did Darius give you a facial?”

“Barbie, what the fuck?!” Lani yells, smacking Barbie over the head a few times. “Your ass better sober up fast!”

Barbie cackles maniacally as she tries to block Lani’s swats. 

“I don’t feel so–” Amber announces, but is unable to finish her sentence because vomit suddenly, and in large quantities, shoots from her mouth. Anita’s hair gets the majority of the assault. The vomit is mostly clear, but there are several chunks of broccoli and tomatoes, and surprisingly, very well intact chunks.

Neteya gags, covers her mouth, and turns away, “Roll down the window,” she gasps towards me.

I comply and press a button that I assume controls the window, but the window isn’t budging, so I mash my finger against the button again. Still nothing, so I panic, because Neteya is pleading, rather insistently, that I please open the fucking window, so I press-press-press the button so many times that it snaps off. I look up towards the Uber driver who isn’t paying attention to me destroying his car, but rather is more focused on yelling at Amber who just destroyed the interior of his car. 

“Sir!” I yell, trying to yell over him, but not grabbing his attention, so I try again, “SIR!” Still nothing. “OPEN THE WINDOW BACK HERE!” I yell, but he just doesn’t seem to notice or care, or perhaps a combination of the two.

Neteya gags some more as Amber continues to unload her breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the entirety of her stomach’s contents. Poor Neteya can take it no longer, and throws up in her hands, which barely act as a container, and some of the vomit spills over and seeps through the crack her hands make as they’re pressed together. 

“OPEN THE WINDOWS! OPEN THE WINDOWS!” I shriek, knowing for certain he’s heard me now, except I guess not, because the windows remain up, so in my overly-agitated-state I feel around, underneath the seats, searching out a heavy object. My hand grazes against something hard and metal-feeling, so I retrieve it. A sawed-off-crowbar. Thafuk, I think, are the Mobsters in town this weekend for a Mob Boss Convention? I shake my head, and order in my loudest voice, “COVER YOUR EYES!” I then cover my eyes and face as much as I can with my left hand as I go to town smashing the window next to me, as though it’s a piñata. 

“Thank you,” Neteya looks to me gratefully for a moment, but then the moment is over, because the sudden rush of air into the car starts blowing Amber’s ongoing vomit around, propelling more onto Anita, but, now, onto the Uber driver, who pulls over, pulls out a handgun, and yells at us to get out of his fucking car. We quickly comply, and within seconds the car speeds off, leaving us on The Vegas Strip, with some onlookers gawking. 

One of the onlookers is a very muscled man with ebony skin that looks remarkably like Idris Elba. 

“Heeeey, baby!” Barbie yells, and twerks her way over to him. She starts sliding her body up and down his as though he’s a stripper pole, “Ohhh, you look like you workout. You think you could give me some pointers?” she giggles flirtatiously.

Vomit-soaked Anita and Amber slosh away from us and make their way to the casino’s entrance. Fun fact, if you are in a bad state, the hotel/casino will drive you around in something that resembles a golf cart. Thankfully, one came and collected Amber, Anita, and Neteya.

Lani shakes her head at Barbie, turns to me briefly and states, “Well, at least that fool dropped us off at the right hotel. Help me wrangle this Heffa,” she sighs. Lani and I stride up to Barbie. The Idris Elba look-alike she’s assaulting looks at us as though he’s seen things he’ll never unsee. I give him a sympathetic smile. Lani and I each clasp Barbie’s wrists, and we drag Barbie off him. She kicks and screams like a toddler being denied a lollipop, and as though she’s reading my mind….

“I-I-I just wanna lick you like a lollipop…” she sings as she makes obnoxious slurps. Her tongue flops all around her face as though she’s trying to lick her lips sexily.

The Idris Elba look-alike shudders, turns away, and walks as fast as his strong calves will take him. 

We finally get inside Barbie’s room. She collapses onto the bed and begins to snore.

Lani and I rush out of Barbie’s room and burst out laughing. I make obnoxious snoring sounds, trying to imitate Barbie. Lani laughs harder, yelling at me to stop. It hurts so much laughing. 

“Should we check on Amber and Anita?” I ask.

“I can do that,” Lani says. She pulls out her phone and sends a group text to her bridesmaids, asking them to report.

“We’re good. Showered and ready for bed.” Anita replies. She and Amber share a room.

“Feeding baby,” Neteya responds. She sends the sweetest photo of her nursing her newborn.

“A shower right about now sounds good,” Lani sighs.

“Agreed,” I say, leaning my head against her shoulder as we walk towards the elevator that will lead us to the penthouse suite where we’re staying.

My cell beeps, notifying me that I just received a text.

“Cato keeping tabs?” Lani smiles ruefully.

“Nah,” I say, smiling, knowing I shouldn’t, but blurt, “Darius said he’d send me an updated dick pic.”

Lani taps the back of my head, “Better be glad you’re family or that’d hurt.”

I pull out my phone and check my message. I come to a complete stop, gasping. I can feel the color drain from my face. 

Lani turns and looks at me in concern, “You okay?”

I look up at her as water pools my eyes. I hand my phone to her and she reads the text message I was sent by Jason, the waiter we met at Descanso Gardens, who is clearly more-than-a-friend of Hera’s.


