3.03 The Bachelorette Party Pt. 3 – “Plot Twist, We’re at a Family Reunion”

Author’s Note: One of the fascinating discoveries I’ve had, returning to The Sims community, is that Simmers/Creators play and create outcomes for pre-existing, Maxis-made Simmies. I am dedicating this and the next story to the storytellers I have come across, whose love for sim lore flourishes and inspires their writings. It is said that inspiration is the sincerest form of flattery. To those that have inspired and ignited the fires of these creative thoughts…Thank you.

***Appreciative shoutout to Lani’s creator. It thrills me to no end that Lani and DJ continue having adventures*** To read her stories –  www.sweetdreams25.wordpress.com

WARNING: This story contains strong sexual content, pixelated privates, naked and semi-naked plump rumps, beatings/whippings/flogging (consensual and nonconsenual), profanity at times, and alcohol. No Sims were hurt in the making of this story.

Spice level: 4 out of 5    

Rated H for Hannibal (shit gets crazy) 

Saturday, April 16, 2022/Sunday April 17, 2022: 

Four Seasons Hotel Las Vegas – Las Vegas, NV.

Lani gasps, “Oh, God, no! Did Jason say anything else? How bad the accident was or-or…?”

Oh, fuck me! I think as Lani’s cool composure begins to melt. There is only one thing scarier than Hurricane Lani and that is Hysterical Lani.

With no time to waste, I firmly clamp my hands down upon Lani’s shoulders. The sudden contact startles her into submission. I squeeze her shoulders firmly and my eyes invade her eyesight.

“You are not gonna cry!” I bark at her as though I’m a Sergeant in the Armed Forces and she’s a Private. “Hera is fine!”

“You don’t know that,” she sniffs. 

“She has to be. I’m her Mom. I’m telling you as her Mom she’s okay. Do you understand?”

Lani nods her head.

“Now we’re gonna go back downstairs to the lobby…” I say as I guide her towards the elevator. I press the button, summoning the elevator which arrives in seconds. It’s nice having a dedicated elevator that only serves a couple floors. I push her through the front doors before they fully open, and hip-smack the lobby button marked “L.” Living in a condo has its advantages, such as maneuvering various body parts to push elevator buttons when your hands are filled to overflow. 

Lani turns her face towards the ceiling, and flutters her hands rapidly near her eyes in an attempt to fan away tears and quickly calm herself. The doors open and Lani’s calmed down enough that she leaves the elevator on her own. I step out and haul ass. I figure if I physically move quick enough she won’t have time to question what transpires.

“I texted Gen,” I say, turning around briefly. This breadcrumb of information is enough to capture Lani’s attention. She scuttles up next to me and keeps pace. I turn my attention briefly to her, “She sent her chauffeur to meet us out front. He’ll drive us to the airport and we’ll take her private jet to…I don’t know… LA-X or one of the smaller airports. Whatever’s closest to Cedars-Sinai.”

Lani nods, “Sounds good…Wait!” She says, stopping abruptly. 

“We can’t stop,” I say, not wanting to take any questions at this time. “We gotta keep going.” I continue, as I leave her behind.

She runs after me, “But what about Neteya and the others? We can’t just leave them!” Panic begins to flood her thinking. 

Fucking-hell, I think as I slow my pace and come to a dead halt. “We’ll check in on them tomorrow morning. Net and her husband are either asleep by now or about to fall asleep, and the rest are already sleeping. They’ll be fine.” I smile encouragingly at her. “We have the room for another night, so at least we don’t have to worry about our belongings. Worst case scenario, we wear tonight’s clothes a little longer than anticipated. Let’s just try to take this in small steps, okay?” I pat her arm. “Let’s go,” I say as we both continue towards The Four Seasons main doors.

Lani shakes her head in wonderment, “I don’t know how you manage to keep your cool…”

“Neither do I,” I laugh with uncertainty, “but I’ve dealt with enough Thenie-meltdowns to last a couple lifetimes. I guess I just automatically go into ‘Mom-Mode’ whenever someone I love seems to get overly-emotional or is in crisis-mode.” 

A woman clad in a blue blazer and gray slacks approaches us. “Ms. Dimitri. Ms. Johnson.” She states, as she looks from me to Lani. “I’m Nina. If you’ll please follow me. Ms. Bozos has sent me to collect you both.”

I come to a dead halt, which makes Lani smack into the back of me. “Collect us for what?” I ask, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

“I was instructed to drive you,” she says, her voice cracking slightly.

“You’re not her chauffeur. I know her chauffeur. Gen is very particular about this sort of thing….She never quite got over Princess Di’s fatal car crash.”

“Oh!” she says, her voice relaxing. “I’m a temporary hire. Her chauffeur was…unavailable… and she needed a driver for the evening. I’m sorry, Ms. Dimitri, that’s all I know. If you’ll please follow me.” Nina smiles.

I turn to look at Lani who shrugs. We nod our consent. Even under a loose, neatly-pressed blazer and slacks, it is very evident that Nina has a shapely figure that even celebrities would kill to have. Nina turns from us to open the door. Red, freshly-cut, shoulder-length hair is tied neatly back at her nape. A flat cap, typical of chauffeur drivers, rests atop her head, and tinted-black shades are pushed securely against the bridge of her perfectly straight nose.

