“Milady, your creamy skin glows in the darkness like a beacon of light. You are but a vision of purity in this otherwise tawdry establishment.”
Nathan was getting his fifth lap dance of the night. The stripper looked bored. “Don’t Tell ’Em” by Jeremih ended and she hopped off his lap.
“Come on, Nathan, we’re getting out of here,” David said.
Nathan looked outraged. “But you don’t know how far I was getting with her!”
“How far you were—She’s a stripper.”
“You don’t understand, dear brother. She isn’t like the others. We have a connection. I must find her. I must make her mine.”
“We’re leaving. Now. I want some fried chicken.”
* * *
They drove home in silence at two in the morning. Mark was at the wheel. Matt was in the back seat, his head drowsily bobbing forward. Drool was making the journey from his mouth to his beard to his polo shirt collar. At some point in the night, his refusal to drink anything other than artisanal absinthe had faded.
“You okay?” David asked.
“Lauren’s a bitch,” he said, stretching the word bitch so that it seemed to last ten seconds.
“Hey, that’s my sister,” Jason said. David couldn’t tell if Jason was actually offended or just meaninglessly spouting words. He had been doing a lot of that since they left the strip club.
“That lap dance I got tonight was more action than I’ve gotten in the last three months,” Matt grumbled. “She hates me. What’s her problem? Why doesn’t she want to fuck me and strippers do?”
“News to Matt,” Jason said. “Strippers don’t want to fuck you either. I learned that the hard way tonight.”
“So there was no threesome?” Mark asked, amused.
“I paid more than $1,000 to get in the room, get 1.5 lap dances, drink the champagne and touch them—only their legs, by the way—and then they kicked me out for being belligerent and disrespecting the club rules.”
Nathan let a worldly laugh escape. “While you gentlemen bemoan the harpies besetting you, I sing the sweet melody of true love. I met my soul mate tonight!”
“Don’t mind him,” David said. “He doesn’t understand strippers.”
“There’s always that one guy,” Kevin said. “Same thing happened at the last bachelor party I went to.”
“I should have quit while I was ahead today,” Jason said. “Jennifer is way hotter than those two strippers I was with, and I got head from her for free.”
David looked up, surprised. Kevin, who had been staring out the window on the turnpike, whipped his head around.
“Wait, what?” Kevin said. “When was this?”
“Earlier today.”
“Gabrielle told me you just asked her for head, and she said no,” Mark said.
“Women lie to save face,” Jason said.
Mark narrowed his eyes. “Right.”
“She’s never gonna marry me,” Matt said, mooning, seemingly ignoring their conversation. “She says it’s for gay rights but that’s not true. She just doesn’t want me. It’s all about Ariel. David, here’s my advice to you: never have kids.”
NIGHT 5, PART 2: THE GIRLS
Emily
EMILY COULDN’T BELIEVE how many penises Gabrielle had incorporated into the bachelorette party decor. Mark and Gabrielle’s hotel room at the Ritz Carlton had been transformed into a penis wonderland, glowing pink like the Barbie aisle of a toy store.
Emily wore a sexy white bandage dress, but she couldn’t help worrying about the dress’s thick bands, which bisected her belly, giving her baby some weird dent in its head. She had been so excited to wear it when she was planning her bachelorette party, but now all she wanted to do was go home and put on pajamas.
As planned, the rest of the women wore black dresses to help Emily stand out. Lauren was the one exception. She wore ripped jeans and a black T-shirt that said I Breastfeed in Public. A few months ago, Emily might have admonished her for wearing something that would ruin all the group photos, but now she barely cared.
“Are you okay?” Gabrielle asked Emily. “This is supposed to be the second most fun night of your life!”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“No worries. It’s your night! I thought that to warm up a bit, we could pregame here and hang out. First thing on the schedule...games!”
She went into her minifridge and got a bottle of cupcake-flavored vodka, placing it on the coffee table. “Here we go, ladies. I also bought some chardonnay, so if you’re feeling like taking it easy tonight, you can take shots of wine. Our first game is...never have I ever.”
“I’m actually not drinking,” Emily said.
“What? No, you’re crazy!” Gabrielle put her hands on Emily’s shoulders. “You can’t not drink! You’re the bride!”
“I’m detoxing. I want to be healthy before the wedding.”
“No fun!” Gabrielle said. “Please tell me the rest of you ladies will be drinking. Except you, Maddyson.” She wagged her finger at Maddyson jokingly.
“What the fuck?” Maddyson shouted, slamming her phone down on the table. “This isn’t fucking North Korea.”
“I can’t let an underage person get drunk on my watch. It would be irresponsible of me.”