  1. LaniBunny says:

    Good God Almighty!!! DeShawn has clearly put that good good on Lani. She didn’t go off on any of them for their shenanigans lol. At least she can smile and laugh about it all. Im sure she and her cousins are gonna have a lot to joke about come family dinner. DJ screaming ol boy had a gun just to get away 😂 🤣 😭 or did she really think he had one?? That was a situation where everything is about to go down! She better hope her husband don’t find out! It’s also funny seeing DJ with someone just as crazy as she is. I think the two of them need more stories together 👀👀

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hahahaha DeShawn getting Lani to chill BIG TIME LMAO love it. She’s so relaxed she can’t even curl her toes. LMAO family get-togethers are gonna by SPICY from the stories.
      Haha, DJ knew he had a “gun in his pocket” but the fleshy kind.
      Barbie and DJ may just be too wild together, while someone like Lani provides balance, and helps keep DJ in line (kinda, right?). I loved writing about Barbie and would be up to do it again in the future 😀

      Liked by 1 person

  2. feroshgirl says:

    I want to comment before you blow my mind. This chapter was 25/10. I know I’ve already talked your ear off about so much so let me talk about what I didn’t mention. The screenshots are hilarious and perfect and I cannot imagine how long it took to get everyone in the club and on the street in the right position. The outfits are FIRE, and I laughed/cried all the way through the Uber ride.

    But the thing that you captured flawlessly was the exact feeling of a bachelorette party in Vegas with a group of people whose main connection to each other is through the bride. The stilted conversation, the jokes that don’t quite land, DJ trying to make them smile but watching as their facial expressions fade into horror—it feels so real. I was like: shit! I’ve been to this even before!

    I also loved how the club night out in Vegas is full of glitz and glamour on the outside (hence the first pic) but in actuality, it’s like dudebro losers, lookalikes, and bad drinks. Everyone is tired and drunk by the end and I just loved it.

    NETEYA IS ME. What sort of after 10pm nonsense is all of this?

    I am ignoring the ending because I AM DENIAL and EVERYTHING IS FINE and HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME?!?!?!??!!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Panic in the Uber was my favorite part to write, so I’m glad you enjoyed that scene 😁
      Hahaha thankfully the experience was only a few hours of the night and not for days. I would say, could you imagine being stuck with BARBIE that long? but you LIVED it this past week. Oof.
      LMAO Neteya is ALL OF US. Like I just wanna be cozy at home.
      HAHAHA! 😈

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Dolly Llama says:

    SimLit. A sorely underrated fan community, characterized by people from marginalized groups using the game to understand the world around them or tell stories from their perspective. People on the spectrum writing what they could have heard as a child, domestic abuse survivors using metaphor to heal and move past the damage, disaster-bisexual characters written by disaster-bisexual authors.

    But the best part is when these stories converge.

    Totally feel free to skip the first two paragraphs you already read, because my point is, in this world, there are several stories written by women where dumbass wannabe nightclub Chad doesn’t even get a name. AND HE DOESN’T DESERVE ONE. This guy is everywhere and he can choke on his own ass. This guy is the reason I can’t use this awesome new shots chant I just learned.

    “Someone wants to come out and play with you, Tits.” God is dead and this killed her.

    Shout-out to the characterization. Everything DJ says is maximum DJ. And, you know what? I may have identified where the dark undertone running through this piece is coming from. It’s DJ’s perspective. It’s written in first person.

    Despite that, there are surprisingly few moments where DJ takes someone else’s feelings into account.

    No “I wonder how Cato would feel about this” as she begins (continues?) the emotional-affair-y conversation with Darius. No calling Barbie out when she sexually assaults someone. She gets credit for wanting everyone to have a good time—though in light of everything else, it could be because the quality of the party reflects on her as Maid of Honor, not because she truly wants the night to be perfect for Lani.

    What happened?

    She’s hard to hate because she’s so charming, though she’s desperately in need of a friend who will call her out on this shit. Character development for Lani? In any case, I hope that’s who she becomes for Barbie.

    (Also, Snow tha Product. But kinda everyone knows that at this point.)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. In regards to DJ not taking into account other’s (specifically Cato’s) feelings: Up until the next chapter, none of my current writings are really simlit, in the sense that everything takes place in our world/reality. However, I do rely on aspirations (mostly focused on S2), and DJ was (is) a romance sim.

      From DJ’s Story ch. 5: Then this moment happens; where we search out each other’s eyes as though we’re reading an indecipherable letter or looking for something we’re uncertain exists.
      “How long have you had a crush on Darius?” Hera wears a dreamy, far-off look on her face, which is suspended by both palms. Her fingers curve daintily against sharp cheekbones.
      I nearly choke on my saliva, “E-e-excuse me?”
      ~ DJ got caught up in old feelings. And, omg yes, you are 100% correct about it being an emotional affair. FF to the 3.03 where she sees something she wants (Tuxedo Mask), marks her territory (licks the portrait), pursues (Gets on stage to “live out some leather-clad fantasy” with someone that is NOT Cato). I mean, Dear God, she includes the term “free pass” in the R-rated version Wizard of Oz theme song.
      I am sadly forgetting where she mentions that she’s never physically cheated on Cato, but although she hasn’t “cheated on Cato” IN HER VIEW, as a reader, she certainly has done/continues to do questionable acts *cough* romance sim *cough*. I will disclose that DJ flirting with Mr. Selfie was all business and no pleasure, despite how attractive (which didn’t matter in this story, b/c his face, like his name, was omitted), because of how he presented himself. Even romance Sim DJ has “standards.”
      As for Barbie. DJ views how Barbie treats men, how I would say the majority of society treats/treated women who were sexually aggressive towards men. = Shrug. So, kudos for pointing it out.


  4. lisabeesims says:

    ohh cliff hanger!! Thankfully I am behind so I will not have to wait!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hahaha story-binging is the way to go 😉 I love cliffs. I may love them TOO much 😀
      Thank you for commenting/reading!


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