The night’s coolish air envelopes us. “Brrrr, it’s cold,” I say, rubbing my upper arms.  

“I believe you will find the limousine to be at an ideal temperature,” Nina says as she runs ahead of us, and opens the backseat door of a white Lincoln MKT Stretch Limousine that is parked under the portes-cochères. 

“Fuuuuuck,” I say, appreciatively, under my breath, before sliding into leather seats. 

Lani follows after me, and the moment she looks up, shock hits her face. “Gen? I don’t understand. Were you in Vegas?”

“Surprise!” Gen smiles, brilliantly, showcasing porcelain veneers.

Nina secures the door and I slide closer to Gen and ask her softly, “New driver, eh?”

Gen rolls her eyes in exasperation, “Yes. Poor Armando came down with a heinous case of food poisoning.”

“Oh no!” I gasp. “Poor ‘Mondo.”

“Yes,” Gen nods. “Hopefully this replacement is as gifted in driving as he is, but…” Gen smiles conspiratorially, “I must confess I’ve been imbibing.”

I smile approvingly at Gen as I arch an eyebrow, “Oh, have you now?”

“Yes! They say that to ensure survival, in case of a collision, it is best to be very relaxed or asleep.”

“Who says that?” I question.

Gen gracefully shoos my question away with her hand as she replies, “I already told you: They.” Gen reaches for an item, hidden from view, and hands it to Lani. “For you, from moi. Congrats on the upcoming nuptials,” Gen gushes. Lani takes the gold goblet with the word Bride encrusted in white rhinestones and looks it over as Gen continues, “Please tell me you’re not abstaining from the good stuff.”

“Uh, sex?” Lani looks more baffled than she did seconds ago.

I stifle a laugh, “I mean she has a point. That is the good stuff.”

Gen rolls her eyes at her gaffe, “I was referring to alcohol. We have a couple vintage Dom Pérignons as well as a Krug…” Gen looks at Lani with anticipation.

“Uh, I’ll pass, thanks.” Lani forces a smile. “Alcohol and I don’t mix well, and even then, I try to be conscious of what I’m putting in my body when training.”

“I’m always conscious of what I put in my body,” I say straightforwardly, grinning from ear-to-ear. “CATO’S MANWICH!” I shout immaturely as I pop the cork from one of the bottles of Dom Perignon. Spray shoots the Lincoln’s ceiling and ricochets, wetting hair, clothes, and upholstery. “WOOO! MAKE IT RAIN, BITCHES!!” I cackle.

Lani looks at me as though I’ve finally lost my mind.

Gen just shakes her head in defeat, “Oh, Deege.” 

I grab a stemmed-glass, pour champagne inside, and hand it to Gen who smiles her thanks. I pour another glass for myself. The bubbles tickle my nose, causing uncontrollable nose-twitches. I take a dainty sip, savoring the smooth taste. “Mmm, yum!” I lick my lips and attempt a dainty chug.

“What is wrong with you?!” Lani huffs. “Your daughter has been in an accident, and you’re up in here partying like it’s 1999!”

Gen’s eyes go wide as she chokes on her champagne. “Is that what you told Lani?”

“Uh, not exactly,” I say, feeling my face burn.

Lani drags her attention onto Gen, “You know something I don’t?”

Gen’s pale complexion turns rosy, and now both best friends stare at me in anger. “Deege! You may want to own up to this before I have my driver drop you off in the middle of nowhere. We are in the desert afterall!” Gen growls.

Lani crosses her arms.

I chug champagne and wipe away any remnants still clinging to my lips with my arm. “Fine. There was no accident. Hera’s not at Cedars-Sinai.”

“WHAT!?” Lani screams, causing a spray of spittle to hit my face.

“I understand that you’re upset, Lani, but on the brightside she’s not severely hurt at the hospital.”

“Hera might not be severely hurt at the hospital, but that don’t mean you won’t be!” Lani threatens, her nostrils flare in rage. 

“Lani, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. Believe me when I say that I was upset by the text Jason sent too! It wasn’t just you. I mean, yeah, I knew he would send something that would make you drop everything and go with me, no questions asked, but, you gotta believe me, I had no idea…” I hyperventilate. “I-I had no idea Hera would suggest he send me…send that text. The thought of losing her, especially right after I found her… I-I…”

Gen reaches over and wraps her free arm around me, “Oh, Deege.”

Lani fans her eyes, “Ugh, not the waterworks again.”

I sigh, “I’m really sorry about scaring you, Lani. I really just want this night to be one you won’t forget. I’m your Maid of Honor. It’s my duty,” I smirk.

“This night has already been memorable. I dunno how much more memorable I can take.” Lani eyes me skeptically, “What exactly are these memorable plans for tonight?”

I smile mischievously, “An all-you-can-eat buffet!”

Lani’s silent for a moment, assessing me.

“An all-you-can-eat-man-meat-buffet!” I giggle uncontrollably.

Lani stares at me, unamused, and then directs her attention to Gen, “What is she goin’ on about?”

Gen shrugs her delicate shoulders, “Strippers. Prostituion.”

“Don’t worry,” I interject, “We didn’t buy you a gigolo,” I giggle, and turn to Gen, “I did buy you a gigolo though….Which reminds me,” I mumble aloud before removing my phone and sending off a quick text to Cayden.

