3.04 The Bachelorette Party Pt. 4 “Thafuk?”

“Appreciation is a wonderful thing: It makes what is wonderful in others belong to us as well”

~ Voltaire

Chapters 3 & 4 have been heavily inspired by simlit stories I’ve read via WordPress and Tumblr. **Thank you to the lovely authors who have stoked my flames, ignited my words, and gifted me with the power of Thirst Traps. The biggest influence being Ferosh, and if you haven’t checked out her AMAZING simlit stories and videos, by gawd you must: https://simmiestories.blog/

***Appreciative shoutout to Lani’s creator. Thank you for giving Lani permission to go on playdates with DJ, even if they are traipsing through hell a week before Lani gets married!  Read her stories here:  www.sweetdreams25.wordpress.com

WARNING: This story contains graphic sexual content, distubing images, pixelated privates (Xtra warning that there might be some peen/poon that wasn’t pixelated because there are A LOT of nudie simmehs), profanity (if the title isn’t obvious about that fact), and excrement. 

SPICE LEVELl: 10 out of 5     

Let’s pretend that Ginger from Gilligan’s Island & Salt-n-Pepa are there instead.

Rated PHC for Pennywise, Hannibal Lector and Chucky because not only does shit get crazy, but it gets FRIGHTENING 

“What Doesn’t Kill You…” Does it actually make one stronger?

BEFORE WE BEGIN OUR DESCENT INTO HELL….. I added music via Spotify (& sadly in one instance YouTube) in hopes of making this an auditory experience. Hyperlinks are strewn throughout, look for words/phrases/song titles with a green background (like this) to click on the link! Enjoy ❤

“Took her soul, that’s another fallen angel.

I can’t help that I like ’em unstable.

And when I’m done,

She’ll need a cane ‘cause I’m able.”

~ Jeris Johnson “Burning Rubber”

Sunday, April 17, 2022

The Pleasantview – Strangerview, ??

As Gen and I rush through, we’re suddenly hit with darkness and an undetectable, rank smell. Lani snatches our hands in a panic, “We need to keep going once your eyes adjust,” she says hastily. “Those nasty-asses are gonna bound through here at any minute! Speaking of nasty. I think something died here.”

“Or someone!” Gen says, using her free hand to cover her nose and mouth.

“Or many someones,” I say, mortified that the offensive smell has invaded my nostrils and takes up residence inside my mouth, which I can taste.

A screeching ERRRRRRRRRRRRP resounds from where we had entered, causing us to focus our attention on a new source of pain for another one of our senses. The sound is eerily similar to a roll of packing tape being stretched.

“What’s that?!” The alarm and terror in Lani’s voice is evident by the rising octave in tone.

“Are they sealing us in here?!” Gen’s eyes grow wide as the tear Lani had created begins to slowly close.

“I-I don’t think they’re doing it.” I gulp. “I think the door is sealing itself.”

“Thafuk?!” Lani whispers, her voice steeped with fear.

“H-How is this possible?” Gen says, bewildered. 

I stare transfixed at the feeble, thinning lightray that sneaks in through the crack. As the broken door fixes itself, the light slowly disappears until it is completely snuffed and only darkness remains. I peel my eyes from where we had entered, and search my surroundings, hoping to locate an exit. However, after a quick sweep, I come to the startling realization that not only is there no exit to be found, we are the only ones here. 

In the distance is a wall lined with chunky candles that are nearly melted down to their wick, which is our only light source. The candles float against the wall, framing a painting that’s difficult to make out from our viewpoint. 

“What room is this?” Lani asks, before suffering from a coughing fit. “That smell is getting worse!”

“Let me consult the map,” I say, pulling the pamphlet from my cleavage. 

“Errrgh,” Gen gags, “I don’t feel so good.” I can hear her groan and gag next to me. 

“You okay?” I ask, fanning her with the map.

“Not one bit,” she says, pained.

“Sorry, Gen. I’ll fan you again in a minute,” I say, my words rushed, as I flip the map over, strain my eyes, and then announce, “It’s too dark. I can’t read it.” I look frantically at the candles, “I need light. Be right back!” I say, my words spilling from my lips so quickly that I’m uncertain if my friends heard them as I head towards the candlelit wall. Behind me, Lani trails and Gen stumbles.

“OOOOH!” I scream, cringing. “I think I stepped on something mushy!”.

“Same,” Lani says. “It feels like…”
SHIT!” Gen screams, suddenly animated. “It’s shit!” 

My hand swings to my mouth as the sudden smell and the texture against my boot confirms Gen’s analysis. The three of us take turns gagging and dry heaving. A noise on the far-end of the room causes us to still our bodies.

“Did you hear–” I whisper nervously.

“Yes,” Lani and Gen mumble. 

Suddenly, bright light floods the area where we heard the noise. Our heads whip around, and the light blinds us momentarily until we’re able to adjust our eyes. 

“Thafuk is that?!?! Lani whispers, taking several steps back, despite the feces spread all over in various states. 

Thanks to the light, we’re now able to use our sense of sight to confirm that we’re surrounded by shit. Some are large, perfectly-intact chunks, while the majority are mushy-mountain-shapes that have been noticeably stepped on by large paw prints.

Tears stream down Lani’s face and her eyes are shut. “There’s no place like home,” she says and repeats the mantra two more times, while clicking the backs of her heels together after reciting each line. 

Gen nervously fingers the leather thongs, metal pieces, and bone fragments of her whip. 

My jaw drops to the floor as I gawk at the offensive creatures. “Uhhh,” I break away from the orgy unfolding before my eyes, and look over at Lani who is in a state of mesmerized-terror. “That would be The Plow. That sex position.”

My voice seems to break the spell over Lani. She slowly turns to face me, as though she’s waking from a dream. “What?” she asks in confusion. 

“That position is called The Plow. See how the hind legs are lifted? It gives the impression of a plow. You know those farming–”

“I know what a plow is!” Lani looks at me baffled. “It ain’t what they’re doing I am having a problem wrapping my head around. What are they?!”

I look at the three overgrown rabbits that are all connected to each other by various orifices of the rabbit being used as a plow. 

I giggle. “I mean rabbits do fuck a lot.” Lani shoots me a look suggesting I shut my shit up, so I clear my throat. “Furries. I guess we stumbled into a furry-fetish room.” 

Lani’s eyes close and I can hear her quickly mumble The Lord’s Prayer

I open the map and search for the room we’re inside. “Oh.” I say suddenly, having found the information. “That’s weird.”

What’s weird?” Lani asks cautiously, keeping her eyes closed.

I look up from the map. “The room we’re in. It’s called The Social Experiment.”

“The Social Experiment?” Lani asks, baffled, as she opens her eyes.

The rabbits continue to thrust in quiet harmony as the light above them slowly fades.

“Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope!” Lani says, run-hopping towards us, successfully avoiding mounds of feces.

We all grip hands as the light completely disappears. An unsettling squeaky noise blasts, and we immediately turn our attention towards the candlelit wall. A gallery light illuminates the painting surrounded by flickering candles, allowing us to view its contents. 

Gen makes something that sounds like a hiss. “CLOWN!” She screeches, mortified. 

I observe the painting, tilt my head, and tap my cheek. “Look at this clown. He’s…depressing to view.” I sniffle. “I-I,” I turn to Gen, “I can’t help but feel sad for him,” a lone tear runs down my cheek. 

“Same!” Lani sniffs, fanning her eyes. 

A horn-like-sound suddenly blares, grabbing our attention. 

It sounds again, and a whitish hanky shoots up, suspended mid-air for a brief second, and then flutters sadly down. A hand balls up the hanky, revealing a red round nose, and stuffs the hanky into a chest pocket. The person steps out of the shadows, displaying oversized, red, floppy shoes. 

“CLOWN!” Gen attempts to scream, but her voice is so strained that the sound isn’t any louder than a whisper. 

There, standing before us is an embodiment of the clown in the painting.

He fake cries, clearly mocking us. 

“Fuck you, Bobo!” Lani yells, as more tears run down her face.

“I c-can’t stop c-crying. I’m not even ss-ss-ssaaaaaaaad.” I bawl. 

The unreal amount of tears rushing from Lani’s eyes gives an absurd, cartoony appearance. I look at Gen who is hiding her eyes behind both hands. Water gushes from her hands at an alarming speed, and then suddenly we all stop crying at the same time, as though someone has turned off a faucet. 

Lani and I turn our attention to the lamentable Clown, as eerie, distorted carnival music begins to play. Gen removes her hands from her eyes and places them tightly against her ears. She sinks down, curling into herself. Her bottom rests against boot-heels while she balances on tiptoes. I can hear her softly singing sections of Oasis’s “She’s Electric,” to self-soothe. 

The clown pulls something peach colored from his chest pocket. He examines the dangly object.

“What is that?” I question aloud.

“I think it’s a balloon.” Lani replies. 

“Is he going to make a balloon animal?” I say, as he closely examines the droopy balloon. Using both sets of thumb and index fingers, he proceeds to place the balloon against his crotch.

“Thafuk?!” Lani says, gawking. 

“Maybe it’s a condom?” I say, slightly afraid that he’s about to stick his clown-dick in the object.

Lani’s eyes widen, “He better-the-fuck not think we’re here for funny business.”

I laugh uncontrollably, “That’s a way to put it. You know. Clown. Funny business.”

Lani continues to look at The Clown as she speaks, “I wasn’t trying to be funny. I’m trying to survive this night with as little therapy afterwards as possible.”

I contain my laughter and clear my throat. “Ah, sorry. I should be taking this more seriously. Everything has been a bit strange–”

A shrill airy sound grabs my attention, and the peach flaccid balloon that The Clown holds against his crotch begins to inflate.

“Uhhh, how is he doing that? Where is the air coming from?” I utter in unsettling-astonishment.

The more air that fills the balloon, the more defined the balloon becomes, until it is glaringly obvious that the shape the balloon takes on is that of a penis. The Clown removes one of his hands from his penis-ballon. He pulls out a small-to-medium-sized canister from his capacious top pocket, and places the canister against his balloon-penis. The clown turns his attention, body, and balloon-penis to us. He squeezes down on the canister and silly string expels, which has the obvious appearance that it shot from his balloon-penis. The silly string hits us in the face. Lani and I scream while swatting away bits of silly string from our face, hair, and body.

The Clown begins laughing maniacally as he discards the silly string canister, holds the balloon-penis against himself with both hands, and suddenly pelvic-thrusts. At first the pelvic thrusts are rhythmic, almost sensual, but the faster the pace becomes the more unsettling and abnormal the motion looks. 

Lani and I scream in unison at Gen. “Get up! Get up! Get up!” Gen, unable to hear our pleas, as her hands are still firmly planted against her ears, remains unmoved. We pull her to her feet. The Clown is steadily getting closer, his penis-balloon is pointed at us like a jackhammering-weapon.

Lani, Gen, and I scream, turn, and run through mounds of shit in the dark. Suddenly, like a beacon of deliverance, an EXIT sign lights up, conveniently in the direction we are running, illuminating an ill-shaped and warped narrow archway below. We take turns squeezing through, and allow Gen to squeeze to safety first since she has extreme coulrophobia. Lani, as the bride-to-be that I invited on this excursion through all nine-layers-of-hell, is the next to squeeze through. I stand guard while The Clown is merely feet away from me. My back is pressed as far against the wall as humanly possible. 

The Clown’s pelvic thrusts come to a dead halt. He releases the balloon-penis, which shoots up into the air, zig-zagging and darting uncontrollably until there is no longer a sufficient amount of air to suspend it, forcing it to crash into a wall, and land motionless on a perfectly-pointed-poop-peak. 

The Clown turns his attention from the fallen balloon to me. “Wanna see me juggle?”

“Juggle what?” I say, failing to act upon the number one rule Gen has when it comes to weirdos (which is to NEVER acknowledge them).

“My balls!” He laughs, as he unzips a compartment in the undercarriage of his costume.

“Oh, for the love of…” I turn around to see what happens to be the holdup. Lani is trying to maneuver herself this-way-and that through the narrow passage, but her buttocks and thighs are extra thick. I attempt to help her, and find myself reciting The Lord’s Prayer that she said earlier.

I look behind my shoulder at The Clown. Overgrown ballon-testicles inflate from The Clown’s undercarriage. The balloon-testicles draw closer to me, and I can see indiscernible organisms swimming inside. Afraid that the balloon-testicles will pop at any moment, and I’ll be covered in clown-goop, I make the Sign of The Cross over me, backup until I have enough space, and run as fast as I can, careening into Lani’s backside, and dislodging her from the frame’s hold. I squeeze inside the door frame and stumble through to the other side. 

Gen, Lani and a hushed crowd give their attention to a spotlighted figure on stage. 

“She’s cursed!” a gorgeous man dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow announces. I stand there mesmerized, silently hoping to get plundered by that exquisite man-pirate.

A few members of the audience begin to catcall. 

Captain Jack turns his bare backside to the audience. 

I nudge Gen in the ribs, “Hey, Gen, were assless chaps invented by pirates?” which causes Gen, Lani, and myself to giggle. People closest to us turn around and give us the stink-eye. Gen returns their stink-eye with a snub, and Lani somehow manages a threatening gesture with her chin.

Refusing to read the crowd, I shout, “SWAB MY POOP DECK, CAPTAIN JACK!” Surprisingly, the people around us guffaw at my outburst.

Captain Jack Sparrow looks out into the audience, contemplative, and states, “Is there anything a pirate loves more than booty?” which sends the crowd into an uproar, and hands get grabby and rump-squeezy. 

Lani shoves the hot stranger standing next to her and he gets an earful of her warning, “You better-the-fuck not think about it. Hands where I can see them!” Obviously concerned for his life, he complies.

Like a moth drawn to its death, my feet carry me away from my friends. I nudge aside audience members in hopes of making my way to Captain Jack Sparrow. A hand grips the top of my arm, drags me backwards, and roughly shoves me around until I am face-to-face with the person.

“And where do you think you’re goin’?”

“Uh….” I say, dazed, “Uhhhh. I want a better view?”

Eyes glare into mine, daring me to rethink my remark.

My fingers nervously play with the hem of my Sailor Slut skirt. “Ummmm.”

Well?!” the rapid click-click-click of a boot-tapping ushers me to spill my thoughts.

My head falls and I smirk. “Fine. I wanted to go on stage.”

“Are you out of your god-fearing mind?!”

I look up at Lani whose anger is directed at me. My eyes look to the side at the hot stranger she had yelled at moments ago. He looks relieved to no longer be on the receiving end of her hotheadedness, and sends me a look that suggests thoughts-and-prayers.

I offer her a smile, followed by eyelash-batting, relying on my persuasive powers.

“Do you ever learn?!” she scolds.

What?” I shrug, deflecting, as I turn my eyes onto the dreamy pirate. “He’s so hot.”

“So was BDSM Tuxedo Mask and look how well that shit-show turned out!” Lani huffs.

“How was I supposed to know he was a bad guy?” I sulk, crossing my arms.

Lani rolls her eyes in annoyance as she hisses, “Bad guys hide their faces.”

“What about Batman? Spiderman? Zorro? The Lone Ranger” I say, snottily. 

Lani, who looks like she is doing her mightiest not to rip hair from my scalp, plants her hand on her hip and says remarkably calmly, “What about the Ku Klux Klan?”

My body slumps as I mumble, “Game, set, match,” and slink my way back until I am once again standing next to Gen.  

A bed, that takes up nearly half the stage, is covered in gold coins. Captain Jack stands next to the bed, and scoops up a handful of gold coins in his palm. The coins trickle back to the bed as he says, “Not all treasure is silver and gold,” and then winks at the audience, which causes cheers and hollers. 

“SHIT ON ME, AMBER TURD!” Someone in the audience screams, which elicits a sour reaction from Lani and Gen. 

A spotlight shines upon the helpful Woman in Red that we had met when we first entered the sex club.

“Let’s get this party SHART-ED!” she shouts. An instrumental version of The Black Eyed Peas hit “Let’s Get it Started,” begins to resound. 

Captain Jack lends The Woman in Red his hand which she holds as she climbs onto the bed. “To be, or not to be… a PARTY POOPER. That is the question.” Captain Jack says. 

The Woman in Red positions herself dead-center, turns around, flips her dress up so that her bare butt is exposed. The audience goes wild, chanting, “SHIT ON HIM! SHIT ON HIM!”

The woman in red squats and poops on the bed. 

“I think this is an art piece,” I say quietly, “You know….They’re re-enacting Amber Heard pooping on her and Johnny Depp’s bed.”

Lani shakes her head, “That ain’t art,” she says as she shields her eyes from the poop-show.

“Let’s get out of here,” Gen says as she cautiously sidesteps to the right. We follow her along the back wall until we reach an upside-down-triangle-shaped frame. Red, metallic fringe curtains are suspended underneath. Gen is the first to disappear inside, then Lani, and before I step inside, the crowd starts pushing one-another, as though we are in one giant mosh pit. I look around to see what has everyone in a commotion, but am at a loss, so I ask a pretty, young girl sporting bottle-blonde-hair tipped with pink.

“What’s going on?”

“The Smear Campaign has begun.”


“You know, for us Bottom-Feeders!”

I blink a few times in confusion, wondering what code-speak she’s spewing. “Find me? I’m lost.” I say, smiling awkwardly.

She rolls her eyes in annoyance, “The ones who rub Bella’s shit on their faces are the Disciples of The Smear Campaign. They are the chosen ones bearing the mark. They’ll be given an enema, and whoever isn’t a DTSC is a Bottom-Feeder, and they’re gonna feed from–”

“…the bottoms.” I say, finishing her sentence. I smile stiffly as I walk backwards, feeling the metallic fringe hit my shoulders. I take in a relaxed breath as I completely disappear from shit I will never unsee.

I turn around and I am suddenly hit with cool night air and darkness. My eyes struggle to adjust to the change in light, as I slam against a tree trunk. 

“Ouch!” I grumble.

I peel myself from the tree, and look up into the canopy of its branches and the deep purple sky sprinkled with silver, twinkling stars that peek through. 

My eyes greedily devour my surroundings. In front of me, a man-made trail of rose petals and tea lights leads to a hot tub. I turn around, seeking out the room I just exited, but there’s nothing else within view other than the hot tub and a surrounding treegrove. 

“Lani?! Gen?!” I call out, looking around as I head in the direction the rose petals lead. 

“Hello?! Anyone?!” I stop for a moment, and turn around slowly, making a complete full-circle, certain that this has all the makings of a horror movie. 

What living hell nightmare is this place going to turn into? I think as I consult the map. My finger drags along the creased paper, searching, and then finally I locate the name: The Devil’s Triangle. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

Water stirs and ripples from the hot tub, causing me to remove my eyes from the map and stare, squinting, at the hot tub. Clusters of rose petals float in disarray inside the hot tub, obscuring the water. I stay rooted in place, mentally planning my escape route just in case. 

Poignant, distorted vocals, melded with sensual hard-synth, plays from an indiscernible location as the water’s surface breaks.

I suck my teeth as his head fully emerges, framed by long, wet strands of varying shades of dark-and-light gray hair. Broad shoulders and a bare, muscular torso are next to pass into view. Water steadily drips from his hair that ends around mid-back. I take a step backwards, and lick my lips, openly-appreciating the scenery.