“Why am I even invited then? If we go to a bar after this I’ll just drink there.”
“It’s true,” Emily said. “She got drunk earlier this week.”
“Okay, fine,” Gabrielle sighed. “But you can’t brag about this on social media.”
Maddyson rolled her eyes. “Nobody calls it that anymore.”
Gabrielle knelt down in front of the coffee table. “Okay! Each of you ladies can grab a penis shot glass from the table. So the way this works is, each person says something they’ve never done. Then, if you have done that thing, you have to put a finger down, and take a shot. I’ll go first. Never have I ever done it in the butt!”
“Really?” Maddyson said. “But you’re, like, older. And you’re married.”
“Not all married people do it in the butt.” Gabrielle didn’t seem offended by the “older” remark. Emily supposed that was a privilege of people who were otherwise told they looked young. Such a remark, aimed at Emily, would have ruined her entire day.
“I feel like they all go for it eventually. Wouldn’t it get boring otherwise?”
Emily gulped. She had never wanted to do that with David. Did any woman actually want to do that? She was suspicious of women who claimed they loved it. They were like women who claimed they loved football. Sure, they’d watch it, tolerate it and maybe even enjoy it, but it wasn’t like they’d independently suggest it.
The only woman who put her finger down for the anal sex question was Jennifer, who coyly looked around before taking a shot.
“So...” Gabrielle said, finger-tenting wickedly. “How was it?”
“It was with Carl, you remember him. It was our anniversary!”
“And did you like it?” Gabrielle asked.
“Ew, no,” said Jennifer, wincing as the shot made its way down her throat. “He just really wanted to do it, so I gave in. Then the condom got poop on it and he freaked out and never wanted to do it again.”
It was Maddyson’s turn. Emily wasn’t sure if Maddyson was a virgin or not. What was the average age for virginity loss—eighteen? Seventeen? Fifteen? The only things she heard about teenagers came from fear-mongering news specials about dangerous teen trends that sounded made up, like rainbow bracelet sex parties.
“Never have I ever...” Maddyson paused, looking around the room, “...done Molly while in a hot tub with an aspiring DJ who I gave a blow job to while his friend watched.”
“What the heck?” Jennifer asked, choking on her penis-shaped glass of chardonnay, which she was drinking on the side, irrele
vant to the game. “Is this just something you did, that you wanted to tell everyone about?”
“I thought that was the point. I can’t think of anything else I haven’t done. Other than butt sex.”
“I’m sure there’s something,” Emily said.
“I guess I’ve never drunk pee.”
“Is that what we’re stooping to?” Lauren asked.
“Well, sorr-y. I’ve already done loads of sexual stuff, and I do lots of drugs, so whatever.”
“Ears, ears!” Gabrielle said, covering her ears with her hands. “Not in front of me! I’ll feel the need to tell your mother!”
“You won’t say shit,” Maddyson said. She reclined in her chair as she delicately twirled the plastic penis shot glass between two fingers like a baton.
“I’ll go next,” Jennifer said. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”
Maddyson and Lauren both took a shot.
“What?” Emily laughed as Lauren downed the shot. “You had a threesome?”
“Why is that surprising?”
“Well, it just seems like the kind of thing you’d hate, because it’s all about the man, pleasing him—it’s like a porn fantasy.”
“Who’s to say it was with a girl and a guy? For your information, it was with two guys I knew in college.”
“What? Seriously? You got Eiffel Towered? You didn’t find it degrading or whatever?”
“Nope. In fact, they didn’t do much to me. I pegged one of them while he sucked the other guy’s dick. That was pretty much the end of it.” She said this as if she were recounting what she had that day for breakfast.
“Oh...my...gosh,” Gabrielle gasped, her hands over her mouth.
Emily couldn’t help but picture it: Lauren, wearing her beige sports bra and retro makeup, her short black bangs harsh against her moon face, thrusting a giant strap-on into the little pink butt of a college guy. Suddenly, she heard Lauren’s voice in her head saying, Why did you assume he was white?
“They wound up being gay,” Lauren said nonchalantly. “They’re married now and they breed salamanders in Arizona.”
“What about you, Maddyson?” Emily asked. “What’s your story?”
Maddyson put down her shot glass and sighed deeply, as if she were a grizzled pirate about to tell his many tales of looting and plundering. “My friend Belinda and I three-way kissed with this guy Edmund at camp,” she finally said.
“That’s not a threesome,” Jennifer said.
“You didn’t specify sex! How was I supposed to know?”
“Let me just add,” Lauren said, “that sex doesn’t have to be P in V.”
“What’s P in V?” Jennifer asked.