I laugh like a maniac as I stuff the phone back into my accommodating clutch, which earns me questionable glances from both Lani and Gen. “Free lap dance for you!” I say proudly to Lani. I turn my attention to Gen, and smile enthusiastically at her in silence. 

Color begins to drain from Gen’s complexion, “What did you do?” she questions, rightfully afraid. 

Unable to contain the words, I blurt, “Gen will be getting a lap ride!” I fall against her lap in a burst of laughter.

Gen purses her lips, “Great. Now we’re stuck in a vehicle with Drunk DJ.”

I wave her comment away, pick up my phone, and check to see if Cayden responded, which he hadn’t. I smile mischievously thinking how Gen will react to Robin Hood: The Sequel. “I’m not drunk. I’m tipsy.” I cross my legs towards Lani, “Look, it’s just entertainment, not a hook-up, so don’t worry.”

Lani looks from me to Gen and concedes. “I guess you’re right,” 

I flip my hair playfully, “Of course I’m right. Okay, so here’s the deal,” I say as my eyes grow big with excitement, “Hera recommended this place–”

“Hera did what now?!” Lani cuts me off. 

I smirk at her bewilderment. “I had the same reaction. According to Hera, her parents frequent…fetishy…uhhh…Apparently this place is their favorite Vegas…uhhh… outing.”

Lani looks taken aback, “Fetishy?” her nose scrunches in disgust, “What exactly is this place? I don’t want no fetish nonsense. Magic Mike white boys dirty dancing is about as fetishy as it better get.”

I look over at Gen, “Did you bring the costumes?”

“Costumes?!” Lani questions, sneering.

Gen briefly holds up a medium-to-big, lilac-colored duffle bag. “It’s all right here,” she says before setting it back on the floor. 

“Apparently there are different rooms. Themed rooms! It’s like a comic convention but with hot dude-strippers! Hera said patrons are encouraged to wear costumes. She suggested we go with a superhero theme, so….Ask me what we are!”

Lani lifts an eyebrow. “Superheroes?”

Giggles erupt into full blown laughter, as I fall against her. “Superheroes?! That’s boooooring! We’re not superheroes. We’re better! We’re The Sailor Sluts!”

Gen tries desperately to cover the cringe she feels with a smile.

“I’ve come up with names! Ask me mine!” I say bouncing in the seat.

“Names? Uh, goodness this night…” Lani says rubbing her temples.

“I’M SAILOR MOONPIE!” I shout in uncontained excitement. 

Gen and Lani look at each other and burst out laughing. 

“I don’t know what’s so funny.” I sniff. “You haven’t even heard the names I made for you.”

That shuts them up.

“Gen will be Sailor P.”

Gen arches an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know what that stands for? Am I correct to assume that it does not stand for Pluto?”

I smile wickedly, “How well you know me. You’re not Sailor Pluto. P stands for Punisher, because you’re into BDSM–”

“DEEGE!” Gen interrupts, flustered.

I turn to Lani, “I doubt it surprises you that Big Bad Jeff Bozos gets off to Gen ordering him about and inflicting physical, sexual violence.”

Lani looks at me in stunned silence.

“Anyways,” I say, turning my attention back to Gen, “You get to accessorize with a cat-o-nine tails!” I purr as I hold the whip and extend it to her.

A small smile pokes at the corner of her mouth. “Boys do need to be punished, and it is rather…enjoyable,” she says, eyeing the cat-o-nine tails with interest.

I turn my attention to Lani. “Lani…”

“Oh, Lawd,” she chuckles.

“You’re Sailor V, or The Virgin.”

Lani laughs hysterically. “Girl! The Virgin? What kinda nonsense is that? I ain’t no virgin. You do remember your goddaughter I birthed, right?”

I shrug exaggeratedly, “Well clearly, but I also know you haven’t put out for the past couple months. You and DeShawn are trying to get that virgin vibe.” I shake my head in obvious disapproval. “Why would you wanna deny yourself? It’s beyond me.”

Lani eyes the costume we brought for her. 

“It comes with a special accessory, like Gen’s!”

Lani doesn’t so much as blink at my revelation. “Nope.”

“But you haven’t seen it yet!”

Lani doesn’t say anything, but has her arms crossed, insinuating that her mind has already been made up.

“It’s a chastity belt! Kinda like an utility belt but…chastising!” I exclaim.

Lani tilts her head down and scowls. “Nope.”

Crestfallen, my posture collapses. “Fine,” I grumble. I turn to Gen, “Do you know what time we’ll reach our destination?”

Gen pushes a button and within seconds the muffled sound of static is audible. “Ms. Bozos? How can I be of assistance?”

“Nina, how much longer until we arrive?”

“Maps is showing an arrival time of 32 minutes.”

“Thank you, Nina. That will be all.” Gen turns to us, “We better start getting ready.”

*****************************************************************

Sunday April 17, 2022: ??????

“Where are we?” Lani asks as she slides out of the car and takes in her surroundings. “What is this place? Are we even in Vegas?”

Nina offers her hand, which I use to pull myself out of the car. “Thanks,” I say, tugging on underwear that has hiked up my butt. “Uhhh. Hera said Strippendales. Is that Strippendales?” I ask bewildered.