His light blue eyes bore into mine. They are sensual, playful, and tinged with something forbidden and devious. His thin lips break into a smile, exposing sharp, pointed canine teeth. His tongue darts playfully against them, and then winds a path over his lips, as though he’s about to feast, and I feel desire consume me. I saunter over to the hot tub, feeling embolden from an unknown intoxication, I caress my skin with each step, focusing slow, languid movements against my breasts.

“I’ve been vaiting for you,” he says, as he relaxes against the backrest, beckoning me to join him with his index finger. His voice is sex incarnate.

My eyes close and I swallow. Pulsations tease and delight from within my innermost private area, as though I’m being pleasured. “I shouldn’t,” I tease as my breath hitches.

“Come.” He insists, and I feel myself both climbing into the hot tub and climbing towards climax. I climb in, boots-and-all, submerging myself from the hips down. 

I walk a few steps, the water loosens its resistance as I pass. I hesitate momentarily as I feel myself getting incrementally closer to release. My arms fall slack against my torso. 

His hand wraps itself around a lone finger of mine, and he gently pulls my finger and me towards him. He runs the tip of his tongue against my finger. I am so close to orgasm, I find it difficult to stand. His mouth encases the digit’s uppermost joint, sliding his tongue up-and-down.   

“Uhhhh,” my head jerks back as I moan, feeling wave after wave ripple throughout me. I melt into the sea of rose petals. 

When I open my eyes the night’s sky greets me, and I realize that I’m floating on my back. The stars twinkle in a bazaar pattern, as though the universe is sending me a cosmic S.O.S. I search him out and notice that he has moved on from my finger, and now slurps and sucks at my wrist. I yank my hand away from him, and stand up. Blood trails from the corner of his mouth and drips off his chin. His glazed-over eyes return to normal, and the euphoric look he wore seconds ago is replaced with bitter annoyance.        

I cradle my throbbing wrist, staring at two small puncture wounds dotted with clotted-blood. “I gotta get out of here,” I say aloud. 

“You’re going no-vere,” he says flatly, lightning flashes in the distance, followed by rumbling thunder. 

I stare at him incredulously. “Who do you think you are?”


“Look, Chad, it’s been real, but–”


I flick my hand twice, shooing away his correction, “Right. Sorry, Brad, it’s been real–”

“I vunt to suck you.”

“Dude, look, I had no idea that this was a sex club. I’m married. You see, my best friend is getting married, and we–” Lightning flashes closer, igniting a tree afire. I gasp. “Did you see that?!” 

“Come,” he says, standing fully upright and unclothed.

“Wow, that’s more than an eyeful,” I say ogling his erection.

He takes a step towards me. His penis looks like a stake ready to puncture, and is only a hair’s breadth away from my skin. I can feel his thrall overtake me again. I stand in place swaying slightly as the tip of his pink-tinged, alabaster penis grazes the skin above my navel.

“Ven I vas alive they vud call me Vlad the Impaler.” He smiles sensually. The dullness of his tip suddenly grows sharp, as though his penis has been replaced with a blade. He pierces my skin, and I cry out in pain. His penis leaves my body, and I instantly crumple, falling against rose petals and water with a heavy splash. He pulls me from the water and hoists my body and himself out of the hot tub. Soft moss, dirt, and leaves cradle my back, as he gently places me down upon the ground. My breathing grows ragged, and my eyes close


I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious, but I do know that it was the sound of my name being screamed that prompted me to wake. I attempt to jackknife up, but Vlad’s head is pressed firmly into my ribs. I can feel the wetness of his lips sucking at my flesh where his penis had been…however long ago.

“Get off of her!” Gen yells at Vlad

“You sick fuck!” Lani screams.

I can’t see either of them, but I can hear the desperate thump of their boots against the dirt as they run towards us. I prop myself up on one arm and use my free arm to unsuccessfully push Vlad off. “Why won’t you move!?” I grunt, trying again to budge him from me.

His eyes look into mine as he continues to suck. He slurps loudly as he removes his mouth from my skin. His tongue darts against both corners of his mouth and then trails languidly against his lips. He crawls against my body until his face is above mine. His damp, silvery tendrils mix and settle against my hair. He studies me, as though I’m a labrat in a maze. I attempt to push myself away from him by digging my heels into the ground, but at the moment that I try, his hand snakes out, grabbing my upper arm and holding me down with so much force that I’m afraid the bone will snap in two. 

“Ven you leave. Tell them you’ve seen Der Teufel.” 

Gen skids to the ground, whipping Vlad with her cat-o-nine tails, while Lani kicks him repeatedly in the torso. His head moves to face them and he hisses, lightning illuminates the atmosphere above us, and Vlad’s face suddenly changes into a distorted, hideous creature.

Lani, Gen, and I scream in sheer terror. They pull me to my feet and we run without looking behind us. 

“How do we get out of here? Where is the exit?” Gen asks.

“I don’t know! How did you guys even get here?” 

“I used a magic wand to make a portal.”

“Do you still have it?!”

Gen quickly pats down her body, “I’m afraid not.”

“What about you, Lani, how did you get here?”

“I swam through a door.”


“I somehow became a mermaid. Don’t ask.”

“Sounds fishy,” I say, grinning.

“You really do pick the most inappropriate times to crack jokes.” 

“Hey! I see something in the distance!” Gen says, pointing ahead to the right.

Another trail of tea lights comes into view, albeit without rose petals accompanying. The tea lights wind through several large Eucalyptus trees. Their fragrance is dreamy, and reminds me of the times I would visit Cato at UCSD. An ear-piercing screech invades our ears as some unknown creature swoops down at us from the trees. We simultaneously scream and hold our hands above our heads and faces, swatting at the air every once-in-a-while, as we run, following the lighted trail. 

“Is that a bat?” Lani shrieks.

“I am going to have this place condemned!” Gen threatens, and considering who her husband is, she plans to make good on her threat.

“I think we’re coming to the end!” I say, noticing the last few tea lights lighting the way, and the startling pitch black, void of stars and moonlight, that consumes everything up ahead. I scream as the winged-beast swoops down into my face and lets out a screech that would make a banshee cover its ears. “BAT! IT’S A BAT!” I’m nearly in tears as I shriek, “IT’S IN MY HAIR!” while running zig-zag and knocking into Gen and Lani, who are also shrieking that something is in their hair. “I thought there was only one!” I whine.

“Clearly this rat-with-wings called for reinforcements!” Lani snaps at me.

And in the midst of the panic, we don’t notice that the tea lights stop because the land ends. That is, we don’t realize this until it is too late, and the heels and soles of our boots touch nothing but air.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” we scream in freefall. The three bats that had been chasing us flutter directly above us, but stay near the cliff’s edge, refusing to or unable to come any closer. Suddenly a loud whoosh washes over us, and the atmosphere and our surroundings suddenly change, as though we’ve fallen through a portal. Erie Gregorian chants mixed with erotic dungeon synth invades our ears. We have only mere seconds to question our surroundings before our backs make contact with a cool, malleable surface that breaks our fall. 

We attempt to come to a sitting position but find it difficult to come to any upright position so we give up, lie there in defeat, and take in the orgy-nightmare unfolding before our eyes. Unlike The Rumpus Room, where everyone was in some state of undress, or fully-clad in leather, everyone here is completely naked, save for a mask. Few wear dominio masks, venetian masks, or even grotesque versions of the Thalia and Melpomene masks. However, the majority wear various types of forest animal head masks, usually with elaborate antlers that they use for penetration.

The scene slowly turns into a panoramic view, thanks to the rotating contraption we’re on. Lani and Gen have already crawled to the end of one side and make their ways off the slow-spinning object. A roly poly man with dark skin screams, “COWABUNGA!” as he runs at Gen and Lani, who sidestep out of his way as he takes a running leap onto the moving platform, and lands impressively on both feet near me. 

The force ricochets me upward. I claw the air in panic before making my descent back down. The surface is not as inviting as it was when Lani, Gen, and I first landed upon it, and the side of me that collides with the surface feels as though I just belly flopped into a pool. I stare up at him in fright, wondering how all that weight he carries didn’t shatter his cankle-bones. “Hey, Liza!” he calls off to someone in the crowd, “Check out the rotating bed.” 

Aw, I think, so that’s what this is

A slender, albeit blindingly white, woman makes her way through the crowd, at times rubbing her private area against the backsides of men that can only be described as gym rats. 

“What goes great with Pancakes’?” he says, his legs spread hip-distance apart. He shakes his hips from side-to-side, and his abnormally long and slender penis, which looks to be the same size and shape of a comically giant pencil, swings back-and-forth like a clock’s pendulum. 

The woman he called Liza cackles obnoxiously, “What’s that, Bobby?”

“Sausage!” He hoots as his penis stops swinging side-to-side, and instead travels wildly upside-down in a full-circle. Liza crawls onto the bed and parks herself right under his penis, so that with every rotation it hits her cheek.

“Cool. In-person meatspin. Now I can check that off my bucket list,” I say aloud, shuddering, as I crawl off the bed, realizing that this isn’t just any rotating bed, but a waterbed. Lani and Gen help me off the waterbed.

Gen sighs, her composure remarkably calm considering the night’s events that are still ongoing, “It looks like we’re in another room. Is there an exit to this freaky-funhouse? I’m ready to leave.”

Lani nods in agreement.

I stuff my hand into my damp top, searching. “Fuck!” I look at Gen and Lani while retracting my hand from my shirt. “I think I lost the map!”

Gen begins to pace back and forth, mumbling obscenities. I know things have gone from bad to execrable, because Gen is a snob who believes it is beneath her to use profanity. I trail behind Gen, trying to reassure her that we didn’t die earlier tonight and that this place is not hell. Although, I have a hard time believing my words. I look over at Lani, who I had been ignoring, and panic, because Lani’s slumped against the ground, unable to keep her shit together.

“Oh my God, Lani! What happened?” I say as I run to her, which causes Gen to focus on something else other than our shit-predicament (shitcament?), and runs over to us.

Lani is babbling something incoherent while she swipes her finger up and down over flapping lips. 

Gen looks at me with concern. “I think she lost it, Deege. I think she really lost her mind.” She looks over at Lani, “Poor Lani! A whole week shy of being a bride and now she’ll be spending her honeymoon in a padded room.”

“That is if we make it out of here alive,” I remind Gen.

Gen turns to look at me, tears rolling down her face, “You’re right! We might not!”

I gasp.

Gen turns to look at me, “What is it?”

“I think I know what made Lani scared!” I say pointing in the distance.

Gen turns around quickly, gasps, and turns back towards me. She puts her fingers inside her ears and begins singing “She’s Electric,” like she had in The Social Experiment room, because in the distance, The Clown and three Rabbits engage in sex acts with each other. 

The Clown is bent over, and one of the Rabbits pulls one-after-another of endless colored scarves from The Clown’s anus. The second Rabbit uses the scarves to tie up and spank the third Rabbit. 

Without warning, two people dressed as skeletons appear. One grabs Lani and pulls her to her feet, and the other does the same with Gen. They stuff a cloth over my friends’ faces. 

By the time I realize what is happening and react, two women in long, dark cloaks grab hold of each of my wrists and drag me away. They both have shoulder length hair swinging in wild-abandon. One has blonde hair, and the other is a redhead. The blonde wears a Thalia mask, while the redhead wears a Melpomene mask.

“Don’t worry,” the blonde says, as I wriggle and struggle against them. Regardless, they manage to overpower me. “Your friends will be fine. That’s just chloroform. It’ll just put them to sleep.”

The other laughs sadistically, “Think of it as a spa day. Speaking of spa,” she says as they both shove me away, the impact causes me to fall onto the ground. “It’s about time you have a facial.”

Large, bare feet appear in front of my face. I push myself up off the ground, my arms extend fully and I look up at the person whose feet are by me. He too wears a long, black hooded cloak that covers his ankles and extends upwards. His hands are the only other visible appendage, and one of his hands holds a scythe that rests against the ground. 

I squint, attempting to search out his face, but the hood he wears over his head makes it impossible. My weight is supported by my hands and right knee, as I use my left leg to pull my body up to a standing position.

“Bow, before The Grim Reaper, Bitch,” the woman with the sadistic laugh hisses at me.

I look behind me, and both women that had collected me are now bowing on all fours. I survey the crowd, and they too are also bowing on all fours. I turn around and face the looming figure of The Grim Reaper. 

“I told you,” The Grim Reaper booms. His voice is abnormally deep, and sounds exactly like Christian Bale as Batman. “I am The God of Fuck!” Behind him, two skeletons (perhaps the ones that had taken Gen and Lani) carry an altar and set it down. 

The Grim Reaper maneuvers himself into a sitting position on the altar, and leans back, resting his weight on his palms. The two skeletons kneel in front of him, their bony hands grab at separate sides of his robe. Quick as a wink, they pull on the fabric and snap-snap-snap-snap, The Grim Reaper’s hairless, tanned, muscular flesh is exposed. 

“Like what you see?” he asks.

I avert my eyes from his penis, purse my lips, and look up at the night sky, hoping The Grim Reaper can’t read my face as I try to control the laughter that threatens to spill after viewing his micropenis.

“Oh, yes, your Grimmyness.” I cackle, unable to contain my laughter.

“Someone’s excited. Love it.” He says, completely oblivious.

A man and woman wearing nothing other than loin cloths and a doe and buck head masks approach. An object floats on top of a smallish pillow that the woman holds. The man removes the item from the pillow. As it draws closer, it’s obvious that it is a studded, penis sleeve that he secures over The Grim Reaper’s micropenis. 

“Mort-the-Wart doing the honors!” The Grim Reaper laughs at the man, and then looks over at the woman holding the pillow. “Bells,” he acknowledges. 

I stare in horror as, once fully attached, a switch is flipped, and The Grim Reaper’s micropenis comes roaring to life, buzzing to-and-fro like a horny horsefly. 

“Ready to be anointed?”

What?!” I say in a panic, stepping backwards. My upper arms are suddenly squeezed by the two women who had brought me here, and now clamp and drag me to The Grim Reaper. He hops from the altar and is inches in front of me. “Don’t worry, Tits, once I anoint you as my Domme, everyone will bow to you. We’ll rule together.” He says as he pulls apart the snaps that the skeletons missed.

“Don?” I say, at a loss. 

His hood falls behind his head, exposing Don Lothario’s face. He discards the entire robe from his person and it falls to the ground. He winks and then says, “In the flesh,” while giving his junk a tug.

“LET GO OF ME!” I scream, twisting and kicking in hopes of escaping their hold, but only managing to infuriate the women. Their fingers dig into my flesh hard enough to inflict large bruises. Don’s skeleton assistants each grab one of my ankles. The two women and the skeletons hoist me up onto the altar. They bind my ankles, then my hands which they place over my head as I continue to writhe.

The skeletons kneel next to the altar, and Don steps onto their backs.  “You’re feisty,” he says, shooting me a smile, as he places one foot onto the altar and then the other. He stands fully erect above me. I close my eyes, refusing to see him stroking himself. Unfortunately, I am unable to block the vibrating and skin-slapping sounds he makes. I consider doing as Gen would do in this situation, and sing “She’s Electric,” but before I can belt out the first few words, music begins to blare all around me and Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch’sGood Vibrations,” begins to invade my ears. “You got to be kidding me,” I say.

“You know what fascinates me about you, Tits?” 

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, he steamrolls along in conversation. “You keep refusing my advances.”

I open an eye and look over at him as he stares down at me. 

“Nobody, and I mean nobody, has ever told Ol’ Don here ‘No’ before.”

Are you sure about that, bruh, or do you only hear what you want to hear? I think, raising an eyebrow at him in-question.

“I’m serious. Not even Bells over there turned this down,” he says, rubbing himself faster.

I open one eye and then the other.

The man Don called Mort-the-Wart removes his doe head and turns to his companion. “Bella?” He sniffs while his voice cracks.

The woman removes her buck head mask, and lets it fall to the ground, revealing that she is The Woman in Red who had pooped on a bed. “SHUSH!” she commands. “You’re embarrassing yourself. You’re embarrassing me. Don’t act surprised, Mort. Sex with you is boring. Isn’t that why we come here?”

“B-But we agreed we wouldn’t sleep with anyone. We’d be exclusive.”

Bella rolls her eyes again. “Oh puh-lease. Your rule. Not mine.”

Mort’s body convulses and he begins to sob.

“Can you please, for once in your life, try to be a man?!” Bella barks at Mort, which causes Mort to cry harder.

“Uh guys,” Don removes his hand from his junk and snaps his fingers, and the two kneeling skeletons spring to life. “Get him out of here. He’s killing the mood.” Don stares at Mort in disgust.

I can’t help but feel pity for Mort as the skeletons drag him away. Bella kicks Mort’s doe head mask away from the altar, as though it’s a soccer ball, before fading into the background.

“Where were we?” Don says, in thought, “Oh, right! Time to get anointed then appointed,” Don says, as he begins to rub himself. 

I close my eyes once more.

Don squats down next to me. “Domme Tits has a nice sound. Whattaya think?”

Again, Don doesn’t give me a chance to speak. “I’ve been Don-The-Dom far too long. Time for a change. You’re my sea change.”

“Sure I am,” I scoff at his self-righteousness. 

“I’m serious. You know what I’m looking for?”

“To know what love is?” I guess.

“To be dominated,” he whispers, his breath penetrating my ear.

I open my eyes, and suddenly wish I hadn’t. 

Don’s micropenis dangles millimeters from my right eye. “Don’t worry, Tits, this won’t hurt. Much.”

“There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home…” I say, automatically closing my eyes and hoping that clicking my bound heels isn’t a requirement for the magic to work. Tears of defeat threaten to spill from my eyes.

The humming from Don’s penis sleeve grazes my collarbone and my body convulses. “GET IT OFF!” I scream and thrash.

“Don’t worry, Tits, I’m getting off. Get it?” He says, laughing at his double entendre, as he continues to place, remove, and place his vibrating-penis on another part of my upper body. “You know, I got to hand it to you–” he stops for a moment and then breaks out into more obnoxious laughter. 

I allow one of my eyes to squint, and assess if it is safe enough to fully-open my eyes. Unable to see his micropenis, I allow both eyes to open, and stare in horror at Don.

He turns to look at me. “I’ve got to hand it to you. Get it? Hand!” he waves his hand in front of my face, which offers him nothing other than a blank expression from me. “Uhhh. Tits! You’re disappointing me.” He takes the hand he had waved in front of my face, sits into a kneeling position, grabs his vibrating-penis and gives it a few hard tugs. “Hand.” He says loudly. “Get it now?”

I blink a few times, and attempt to crack a smile. “Handjob,” I utter, and smile in hopes of placating him. I nearly blurt that you cannot have a hanDJob without “DJ,” but realize that this is not the time for such slogans.

He beams, “You got it. I knew you would. I knew you were special.”

Oh shit. I’m gonna die. This is serial killer territory. I close my eyes and ask a very serious question to my capturer. “Is this a snuff film?”

“Thafuk?” Don says. 

I pop an eye open, and see that he’s staring at me dumbfounded.

“Is it?” I question.

Don turns away from me and looks out into the crowd. “She asks if this is a snuff film!” 

A few laughs erupt, but for the most part it’s silent, other than “Good Vibrations” that continues to play. 

Suddenly Don laughs, which gives everyone else permission to laugh.

I struggle and writhe against the altar, attempting again to get the fuck out of here.

Don and the crowd’s laughter subsides. “Not a snuff film.” 

He admits. “Would you like us to make a snuff film?” he asks, suddenly growing serious.

I instantly still myself. “No.”

“You’re inventive,” he strokes my temple with his vibrating-penis. “I like your thoughts. I really wanna get inside that head of yours.” 