Nina clears her throat. “The address you gave is for Club Pleasantview. I’ve never heard of Strippendales, but if you’re looking for a wild time then this is where you want to be, Ms. Dimitri. And, to answer your question, Ms. Johnson,” Nina turns her attention to Lani, “We’re in Strangerview.”

“Thanks, Nina.” Lani and I say simultaneously, smiling, in hopes of hiding our confusion.

“Of course, Ms. Dimitri. Ms. Johnson”

“Strangerview? Pleasantview? What weirdo chose those names?” Lani says as she turns her nose up at the nightclub in front of us. 

“You know the saying,” I purr, as I lean into her side, “A stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet.” I skip down the sidewalk, stop, turn around and face my friends who just stand there immobile. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get friendly with strangers!”

Lani rolls her eyes and then says something to Gen who shrugs. They begrudgingly make their way to me.

“I feel ridiculous,” Lani announces.

“Why? You were wearing a sparkly tutu with a crown at the club we were at earlier tonight. At least now you look respectable.”

“Thafuk?” Lani stares daggers at me.

“Love. You.” I say playfully, as I boop her nose with my index finger. Before Lani can react, I reach for her and Gen’s hands. I begin to skip, and, although reluctant at first, Gen and Lani also bound down the sidewalk. We giggle as we mimic Dorothy, The Scarecrow and The Tin Man skipping along The Yellow Brick Road. The sidewalk ends and a path of various shades of green and brown tiles wind about a hilly field. I can’t help but break out in song:

“We’re off to see some penis! 

Some wonderful penis we’ll find!

If ever we were to have a Free Pass

Now would be a great time!

Because of the high quality and kind,

A big, juicy penis would be a helluva find!

Because, because, because, because, because

Because I’d lose my fucking mind!

We’re off to see some penis!

Some wonderful penis we’ll find!”

The path ends with the tiles arranged in the shape of a viper’s head with its tongue extended. We step back and take a moment to gaze in appreciation at the snaking, serpent footpath. 

“A real snake in the grass,” I say, with my arms crossed.

“Huh?” Lani looks at me.

“This,” I say, indicating the path, “It’s a snake surrounded by grass. Usually the snakes are inside the club, not outside.” I smile.

“Or maybe it lead us to a snake pit,” Gen murmurs, which causes chills to prickle our skin. 

Up ahead, a wooden drawbridge leads to a modernized, brick castle which is supposed to be Club Pleasantview.  

Dreamy, hypnotic, electronic music leaks out from the club and draws us into it as we cross the wooden bridge, and we oblige by dancing as though in a trance.

When the song ends, our bodies come to an abrupt stop. We stare at each other in astonished embarrassment and then laugh, as though someone told an inside joke. Reeling from the giddiness, we skip towards the entrance.

“What is that beautiful man wearing?!” Gen asks, clearly startled. 

“Costume.” I reply.

“That is not a costume!” She points at the offensive clothing. Her lip curls upward in disgust. “Look at what he’s wearing! A hideous rhinestone-embossed cowboy shirt and plaid shorts. That combo is an abomination!”  Gen stares at him, unable to look anywhere else. “It is highly improbable that a man who can paint his face so flawlessly would make such a fashion faux pas! Something is wrong.”

“Shhhh!” I playfully smack her arm as we approach The Plaid Cowboy who handles the club’s cover charge. A beefy pink-haired bouncer stands next to the entrance with crossed arms, and another bouncer sporting a lavender fauxhawk strikes a statuesque pose next to The Plaid Cowboy who is seated upon a pimped-out armchair. 

Both bouncers wear black shirts with white STAFF lettering, which is very similar to the bouncers’ attire at the club Lani and I were at earlier. The only difference is that the “S” has a circle in the middle, intersecting the curves.   

The Plaid Cowboy’s eyes light up as we draw close. He gives us the once-over. “Ooooh, I love themes! Who are you supposed to be?” He says in falsetto. 

“We’re The Sailor Sluts!” I beam.

The Plaid Cowboy gives a Z-shaped snap of approval, “Giiirrrrrrrl!” He trills, “Lookin’ Fierce, Hunt-y!” He clears his throat. “There is a cover charge of one-hundred each.” He bats long, thick lashes.

“Nice eyeshadow by the way! Love the sparklies.”I gush.

“Thank you,” he winks.

Gen hands him three, perfectly crisp, one-hundred-bills. He mouths “Thank you,” at Gen, stares at the cash, and then rather loudly says, “Is this a joke?”

“Excuse me?” Gen says, in the tone of voice she reserves for inadequate underlings. 

He laughs, “This money. It’s fake.”

Lani and I exchange looks as Gen begins to fume.

“It most certainly is not.”

“Well,” he says, carefully choosing his words, and turning the cash around in his hands, “It isn’t a currency we use here.”

“And what is the currency you use here?” Gen grounds out through clenched teeth.

“Simoleons,” he states, growing bored.

“Simoleons?” Gen questions, looking at me and Lani. We shrug in response.

He purses his lips and then makes them pop, “Tell you what I’m gonna do. Since I am a fan of…” he motions to our outfits “ your look, I’m gonna let you in with no cover charge.” He pushes the cash back to Gen, who looks to be at a loss on what to do.

“Uhhhh…” Gen says, “Why don’t you keep it…to remember us,” she smiles her perfect smile at him.

He smiles at her as he pockets the cash.

“What is going on?” Lani whispers to me.

“Extortion, I think, or embezzlement. Maybe both.” I say the words through smiling teeth, worried that he’ll overhear. “Follow my lead,” I say to Lani as I push her in front of him. He turns his attention to Lani and then to me. “This is our Bride-to-Be-Sailor-Slut. We call her Sailor V-card.” I say loudly to him, trying to steer the conversation away from this unfolding crime scene where we’re possibly complicit accomplices.

He looks at Lani and guffaws, “Are you a virgin?” He arches one perfectly-shaped eyebrow as he stares at Lani while simultaneously stamping the back of Gen’s hand.

Lani drapes a hand over her eyes. “No,” she squeaks out in embarrassment.

I lean over and whisper, “She’s taking a dick-hiatus.”

“Oh, it’s like that is it? Trading an outtie for an innie?” He says.

“No, no, no. More like born-again-virgin.”

The Plaid Cowboy tilts his head to the side and makes an exaggerated frown. “Okay, Ms. Thang, don’t complain, abstain! Hope it ain’t too much for you inside this pleasure palace. It is a regular dick-smorgasbord! An all-you-can-eat butt-fet!”

I giggle. “I like that! Butt-fet! What was your name?”

“Oh you can call me Goopy.” He winks, while patting his hair.

“Why do they call you Goopy?” I ask as he places a stamp on my hand.

Goopy’s hooded eyelids casually pass over us, assessing, before disclosing, “Whenever I get sexually aroused, a substantial amount of semen leaks.”

My eyes grow wide.

Gen’s nose curls in disgust.

Lani shakes her head, pursing her lips. She shoots me a look suggesting that this night is not going in a preferable direction.

“My semen is very thick.” Goopy continues shamelessly, as he grabs Lani’s hand. 

Goopy’s stamp is suspended in the air, ready to strike. 

The sound of trumpets announcing the presence of someone important causes the night’s festivities to immediately quiet and still. Our attention turns from Goopy to a pair of grand side doors that are opened by a pair of muscled-men dressed in blue, sequin thongs with matching bow ties.

I casually glance at Gen, who has an index fingernail pressed between her teeth, and her eyes caress the men’s backsides with appreciation. Lani, who prefers her man meat juicy, rather than tender, looks apathetically at the help. 

Two women who struggle walking, appear. Both wear black, leather gimp masks that only expose their eyes. A red ball-gag is fixed into their mouths. Flashing spotlights reflect shiny clasps that are attached to both sides of their masks. Leather straps, acting as reigns are attached to the clasps, and now it’s obvious that their struggle is because they are pulling a chariot. Their costumes are similar to ours. “Badass,” I say under my breath. 

A man draped in head-to-toe leather drives the chariot. “Fuuuuuck,” I say, biting my bottom lip. “This place is better than anything I could have imagined.” He wears a tophat, cape, domino mask, and, from what I can glimpse when his cape allows, black, mid-calf combat boots. Okay, I think, a slight deviation from Tuxedo Mask’s black, patent leather Oxford’s, but when you’re a Dominant, flats could definitely kill the mood. He flings red roses to the crowd of thirsty men and women as the trio make their way down a red carpet.

“That would be our in-house bondage-boy, Don ‘The Dom’ Lothario, and those lovely ladies driving the chariot are Nina and Dina. I know it’s difficult to tell in gimp masks, but they’re actually quite good looking. Folks in the industry call them The Caliente Sisters.” He motions with his hand for us to come closer, and we oblige. He continues in a hushed voice, “They’re twins, and they’ve done movies together. You know, adult movies.”

A group of Woo Girls start shouting, and we search out the commotion. 

Don Lothario perches a foot on the chariot’s crossbar, exposing what he’s kept hidden under his leather cape: A black, leather-harness bodysuit and leather thong. He wags his floppy leather-clad crotch hypnotically, while pulling on the Caliente Sisters’ reigns, until they’re no longer in sight.

“Oh, shit! Not again,” Goopy says, looking annoyed, as he stamps Lani’s hand.

“What? You run outta ink?” Lani asks, since he still holds onto her hand.

“I gooped my shorts,” he says.

Lani quickly removes her hand, cringing. “Nasty!” she yells at him with disgust. We run-walk through the entrance, trying to shake off the image of Goopy’s goop from our minds.

“Sailor Sluts! You forgot your complimentary map!” We hear him shout into the crowd.

“Should we go back?” I ask Lani.

“Girl, no! Everything he touches needs to be bleached.”

Crowds of barely-dressed people walk around us. 

“I think we might be overdressed,” I say as two naked men run by us, carrying two naked women on their backs.  

“What is this place?” Lani asks under her breath.

Gen scrunches her brow, “It reminds me of a low-budget, immersive-theater experience of Zumanity. You know, the erotic Circus Soleil.”

“Didn’t Hera mention her parents were art collectors or something, Lani? You know, those artsy-fartsy types that attend underground and up-and-coming events? I mean, I guess it makes sense that this should be some venue they frequent often.” I laugh nervously. “No wonder we’ve never heard of this place before, Gen.”

Gen snubs our surroundings. “Clearly,” she mumbles.  

A woman strides through the crowd. She wears a tight red dress that is reminiscent of Jessica Rabbit’s from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? Between her are two tall women dressed in identical, indecently short, French maid uniforms. 