I tightly shut my eyes. Yup. It’s official. I’m gonna die. He’s gonna open my head and skull-fuck my corpse

“Ever since you mentioned hot wax…” 

He places the tip of his micropenis at the center of my collar bones, and trails it slowly down my sternum. “And clothespins attached to titties….” He moans, “’Till death do us part.” 

He then makes one large thrust against my cleavage and warm ooze pools against my skin. 

“You’ve been anointed!” He states, proudly.

“EW! EW! EW” I shriek, until a rag doused in something citrusy roughly covers my nose and mouth. 

“Bow to your Mistress, peons!” Don shouts to the crowd, who immediately bow to me.

My eyes widen instantly as I flounder about like a fish on land. 

“Shhhh,” he croons. “It will be over soon.”

I close my eyes as tears spill uncontrollably. My thrashing increases, and despite my best efforts the rag remains secured to my face.

His fingers press down into the thin fabric of skin that separates ribs, conjuring whimpers and pleadings from me for him to stop.

“If you stop struggling it won’t hurt,” his voice resounds inside my skull.

Instantly, my backside stills against the altar and my head falls to the side and I stare out into the darkness at the bowed faces and naked bodies. Lackadaisical fingers retreat from between my rib bones, and fondle the skin that he had just brutalized. 

“Just get it over with,” I say, my voice sounding like that of a stranger’s.

“Get what over with?” He asks, and even though I don’t bother to look at his face, I can tell he’s smiling. Somehow Don’s vibrating micropenis remains against my cleavage, and the intensity of the vibration grows.

My eyelids grow heavy

 and I feel lightheaded, 

and the sounds start to feel distant 

and grow dark 



Most unfortunate I end this story on a cliffhanger, but much like Don’s micropenis, I prefer when something is out of reach, dangling and wriggling like a worm on a hook…and hopefully you are also hooked.

  • The next major story-series will revolve around the theme “secrets” and pay special attention to The Dimitris’ and their familial patriarchy. 
  • I will NOT be telling the next story through DJ’s perspective. Subterfuge is much easier in Omniscient *Evil Don Lothario maniacal laughter* 
  • Some of your beloved EA-created-AuthorDJ-manipulated sims will make their way back into my writing! And if you loved to hate them and hated to love them before…my shit-stirrer stick is already in the pot and it’s getting goopy

SO, get ready for more sex, more violence, and more batshit, what-the-fuck moments whenever this next story drops! ………….Oh! And…..one….more….small….insignificant….detail… MURDER. Yeah… let the bloodletting commence! 

(fingers crossed, the earliest: October 2022; the latest: January 2023).


I see uh, uh, I see uh, uh

I see lights, can you hear the thunder?

I see uh, uh, I see uh, uh

I see smoke ’cause I’m burning rubber

(“Burning Rubber” – Jeris Johnson)

(It Can’t Rain All The Time)

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.


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.

The Bachelorette Party pt. 1: “It’s About to Take a Turn”

WARNING: contains sexual content, fetish, highly blurred/censored images of naughty bits, full in-your-face images of posteriors (so definitely don’t view this at your workplace, kiddies, unless you work from home), violence against non-living objects, drunken shenanigans, and minor profanity.

Spice level: 2 outta 5

Wednesday, April 13, 2022: Seattle, WA.

“How’re things?”

“Things are boring. It’s so time-consuming trying to manage one’s household-staff. I have a massage appointment in…about 30 minutes to de-stress.”

“Oh! Should I let you go so you can leave?”

“No, no. That won’t be necessary. The masseuse is coming to me.”

I laugh. “Well that’s convenient. If only Tech Geniuses grew on trees,” I sigh. “You lucked out.”

Gen chuckles, “Luck had nothing to do with it. I know how to market a product, and in that case, I was the product. Once you know what your buyer wants, it isn’t difficult procuring a product that will please…and clearly I know how to please.”

I giggle, “Wasn’t that the caption under your senior high school photo?”

“Hush, you!” Gen laughs. “So what do I owe this pleasure? It isn’t often you phone me. Usually we play catch-up via text, and that’s as far as the conversation goes…”

I bite my bottom lip, “I know. I’m…not the best friend that I once was.”

“Well I’m not the size 0 I once was, so…you’re forgiven.”

“But, yes, you’re right. I have a hidden agenda for phoning you.”

“Well, spill!”

“Lani asked me to be her Maid of Honor.”

“Wow! Congrats to her…and you…but what does that have to do with me?”

“Well…I haven’t planned a Bachelorette Party since…”

Gen laughs, “Ah, right…since you planned mine.”

“Yes…and you know how that went…”

Gen feigns surprise, “What? I had a great time. Didn’t you? Wasn’t that the whole point? Fun?”

“Gen. You and I both know that the request was…odd.”  

Me? Make an odd request?” Gen scoffs dismissively, “Such nonsense.”

“You asked for a stripper…”

“How is that an odd request? Strippers and Bachelorette Parties go together like Jimmy Choo pumps and Prada handbags.”

“Well…yes, you’re right…but you wanted a certain…uhhh…type.”

“I usually have a type. This is nothing strange.”

“You wanted a Furry!”

Gen giggles. “Oh, right. I almost forgot.”

I can feel my face flush, “Well I’m glad you were able to forget! I can’t forget, and trust me, I try!”


UTC Mall – San Diego, CA  Spring 2012:

“You want a what-now?”

Gen rolls her eyes, clearly exasperated, “Robin Hood. Not a guy dressed up in a green tunic or what-have-you, but he needs to be in a fox costume, complete with removable head, dressed as Disney’s Robin Hood.” Gen waves her hand dismissively, “Look, it’s all written down on the back of this card,” she says as she passes me a business card.”

“Fun Times Party Rentals?” I question as I read the front side.

Gen smirks, “Not the choicest of business names, but it’s a legit business, highly rated with the Better Business Bureau, and they have the Robin Hood costume.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” I blurt out, trying to wrap my head around what she’s saying, “So, you don’t care what the stripper looks like, right? Or is Robin’s head coming off…?”

“Oh, no, as long as he has the correct man-parts, I don’t care what he looks like.” A devilish gleam sparkles in Gens’ eyes. “The head is definitely staying on.”

I stare at this girl who has been one of my best friends for years, and wonder if I actually know her. “Uhhhh…if this is what you want, Gen. I mean, it is your last night of freedom, and uhhh… yeah. I’m down to throw a most epic party…” I flip the card around to the handwritten instructions Gen had left “…no matter how batshit crazy,” I mumble.


Whaaaat?” Gen says defensively. “It was just a little…fetish…a last night of pure-kink for a woman who was about to tie herself to a man…until death do us part.”

“I think you’re forgetting how things went down that night…”

Gen giggles, “Well, possibly. The alcohol was flowing. We danced until midnight at Moose’s. Some sappy Marines bought us a bottle of champagne, and tried to convince me to call off the wedding.”

I laugh, “Yes, and we couldn’t shake them! We had to pretend that we needed to go to the bathroom, and ran out of the club, nearly in tears from laughing so hard, and climbed into the first Taxi we saw. That Taxi driver did not like us!”

Gen laughs hysterically, “He-He refused to drive us!. He didn’t want…a bunch of drunk chicks who could barely fit in his car, throwing up all over the inside.”

“But th-then you pulled out two-hundred-dollar-bills from your…boobs…and that made him quite agreeable.”

By this point we are both laughing hysterically.

“Oh, goodness,” I say, wiping away a stray tear. “We should have called it a night.”

“From what I recall,” Gen states slyly, “It was you who didn’t want the party to die.”

I laugh nervously, “Well that was because it was my responsibility, you know, as the Maid of Honor, to keep the party festivities in full swing.”


“Okay, BITCHES!” I yell, at full-volume, opening the front door, “Who’s ready to get FUCKED UPPPPP?!?” 

“Shhhh! You’ll wake your neighbors!” Gen giggles, stumbling this-way-and-that, but ultimately being propped up by Chelsea.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I think Gen needs to go to bed,” Chelsea says concerned. 

Gen frees herself from Chelsea’s assistance, “I-I don’t shrink you know what I need,” Gen slurs.

I fall over the arm of the couch, face-planting into a giant cushion. My body shakes with laughter. I turn my head, freeing my cackling face, “Gen! You shrink?” I can’t contain my laughter, and neither can Gen, who has to dash to the restroom and relieve herself before she has an accident on the living room carpet. 

“DJ, I really think we should call it a night. I think she’s done.” Chelsea states as she knocks on the bathroom door. “Gen? Are you okay in there? Do you need help?”

I turn my face towards Chelsea. “We can’t end now! There’s still the–”


Chelsea looks at me. Alarm is clearly written on her face, “Who is that?!”

I pull myself up off the couch. “That would be the entertainment,” I say, winking at Chelsea.

Chelsea stares at the front door in fright, knocking frantically on the bathroom door. “GEN!

The bathroom door swings open, and there, standing seductively against the doorframe, is Gen.

“Send in my fanclub,” she says huskily, batting her eyelashes.

Chelsea stares in horror at Gen, and then towards the front door. 

I give Chelsea a playful shrug before opening the door. “You might need to take a seat, Chelsea. It’s about to take a turn.”

Chelsea cautiously takes a seat, and I open the front door. In struts a large brown bear in a green-single-feathered-bycocket and undersized green t-shirt holding a portable boombox.

Chelsea’s eyes go wide with a combination of dread, disgust, and uncertainty. 

Gen immediately stops posing against the doorframe, and looks at me with confusion.

I simultaneously sigh and shake my head in defeat. “Uhhh, you’re not Robin Hood!” I say, following him.

He turns, faces me, and offers me a bow, “I am Robin Hood’s sidekick. They call me Little John.” He then pulls me close and whispers, “I’m not little where it counts, if you catch my meaning.” He unhands me and now the look of terror on Chelsea’s and Gen’s face is mirrored on my own.

Little John sets down the boombox on a nearby table, and pushes a button (which must have taken a lot of practice, because furry, sausage fingers cannot be easy to navigate). The floor reverberates from the (surprisingly) loud speakers, playing 2 Unlimited’s, “Get Ready for This.” In, playfully runs Robin Hood in-step to the beat of the song. He fist-bumps the air, looking like a mascot at a Basketball game. Chelsea’s jaw drops to her knees. Gen re-plants herself against the bathroom doorframe, sexier than previously. And, strange thoughts of having a threesome with Robin Hood and Little John float through my head, as the fox and bear gyrate and pelvic-thrust throughout the living room. Little John pelvic-thrusts his way over towards Chelsea, who is half-turned, gripping the couch’s crest rail with both hands. She turns to look at me, “DJ!” Chelsea screams in a panic, “What is going on!”

I stifle a laugh as Little John’s furry, nether-region swings inches towards Chelsea’s cheek. Chelsea turns to face Little John, and her eye gets assaulted by fur. Temporarily blind, Chelsea screams, as she attempts to climb over the crest rail. Unfortunately, she fails completely, and her cheek collides with the ground. I laugh so hard that I pee myself a teeny bit, and dash, in-between laugh-fits, to the bathroom. 

Robin Hood is grinding Gen against the bathroom door frame. I pull on his green tunic, in an attempt to move him away from the bathroom, but all it does is direct his thrusting-fur-pelvis to me. I can’t stop laughing, and the more I laugh, the more pee I can feel leak into my underwear. I slightly panic, realizing that I drank more than what my panties will be able to contain if I don’t make it to the toilet in the next couple seconds. I quickly debate which scenario is the lesser of the two embarrassments, and decide that public urination wins, so I push aside Robin Hood, squeeze against a very horny Gen, hike up my skirt, pull down my panties, and plop my butt onto the toilet and use it. 

Robin Hood and Gen turn towards my musical-water-show. Gen gasps, and I can only imagine what must be going on in Robin Hood’s head, as I sit in half-relief and half-worry. Will he expect extra pay for witnessing this lude act? Will he sue for sexual harrassment from my indecent exposure? Can strippers sue for sexual harrassment, and if so, and he does because I open-door-peed in front of him, will I be on a sexual predator’s list? 

Finally, I stop peeing, after what felt (and sounded) like all of Niagara Falls exiting my body. Gen and Robin Hood still stare at me, so I wiggle any leftover pee off, instead of using the preferred toilet paper-method. I pull down my skirt as I stand up, and maneuver my underwear back on, without flashing. Acting as if everything is normal, I head out of the bathroom, make my way to the kitchen, wash my hands at the sink, and then shake them partially dry. I grab a ⅓-full bottle of Svedka vodka and chug it. After I finish it I toss it into the recycle bin, and rummage through the fridge for Smirnoff Ice. I spot two that are Green Apple flavor, pull them out, and head back into the living room. 

The moment I step back into the living room, both bottles loosen from my hands and thud against the carpeted-floor. My jaw drops as I witness Chelsea propped up against the wall, tongue-kissing Little John. Little John’s bear-head has been removed, but his tubby, furry belly is thrusting quite seductively. 

I scan the room for Gen and Robin Hood, and begin to panic when I don’t see them. I run over to Chelsea, “Where’s Gen?! Have you seen her?”

“Uhhup-up-stairs,” she says, eyes-closed, in rhythm with Little John’s thrusts.

I hike the stairs, two-steps-at-a-time, in a mad-dash to save my best friend from Pedo-Hood. Once I get to the top landing I sprint through the hallway, and throw open the door to the master bedroom. There, on my bed, is Gen, completely naked, stradling Robin Hood. Except, Robin Hood is no longer wearing his fox-body; he is bare-ass naked. 

Robin Hood is still wearing the fox head, so the sight, taken fully in, looks like what I imagine Anubis would look like in the process of deflowering a sacrificial Egyptian maiden, if he were that type of god. Gen, on the other hand, is riding Robin’s …Oo-De-Lally…like a pogostick. I freak, and lunge at her, knocking Gen off of Robin and onto the floor. In the process, I make eye-contact with Robin’s…Hood-ed Bandit

Gen is screaming because I “ruined her fun,” and I’m screaming because my eye is covered in goo. Both of our screams cause Chelsea to run upstairs. Robin Hood uses MY pillow to cover his nakedness, which causes me to go ballistic. I yank the pillow out of his hands, pull it back with such force I nearly fall backwards, and swing it as if I were Babe Ruth about to knock a homerun out of Wrigley Field. The force knocks Robin Hood’s head straight off his head and it falls onto Gen, which causes her to shriek in sheer panic. Once she realizes that I only decapitated a fox-face, she quiets quickly. 

Chelsea and I both gasp in unisom as we realize who is behind the costume. We look from him to Gen, who wears a guilty smile on her face.

“Did you know?” I ask her.

“Of course I did. I orchestrated the whole thing. I told you who to order and from where, afterall.”

My jaw falls to the ground, “Oh my God! You psycho-horny-bitch! I-I don’t even know what to say, but mad props, Gen!”

She smirks, “Thanks. Do you think you could…leave us?”

“Why?” Chelsea asks, her tone serious.

“Simply put,” Gen says with an air of superiority, that I imagine is hard for many to manage after falling off of a bed fully naked, “a lady always finishes what she begins.”

I cup my hand around my mouth, stifling a laugh.

Chelsea shoots me a look suggesting that I’m a traitor. She doesn’t say anything else, just turns around and heads out of the room, and down the stairs. 

Gen looks over at me, her eyebrow arches, as though she’s waiting for me to either say something clever or leave, so I turn to the guy, give his genitals the once-over, and say matter-of-factly, “I see you still have that Prince Albert piercing.” He cracks a smile at me and I wink before turning around and heading in the same direction Chelsea had a minute ago.

Once I make it downstairs, I see Little John’s bear-butt leave through the front door. His tail droops in a rather sad, flaccid state, and I’d bet money that the frontside was no different. Chelsea shuts the front door. Her back rests against the door momentarily as she sighs the heaviest sigh I think I’ve ever heard leave her lips. 

“Did you get his number?” I ask, jokingly.

Her eyes flutter open and she smiles lopsided at me, “I did…a long time ago.”

“Well that’s cryptic.” I huff. “So you know him…knew him? Do I know him?”

Chelsea sits down on the couch, and I join her at the opposite end. She holds onto a small, decorative Sailor Moon pillow, as though if she were to let it go she’d break into a thousand pieces. She stares in silence at the wall she had been propped up against earlier by Little John. She half-smiles as the word floats in the air, “Dylan.”

I gasp and my hand shoots over my mouth, “No way!” I say as my hand falls back down to my lap. “Are you two together again?”

“No,” she says smiling in sadness, “we were just having fun…like old times, you know?”

I shoot her a sympathetic smile, but the moment is over quite abruptly, as we hear rigorous thrusts pound above us. “Speaking of old times,” I say as I look at the ceiling. 

A deafening crescendo of Gen-moans echo throughout the house, and Chelsea and I exchange worried and slightly amused glances. “I can’t believe those two,” Chelsea shakes her head in disbelief. “Still going at it even though she’s going to marry another man next weekend. Do you think he’ll stop the wedding?”

“I have no idea. I still can’t believe she orchestrated this whole sex-reunion. Her fiance is a bit of a psycho, and keeps tabs on her. He knows their history – knows it because he has a private investigator on retainer. He’s…possessive.”

Gen’s moans quicken until it sounds as though an aria is being played on surround sound throughout the house. Chelsea and I cringe.

“Well…I think that’s over and they’ll call it a night.” 

“Oh, good. I’m exhausted. I just want to climb into bed and–”

The moaning sound from a masculine voice keeps Chelsea from finishing her sentence. She turns to look at me in panic.

I can feel my face morph into something that mirrors fear and disgust. “Oh my God! Are they finishing or are they…”

Chelsea looks as though she’s about to cry, “Round Two! I think they just started Round Two!”


“You know Chelsea and I didn’t sleep that night. We tried sleeping on opposite ends of the couch, but you two were just too loud!”

“Well we didn’t sleep either, but that just proves how successful the Bachelorette Party was that you threw!”

“How’s that?” I ask.

Gen snickers, “Silly. If you’re well-rested after a party, you simply did it wrong.”

“Somehow I think you were well-rested, despite not getting any sleep.”

Gen is quiet momentarily, as though in a dreamy-haze, “It was a special night….So! Are you ready to plan Lani’s Bachelorette Party?”

“I think so, but I was wondering if you would help me.”

“Of course! What do you need? I have connections in Vegas! I could set you ladies up a The Four Seasons, if you’d like. Penthouse, naturally…”

“Well, actually…”I say, nervously, “I was hoping I could have you. You know…by my side. Like…old times.”

“But I’m not one of her Bridesmaids, and I don’t want to crash the party…”

“But you wouldn’t be party-crashing! Not really anyways. Sure, it’s Lani’s party, but I’m the one setting it up…which means I am technically doing the invites…”

“Gotcha. Okay. Text me the deets. I hear the doorbell, so I assume my masseuse has arrived.”

I laugh mischievously, “2022, the year of the comeback! Vegas, watch out, because DJ and Gen are gonna be all up in you, and we’re bringing our girl Lani!”

We hang up, and I reminisce about the morning after….


Daylight blares through the windows, causing my sleepless-hangover-headache to throb. I look down towards my feet at bits of Chelsea’s face that peek through one of the throw pillows. I can’t help but focus on the humming from her soft snores. I lift my phone to check the time: 8:04 a.m. I roll my eyes in agitation, and grumble knowing that I won’t be able to fall back to sleep.

The soft padding of bare feet against the carpeted stairwell causes me to turn my head. I arch an eyebrow as he makes his way down the stairs.