“Excuse me?” I say, as I simultaneously wave my arms about and jump up-and-down.

“Hmmm?” She turns around a bit too fast, and the yellow-blonde wig she wears slumps lopsided against her head, exposing a patch of raven tresses. She attempts to readjust the wig back into place, but fails miserably.

“I was wondering if you might know which room has the strippers.” I smile, hoping I don’t appear too thirsty. 

Her pretty face scrunches in confusion momentarily, and then suddenly she giggles uncontrollably. We take a step back from her, as though her head is about to explode at any moment. “Oh my God! You’re such a riot!” She blows a pink bubblegum bubble that explodes loudly against her mouth. “Oh!” she says, noticing our strained expressions. “Oh, you’re serious,” she stifles a giggle. “Are you new? I bet that’s it! This is your first time! Am I right?”

“Guilty.” I say, smiling awkwardly.

“Did you get a map?”

“No, we did not.” Lani interjects. “They were contaminated,” she huffs. 

“Is Goopy GilsCarbo handing out maps again?” The woman in red says, rolling her eyes in irritation. 

“I hear that’s not the only thing he’s handing out,” one of the maids next to her says, tapping on a device connected to her ear. She mouths the word Handjobs to the Woman in Red.

“He should be in the dunk tank not out front! Do I have to do everything around here?!” she shakes her head and turns to look at us, “Sorry. Business. Let me get you a map. Kaylynn?”

The maid with shoulder length black hair pulls out a trifold map from an indiscernible location of her person, and hands it to Gen, who doesn’t look pleased to be handed the item.

“Thanks,” I say.

The woman in red smiles sweetly at Gen, “You should check out my show. My husband has a thing for brunettes.” She winks, turns around, and heads towards the entrance.

“Her husband?” Lani says, confused.

Gen shakes her head, equally confused, “Who knows,” she shrugs.

“Why is she wearing a blonde wig if her husband prefers brunettes?” I wonder aloud.

“I need a drink. The champagne’s effects are waning.” Gen says.

“Do you really want to put anything in your mouth after that Goopy experience?” Lani questions.

“Good point. I seriously doubt this place is up to code.”

I snatch the map from Gen’s hand, open it and immediately start giggling. “Gen! They have an underground dungeon! It’s called The Rumpus Room! That sounds fun.” I say wagging my eyebrows and smiling the biggest shit-eating-grin.

“Good Lord,” Gen and Lani say in unison.

“Please! Please! Please!” I say, jumping-up-and-down.

Lani exhales, “You know she won’t quit until we go there.”

“Sadly, yes,” Gen agrees. “Like humoring a child.”

“What do you mean like humoring a child? She is a child…stuck in a grownup’s body.”

Gen and Lani laugh, while I roll my eyes. “Okay Frenemies, are we doing this or what?” I ask, not really waiting for them to reply, as I grab Gen’s hand in my right hand and Lani’s hand in my left hand and drag them towards an elevator. “You know I need your blessing, Lani, after all it is your night.”

Lani rolls her eyes. “You know I love you, and I will humor whatever nonsense this dungeon happens to be, but if this is an immersive experience there ain’t no way my black ass is gonna go up on stage and get whipped. This ain’t no reenactment of Roots, thank you!”

“In the name of my moonpie, I will punish anyone who tries!” I say, placing one hand on my hip and the other against my forehead, which is Sailor Moon’s signature pose. 

Gen uses her whip’s handle to press the button and call the elevator. Once inside she presses the button marked B. The doors shut and the elevator lurches, which causes us to momentarily look at one another in panic. Two paintings are hung on opposite sides of the elevator. As the car moves painstakingly slowly down the shaft, both paintings begin to stretch.

Instantly, I’m drawn to Tuxedo Mask’s portrait. The further down we descend, the more flesh of his is revealed. I press my face against his stomach. Gen and Lani stare at me in half-amusement and half-uncertainty, as though we’re playing a game of Russian Roulette with water pistols. “Dare me?” I ask them.

Lani and Gen exchange bewildered looks. “Dare you to do what?” Gen asks cautiously.

My eyes sparkle with mischievousness. “This.” I say as Tuxedo Mask’s leather-clad groin comes into view. I slide my tongue down it.

Like magic, Gen and Lani are equal parts disgusted and flustered, rebuking me for my germy-shenanigan, and clucking at me like mother hens about who-knows-who and who-knows-what made contact with that portrait previously. Once they calm, which perfectly coincides with the elevator touching down, I say, matter-of-factly, “That was just for fun. Now to try the real thing.” 

The door slides open and the thump-thump-thump of bass hits us so hard we flinch. A sea of exposed flesh and various shades of leather meet our eyes. We step out of the elevator and head towards a pair of ajar, ceiling-high, thick, black doors with shiny, obnoxiously big, C-shaped handles. Black spikes frame the doors. Next to each of the doors are tall, beefy white men in black, leather, gimp masks similar to what the Caliente Sisters were wearing, but instead of red, shiny ball-gags, a zipper is placed over the mouth. They show off their muscled torsos, arms, legs, and necks. Their groins are covered in black leather briefs. Both have their meaty, muscled arms crossed. A leather jockstrap lies discarded on the ground by the doors. 