“Nice speedos,” I say as he draws nearer.

“Not speedos,” he says, heading to the front door.

I watch him look out the front door’s glass panel. His backside in full view. “Ah!” I exclaim, as though I just discovered electricity, “I stand corrected! Thong.”

His head turns around momentarily, “Should I send a package to Cato?” He returns his gaze to the glass panel.

“A package for his package,” I snort-laugh, which hurts like a bitch. “Duck-fuckery,” I grumble as I wince in pain. 

“Hangover?” he asks, leaning against the front door, assessing me momentarily. His attention goes to the cellphone he grips. 

I sigh. “I think so.”

He arches an eyebrow, “You don’t know?”

I shrug. “From symptoms alone, I’d say yes, but I’ve never had one before.”

Never?” He looks at me bewildered. “I thought you were a party girl.”

I rub my head, finding it painful to talk, “Yeah, I’m notoriously poor at keeping down alcohol, or, more accurately, knowing my limit. Usually I end up throwing up before I get home. Somehow, not last night.” I manage a smile. “Is Dylan picking you up?”

“Huh?” He says, looking up from his phone, confused.

I smirk, “Little John. Is he coming to collect you? You keep looking out the glass panel.”

“Oh,” he laughs, shaking his head no. “Nah. I was checking to see if the van was still parked out front.”

“Van? What are you talking about?” I say getting up from the couch a bit too fast. The room spins momentarily and I stumble.

“Hey, careful,” he says, his voice turning serious, as he rushes to my side. He stuffs his cellphone into the elastic band of his thong, and his arms grip the upper part of my arms, where my shoulders meet. “You okay?” He asks with fatherly concern. 

“Yeah,” I blink a few times. “Hangovers suck,” I smirk.

“You need to eat. Also, water. Lots of water. C’mon,” he says as he guides me to the kitchen and deposits me into a dining chair, pulls out his cellphone, and places it on the table.

Within minutes a spread of sliced salamis, prosciuttos, and various cheeses are placed in front of me. Greedily, I begin to shovel the meats and cheeses into my mouth.

He sets two glasses of water on the table. One in front of me and one in front of him. He stares at me as I continue to stuff the food into my mouth. 

“How does Cato afford to feed the two of you? I’ve never seen anyone out-eat him, but you’re impressively close.”

I wave my hand about, grab the glass and chug water. When I am particularly parched, I make this rather interesting (or annoying, depending on the listener) series of high-pitched glubbing sounds. When he hears them he cringes, as though the sounds are nails on a chalkboard.  

I exhale after I finish drinking, and set the now-empty glass back down in front of me. “What’s the story with the van?” I ask, looking intently at him.

“Last night when we pulled up we noticed two Time Warner vans on your street. One parked directly across the street. The other up the street.”

“Okay?” I say, not quite understanding.

“Do your neighbors work for Time Warner?” 

“I don’t think so. I’ve never noticed Time Warner vans parked on our street before. Other than the occasional service…but nothing more than a few hours, and definitely not overnight.”

“Exactly. Think about it, DJ, who gets cable installed after midnight?”

“People in pornos,” I say, matter-of-factly, as I stuff some more cheese into my mouth.

He leans back in the chair with a wide smile. “You got neighbors that make porn?”

“Want me to introduce you?” I say, eyeing him.

He stares at me in silence. 

“I’m joking. I mean they might. I don’t know my neighbors well enough to find out their occupations.”

“After Dylan left last night, he realized he was being followed.”

I stop chewing momentarily. “Wfut?” I say, spewing bits of cheese out.

He peels a piece of cheese from his cheek, “It was one of the Time Warner vans parked out front. I swear to God. He didn’t wanna lead them to his place, so he went to one of the motels on Hotel Circle Drive.”

“Tell me they didn’t follow him to the motel.”

He chuckles, “I almost wish I was there with him. Yeah, the idiots pulled up right alongside his car. He comes out and immediately goes to his trunk. Two dudes pile out from the front driver and passenger sides. They don’t realize he grabbed a bat from his trunk until it’s too late, and one just nearly ducks in time as Dylan swings it at him. They haul-ass back inside the van and peel off, but not before Dylan smashes the passenger window.”

I stifle a laugh. “Good ol’ Dyl. Why were they after him? Did he say?
His face grows serious, “They weren’t after him.”

“Who then?”

He brings his index finger to his chest, pointing.

I raise an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

He smiles devilishly, “Gen.”

“Come again?”

He laughs, “Did that too. Several times. It’s why you could hardly sleep, right?” He winks.

I roll my eyes.

“You need a refill.” He says as he grabs my glass, takes it over to the fridge, presses it against the water dispenser. As the glass begins to fill he clears his throat. “Let me ask you a question. Do you know who owns Time Warner Cable?”

I shrug, “Warner Brothers?”

He places the water glass in front of me. “How are you feeling?”

“I manage a smile, “Better. Thanks.”

He nods his head. “They did own Time Warner Cable. It was bought by Amatol.” 

I blink and furrow my eyebrows. “What doesn’t that Amhole Jeff Bozos own?” I scoff, “I mean, why else would Gen marry him?” I stare out the sliding glass door, admiring the bright red clusters of tillandsia that hang from a wooden lattice arch. 

My eyes widen and then I gasp, “Do you think Jeff hired them to park outside?”

He doesn’t say anything, but his smile is confirmation.

“Does Gen know?”

“Not yet. He’s possessive and she knows it. I know it.” His eyes bug out, “I just didn’t know how possessive. It’s why I agreed to the costume. I wanted to see her. He forbids any contact between her and I.” His voice lowers to nearly inaudible. “Any.” He sits in silence for a moment and then looks up at me as though he forgot we were conversing, “The van’s still outside. They know two of us went inside, and only Dylan came out.”

“Are you going to wait them out?”

“Can’t. I need to get to the station. My shift begins soon.”

“How soon?”

He smiles guiltily. “Nine.”

“I run back to the living room, grab my phone, and run back into the kitchen. “That’s in less than thirty-minutes! What are you going to do?”

He smiles mischievously, “Reinforcements.”

Before I can question what that means, we hear the sound of tires screeching outside.

“DJ! DJ!” Chelsea screams. I rush from the kitchen, phone in hand, and head over to the couch, where a very disoriented Chelea stares at me with frightened-eyes, “I think they’re going at it again! I can hear Gen climaxing.”

“That’s not Gen!” I say, in-between laughs, as I rush over to the front door and look out the glass panel. I gasp and turn my head towards him. He’s standing underneath the arch that separates the living room from the kitchen. “The reinforcements are here!”

He runs over to the door and he’s peering out the glass panel with me. 

I turn to Chelasea, “Chels! You gotta see this!”

A very dazed Chelsea stumbles over to us and also looks out the glass panel. “Is-is that Dylan?” she gasps.

“It is,” he smiles victoriously.

“What is he doing?” Chelsea asks, covering her mouth in shock.

“He slashed the van’s back tires. Now he’s heading to his trunk!” I say excitedly. He and I look at each other briefly, knowing what’s about to happen next.

“Dylan must really hate their internet service,” Chelsea states as Dylan begins smashing the passenger-side window. 

Seconds later, the van’s engine rumbles to life, and it takes off, swerving this-way-and-that with its deflating back tires. Dylan shouts a few expletives at the van while shaking his bat in a threatening manner. 

Dylan and his bat head towards my front door. We all scramble away, as though we’re a group of voyeurs who got caught peeping. He knocks on the door with the bat. I open the door and step back, inviting Dylan inside.

Dylan automatically shoots Chelsea a winning grin, “Hey, Kitten,” he winks, as though they’re still dating.

I send her a questioning look, my eyebrows shooting upwards. She just looks at me in confusion, shrugging her shoulders.

“Is that what you firefighters wear nowadays?” Dylan asks, waggling his eyebrows at him.

“Only on Sundays.” He jokes. “Uhhh. I wasn’t planning to stay overnight, and this was the only thing I had on under the fox suit.”

“You can borrow something from Cato’s closet if that helps.” I interject.

He shoots me a smile, “Thanks!” he says while racing up the stairs and yelling down to Dylan, “I’ll only be a few minutes.” 

“Take your time,” Dylan says as he saunters inside and I shut the door. He places the bat next to the couch, sits down, pats the spot next to him and then turns to Chelsea. Dylan has on his fuck-me eyes, and she’s clearly turned to putty as she falls against him. They instantly begin to makeout.

I rub my eyes and temples with the palms of my hands. What a fucking morning

Moments later footsteps can be heard upstairs heading toward the stairwell. He is dressed in jeans and a button-up, short-sleeved shirt. His feet wear Rainbow-brand-sandals, which showcase the cleanest and most well-manicured toes I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing…on a man anyways. He carries the Robin Hood fox-head in one hand, and the bodysuit draped over his other arm. His arm cradles Gen’s torso, pressing her against his body, as they make their way slowly down the stairs. The moony look that was evident in Gen’s eyes last night is now replaced with solemn sadness, as though the moment he lets go of her side he’ll be out of her life forever. Except, that’s exactly what’s gonna happen.

“Ready to get goin’?” He asks Dylan.

Dylan pulls himself away from Chelsea. They do some sorta weird post-makeout foreplay by staring into each other’s eyes. Dylan smiles lazily at Chelsea. He reaches for his bat and gets up. “Yup,” Dylan says as he heads out the front door. 

“Call off the wedding,” He tells Gen, as they hold each other in a lover’s embrace.

“You know I can’t,” she says, her voice dripping with sadness.

“You can if you want.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, and that’s his answer. She doesn’t want to call off the wedding.

He pulls away from her. They both have tears threatening to spill. “Take care of yourself, Genny,” He says as he kisses her cheek. He turns, carrying his belongings, and walks out the door. He throws the entire costume in the trunk, closes it, and gets into the passenger seat. Dylan revs the car a few times before they peel off. 

“I love you, Cayden Dimitri,” Gen says softly to the empty air. 


Later That Night….

I sink into the couch. It’s old now; the years haven’t been kind to its upholstery or frame. I’m next to the same pillow that Chelsea held after Dylan had left Gen’s Bachelorette Party. I unlock my phone and punch the screen a few times. 

“Cayden, how would you like to meet me in Vegas?”


In which Author DJ reveals her fuck-up (or the blooper/bonus section of the DVD). In case you’re wondering WHY Chelsea and DJ shared a couch when there were TWO couches… Yeah… When I was writing the story I imagined an L-shaped couch, however, the game did not supply what my brain manifested, so I just used two couches, and didn’t realize my blunder until I had already captured photos. Muh bad.

The Insidious Vampire (a short story)

Dear Readers,

I wrote a wholesome story that does NOT contain sexuality or profanity. It also does not take place in DJ’s World, for obvious supernatural reasons. Enjoy! 

“Your Majesty?” a vampire sweeps inside the throne room. His footsteps are desperate and deliberate as he makes his way to The Queen.

“How dare you disturb her Majesty while she feeds!” a massive, blue-skinned vampire who is 99.9% muscle mass, barks at the insolent vampire. 

“A thousand pardons, your Majesty, but I thought you should know that Prince Insidious has a human in his chamber.”

“Oh?” The Queen disinterestedly sloshes a thin layer of blood around in her jewel-encrusted goblet. “And is he torturing the human?”

“Errr. No.”

The Queen lifts an eyebrow, “Maiming?”


The Queen cracks a devious smile. “Is he playing Never Gonna Give You Up? You know how deliciously mad it drives humans!”

“No, Your Majesty, he is brushing its hair!


The heavy, wooden door to Prince Insidious’s chamber swings open with a woosh. 

INSIDIOUS! What are you doing with that human!”

Prince Insidious gives his Queen Mum a lackadaisical response of “Oh, it’s you,” as he presses the teeth of a golden, highly ornamented H-comb against the human’s wavy, auburn hair with purpose, and sweeps it downward without hitches. “It’s Sid.”

“Excuse me?” The Queen fumes.

Sid turns his head partway to face The Queen, “My name. I prefer Sid.”

The Queen, finally noticing Insidious’s cow-print sweater, plush, pink sweatpants, and bunny slippers, gasps, “What are you wearing?”

“I like it. It’s comfortable.” Prince Sid says, jutting his chin in defiance.

The Queen seethes. Her mouth hinges open slowly, preparing to tear into Sid, but is interrupted.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Sid coos as he steps back from the human who now sits atop a pedestal. 

Sid’s moony expression makes the other vampires stare at The Queen with worry – worry that one day Prince Sid, the human-lover will be their King (which will inevitably upend the fabric of vampire society). 

The Queen tilts her head sideways, carefully studying the human. The other vampires do the same. All they see is a hamburger on a pedestal, which causes them to salivate. 

Sid smiles at his Queen Mum’s sudden appreciation of the human, who he calls Dove or Lambkin or Sweety. 

“Sid, dear, do run along and go fetch your Dear Queen Mum her goblet. I suddenly feel parched.”

Sid, being the simple fool the other vampires think him to be, complies and leaves his beloved human companion. The Queen’s sweet smile grows sinister, cracking her saturnine skin and lighting her eyes afire. 


The sound of Sid’s returning footsteps resonate down the hall. The vampires cringe from the uplifting sounds when he belts out the chorus to Three Little Birds, but not because he is tone deaf or desperately needs vocal lessons. Sid has what humans call a golden voice. When he sings they say he sounds uncanningly like Frank Sinatra. Perhaps it is because Old Blue Eyes was The Queen’s food-of-choice when she was pregnant with Sid. 

Sid is met with The Queen Mum sucking something red from each of her fingers, as though she attended a barbeque and got carried away with the sauce. He thrusts The Queen’s golden, bejeweled goblet at her as his eyes take in the sight of his dear human crumpled and motionless on the floor. Her silky white shirt is stained with blood that has spilled from her neck. 

“NO!” Sid screams as he throws himself to the ground sobbing.

The Queen and vampires turn and gawk at Sid’s emotional distress, but all they see is a boy crying over a half-eaten hamburger. 

“How could you, Mum?!” He snivels.

The Queen shrugs, “Dear boy, a vampire does not play with its prey.” She turns her head from him and chides, “Whenever will you learn?” as she and her vampire entourage leave Sid’s chamber.

Author’s Note/Update:

The entire Bachelorette story is written. It is FOUR meaty parties …er parts. I’ve only collected photos for the first part (and am still not finished). I am hoping to have the first one up by the end of May, but it might (unfortunately) end up early June.

2.04 – DJ’s Story pt. 4 – “That Mess There”

***A big thank you to Lani, Darius, & Khadijah’s creator, who gave me permission to use her Simmies. We both have Sim roleplay accounts on Instagram, so I am plugging hers here: Lanicake88

**This blog contains profanity, adult themes & mentions physical assault

March 19, 2022 – La Cañada Flintridge, CA

“I am starving. Has she messaged you yet?” Lani looks up briefly at Darius, and then at the menu on the table. “Mmm, let’s see what they got here to eat. Uhh, sauteed salmon eggs? Well that is a hard pass. Triflin-ass-nasty-food that costs … $55.00! What?! What is wrong with them? Who eats that? Who pays fifty-five dollars to eat somethin’ that came outta a fish’s….i don’t know… ugh, I don’t even wanna think where it came from. Oooh! Jerk Chicken. Okay now. That’s more like it.” Lani looks around briefly at the encompassing foliage, “I will say it is pretty here. Descanso Gardens. But why the hell she pick this place? Why is the restaurant in the dead middle of this-this plant theme park? My ass is jet lagged and starvin’! Don’t make me walk no 5 miles to eat! That’s just rude.” 

“Lani, you too much at times.” Darius says without looking up from the menu.

“I’m just tired, Darius. Jet lagged and tired.”

“Why you so tired, Lani? It ain’t but a couple hours of time difference, and it’s barely noon.”

Lani sighs exhaustedly, “Darius, you know I couldn’t sleep last night. Couldn’t stop thinking about this girl who claims to be your daughter.”

Darius groans, “Oh Lawd, not this again.”

“And who is her mama?”

Darius sighs, “God, give me strength” he mumbles, shaking his head.

“Ain’t you curious?!”

“You know I am, but I ain’t gonna make an Excel spreadsheet, tryna guess who she might be.”

Darius and Lani barely notice the click-click-click of heels approaching their table.

“Excuse me? Is this you?” Hera asks, holding out her phone with Darius’s photo displayed on the screen.

“Yes, yes it is.” Darius says as he scoots his chair back and proceeds to stand up. “I’m Darius, it’s a pleasure to meet you….?”

“Scheherazade. My friends call me Hera. Bring it in, Darius.” Hera extends her arms, and Darius gives her a hug.

“It’s so good to meet you, Hera.” 

Hera rests her head on Darius’s chest. “You smell good.”

Darius looks over at Lani. Confusion is painted on his face, and he’s met with Lani’s equally confused expression. “Uh, thanks…Babygirl.”

“Oh!” Hera says with uncertainty as she glances at Lani. Hera draws close to Darius, as if she’s whispering a secret in his ear, but knows her volume is sufficient for Lani to overhear. “Uh, I didn’t know this was a threeway. Your Tinder profile didn’t say anything about that. I mean I ain’t saying no, but I might need more than a meal to get me in the mood.”

“Darius, what the hell is this child talking about?!”

“Lani, I-I-I have no idea what-” Darius begins to say, but is interrupted by laughter.

“Oh my!” Hera exclaims, gasping for air as she continues to laugh, “That was too easy!” 

Lani and Darius stare wide-eyed at the girl as she attempts to gain composure. 

“You should have seen your faces! Especially you,” she points a bejeweled finger at Lani. “You look like you saw Jesus take a dump on The Virgin Mary.”

Lani’s cheeks burn crimson. “I see you’re a prankster, Little Girl,” she says as she pushes her chair back deliberately, allowing the metal to scratch noisily against the concrete ground. The nails-to-chalkboard-like sound causes Hera to cringe, and a flash of victory dances across Lani’s eyes so quickly that neither Darius nor Hera notice. “No matter, I am your Auntie Leilani,” Lani stands up and bounces over to Hera, embracing her in a hug that flattens Hera against Lani. “I am also so very happy to meet you. Thank you for reaching out to Darius. It makes my heart swell knowing I have such a beautiful niece,” Lani releases Hera and looks her carefully in the eyes, “who is also quite clever and funny, and knows better than to ever make fun again at her Dear Auntie’s expense, ain’t that right?”

“I will do my utmost best not to piss you off in the future, Auntie.” Hera says with a wink, as they all sit down at the table. 

“It is a warm day. Where is that ocean breeze?” Lani fans herself with a two-sided laminate menu.

“We’re too far inland for that. The ocean is about an hour’s drive away, but if you’re feeling too warm they make a House Hibiscus Lemonade that will do you right.”

“That does sound refreshing, thank you for the recommendation, Hera. Oh, before I forget I brought something for you.”

“Oh! You shouldn’t have…really…I don’t know what to say.”

“No need to say anything at all, and it isn’t fancy. It’s a keepsake, really.” Lani hands Hera an oblong, white gift bag decorated with golden circles. White and pink tissue paper peak from the top. Hera spreads the tissue paper to the side and pulls out a tattered stuffed rabbit. It’s once-white fur is beige and matted, but otherwise it’s in decent shape. “His name is Bumby, because that’s how Darius pronounced “bunny” when he was a baby. Most women in his life think that his Olympic medals are his prized possession, because he has those on display, but only those closest to him know that Darius’s real prized possession is Bumby, which is why we are giving him to you.” 