“Watch out!” I advise Gen, whose Gianvito Rossi platform boots nearly graze it.

“Ew,” Gen says, as she carefully maneuvers around the offensive garment. 

Shock instantly stamps our faces as we gawk at what lies before us, inside The Rumpus Room. 

Groups of people perform various bondage-type-sex-acts upon each other and themselves. The majority are copulating couples, but every once-in-a-while a group session is in full swing; some partner-sharing and some engaging in self-discovery while getting an eye-full.

“Oh my God!” Gen says appalled, “This is a sex club!”

Lani grabs my hand, looking around the room in horror. “Thafuk is wrong with white folk?” Lani shoots me a suspicious look. “Hera suggested this place?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” I say, taking in my surroundings.

“What exactly did you tell her you were looking for?”

“Uhhh something like Chippendales.”

“Well this is something alright,” Gen mutters.

A tallish, slender woman marches up to us with a leashed, cowering man behind her. Her pasty complexion gives the impression that she’s severely anemic. She wears a leather harness that exposes her breasts, and her erect nipples are millimeters from my eyes. I blink several times and take a step back, not wanting to get my eyes poked. The man, who is equally pasty, parks himself alongside her, on all fours, with his head facing down towards the floor. He is naked, except for black boots and a black leather gilet that has the Confederate Flag plastered on the back. 

Creamy, chocolate hair covers his face, but his cheekbones are so high and defined that he could easily be a high fashion model, if he wasn’t so obviously a racist…perhaps a career in politics or as a steak salesman would be more suitable. I can’t help but stare in wonderment and alarm at his small, flaccid penis. The sad member barely dangles, as part of its head is sucked into the shaft.

“Oh hell nah!” Lani stares daggers at the man’s backside. 

“My kin here wonderin’ if you’d smack him ’roun a bit. You game?” The woman drawls, sizing up Lani. 

“Did she say kin?” Gen whispers into my ear. 

“Plot twist, we’re at a family reunion,” I laugh.

“This isn’t funny,” Gen snarls. “These two are borderline Deliverance. If Dueling Banjos begins to play, I’m out of here.”

Lani turns her attention to the woman, anger mars her voice, “Excuse me?” Lani asks, her fists are clenched against her sides. 

“You people sure are dumb–”

Lani backhands the woman so hard that a tooth flies from her mouth. The woman cradles her cheek in stunned silence. A smile slowly forms on her face, showing off her newly missing-tooth-smile. As her smile grows wider, two exaggeratingly pointed canine teeth poke free.

Her kin’s head snaps up, his eyes seek out Lani’s. 

“What?!” Lani barks at him.

The man pulls himself up onto his feet. As he begins to rise, an equally slow smile begins to form on his face, his eyes never leaving Lani’s, which causes her anger to subside, and is subtly replaced with prickly-fear. Two engorged fangs appear as his smile widens, which gives the appearance that he just popped a fang-boner.

He removes the leash from his collar and offers it to Lani. Lani stares at him and then at the leash. “Take it.” He says. “Whip me.”

Lani stares at him in shock. She turns to face Gen and I. “Thafuk?”

“I’m at a loss for words,” Gen mutters.

“Lil?” He says.

The woman, who called him her kin moments ago, and is evidently named Lil, places her hands on each of the man’s hip bones. 

She caresses his torso. We stand there uncertain what is happening, and where this is leading, when Lil says, “Caleb here ask fer you tuh whip him. We done take too kindly to those who done wanna play wif us.” She says as her tongue pokes through the hole her missing tooth has made.

“Excuse me, Young Man!” 

We look past Caleb and Lil to the source of the voice. The moment Caleb turns around, he’s met with a handbag hitting him square in the jaw.

Lani, Gen, and I gasp. Lil hisses at the person wielding the offensive, weaponized handbag: A nearly frail, older woman, who stands a whopping five-feet-tall, dresses in a muted gray dress that starts at her neck and ends near her ankles. Her outfit is accessorized with a pearl necklace, and pillbox-hat with a single pinned-daisy, that rests atop tightly pulled back hair encased in a bun.

“Are you hurt, Dearies?” She asks, tending to us momentarily. 

“Just a bit shaken, Ma’am,” Lani says, smiling gratefully.

“Hey, Granny!” Lil hisses at the older woman, as she tackles her to the ground. The old woman pelts her repeatedly with her giant handbag. “What’s the safeword?” She asks each time she smacks Lil, whose face is starting to bruise.

Finally, Lil can take it no longer. Her hands are raised above her face, in an effort to protect herself. “Rosebud! The safeword is Rosebud!” Lil shrieks. She scurries to her feet and disappears in a puff of smoke.

“What the—” Lani begins.

“Hell-loooo, Young Man!” The old woman purrs.

Caleb flashes his bulging fangs to the woman.

“Dirty vamp,” she swings her handbag around a couple times. By the third rotation, the handbag careens into Caleb’s chest and then falls to the ground. He moans in pleasure. The old woman’s hands are fisted, holding securely onto sections of the top-portion of her dress. Her hands pull away from her body, and snap-snap-snap-snap goes her dress, as she peels it from her body. 

Under her dress she wears a hot pink, Madonna-style-cone-shape-bra with the letter M and S on each of the cones. Her hips secure black, leather bloomers with the letter “C” dead-center on her crotch.

“Missy?” Gen questions.

“Ms. C.?” I guess.

The Old Woman snatches her handbag from the floor and starts whipping herself with it in self-flagellation.

“Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope!” Lani says, grabbing Gen and I’s hands, and pulling us through the crowd. After what she feels is a safe distance, we come to a stop. 

The trumpets we heard earlier, announcing Don Lothario and the Caliente Sisters, play again. Not everyone stops what they are doing, and who they are doing, as a spotlight pours down onto Don, who is draped on a Versace royal purple-on-black, leather throne. 

Both Caliente Sisters kneel beneath him, their hands begin to snake up his calves towards his knees. 

I break away from Lani and Gen and push myself through the crowd, until I’m up against the stage wall. 

Don Lothario kicks the Sisters’ hands off his legs, as he stands up, fully erect, on top of the throne. An industrial-sized fan turns on, and his leather cape whips around behind him. “It’s that time again, my fellow Subs and Doms, to crown one special person The Punisher in the Name of the Moon. My own personal Sailor Moon.”

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” I say shaking the stranger in front of me, who turns around and asks if I’ll stick something indiscernible in his pooper. 

I completely ignore his strange request, and hoist myself onto the stage, as a bunch of hoots and hollers from the audience beg Don Lothario to choose them. 

Don throws a few red roses into the audience, which is directly followed by air-humping. Screams and caterwauls erupt all over. 

Now or never, I think as I stand up striking the perfect Sailor Moon pose. 

Don Lothario stops mid-air-hump as he notices me. “Subs and Doms! I believe she’s found me!”

The majority of the crowd cheers at Don Lothario’s announcement. The Caliente Sisters’ golf clap in boredom. 

A few butt-hurt (or maybe not butt-hurt enough) people jeer and boo. He shushes them into silence by placing his hands up. Once the quiet is sufficient enough to Don Lothario, he jumps from the throne and lands with a thud downstage center, directly in front of me. 

“How did you know I’d be here?” He asks, staring at my chest. 

“Uhhhh. What?” I ask, confusion rushing through my head. 

He pulls me so close to him there is no gap between our bodies, “We can discuss our future later, for now we have the present. Do you know what the present is?”

“Uhhh. The now?” I reply, thinking that getting on stage to have some fantasy-driven-scenario with a leather-clad Tuxedo Mask seemed like a good idea at the time, but now…now not at all. 

“The present is a gift,” he purrs, as his hands grab meaty sections of my butt, and the humping-motion he made to the air a few minutes ago is now performed against my crotch.

“Hey! Stop!” I say, trying to push him away from me.

He lets go of me and I stumble backwards and my butt lands against the stage.

“DJ are you okay?!” I hear Lani and Gen’s voice behind me, and see that they’re both standing  against the stage, right next to the guy who asked if I would sodomize him. 

I crawl towards them saying, “I’m fine. Just a right that turned into a wrong.”

“Hey!” Don Lothario shouts.

I turn around, stand up and face him.

“Leaving so soon? The party’s just begun. I haven’t even crowned you yet.”

“I’m not interested,” I say, turning around. I kneel down, preparing myself to jump to ground-level.

“You owe me, Tits.”

Before I can jump, I’m hit with the moniker Don Lothario just gave me. It can’t be! I think. I turn my head to look at him. He has one hand on his domino mask. He plucks it from his face, revealing a mug I’ve seen one-too-many times tonight.

 Holy Shit! Don Lothario is Mr. Selfie!

I hop down from the stage. “We need to get the fuck out of here! This dude’s a mess.” I say to Lani and Gen, who look at him suspiciously, nod their heads in agreement, and we begin to aggressively push our way out of the gathered crowd.

. 

“SEIZE THEM!” Don Lothario orders

“FUCK!” Lani, Gen, and I shout in unisom. Across the way, sticking out like a sore thumb, we see an arch lined with thin, white paper sprinkled with colored ovals that look like balloons or eggs.

“Y’all thinkin’ what I’m thinking?” Lani asks.

“That Hera will wish she really was at Cedars-Sinai for tricking us with her strip club suggestion?” I huff.

“Girl, catch up! That was my first thought when we encountered Goopy!”

“Oh! Usually you say something–”

“Look! We need to make our way to that arch over there. If I build up enough speed I think I can tear through that paper-wall and we can escape this madness.” Lani says pragmatically.

“Sounds like a solid plan. I’ll clear the way,” Gen says, positioning her cat-o-nine tails, ready to strike.

We haul ass towards the arch with Gen leading the way. She whips hands, or any other body part that gets too close, or that reaches for us, with her cat-o-nine tails, and the ones who get flogged moan in appreciation and ecstasy.

“UGH!” Lani screams in disgust at the crowd, as she lags behind, waiting for sufficient space to mad-dash into the arch. “NASTY! NASTY! NASTY!” Her eyes close and she calms her breathing.

“Lani! Now!” Gen yells.

Lani’s eyes shoot open and her feet spring to life as she runs with such precision and force that the crowd takes a giant step back, falling against one-another like dominoes. Gen and I suck in our stomachs to make an extra inch-of-space for Lani before she whooshes by us.

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK. The paper wall gives way with no resistance as Lani tears through to the other side. Gen and I hurriedly follow behind.

TO BE CONTINUED…..