Hera stares down at the rabbit and her face softens, a smile forms on her face, and when she looks up at Lani there are tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you” she mouths, the words too hard to get out. 

Instinctively, Lani and Darius rub Hera’s back reassuringly

“Hey…Darius?…Lani?” I say, causing them and Hera to look up suddenly.

“DJ?” Lani says confused. 

“Yeah…Is it okay if I sit here?”

“I mean, I guess for now it’s okay, but we’re meeting with someone.” Lani squints at me as I take the empty seat next to her and Darius, and directly across from Hera. “This is pretty random. You showing up here…”

“Cato brought me to Descanso Gardens once, on a date. Afternoon Tea, very la-de-da. I don’t remember much about it, other than they served these mini chocolates filled with various creams… 

…Well, you know me, I asked Cato how would he like to stuff me with his cream, and before you know it we were getting our fuck on behind some very welcoming shrubbery. Welcoming because it found its way in my underwear. They were burrs. Burrs. Have you ever had burrs in your underwear? It was then that I realized I should never have started wearing underwear again, and made that promise to myself to forever Go Commando. So, what is everyone ordering?” I say as I grab a menu and plant my face behind it, trying to control this panic I suddenly feel.

“Ohhhhkaaaaay, well that mess there is your Auntie DJ, but don’t worry, Hera, she ain’t blood, so you don’t gotta worry about getting any of her crazy.” Lani says.

Hera chokes on her water, and Lani and Darius take turns patting her sternly on the back, while asking in unison if she’s okay. I find myself peeking out over the menu at the scene.

“Funny thing about that, Lani…”I say, trailing off.

“Funny thing about what?”

“About what you said. About Hera not having to worry about my crazy. You know…because she’s not related to me.”

Lani looks at me point-blank. “Are you trying to make a point or has the sun baked your brain?”

I clear my throat. “Hera’s mine.”

That got Lani’s attention. Lani turns and faces me, not just with her face but her entire body. “Hera is your….what? What is she?”

“My…” I swallow. “My daughter. My daughter with Darius.”

Lani shakes her head no. She pushes her chair slightly back, readjusts herself, and focuses her entire attention to Darius. “Explain yourself.”

“Lani…What do you want me to say?”

“THE TRUTH, DARIUS!” She yells. Heads from other tables turn to look at her. Lani snarls out a whispered, “For once in your fucking life, Darius, the truth between you and…” She won’t even look in my direction, but I can feel the tears leak from my eyes. 

“Y’all hold up.” Hera says. “Auntie?” Hera gently places her hand on top of Lani’s. “I know this is a lot. Let’s get you that lemonade and I’ll order a couple appetizers for the table. I know what’s good here. Excuse me!” Hera extends her hand and snaps her fingers. 

A server beelines over to our table. “Hera! What a pleasure to serve you. Have you been helped?” 

Hera pouts prettily, “Jason, no we have not.”

“I am so sorry that no one has attended to you. How can I be of service?”

“Jason, would you be a dear and bring a pitcher of House Hibiscus Lemonade for the table? We will also be ordering some appetizers…. Jerk Chicken….Mini Beef Wellington…Fresh Corn Fritters…Stuffed Cremini Mushrooms…I think that should be good as a starter. Would it be possible to get that stat?”

“For you, Hera, I would move the moon and stars. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

“Thank you, Jason.” We watch Jason scurry away.

“Either you come here a hell of alot or that boy is all ‘bout you,” Darius chuckles.

Without missing a beat, Hera replies, “Why can’t it be both?”

Darius raises an eyebrow but declines to speak.

“So.” Hera says, her eyes dart from me to Lani and then back to me. “How did you and Auntie Leilani meet?”

“Uh, Lani and I have known each other since we were little. My Aunt Maryanne lives in Texas, and her backyard borders Lani’s Mama’s house…who is your biological Grandmother…I spent every summer there. My cousin Annette was older than me, and had little interest in playing with a child when I came to visit. Annette was always hanging out with Neteya. They were the same age and in the same grade at school…We called them Net-Net or Double Nets…Neteya is another aunt; Darius and Lani’s older sister…Where was I? Oh right! I met Lani through my cousin, essentially. Lani and I became close friends fast. She and I were inseparable. Even when I left back home to California we kept in touch. We’d write snail-mail letters, calling each other our personal penpal. I remember Darius wanting to be part of our penpal club, and Lani telling him he couldn’t because it was girls-only.”

“Yeah, I bet that didn’t stop y’all,” I can hear Lani mumble under her breath.

“Here is your House Hibiscus Lemonade,” Jason says and he carefully places four stemmed glasses in front of us. Each is filled to the top with burgundy liquid and ice cubes, garnished prettily with a mint sprig. I notice that the brim of the glasses shine with a crystalized substance. I take my glass and dart my tongue against the brim. Mmm, flavored sugar, I smile approvingly. 

“Saved by the food. You’re our hero today, Jason!” Hera says, beaming up at the waiter.

Jason’s cheeks flush from the compliment. “It’s the least I could do.” Another server is next to him, holding a large tray with our appetizers, who proceeds to place them down, one-by-one, in the middle of the table. “Are you ready to order, or do you need some more time to look over the menu?”

“I know what I want,” Darius offers.

“Mmm. You sure you wanna make it known what… you want,” Lani says, spitting out the words with malice. “You know, lest I disapprove and you go behind my back?”

“You know, Jason,” Hera purrs, “I think we’re gonna need a bit more time. How ‘bout I wave you over when we’re….ready?”

Jason, ever the professional, smiles brilliantly at everyone at the table, while the other server stares mouth agape at Lani. “Of course! Bon appetit!” Jason grabs the shoulders of the other server and nudges him away from our table. We see them leave, but before they leave our sight, the other server turns and gives one quick, frightened glance at our table.

“The fuck is wrong with that boy?” Lani says, rolling her eyes. 

We all laugh and start making fun of the other server, a common enemy that may have brought us back into each other’s good graces. Unfortunately, after a few minutes, we discover that even a common enemy is not enough to curb Lani’s wrath.

“I’m still mad as hell at you, Darius,” Lani states as she takes a sip of lemonade. “Mmm! This is delicious Hera, excellent suggestion.”

“What about me, Lani? You haven’t so much as looked my way since you found out that I’m Hera’s biological mother.”

Lani looks at Darius, “Tell yo baby’s mama I ain’t talking to her.”

Leilani Nichole Johnson,” Darius says, stressing each syllable slowly, “you want to be mad at DJ and  me, fine, be mad. I’m sorry we went behind your back and hooked up. We lied to you. It wasn’t right. We wanted to tell you. We really did. But we knew there was a risk to tellin’ you. Not that you would be mad at us, but that you would want us to break things off. We didn’t want that. So we chose not to tell you. We chose us. But now I’m telling you, you’re about to make a choice for yourself, and it ain’t a good one. Do you want to destroy your friendship with DJ?”

Lani glances my way momentarily, and then stares at Darius. Her facial features are void of emotion, but her eyes are filled with anger, betrayal, and hurt. “No, I do not want to lose her friendship, but I’m feeling a lot of ways right now, and I am so angry and so confused.” 

Lani looks back at me. “How does this happen?” She gestures wildly towards Hera. “When were you even pregnant with her? Was it before you had Athena? Why didn’t you ever tell me?!”

I bite my bottom lip. “Actually, I did tell you. Do you remember when I was pregnant with Athena? I had no idea I was pregnant, and then when I found out….I just couldn’t believe…didn’t want to believe…that I had been so stupid and gotten pregnant.”

Lani’s face softens a bit. “I do. You were terrified.”

I force a smile, “Yeah.  I don’t think I would have known I was pregnant, until I was in labor, if it wasn’t for…the accident. That’s when I found out I was pregnant with twins.”

“Yeah, I remember that day. You called me in tears. What a mess.”

Accident?!” Darius asks, his eyebrow arched. “You really downplayin’ what happened to you, Dee?”

“It was an accident.”

Darius rolls his eyes, “His actions sent you to the hospital. Man, I remember that day…”


“Yo, Lani, you okay?” Darius asks, before crunching into a Red Delicious apple.

Lani turns around to face Darius. “I just got off the phone with DJ.”

Darius, “Oh yeah? How she doin’?”

“She’s pregnant.”

Darius begins to choke and cough. The apple falls from his hand.

“Oh my God, Darius! Are you okay?” 

Darius’s eyes begin to water from choking. “Y-Yeah. I’m good. W-What you say? She pregnant? When did that happen?”

“I don’t know that much. She got back with David. She’s having his babies.”

“You gotta be fuckin shittin’ me here! What the hell, DJ! Wait, hol up. Babies? Plural?”

“Yeah, you heard right. She’s pregnant with twins.”

“I can’t believe she got back with that rapist!”

Rapist?! Darius, what the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Uh,” Darius shakes his head, as he starts pacing, “You know how dudes do: preying’ on good girls like you and DJ.”

Lani raises an eyebrow. “You know they dated awhile, right?”

“I’m just raging-ass-mad, Lani! DJ’s your best friend. You two are like sisters. So, by association, that makes DJ like a sister to me.”

“Okay, but Darius, you need to calm down.”

Darius keeps pacing, his hands are fisted balls, hanging stiff against his sides. “Yo, Lani, I’mma bounce. I’ll catch you later.” He pushes the back screen door open with such a force that it bangs loudly against the side of the house. Darius pulls out his phone from his back pocket, “That fucking punkass! Tha’fuk she thinkin?!” Darius mutters in rage.

“Darius!” Lani yells, running after him. “You ain’t gonna call DJ are you?”

“This ain’t yo business, Lani,” Darius says walking at a determined pace.

“I don’t know what got into you, Darius, but you need to chill!” Lani says, running to catch up with him, “And you best leave DJ alone.” Lani grabs at Darius’s right shoulder.

Darius sighs in frustration. “Lani, why you gotta make shit so tough sometimes? What’s it to you if I call DJ? Someone outta talk some sense into that girl’s head!”

“Well, it ain’t gonna be you! She ain’t gonna wanna hear you preachin’ at her! You don’t think she got enough goin’ on being knocked up and in the hospital?!”

Darius stops dead and turns to Lani, “In the hospital? Is she having her babies now?!”

Lani chews at her bottom lip. “No. It ain’t that. She didn’t wanna talk too much about it. Probably ‘cause of how Mama’s Ex used to beat up me and Mama.”

“Didn’t wanna talk too much about what, Lani?” Darius says through clenched teeth.

“David pushed her. That’s all I know. It was bad enough that she needed stitches and is holed up in the hospital. She said they’re keepin’ her for observation overnight, but she should be discharged sometime tomorrow.” 

Darius doesn’t move.

“You okay, Darius?”

Darius closes his eyes, trying to remain calm. “I ain’t. Not one bit, Lani. This just too much info. I can’t deal. I need to run this off.”

“Do you mind a little company? I’m feelin’ a lot myself, and a run sounds like the only way to deal.”

Darius shoots Lani a smile, “You know your company always helps bring me back to normal. You and Bumby.”

Lani wraps her arms around Darius in a hug. “Darius, don’t compare me with that nasty-ass rabbit of yours,” she says, smiling up at him. 


“You okay, Dee?” Darius asks.

“Yeah, sorry. That reminds me of a joke.”

“I don’t know how you can think up a joke–” Lani begins, as I cut her off.

“What is the difference between a lightbulb and a pregnant woman?”

Lani and Darius look at each other confused, and then look at me perplexed and speechless. 

“You can’t unscrew a pregnant woman!” I say, laughing obnoxiously hard. “The thing is,” I look at Lani, dead-serious, “Hera and Athena are twins.”

Lani gasps. Her hand covers her mouth. “What are you saying, DJ? Did Darius father Athena too?”

“Sadly, no,” I half-smile. “David fathered Athena.”

Lani looks at Darius and then at me, “But how? How is that possible?”

“That’s what I wanted to know,” Hera perks up. “It’s rare, Auntie, it’s rare. Superfecundation. Here, I can show you my TikTok explaining all about it and me. You wanna subscribe?”

“Hera! I asked you not to TikTok this whole matter!” I say through gritted teeth.

“Oh, ’cause you always listen when someone says not to do something.” Hera rolls her eyes. “You don’t want me TikTok’in about my life, maybe you shoulda listened to Auntie and not fuck her brother. Then I wouldn ‘t be here for you to get mad at!”

“Hera!” Darius says shocked. “I may not have raised you, but you’re still my child by blood, and don’t think for a fool-minute I won’t bust your butt for being disrespectful.”  

Lani busts up laughing. Darius and I look at her wide-eyed. “That is your child! Oof but does she got some attitude.”

“Yeah, I think she inherited it from her Auntie Leilani.” Darius says point-blank.

“Yeah, she did,” Lani laughs, and begins to sober up. ‘But she sure-as-shit got your,” she points an accusatory finger at me, “desire for pranks. Do you know this child acted like she was meeting Darius for a Tinder date?”

I stifle a laugh, “Did she really?” I look over at Hera who is beaming proudly.

“She did! Then started talkin’ about a three-way or some nonsense. Nasty ass, like her mama.” Lani smiles at me. “I’m still mad at you. You’re gonna owe me big time.”

“I know. I fucked up.” I sigh. “But I’m glad I still have your friendship. What a sad DJ I would be if I didn’t have you and your topless hugs.”

“Oooh!” Hera exclaims. “Oh snap. It’s like that is it? Dang, Auntie, you got them feelings for Drama-Mama? No wonder you didn’t want Daddy Darius sniffin at her. You wanted her to yo’self!”

“Lani and I aren’t into each other, Hera. We’re like Sister-Sister, not Sister-Wives. We just joke around.”

“I’m not judgin’. I’ve been with men and women, separately and at the same time.” Hera shrugs, “If I didn’t know we were related, I’d be down to fuck all y’all at this table.”

Lani, Darius, and I stare at Hera with shock written all over our faces.

“Dee, that really is your child.” Darius shakes his head in exasperation. “No shame with her sex-talk game.”

“Lani and I like dick too much to go the girl-on-girl route, Hera. If you must know.”

“Oh good God,” Lani leans her head against the palm of her head in sheer annoyance.  “Yeah, there she is, Dirty DJ. Was wondering how long it was gonna be before you said something nasty.”

“So, Daddy Darius, I had a thought…” Hera looks up at Darius and bats her eyes innocently.

Darius says nothing. He strokes his beard as he looks at Hera.“ Dee, you hear what Babygirl has? A thought. What kinda thought do you think she has?” 

“The kind that will lead to trouble, I imagine.” I respond.

“Yeah,” says Darius, “that’s exactly what I’m thinkin’. Okay, Babygirl, shoot.”

“Well…I know y’all were kids when you met….But I was hoping you would tell me when you noticed Drama-Mama.”

“Noticed Dee?”

“Ya need me to spell it out? When you wanted her to wet your dick.”

“Yeah, okay. But it wasn’t necessarily like that. I noticed Dee, but I didn’t wanna rush anything. Believe it or not, Babygirl, but ya Old Man was not all about…” Darius flails his hands about trying to summon the proper phrasing.

“Getting his dick wet.” I say, unable to watch anymore of Darius’s struggle.

Darius grinds his teeth as he looks at me, “Thanks…a lot, Dee.” He turns to look at Hera, “I always went about searching for meaningful relationships, ya dig, Babygirl?”

Hera shrugs, “Okay then, so when did you wanna have a meaningful relationship with her? I wanna hear that story.”    

2.03 – DJ’s Story pt. 3 – “While the Sky Explodes”

***A big thank you to Lani, Darius, & Khadijah’s creator

**This blog contains brief profanity & sexuality/sensuality

July 4, 2004

Austin, TX – Travis County Exposition Center

“We should look for some F.B.D’s.” Lani says casually, as she continues walking in what I can only assume is a normal pace for her, but is speed-walking to me. The Texas air is balmy, even at night, and I can feel perspiration wet my arms and forehead. Each row we travel down is lined with food stalls, crafts, and various goods people peddle only at fairs and marketplaces. 

“F.B.D.’s? What’s that?” I ask, eyeing a food stall that is selling chocolate-dipped pickles. 

“Future Baby Daddy’s.”

I laugh. “I thought we were looking for your brother?”

Lani looks at me slyly, “We are, but who says we can’t look for some F.B.D.’s as well? You know, multitask.”

“And what do you plan to do when you find someone that qualifies to be your F.B.D., hmmm?”

A devious smile begins to form on Lani’s face. Her eyes brighten with a primal sheen. “Oh, you know.”

I gasp, playfully elbow her, and whisper, “Have you?…Done…It?”

Lani smiles guiltily at me and then looks up.

“Oh my God! You have!” I stop abruptly and stare at her, mouth agape.

Lani keeps walking, and then playfully glances back at me. 

I rush to catch up and lean into her. “When did you do it?! Who did you do it with?!”

Lani laughs. A booming guttural laugh. “Oh God your eyes were nearly bugging out of your head. Girl, for real, you know if I did you would be the first I’d tell. Of course I haven’t. These high school boys aren’t even on my level. Like I’d let them even talk to me. I ain’t Neteya.”

I gasp. “Your sister isn’t slutty.”

“I know she ain’t. I never said she was. I’m saying she lets guys that are beneath her talk to her. I wouldn’t give them my time. That’s all.”

“He’s kinda hot. The guy by the ferris wheel. Red shirt and sunglasses.”

“It is nearly pitch dark outside. Why is that fool wearing shades?”

I laugh. “So not your type?”

“Mmm. Probably not. Like I can’t see him. Just parts of his face. Just cause he looks … not bad…wearing shades don’t mean he’ll look good without them.”

What?” I laugh.

“Have you not seen guys, that you think could be hot, disappoint your ass by taking off their shades? Well I have, so no thank you. I need to see the whole face.”

“Oh goodness, Lani. Next thing you’ll say is that you need to see a guy in broad daylight, and it’s already too dark out to know if he’s hot or not.”

Lani rolls her eyes. “Now you’re being dumb.”

I laugh. “Now you’re being picky.”

“Okay Miss Know-It-All, since you’re so smart let’s see who can find Darius first. Whoever finds him texts the other. Deal?”

I shrug. “Sure. Keep your phone on, you’ll be hearing from me soon.”

Lani walks off, giving me the “blah-blah” hand gesture. I laugh to myself. I walk aimlessly, not really knowing where to go, but feeling a bit of exhilaration at the thought of finding Darius. I slowly smile as I daydream about that smile he’ll give, that lights up his face when he sees me. The same smile he saves exclusively for me when we meet in secret, as we have been this entire summer, when everyone’s asleep. 

I leave the carnival grounds, and walk towards the parking lot. There aren’t many people around. Most people are securing a spot on the lawn before the firework show begins. I hear a man say a name that causes me to stop and my ears to perk. Is that Darius’s voice? I wonder. I walk towards the obvious male-and-female voices, careful not to make a sound and disrupt the conversation. I keep my distance, but I can clearly make out Darius and his ex-girlfriend, Khadijah. 

“Darius,” she giggles, “stop playin’.” She has one hand planted on her hips and the other draped seductively at the middle of her collarbone, stroking a heart-shaped locket necklace seductively. It’s a necklace that Darius had bought her when they were still a couple.

“I’m for real, Dijah. I’m with someone. You and me are done. I don’t why you’re even trippin’, ain’t you the one who broke up with me weeks before school let out? Accusing me of cheatin’ on you. I told you then, and I still stand by it, I never cheated on you. It’s on you that you wanna bring drama into a relationship. Own your shit, Dijah.”

“I don’t buy it, Darius. I know you ain’t seeing anyone. You spend all your time training or at home. You never leave.”

“Yeah? How you know all this, Inspector Gadget? You got someone spying on me or something?”

“Yeah, I got eyes on you, Darius, and like I said, you’re straight up lying about being with someone. Why you gotta punish me like that?” She draws closer to him and presses herself up against his body. “Why you gotta punish yourself like that?”

Darius pushes Khadijah from him. 

“He’s not lying,” I say as I stride up to Darius, not bothering to look at Khadijah, but feeling her death-stare hit me. I slide myself against his body. I have to stand on my tippy-toes in order to wrap my hands around the back of his head. “Hey, you,” I say softly. We lock eyes and the background noises and people seem to melt away.

“Hey, Dee,” he says, his voice growing husky with passion, and he greets me warmly with that smile I’ve been waiting all day to see. He bends closer until our lips graze languidly at first. I let out a pent-up moan, and before I know it Darius is consuming me in his kiss. 

I can feel the warmth of his hands leave my back and travel down to my butt, grabbing and squeezing me; the intimate contact makes me wet. I tilt my neck to the side. Darius plants his lips against my neck nibbling at first and then slowly sucking at the taut flesh.

“FUCK YOU AND YOUR SKANKY WHORE!!” We hear Khadijah scream. We hear something clank against the car we are closest to, and then the sound of her spewing insults and profanity as she storms off. 

“Ya’ll can quit, the Wicked Witch is gone.”

Darius and I freeze. We turn and see Lani looking at us. “Congratulations,” she says slow-clapping. “You really put on quite the performance. Hopefully it keeps that bitch from ever coming back into your life, Darius, and our home.”

Darius slowly smiles cautiously. Lani looks away from us momentarily, and grabs something from off the ground. “Ain’t this the necklace you bought her?” she asks, dangling the locket Khadijah had worn moments ago.

Darius and I let out a laugh, mostly from relief, but as we notice that Lani is stone-faced, our laughter subsides. Darius coughs to clear his throat. “Yeah, ungrateful-crazy-ass must’ve thrown this at us.” Lani drops the necklace into his upturned hand, her eyes never leaving his. 

With more calmness than I expect, Lani grinds out, “Are you with DJ?”

“W-What?” Darius stammers.

“Don’t you lie to me, and your ass better not so much as deflect, Lord help me I will-”

“David and I made up.”

What?” Lani and Darius turn their attention to me.

I barely squeak out an, “I said,” and then clear my throat, “I’m back with…” my eyes shut and I attempt a smile, “David,” rushing the name, even though saying it pains me like fire against my tongue. 

Lani’s features soften, but I can see Darius’s features harden. “Oh,” Lani states, “well he don’t need to know about all this. It was just an act. That kiss between you two didn’t mean anything, right?” she jabs Darius in the ribs. He doesn’t even flinch at the contact, he is so furious. “We should be gettin’ back. Mama’s not gonna be happy if we don’t get there before the fireworks begin.”

“I’ll leave in a few. I need a few minutes to gain composure.” Darius says through clenched teeth.

Lani looks at him curiously, but doesn’t press the issue. “See that you’re not late. It’s your butt Mama will beat, not mine. C’mon, Deege.”

“Um, I think I’m gonna also need a few.”

Lani stares at me with uncertainty, and then quickly shoots Darius a glance, who looks like a shaken up soda bottle about to explode, and then looks back at me, offering a friendly smile. “Mama won’t beat your butt, but you know what she’s like when she’s disappointed with someone.”

“I know.”

“See you soon then?” Lani smiles lopsidedly my way.

I nod affirmatively and she turns away. We watch her fade from our view.

“Are you okay?” I ask Darius.

He’s silent for minutes. “That depends,” he says vexed. “Are you with…him?” His upper-lip curls in disgust.

“Of course not,” I say. “I said that to get Lani off your back. Fuck, she was horrifying! I was terrified that Khadijah might kick my ass for kissing you. I was not expecting to feel so fucking scared for my life because Lani might kill me.”

Darius smiles. “Nah, she loves you too much to be that level mad at you. All that fury was directed at me. She can be protective of me, but damn is she ever overprotective of her friends. I dunno why she think I wanna get with her friends.”

“Um, hello. Lani’s Friend here.” I wave my hand in his face.

Darius pulls me close to him, “You know what I mean.” 

I look up at him with “fuck-me” eyes. We make out until we hear a boom, startling us into stopping. 

“Oh shit,” he says, “fireworks. I am so fucked.”

I bite my lip with worry, “Should we try to run back? I mean I know that we’re late, but–”

“Nah, if I’m fucked, I’m fucked, and uh speaking of being fucked…” he picks me up and sets me on the hood of a car. He caresses my cheek. His eyes follow the path of his finger as he draws his body closer to mine. 

He lowers himself against me. His hand brushes my leg, crawling slowly up to the hem of my skirt. “Is this okay?” he asks, his eyes penetrating mine.

I giggle nervously. “Are you suggesting we…do…it… on some stranger’s car?” my eyes dance. Darius doesn’t say anything. He smiles and raises his eyebrows, as if awaiting my answer. “Ummmm….What if somebody sees us?” my eyes widen. 

His eyes are hungry with desire. He stares in quiet contemplation at my lips as his finger hovers, longing to touch the fullness of my bottom lip. 

“There’s nobody around, it’s just you, me, and these fireworks. I won’t be mad if you say no, but you gotta admit, exploding against each other while the sky explodes is pretty dang romantic.”

I smile, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I place my hand over his and lead his hand underneath my skirt and then underneath my panties. “If someone sees me in a compromised position, even though you assure me that no one will see…”

“Hmmm?” Darius says as he pulls out a condom from his wallet, opens the packaging and begins to put it on.

“I will tell Lani that you and I are together, and that we’ve been sleeping together.”

“Damn, you lookin’ to lead me to my funeral before I even make it to the Olympics?”

“What do you expect? I’m not your sister’s best friend for not



Austin, TX:

“So, what happened last night?” Lani asks as we go for a light jog. 

Lani, like Darius, is a sprinter who is actively training for the Olympics. The difference is that Darius is going to the Olympics next month, while Lani hopes to go to the Olympics in the future. She wouldn’t normally invite me on a run, I slow her down to the point where she finds it maddening, but she insisted we get together first thing this morning, and this is her idea of starting the day

“What do you mean?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“Oh, cut the crap, DJ. You and Darius didn’t get back until after the fireworks ended. Mama was pissed. She didn’t say a word to Darius the entire night, or even this morning before he left to practice. I thought for sure she was gonna let into him last night. It is a special kinda pissed that Mama gets when she gives one of us the silent treatment. Darius knows he better kiss butt, and stay on her good side if he values keeping his life.”

I don’t say anything, and after a while Lani’s pace slows until she finally stops and she stares at me with a blank expression that makes me entirely uncomfortable. I stare at the ground and kick a few pebbles around as we stand in silence. “We kissed.”

Lani’s silent and then finally, “Go on.”

I wave my hands in the air, trying to work up the explanation, “I told Darius that I’ve had a tiny crush on him for years.”

“Oh, Lord, no good could have come from that.”

“Well I suggested that maybe he and I should kiss…again…I guess….Since the first kiss was to benefit Khadijah.”


“So…Darius agreed.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t have to twist that boy’s arm. He shoulda known better though. Agreeing to kiss you…What the hell was he thinking?”

“And, like I said, we kissed. It was…you know… a very anti-climatic sort of kiss. Darius just shrugged and said he didn’t feel any fireworks…I realize how corny that sounds, given the timing of the kiss.”

“I would be embarrassed for him if I wasn’t upset at him.”

“Why are you upset at Darius? It was my crush. I wanted to see if there was anything there. Darius did me a favor. It was like closure.”

“So this crush you had is gone?”

“I can honestly say I don’t have a crush on your brother.” 

“Mmmm.” Lani locks her gaze with mine as though she’s trying to search out any lies. “I’m not entirely thrilled that Darius kissed you, even though you asked him to. He knows how I feel about him pursuing friends of mine. He knows you are off limits. Darius is gonna have to earn my trust back, but that’s between him and me. As for you….” Lani pulls me in for a hug, “You’re still my girl, and I forgive you for being nasty and wanting to holler at my brother. Obviously you have low standards, and we need to work on your self esteem.” Lani holds me at arm’s length and looks at me seriously, “Look, we don’t need to tell David about none of this. If you want me to keep my mouth shut I will.” I cringe inwardly, and chide myself that I had forgotten I had lied to Lani about David. 

“Thanks,” I say solemnly. “I would appreciate the discretion. Also… I thought we were back together, but it turns out…not so much.”

“For reals? I am so sorry, Deege. Men can be such flakes.”

“Eh, fuck him.” I say, and then smiling slowly, I say louder, “Yeah. Fuck him. Fuck you, David!” 

A couple guys look over at me with shocked expressions. I look back at Lani who looks like she would rather a sinkhole appear and swallow one of us up into it. She angry-whispers, “I think one of them dudes is named David.”

I can feel my face flushing from embarrassment, “Not you,” I yell over to the guys, “a different David!”

Lani shakes her head and says, “I just can’t with you sometimes. Girl, you are like a bad car wreck. You know I love you, but goodness the things you say and do!”

I smile sheepishly at Lani, “You know what we should do on the way back home?”

“I’m afraid to ask what you’re concocting, but what exactly do you have in mind?”

“We should look for F.B.D.’s.”  Lani looks at me for a split-second, and then we both break out laughing so long and so hard that our stomachs begin to ache. 

We head back home. My aunt’s house neighbors Lani’s house from behind. There’s a loose board in the fence that separates the houses. I pull it to the side so Lani can slip through the fence and get back home. 

I’m exhausted. Even though Darius was in neck-deep trouble at home last night, he still snuck out so we could be together. 

…And we continued to sneak out and meet up every night that summer, until he left for the Olympics… 


March 18, 2022

Midsummer Eve Masquerade part 2: The Course of True Love Never did Run Smooth

**Creator Note: Rated PG-15 for sensuality/adult situations. This story will be told in Third Person Omniscient Narration***

When we last left Cato and DJ, the sad resonation of his heart breaking could be heard for miles. Deer suddenly stopped grazing, crickets suddenly stopped chirping, owls suddenly stopped hooting; even the party-goers suddenly stopped waltzing…

“You can’t marry me?” The words fell from his lips, as his voice cracked.

DJ averted her eyes. “No…I don’t know how to say this, but..I-I haven’t been completely honest with you..”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m in love with…” DJ paused, pursing her lips and squinting her eyes, as though remnants of something bitter lingered on her tongue “I’m in love with someone else.” She looked into his eyes, the now vacant eyes of a stranger.

Cato had a hard time summoning words from deep within him. The pain of her revelation was almost too much to bear. “What?” He shook his head in confusion, bewildered by her words and uncertain how to respond. “Who are you in love with?”


“Dylan, is that you?” Chelsea asked into the darkness, hearing the sound of rustling hedges in the distance.

“A-CHOO!” The hedge moved again. “Do I look like Dylan?” Madeline said, wiping her nose against her sleeve as she emerged.

“Uh…Sorry about that,” Chelsea said, smiling sweetly. “I seem to have lost my date.”

“Hmph! Well I seem to have lost my boyfriend.” Madeline ground out in annoyance. “I’ve spent the better part of an hour trekking through who-knows-what, and all I’ve found is that I’m allergic to nature!”

“You’re Cayden’s new girlfriend, right?”

Madeline arched an eyebrow, “That’s right.”

“It’s nice to meet you! I grew up next door to The Dimitris. I’m Chelsea.”

Madeline stood there frozen momentarily. Her nose lifted, ever so slightly, and she looked down at Chelsea, or attempted to look down at Chelsea. Chelsea was around 5’8-5’9, and Madeline was 5’0 in heels. “I guess you could come in useful. Any ideas where Cayden might be?”

Chelsea began to fidget nervously with her fingers, “Well…Cayden’s always been…successful with the ladies. I kinda assumed he would be…”

“With the ladies?” Madeline said blandly. 

“I mean clearly not…”

“Do you think our boyfriends could be together?”

“Together?” Chelsea said in surprise.

“I don’t mean together-together,” Madeline laughed, somewhat too hard and too long, which had the appearance of being maniacal. “Just hanging out…together. Something friends do. You do have friends, don’t you?” Madeline said, wrinkling her nose.

Chelsea forced a smile, “I have friends. However, I doubt Dylan and Cayden are friends. I don’t think they like each other.”

“Hmm.” Madeline said in deep thought. “Why don’t you go and round up some of your so-called friends. Maybe we can make a search party…or two…depending on how many friends you have. The more eyes searching for my dear, lost Cay-Cay the better!”

Chelsea collected ten guests, and Madeline split them into two teams of five. 

“You five should…Let’s call you Search Party A…you cover north and east of the castle, and Search Party B will cover everything from south and west.” Madeline barked.

“Who is she?” a voice whispered

“I overheard someone say that her name is Madeline Hamhart, but get this – she’s from Sinbay!”

“No way! A real life Sinner? Here –at this party?!”

“Shhh! She’ll hear you!”

Madeline Hamhart was indeed from Sinbay, and she gladly flaunted her whereabouts, as though flashing a Black Card. Sinbay was synonymous with such places like The Hamptons, or Paris, France, or The Hollywood Hills. It was as big as a county, and consisted primarily of prime, waterfront real estate in Florida. It had its own gated-community, and had been the speculation and wonderment of many – to the point that Sinbay had its own reality television show.   

The reality show unlocked several answers, but also furthered several more after its cancellation. One of the biggest shockers was that the residents were all blood relatives, and continued their bloodline as pure as possible. It had been acceptable for one or two young adults, from every generation, to marry an outsider, as long as the couple lived in Sinbay once married. After this revelation came into light, Sinbay’s reputation as a squeaky-clean Puritan establishment went right out the proverbial door and the moniker, “The Whorehouse on the Hill,” took precedence. 

Both search parties sought out Dylan and Cayden, secretly suspecting that wherever the men were, another woman (or women) was with them. The magic of tonight’s event had left the air coated in an array of something indescribable; not to mention the smell of something raw and sexual still teased the senses, burning nostrils with something primal and stirring insatiable lust.

A scream erupted in the air, briefly startling Search Party A. A bit of rustling and splashing was heard from behind a series of hedges. The search party ran to the hedge. A few gasps ran out among the crowd, and then, “Hey, Chelsea! You need to come here!”

Chelsea braced herself as she made her way to the small crowd. Instantly, the guests parted to let her pass through. Chelsea gasped. Her hands flew to her face, cupping the entirety of her mouth. “Oh my goodness!”

There, lying on the ground was Dylan, with his band’s, young and very beautiful, manager, Amber, hovering over him. She turned briefly to look at Chelsea, smiling, “You caught us. Surprise.”

“Did you see him?” Dylan turned to face Chelsea. “I think he stomped on my eye.”

“Dyl, are you okay? And ‘him,’ who?”

“Hold still, Dylan,” Amber said, forcing his face upward and peeling his eye open. “Looks okay, but I want to get this checked out. Stat! Can’t have our lead guitarist wearing an eye patch on stage.”

“Yeah, because that would be ridiculous,” Dylan said bemused, an obvious jab at the band’s costume choice, which happened to be various characters from Dungeons & Dragons. Suddenly, the sound of small paws rushing toward them could be heard. “Ah, right on, cue.” A small, brown-and-black puffball collided against Dylan. “You little, shit!” He laughed as the furry creature began tugging at his waistcoat. “Careful. It’s a rental,” Dylan scolded, carefully removing small, pointy teeth, and standing up. The German Shepherd pup jabbed its teeth against each of Dylan’s fingers as he made his way towards Chelsea.

“Dylan!” Amber warned, “do not allow him to chew up your money maker. This European tour is gonna go to hell if you can’t play!”

Dylan rolled his eyes, and gently cupped his thumb and index finger against the pup’s muzzle, preventing him from opening his mouth. Dylan held out the pup to Chelsea, “Come on tour with us, Chels, and I promise to get you a dog from each of our stops. This German Shepherd from Germany, a French Bulldog from France, an English Mastiff from England…we can make quite the menagerie. Whatta ya say, Doll?”

Chelsea took the outstretched pup and snuggled it, rubbing her finger gently against its face, its small tongue darting around trying to confiscate Chelsea’s finger. Chelsea looked up at Dylan, “Of course I’ll come with you! How could I possibly resist this cute face,” she said brushing her nose against the pup’s nose.


“I can’t resist your cute face, either, Dylan,” Chelsea giggled, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “What’s his name?”


Chelsea’s smile faded, “You’re joking?”

“It’s a perfectly suitable name for him,” Dylan mumbled under his breath. “I thought you might want to do the honors and name him.”

“I think Strudel would make a suitable name. Because he’s so sweet.”

“Hate to break this up, but Dylan we need to get you looked over.” Amber said, getting annoyed.

“Yes, Sarg,” Dylan said sarcastically, saluting Amber. “Come with, eh, Doll?” he said looking at Chelsea, and then acknowledging Strudel, “Hellhound?”

“Of course,” Chelsea said, holding securely onto Strudel as she leaned her head against Dylan’s shoulder. The two walked out of the clearing and towards the castle. 

“Well one mystery solved,” Madeline said to herself. 

“Hey! I think I hear something!” someone said

“Yeah! I hear it too. It’s coming thatta way!” Another shouted, pointing to a section of cars.

“It sounds like…moaning.”

“I bet it’s DJ and Cato going at it,” someone said laughing. “Outside in the open! Come out, come out wherever you are!!” 

Someone gasped.

“Jackpot!” another yelled. “This way! Over here! I found the car!”

Madeline and the search party wearily approached the car. The moans had subsided and were no longer heard, but the windows were fogged, with a handprint indicating that there were occupants inside. One of the men in the search party took initiative, and approached the vehicle. He turned to Madeline who motioned to him to open the door. His hand reached for the car handle. He squeezed it and pulled back, opening the door in full view of himself, Madeline, and the rest of the search party. They all gasped in shock.

“CAYDEN DIMITRI!” Madeline shouted. He turned to face her, exposing his female companion.

“Oh my God!”  They said in unison. They turned pale at the sight of the woman next to him. Never would they have suspected that Cayden was with…


DJ sighed heavily in preparation for what she would eventually have to disclose to Cato, as though the words were bile being purged from her soul. “This is very hard on me…on us…  Not you and I, but rather he and I. However, I do owe you this much.” She paused, chewing her bottom lip in trepidation, unsure if she should continue or not. 

Another heavy sigh escaped from her lips before she continued. “Your brother, Cayden, and I have been seeing each other for awhile now…before he hooked up with Gen…and Madeline. He never said anything to you because he knew how infatuated you were with me. We secretly saw each other off and on, but when things became too serious he and Gen hooked up. He stayed with her so he and I could be together. It was very hard sharing him with her, unbeknownst to her of course. After a while, I retaliated and became involved with you. Cayden uh…he slipped when he and Gen were being intimate, and he called out my name. That slip-up was the reason Gen broke up with him.” DJ paused momentarily, sighing. Her fear held her from gazing up into his eyes, knowing that the power they had on her would bring her to tears. “Gen confronted me about it, but I denied any involvement with him, instead I played it off as though he must have had a crush on me. I didn’t want to break her heart. He and I are still seeing each other though…despite his faux relationship with Madeline Hamhart…I’m sorry, Cato.”

Cato and DJ sat in eerie silence. The sounds of crickets chirping could no longer be heard, nor the sound of the water beating steadily beneath them, as though the world had ended, and they were the last two inhabitants. 

“Is this some kind of sick joke?”  Cato asked, bewildered.

DJ swallowed down the lump that was building within her throat. She turned away, gazing toward the bank as the wind rustled the blades of grass. “I-I um…Cayden would deny it if you asked him. I dunno,” she shrugged, “Maybe he wouldn’t anymore…But I think he would….You’re his brother after all, and he loves you a lot.” She turned back to slowly face him. Something burned within him, within his eyes; something strange and foreboding, prickling her skin. “Are you okay?”

“No.” The word was akin to poison against DJ’s ears. “I’m done with you.” Cato grabbed the oars, intent on rowing to shore.

“Cato…”  She said, her voice faltering as it softened.  Her hand reached out and touched his.  Their eyes met, his dark and hopeless and hers dancing with mischief. “I did it, didn’t I?….I fooled you with my serious-face.” The moment overtook DJ, and a bubble of laughter erupted from her, “Did you honestly think I’d gush like a silly girl when you proposed? You know I have to keep you on your toes!” Cato looked at her dumbstruck as she continued. “You have no idea how hard it was to remain calm when I saw the ring!”

The revelation of what just happened sunk into Cato’s head. “I am going to throw you in the lake!” he shouted, his face burning red.  

DJ smiled innocently at him. “I win.” Her words were no more than a whisper floating in the air.   Her hands captured his hands. “Of course I’ll marry you! I love you forever, Dimitri.”  She smiled up at him. 

A primal scream erupted from Cato, startling DJ, as well as a flock of waterbirds that took off in a panic. “Sorry. I needed to get that out. You really had me going, Toots….I love you, too.”  Cato said, his fingertips caressing the flesh of her hands. “I have a surprise for you.”

DJ broke free of his hands in excitement, “Oh, gimme, gimme, gimme!”  She tightly shut her eyes and extended her palms.

Cato chuckled as he grabbed the oars and began to row.  “Not until we get to shore.”

“I have to wait until we get to shore?” DJ harrumphed. “Wait a minute! Is it Sexy-time? Is that my surprise?”

“No clues for you, Toots.” 

DJ rubbed her hands together in giddy-excitement, “Ohh, I bet it is! You did say that the disrobing would be later! I guess it’s later’o’clock!”

“Not yet.”

“Well of course not yet. I know you don’t want to tip the boat from rowboat-sex.” DJ rolled her eyes and spoke in hushed annoyance, “Really, maybe I shouldn’t marry someone that isn’t willing to have adventurous sex.”

Cato looked at her sternly. “I heard that.”

DJ smiled innocently. “Tee hee, love you, Dimitri.”

“Besides,” Cato interjected, “today’s little escapades were quite adventurous, perhaps even too adventurous for you. Really, DJ, slipping away because things got heated so quickly. Quite unlike you.”

“You just caught me off guard. It was quite unlike you to be so…so…” 

“Like you?” Cato smirked. 


Once the boat came close to land, Cato jumped out. The sound of his lower body echoed, as it collided with the water. He grabbed the wooden side of the stern and pushed DJ to shore. The boat made a dull thud as it touched land. He mounted the bank and plucked DJ from the boat, planting her on the driest portion of sand. They embraced each other and kissed. 

“Is it ‘later’ now?”  She asked flirtatiously.

Cato smiled lovingly down at her. “Not just yet. You know, DJ, I can’t wait to marry you…”

“Hmmm.”  DJ sighed dreamily as the two walked hand-in-hand through the thick brush that coated the outskirts of the shore. “We have so much to plan, Dimitri. We’ll probably have a big wedding.” Cato looked at her as she kept rambling on and on, until he came to a halt. “Why’d we stop?”  She asked, finally noticing where they were. “Where are we? It’s beautiful!” 

The pair had climbed up a lush hillside that roared with a series of waterfalls. They stood on a stony bridge with a curtain of water to one side and greenery, illuminated by moonlight, surrounding and sweeping the entirety. Flowers twinkled with dew, catching their eyes. 

“You don’t want a big wedding, do you?”  He asked.

Her eyes darted around as she sighed heavily. “Not really…but if you want a big wedding… There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, Dimitri”

“I think a small wedding would be ideal.” His thumb brushed the loose strands of hair that tickled her forehead. She looked up at him, and their eyes locked. “Are you ready for your present?”  Cato asked as he pulled a cream scarf from beneath the depth of his coat pocket.

DJ smiled mischievously at him, as her eyes danced, “Oooh! Bondage! I likey!”

“Turn around.” 

DJ obliged so that he could place the scarf over her eyes. He tied it securely, grasped her hand, and led her up a small winding-rock-staircase. “You know how I said I had a job interview in New Zealand?”


“There is no interview.”

“What do you mean?” she questioned.

Cato removed the scarf from DJ’s eyes, and it fell like a feather to her feet. A gasp escaped as she took in her surroundings.


Throughout most of the evening, Cayden Dimitri, had sat around sulking. His girlfriend, Madeline, was nowhere to be found. He sighed, knowing that the relationship he was in meant nothing to him, after all the woman he truly loved was there at the party, but in the arms of another man. It was around the stroke of nine when Cayden decided to rewrite his destiny; after all magic loomed in the air, and it overwhelmed his senses, causing him to fall subject to its sweet embrace.

He paced the entryway that led to the ballroom; right below the massive stairwell, as couples descended weightlessly towards him. Then he saw her. He did a double take, his breathing stilled momentarily as it caught within his throat. Her violet eyes met his as she floated down the staircase. She looked angelic; the light of the chandelier illuminated the shimmering fabric of her purple-and-black gown, casting a glow about her. Her smile was sweet and warm, which sparked the memory of their time together and the love that they had made. 

She looked up at him as she made her way down the final step. Her beauty and warmth encouraged him to act. He reached for her hand, kept his eyes planted on her, and kissed the back of her hand. 

They made their way into the ballroom, her arm nestled in the crook of his. The enchanting music lured them onto the dance floor. Time elapsed but neither of them seemed to notice nor mind; they were too focused searching each other’s eyes, eyes where love and hope dwelled.

Geneviève pressed her body obscenely close to Cayden’’s as she whispered headily to him,”I haven’t been intimate with another, not since we were together. My love is saved solely for you, and I ache for your touch.”

He smiled wolfishly at her. The ebony tendrils nestled next to her ear flowed as his breath caressed her face, “I have desired nothing more than you, my love. Come” Geneviève placed her hand in his outstretched hand, and they quickly made their way through the ballroom and out the castle.

In the moonlight, they basked in the splendor of each other; lips caressing lips, hands caressing backsides. They moaned in desire. Geneviève directed their footsteps to her car. Cayden opened the car door for her, and once inside they both let all passion flow free in wild abandonment.


DJ blinked, her eyes adjusting to her surroundings. She stood there dumbstruck as her eyes met the eyes of Cato’s twin sister, Caitlynn Dimitri; Cato’s parents, Carlo and Camille Dimitri; his two younger siblings, Channing and Chase Dimitri; DJ’s best friend since childhood, Lani Johnson; and Cato’s three former bandmates, Mike Rambeau, Jamie Cameron, and Jules Navarro. There was a man DJ didn’t recognize, dressed in a traditional suit with a Cheshire Cat-grin look upon his face. 

Cato leaned down as he whispered, “There is no interview in New Zealand. It’s where I’m taking you on our honeymoon.” DJ furrowed her brow, not quite understanding what he was saying.  “When I said I couldn’t wait to marry you I meant it. Will you be my wife?”

Her head tilted towards him in confusion. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

“You’re serious?”  She questioned him.

“I’m serious.”

DJ stood there in silence as she digested everything that he had said. It all made sense as she looked into the beaming faces staring back at her. He was giving her a small wedding like she wanted. Except, it was a bit smaller than she hoped.

“Where’s Gen? Why isn’t she here?”

Cato scratched his head, “I have no idea. I told her about this.”

“And she said she would attend?”

“She said she wouldn’t miss it.”

“Well it’s not like her to be late, and it’s not like her to be a no-show.”

“Come to think of it. I don’t see Cay…”

“Your brother?”

Cato shot her a menacing look, “Yeah, the brother you’ve been seeing behind my back.”

DJ stifled a laugh, “You’re gonna keep this joke going, hmmm?”

Cato smiled, “Yes, until death do us part.”

“Do you think we should call them?”

“It wouldn’t matter. We’re on a bit of a schedule. Either they show or they don’t. We can figure out what happened to them later. In the meantime…Lani and one of the guys will act as witnesses on the wedding certificate. I found this guy online,” Cato indicated with his hand, pointing to the eager-faced stranger, “to officiate the wedding. Don’t worry, he’s legit, and is fluent in German and English.”

“Hallo! Büsten-Tanzen! Ich bin ein groß Bewunderer!” The stranger waved frantically at DJ.

DJ turned bright red. “Cato!” she said in whispered-agitation, “Did you hear what he just called me?! Büsten-Tanzen! He knows who I am! He’s seen the video!”

Cato slammed his palm against his forehead, “Well that explains why he was willing to officiate for free.”

“I could kill whoever took that video of me stripping at that German nightclub! Cheese and crackers, you only turn 18 once!”

“Yes, well not everyone goes to a dance club on their eighteenth birthday to get naked.”

“I did not go there to get naked. I went there to drink and makeout with guys I’d never see again. It’s not my fault there was a stripper pole that spoke to me.”

“Ah. And did this pole tell you to take off your clothes?”

“Uh, yeah! Why do you think it’s called a ‘stripper’ pole?”

Cato shook his head incredulously, “You hurt my head, Toots. So what should we do about the officiant?”

DJ rolled her eyes, “Well I suppose murdering him is out of the question. Being a witness to a wedding is one thing, but being a witness to a murder…I don’t think our friends and your family would be so agreeable.”

“Yeah, that’s a hard pass.”

DJ sighed. “Let’s just get it on, so that we can get it on. We are planning to get it on afterwards, right?”

Cato sighed, “I suppose you’ll insist I do my husbandly duty.”

“Well you do want to consummate our wedding, don’t you?”

“Of course, but how about we get married first, Toots.” Cato winked.

Cato and DJ got married that night in a private ceremony, sealing their love with a kiss. Thankfully, the officiant kept his mouth shut throughout and after the ceremony, since DJ promised to take a selfie with him – a clothed selfie. Their friends and family gave each of them a hug and wished them good luck on their new life together. Cato and DJ were no longer two souls – they were one entity, each reflecting and highlighting the other. 

Cato led DJ back towards the rowboat, but instead of continuing through the brush he took her deeper towards the waterfalls. 

“Guess what time it is, Toots?”

“It better be ‘later,’ because ready or not here I come!” DJ said as she lunged at Cato. The two collided upon the ground. “Brace yourself, Dimitri, because tonight I’m making you my bitch!”

A look of terror flashed in Cato’s eyes. Thankfully, for Cato anyways, a shrill noise caused DJ to stop. They both turned, facing the direction of the sound….


Madeline stormed off after seeing her boyfriend, Cayden, in the arms of his former ex-girlfriend, Geneviève. Madeline was neither mad, nor was she hurt; she was upset that she had wasted time on a man who was using her to get another woman jealous. She rolled her eyes as she searched for her cellphone, intent on calling he

r very hot second cousin, who just happened to be good at…listening. 

Annoyed that the only reception she could find was poor reception, Madeline headed to the castle. Once inside, she weaved around, in hopes that her phone would flash something other than “No Service.” A strange noise sidetracked her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but whatever it was, it was coming from behind the door straight down the hall. She flipped her cell phone shut as she tiptoed towards the door. She placed her ear against the door, seeing if she could get a better indication as to the identity of the noise. Madeline took a step back and stared at the door for a few minutes. Curiosity got the best of her, and she turned the doorknob slowly. The door creaked as it was pushed open. Madeline gasped at the sight before her….


The shrill sound of a cell phone ringing caused DJ to narrow her eyes menacingly at Cato. If there was one thing that had hindered previous love-making attempts between the two, it had been interruptions by Cato’s cell phone. “That isn’t my ringtone,” Cato said. 

“Oh! My cell phone must have fallen!” DJ said, racing towards the sound. She was able to locate the phone before the caller hung up.

DJ saw the name flash upon the screen, Charlie Deveraux. Excitedly, she flipped it open.  “Hello? Charlie?” The voice on the other end confirmed that she was indeed Charlie (Charlotte) Deveraux, the Private Investigator DJ hired to investigate Geneviève’s fiance, William Woodsworth Allen IV. DJ conversed with Charlie as Cato lay there waiting patiently for the call to end. After a few minutes, DJ thanked Charlie repeatedly and flipped her cell phone shut.

“Oh my God, Cato!  You won’t believe what Charlie found out about Gen’s fiance!”

“What’s that?”

“Cancer! It’s why he’s been rushing Gen to marry him! He was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and he wants a kid: a biological heir! Cheese-and-crackers, boy did he pick the wrong partner! Gen doesn’t want kids. Oh, but that’s not the only thing she found out about him. Apparently he’s been living a double life!”

“What do you mean?”  Cato asked.

“Well…” DJ said. “He’s….”


Madeline stood there as the color began to drain from her complexion. There in the room was Geneviève’s fiance wearing a diaper and oversized baby bonnet watching porn. He looked up at Madeline. “Goo goo, ga ga?” he said, flashing her his member. She quickly shut the door and ran.


Cayden and Geneviève quickly threw their clothes back on, but neither of them bothered to leave the security of Geneviève’s car.

“Madeline Hamhart, huh? Why her?”

Cayden shrugged. “Blonde hair, blue eyes, fake-tanned-skin – it was my go-to preference until I met you. I just wanted to make you jealous….I just wanted you back.”

“Really, Cay, me jealous of Mad Maddie?”

“Mad Maddie? Where’d you hear that?”

Geneviève shrugged, “I don’t recall. It was being whispered throughout the castle. I realized, as I watched her interact, why she had that nickname. She’s so angry. She reminded me of a little star burning, but instead of burning with brilliance she burned with rage.”

Cayden smiled, “She certainly has a short temper.”

Geneviève’s hand swooped over her mouth as laughter bubbled out. She playfully punched Cayden’s shoulder, “Oh look who has jokes! Tell me, how long were you waiting to say that?”

Cayden smiled mischievously, “Not long. Some might say it was miniscule.”

Geneviève smiled, directing her gaze outside. “So what happens now?” She asked, not bothering to look in Cayden’s direction.

“I want to be with you. That’s all I ever wanted.”  Cayden said. 

Geneviève slowly turned to face him. “I would give all this up for you, Cay.” 

And, in fact Geneviève made good on her word. The following day she gave William back the engagement ring he had given her (but she refused to return any of the gifts: clothes, jewelry, and especially her Aston Martin). 


DJ and Cato slept side-by-side, under the stars, that first night as husband and wife. 

…And, like all romances steeped in magic…The couple lived happily ever after….

The End…..

Okay, maybe not the end and maybe not even happily ever after, but the chapters of Cato & DJ Dimitri have yet to be fully written…As of now it is up to The Fates (or at least this author) to decide what life has in store for them in the year 2022, and, if you dare, you can continue to join them on their journey together. 

So, although their life is just beginning, this Chapter of their life has seen….

The End


BONUS PHOTOS: I originally took photos in 2008, using The Sims 2. For storytelling purposes, I added new characters using The Sims 4, and for fun, I took photos of Cato and DJ… Enjoy!

Cato is a Midsummer’s Dreamboat 

Friends since childhood: DJ and Lani

~ BONUS BONUS Photos (Sims 2) DJ & Gen’s Midsummer Masquerade Ball ~

(Athena Dimitri)

Midsummer Eve Masquerade part 1: What Fools These Mortals Be

**Creator Note: Rated PG-15 for suggestive sexuallity/adult situations and underage drinking**

June 21, 2009

The future has a way of arriving unannounced ~ George Will

O tis sweet, this night; this midsummer night, that we, two young lovers, embrace beneath the breath of the new moon.  O’ what a moon! Bright it beats in the stygian ink well. Surely, Selene conjures magic with her orb…I thought as a heavy sigh escaped my lips. I looked up into Cato’s eyes; the flecks of which resembled fine grains of amber, as they bore into my eyes.

“When do I get to steal you away from your party?” He asked, the warmth of his breath caressed my face. I smiled, and his eyes danced with my reflection.

“I’ve already done the meet-and-greet. I am all yours for the whenever-and-wherever,” I whispered, pressing myself against him seductively.

Cato extended his hand towards me, “M’lady?”

I looked down and then back into his eyes, “Not the appendage I’d rather be holding…”


“Later?” I said in bewilderment. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me to behave?”

He looked at me silently, contemplating how to respond, “Usually, yes. Tonight, no. Tonight is your night.”

“To misbehave?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Wow! I should throw elaborate parties more often,” I said as we made our way out of the castle’s main entrance. 

Our stride was lackadaisical, as though we were in a reverie. The crisp air nipped our skin. His arm wrapped itself around my shoulder, and his hand slid up and down the expanse of my arm, warming me briefly with the gentleness of his caress.

“These shoes are not meant for walking,”  I said, grimacing, “Pretty, yes. Stylish, definitely. Practical? Not on your life.” 

“Should I carry you?”

My fingertips playfully slid to the lower portion of his back as we continued to walk.  “You just want an excuse to hold me. You’ll probably throw me in a lake or something.” 

A smile briefly touched his lips, “You look far too beautiful to be thrown into a lake.”

“Regardless, you are contemplating it.” Mischievousness flooded my features as I whispered, “If you threw me into a lake I would get wet. If I got wet then I would have to disrobe. If I were to disrobe-

“That will be later.” He said hastily.

I feigned an exaggerated sigh, “Oh very well… if I must wait.” I followed Cato, not knowing where he was leading us, and not caring; after all I had no reason to distrust him. I took in the scenery that surrounded us as we left behind the Neuschwanstein castle and all of its beauty, which was shrouded in a dense layer of clouds (after all we were on a mountain top).

I could see the makings of a lake or a stream up ahead. “I knew it!”  The words erupted in a bellow.  “You are planning to throw me in!”

Cato chuckled as our steps came to a halt. He turned to me, the back of his palm stroking my cheek. “I’m not going to throw you in.”  I opened my mouth to protest what he had said, but the words were suddenly unable to escape as he pressed his lips briefly to mine. Before I knew it, and much to my disappointment, the kiss was already over.

“Wait right here.”  

I stumbled slightly as he stepped away and headed towards the thicket. I could see him struggling momentarily with something. He pushed a large object, propelling it towards the lake.  A dull splash resonated as a rowboat skimmed the surface. Cato beckoned me over. I stood there unable to move as my eyebrows knitted together in confusion.  

“Your chariot awaits,” he said. He extended me his free hand, which I looked at in uncertainty.

“Uhhh, you overestimate my abilities in a heavy, corseted dress.”

Cato smirked bashfully, grabbed me by my waist and hoisted me onto the rowboat. His arms secured my waist as I carefully sat down. Once fully stable, he pushed the rowboat from the shore. 

“Uh, did you put on weight, Toots?”

“What?!” I said, flustered.

“It’s just…this boat has become…suddenly…heavier than I…anticipated.”

“No, I didn’t put on weight! My dress just happens to weigh around ten pounds!”

Cato smirked. “Ah, so you did put on weight!”

“Well I did offer to take the dress off, but you said that would be later,” I said, matter-of-factly. “Anyways, maybe you’ve grown weak.” 

“Perhaps I have,” Cato sighed, knowing that continuing this exchange would be futile. His mind had been preoccupied most of tonight, causing him to act and say things that were not typical. 

Once his legs were knee-deep in the dark water, Cato hoisted himself up next to me. “Rowboat sex, eh? That might be tricky,” I mused, “All that rocking and what-not. If I had known I would have brought Dramamine.” I said, nudging him playfully in the sides.

“We might not want to chance that one. I don’t want to bring you back soaking wet.”

“I’m just teasing, Cato.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Of course you are,” he said in disbelief, as he moved to a spot directly across from me.

“Of course I am.” I responded matter-of-factly.

Cato began to row us out a bit further from the shore. A lazy, summer breeze blew by on occasion, but mostly the night air was balmy. Cato’s rowing came to a halt and we sat there under the stars, listening to the faint sounds of partygoers’ laughter mingling with the lustrous, metallic sounds of the violin, until the sounds of nature began to increase in intensity. 

I looked up and over at Cato whose face was drenched in perspiration.

“Are you okay? Did you overexert yourself rowing us out here?” I asked. 

“You have kept me on my toes since day one.” Cato blurted, shifting nervously as he turned to face me. 

Surprised, and worried that he was possibly feverish, I arched an eyebrow.

“You look so beautiful, Toots. You leave me breathless.” He paused momentarily, “There have been several occasions where you have left me speechless…” 

A hand fumbled around in his upper coat pocket as he continued, “You constantly occupy my mind.  The first time we talked… I knew there was something special about you… something special about … us… that we had a connection.” He removed his hand from underneath his coat and grabbed my hand, placing it between both of his. “DJ, every fiber of my being loves you. I could not imagine living my life without you.”  He spoke the words quickly, as though filled with apprehension. 

Silence consumed us, save for the chirping sounds of the crickets, and the languid movement of the boat upon the lake. His eyes bore into mine, pleading for some form of a response. 

I smiled sweetly up at him, a little weary of his sudden change in behavior and odd demeanor.  “I love you too, Dimitri.” I laughed nervously. “You know that…. right?” My eyes searched his eyes for a sign of sanity.

His eyes lit up in response to my words. His hands left mine momentarily. He reached inside his upper coat pocket once more, this time he brought out a small blue box, tied neatly with a white ribbon…a Tiffany’s box.

I could feel my face flush in response, This isn’t what I think it is, is it? I thought as panic began to consume me. My eyes darted towards his eyes for confirmation. I could feel myself growing faint as he discarded the blue casing, which revealed a ring. Something pink caught my eyes as it glittered in the moonlight. 

Cato’s hand encompassed mine as he slid the ring onto my finger. “Will you marry me?” He beamed. I looked up at him. Moisture softly filled his eyes, making them shine brilliantly.

I could feel the color drain from my face as I grew completely faint. I felt as though I was going to pass out. It is often said that when one is about to die they can see their life flash before their eyes. In a moment such as this, the effect is almost identical. Various images of tonight’s events filled my head… as though I could hear the sounds of the party in the distance….The sounds became clearer…. until I could hear the overpowering sound of several voices talking at once… 


All the guests had arrived a quarter-to-six.  Gen and William (better known as “Mr. Moneybags” aka “Gen’s Fiance” aka “The-idiot-paying-to-rent-the-castle”) were in the carriage ahead of us.  William wanted to make a grand entrance with Gen by his side. Shortly after, Cato and I would follow suit and make a not-as-grand entrance. 

I was a little frisky and needed some lovin. However, for some reason or another Cato was unwilling to do anything of the sort (he can be such a prude at the most inconvenient times). I silently pouted, shooting him a dirty look. In the long run I got what I wanted (kinda-sorta).  He felt his way up my dress with his hands (I won’t spell out what he did to me. I want to keep this blog – well not “child friendly” – but reader-friendly… without it being *too friendly*). 

The rhythm of the trotting horses helped me to … uhhhh….Although Cato was still.. assisting me…as the horses pulled up to the gates.  It’s now or never, I thought to myself. I could sense Cato getting a tad agitated…I mean…I doubt he wanted to be caught with his hands in the…er…cookie jar.  Thankfully I got my “now” and not the “never.”  I shuddered momentarily, but nicely composed myself right after. Nobody suspected what we had just done. 

Everyone looked up at us in awe. I felt like a princess in The Rose Parade, and waved to my adoring public with the signature cupped hand twisting slowly side-to-side 

Cato and I busied ourselves greeting guests and engaging in smalltalk. Once we had met with all our guests, Lani strolled over to me.

“Do you wanna play with me and a couple other girls?”  She asked. 

“Huh?” I said, wondering if I had heard her right.

“We need a fourth for a game of poker.”

Now, for the life of me, I swear I thought she said “poke her,” and not “poker.”  I took a step back as I looked at Lani skeptically. “Uh, Lani… I don’t play like that with girls, and since when do you play poke-her?”

“What are you talking about? Poker! You know, the card game we would play some nights when you came to visit.”

I stood there momentarily until it sunk in. “Oh! Poker!” I laughed, and then explained what I had thought she said.

Lani just shook her head and sighed, “Goodness! Only you, DJ. Only you.”

I made my way to the table and stared momentarily at the empty chair, debating how I was going to fit. With all the care I could muster, I gathered my gown and slowly hoovered over the chair until I could feel my bottom against the chair’s wooden surface. It was embarrassingly obvious that I had never worn a custom-made dress before. The corset held me stiff while seated. 

The men gathered around to watch.  For the most part they were well-behaved, not giving us lip as we gambled away their simoleons. Men can be such nags about that sort of thing. 

Time passed quickly, and  before we knew it the clock chimed 7 o’clock. I pushed myself away from the table (with very slim winnings in tote). Cato and I walked outside, and we headed off to the hedge maze. On our way there, Cato and I ran into Dylan and Chelsea. 

“And what are we grinning about, Chels?”  I asked, even though it was pretty evident.

“Hmm? Nothing.” She replied in a tone that would warrant suspicion.

“Riiiight. Nothing.” I said, winking at her. “Cato was doing some ‘nothing’ to me with his fingers in the carriage.”

What!?”  Chelsea nearly screamed.

“You heard me. He ‘nothing’d’ me real good too.”  I turned to face Cato who was looking at me in hopes that I would shut up. “Babe, if I had my purse you could have used some antibacterial gel wipes to get my coochie-cooties off your hand. Don’t tell anyone, Chels,” I said as I turned back to face her. “I think Cato shook hands with at least a dozen guests.”  I looked at Dylan, who looked a tad nauseous. Oppsy, I thought, I hope he wasn’t one of the unfortunate ones to have shaken Cato’s hand

There was something in the air that night. Far be it for me to determine what that something was.  Some say it was magic, others say it was undigested pork tenderloin. Whatever it was, it made for an interesting evening. There were two things I was particular about having at my party: Pixie Sticks and Skittles. My sole intention for this was to make Cato happy (Skittles are his favorite candy – he has quite the sweet tooth – and Pixie Stick powder is great for…foreplay – a little sprinkle here; a little licky there – you see where I’m going with this? Sugarhiiiiiiiiiiiigh). 

Cato rolled around in both piles, like Scrooge McDuck in his money bin. It was rather amusing… until his eyes began to glaze over…. and then it was less like Scrooge McDuck and more like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. To me, it was like looking at a reflection of myself when my sexual appetite’s raw and insatiable. 

A low, guttural growl erupted from his throat as he grabbed me. My backside made sudden contact with one of the several piles of Skittles. Cato climbed on top of me and bit the fabric over my ta ta. He bared his teeth and he growled again. I giggled. Then he did something unexpected: He bit the same area again…except this time there was no fabric barrier. I gasped at the intimate contact (not only that but he was giving some of the partygoers quite the show… including his older brother, Cayden). I cleared my throat in hopes that he’d get off (not like that, but actually removing his body from mine)… but to no avail.  The fun-and-games didn’t end there… he then started to “nothing” me with his hand again (like he had done earlier in the carriage). This time I was able to make an escape as I slid under him (Skittles are easier to maneuver over than most surfaces). 

Again…fun-and-game-time was inescapable. Cato grabbed my midsection and pulled me close to him. I could feel… it...against my backside…and it was happy. Mr Sugarhigh let go of me for an instant, but only to move his one hand from my waist to my chest.  And what was Cato doing with his free hand?…the hand he used to “nothing” me with momentarily?  He licked it! All five of his fingers! Slurping and sucking each one of them…clean.

I don’t know at what exact point the party started going all crazy-lusty… but it seemed as though everyone was feeling something strange overcome them. The strangest of which happened to Jess Balleta and her new hubby, Kody Balleta. To this day I still have no clue what overcame him (or anyone else at the party). Jess said he hadn’t drunk a drop of the bubbly…or eaten any unidentifiable candies from off the ground….But for most of us, we were witnesses to the strange phenomenon….

Like any newly-married couple, Jess couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of Kody. Jess was in rather high spirits…er and her spirits weren’t the only thing rising…of course it didn’t hurt that she kinda “nothing’d” Kody’s bulge…

Kody seemed to have mistaken a blue plant (or was it a tree?) for Jess (er… at least he kept calling it “Jess”). It began comical, Kody would confess his undying love to the thing, stroke its fronds, and perform other such amusing displays of love to it. Then things turned poorly. He started to get a bit… horny. He got pretty close to the trunk/base of the plant, and ran his hands up and down its sides as though it were a person. Once he got halfway up he caressed the tree as though it had breasts, while making out with it (or, in actuality, slobbering against it). Then… he unzipped his pants… and pulled out his… friend. Thank-Will-Wright, Kody was wrested to the ground before he could stick his tallywacker into the plant (I’m sure the last thing Jess would want is to be married to a…nature lover).

Oh, but that did not end the shenanigans of one Mr. Kody Balleta. No siree. He stumbled over to the uh……happy-laughy-fun-fun?…er bubble blower?…er Hookah?…ah whatever you wanna call the thing. He yelled for Jess to come over and….“nothing” him. He wanted her to “nothing” him with her mouth, her hand, and her bleeeeep. He said it LOUD too. VERY LOUD. I think he even tried saying it in German (well we were in Germany), but whatever he was saying was not German. 


At 9 o’clock sharp we made our way back to the castle – to the ballroom to be exact. Instead of a Disc Jockey entertaining the crowd, we hired a violinist and a pianist to perform sections from Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (obviously, right?).

The night eclipsed into sheer romance. Loved ones cupped hands with their significant others, leading each other to the dance floor. Ball gowns glided to-and-fro, making love to the wooden beams that moaned in ecstasy beneath them. 

Our eyes met, as they had all those moments in passing, but somehow, for unknown reasons beyond my comprehension, tonight had held more meaning. Was it those intoxicating champagne bubbles that teased our senses? Something cosmic perhaps? Or maybe… just maybe…magic existed, and it emerged during summer solstice. 

Time, the cruel mistress that she is, beckoned us back momentarily as the chimes rang out; informing all that an hour had slipped away. It was now 10 o’clock. Cato’s lips embraced my own as the strokes from the clock resonated over the orchestration. 

We descended toward the small banquet table, where he popped open one of the vintage bottles of Germanic sparkling wine. Dancing desisted at the sound of the cork. 

“Here’s to our undying love. May the world cease to exist before the last drop dries.” Cato said as we locked eyes. Our glasses clinked in unison, and we took a small swig of the burgundy liquid; the bubbles tickling the back of my throat as I swallowed it down.

I was getting a bit lightheaded. Cato guided me to the balcony for some fresh air.  We were alone. The moon, in all its splendor, shone down on us, and everything below us, as far as our eyes could see. My mind ran rampant, overcome with the beauty of the night and all its happenings.

“When do I get to steal you away from here?” I could hear him say. I turned to face him but my eyes were blurring, and I could no longer make him out. The sounds began to fade in and out until all I could hear was the sound of my heart beating erratically. I closed my eyes tightly, growing fainter by each pound of my heart. I gripped the side of something, not knowing what it was. My eyes fluttered open to meet Cato’s eyes.

And so there we were; just as though we were in a dream: upon the lake, in a makeshift rowboat. He held my hand. His eyes searched my eyes for an answer… the answer to the question: “Will you marry me?”

My eyes left his eyes momentarily to look at the ring. Both his hand and mine trembled in uncertainty for what the future held. At this time there was only one thing that mattered; the words forming and taking shape as I pressed my lips together until the audible sounds were barely an utterance of breath.

“I-I dunno what to say, Cato. I’m…um…I don’t know….No…No, it wouldn’t be right….I can’t.”

“You can’t marry me?”  The words fell from his lips, as his voice cracked in dubiety.

I averted my eyes, knowing the guilt that shone through them would be evident. “No….I don’t know how to say this, but…I…I haven’t been completely honest with you….”

To Be Continued….

Is It S.O.S.? No, It’s Mayday!

Creator Note:

Dearest Readers ~ I wrote a series of blogs/stories, mostly told in first-person narrative, back in 2007. I was part of a small’ish Sim community on Myspace that focused on Roleplay. My intention to join, at the time, was to obtain a bigger audience for the Sim stories I was creating, but found comfort in the warmth and support of the Sim-community. My Sim, DJ, began Myspace (or “Simspace”) as a teenager, struggling with onset depression, due to her parents’ sudden death, and instead of working through the pain, she disregarded it completely, finding solace in various vices (excessive alcohol usage and making out with strangers). I’ve decided to share a few (3) of my favorite blogs from that time, before I begin telling the story of who DJ is now, in the year 2022. The photos from these three blogs will be from Sims 2. I apologize in advance for how dated these screenshots appear.

** This blog is rated PG-13 for language/mild profanity**

Wednesday, May 28, 2009

It was a quarter after one when she walked into my office. She wasn’t like most dames that came here needing assistance, dumpy broads with soggy handkerchiefs. She was a knockout. Her story was a pathetic one. She had debts to pay. Credit card companies were relentless. A crime boss had threatened her; she either gave him the money that was owed or he would have her pay it off in other means – sinister means.  She came to me for help. The credit card debt wasn’t hers. She was being framed, but she didn’t know by whom. 

I leaned back in my chair and told her I’d accept her case. She was a thankful one, and I was used to the thanks of many dames that came along. In this line of work it is to be expected.  Mostly homemade pies sufficed, but she was too pretty to slave over a hot oven for a slice of gratitude. So I did the only thing a man in my position could do, I kissed her. She was putty in my hands. I knew she wanted me. I felt it in the way she went limp against my body with the slightest touch of my lips against her skin. She tasted as sweet as she smelled, of champagne and strawberries.

Like every other dame that stepped foot in the office, she instantly fell in love with me.  Resistance was futile against my debonair smile and good looks. Many-a-dame said I was the spitting-image of Rudolph Valentino with the charisma of Cary Grant. Who was I to deny their intuition? 



“Are you okay over there, mister-space-cadet? Thought I lost you to another dimension or something.” I said. 

“Did you say something?” He asked.

“Hello?! Yes! I’m looking for Charlie. I have an appointment to see him.”

“Oh,” the boy chuckled, and then rather clumsily fell out of the chair, which was obviously too large for his small frame. He straightened up, as though he appeared to have fallen out of the chair on purpose, and said, “I am Charlie.”

You’re, Charlie?” I asked in total disbelief.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out, Toots.”  He said as he gave me a toothy grin.

I stared at him dumbfounded. Did he just call me “Toots?” I thought to myself. I shook it off because it was too eerie. Never, in my 19-years, have I been called “Toots,” until I met Cato, and now this person who claims to be Charlie. I began to tell him the purpose of my visit when we were interrupted.

Turns out little-liar-pants was not Charlie (like I didn’t see that one coming). In fact Charlie wasn’t even a guy, but rather a woman – his sister to be exact. She gave him hell for impersonating her in front of a client. I had to bite down on my lip not to laugh. Poor schmuck, I thought.

Charlie was a Private Investigator, and I needed my privates investigated (sorry, couldn’t resist). I wanted to do a certain someone a favor (the someone will go nameless for now, sorry, I must protect my sources). The favor was investigating the man that my roommate Gen was dating. I figured everyone has skeletons in their closets. Her new boyfriend was 61-years-old (dating an 18-year-old!), so you knew he had to have more than just skeletons in his closet, and I was determined to find out what they were (I wanted to give Gen a reason to break up with him. I knew deep down she was still in love with Cato’s older brother, Cayden Dimitri). Charlie said she would need some information (which I was able to provide) and that was that.  She would be in contact with me. I shook her hand, and left. However, as I stepped foot out the door I was stopped.

“Hey! Hold on a second.”  Said a voice – It was Charlie’s brother.

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to apologize for what happened.”

I laughed, “Aw, think nothing of it, kid.”

“I’m not a kid.” 

I had to bite my lip as I smiled.  Little boys are so precious. I just wanted to pinch him.  “How old are you then?”

“I’m nineteen. I just look young.” He said, a bit humored.

“Oh, sorry about that.”  I laughed. “You do look quite young. Cute but young.”  My face burned.  This was going from bad to worse. I hoped he didn’t hear the last thing I said, “I’m actually nineteen, too.”

“I figured you had to be at least 18 because of your….”

Oh god, he’s talking about my boob job I thought. I mean his eyes were trailing down. Quick! Don’t let him know that you know what he’s thinking about!  “My what?” I asked.

“Your checking account, obviously. Gotta be at least eighteen to have one.”

“Oh.” Could I be a bigger idiot? I stared at him silently. “You look familiar, have we met – before today I mean?”  

“Maybe. I dunno. I meet lots of new people everyday, it’s my thing. I’m pretty sure you would remember me if we had met. I make quite the impression.”

Wow, you’re certainly full of it aren’t you, kid?  I thought to myself. “Well, it’s been real,” I said.  I needed to leave… badly.  

“Wait! I didn’t get your name.”

“I’m DJ. You know, like Disc Jockey.”  I made a little turn-table scratching impersonation. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said as he extended his hand to shake.  A little formal, but whatever.  “I’m Kade, by the way.”

“Kade?” I squinted my eyes at him. “Are you that farting boy on YouTube?”

His face turned red, but he managed to laugh, “Yup, that’s me. I guess that’s my calling card, huh?”

“Hey, you’re the one that posts reaction-videos of you farting in the movie theaters, not me.”  

We laughed, and chatted for a few more minutes, and then I left. 


Gen and I were hosting a Midsummer’s Eve Masquerade Ball next month in Germany, and planning a party is tedious to begin with, but planning a party in another country is a layer of hell. There were still final touches that needed to be done, and since Gen was spending days and nights over at her new boyfriend’s mansion, and traveling to exotic destinations, it was on me to finalize it all.

A beeping noise altered me that I had just received a series of texts. I got inside my car, flipped open my phone, and nearly fainted as I read the text messages Gen had just sent:

In Milan for Fashionweek! 

Got an Aston Martin!!

Got engaged!!!

Gen had sent a few closeup photos of her enormous diamond ring from various angles, as well as a photo of her, her new fiancé, and her new car.

“That bitch!” I shouted, thankful that none of my windows were rolled down. 

Getting married 07/01/09!! 

Say yes that you’ll be my MOH!

“Maid of Honor?! You have to be kidding me, Gen! I need to call Charlie, and see if she can make my case a priority. I don’t care how much more this will cost, I cannot let one of my best friends pay the ultimate price and ruin her life!”

To Be Continued…..