“Penis in vagina.”
“You mean...sex?”
“No. I mean P in V.”
“Let’s move on,” Gabrielle said. “Lauren, what have you never done?”
“Hmm,” she said, tapping her chin with her index finger. “Let me see...never have I ever...fully come to terms with my white privilege.”
“Huh?” Jennifer said.
“You heard me. I mean, obviously this question doesn’t apply to Gabrielle, but for the rest of you. I have never fully understood the scope of my white privilege. The other day a policeman walked by me and didn’t stop me for anything, and it took me a few minutes to realize that was my white privilege.”
“You sure know how to ruin a buzz,” Jennifer said. “And besides, I’m half Japanese.”
“Just because you’re a person of color doesn’t mean you don’t have white privilege. I thought you were white when I first saw you.”
“Okay, well, I guess I take a shot then,” Jennifer said, “because I’ve never even heard of this stuff.”
“I guess I’m exempt from taking a shot,” Gabrielle teased. “How racist, Lauren. Your question only applies to white people.”
Lauren’s jaw dropped. “I am so sooooo sorry,” she stammered. “I hadn’t even thought of that, but that is no excuse. I totally fucked up. I’m horrible.”
Gabrielle smiled nervously and blushed. “Um... I’m totally joking. It’s fine. I guess I was just expecting something along the lines of, ‘never have I ever skinny-dipped.’”
Lauren shrugged. “I skinny-dipped during my period for a protest against the Peninsula in Midtown,” she said. “So that wouldn’t work.”
* * *
Emily sat blindfolded in the dark in the center of the room. She assumed that whatever was about to be unveiled for her had sparkly penises on it. “Time for your surprise!” Gabrielle said.
“It’s not a stripper, is it?”
“No, of course not. Just stay still.” Through the candy-pink polyester of the blindfold, Emily could see the lights being turned on. She heard whispers, little giggles and hushing.
“Guys, what is it?”
She heard EDM. Someone’s hands were behind her head, untying her blindfold, which fell to her lap.
She saw a tall bronzed man wearing nothing but a thong depicting a cartoon pink elephant face. His flaccid penis flopped around inside the sheer pink elephant trunk. His bulging muscles were oiled up and his short black hair was gelled, spiked and shaved on the sides. He appeared to be wearing clear lip gloss and shimmer bronzer on his cheekbones.
“It’s the bride to be!” He jiggled toward her in a splayed-leg hop. “Time to get down!” He spread her legs with his disturbingly slippery fingers. She clamped them shut.
“No, no, no,” she said. Her heart was racing.
“Aw, don’t be a party pooper!” Gabrielle said. “I was taking pictures!”
“Delete those,” Emily said. “Get rid of all this.”
“Uh...” The stripper put his hands on his hips and looked down sadly at his penis-filled elephant trunk. “I was booked for two hours. I still need to be paid.”
“Who’s paying for this?” Emily turned to Gabrielle. “You told me it wasn’t a stripper.”
“I couldn’t say that it was—then it wouldn’t be a surprise.” She turned on the lights, further illuminating the glitter on the stripper’s face.
“Well, shut this down,” Emily said.
Gabrielle turned to the stripper. “Don’t worry, I’ll still pay you. That’s three hundred for the two hours?”
“Not including tip,” he said, arms crossed, trying his hardest to look serious while wearing the elephant thong.
“I feel sick, guys,” Emily said. She didn’t feel nauseous as she had the past few days, but her stomach was flipping, twisting, contracting. “I basically just cheated on David.”
“Oh, come on,” Maddyson said.
“Seriously, you guys. He touched me. David would be so pissed off. We had a no-touching policy tonight. I said strippers were okay, but no touching. Should I tell him?”
“Why would you tell him?” Jennifer asked. “It’s not even a big deal.”
“Yes, it is!”
“Ma’am, calm down, I only touched your knees,” the elephant stripper said. Suddenly he was all professional, like a United Airlines customer service agent calming down an irrational person trying to claim expired miles.
“Ugh, I need to text David.” She reached for her phone.
Gabrielle lunged at her. “Don’t! Why tell him? I guarantee you he’s at a strip club now. You have nothing to feel bad about!”
“Fine. I’m not going to tell him what happened but I am going to text him.” She typed, Love you, baby. Thinking of you!
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, ma’am,” the stripper said.
“Okay, stop calling me ma’am, I’m twenty-eight.”
“You’re only twenty-eight?”
Something in his voice sounded familiar. She took a closer look at him.
“Wait, are you... John Russo?” She squinted.
“Fuck yeah!” he said, smiling and putting his hands on his hips.
“I’m Emily Glass.”
He looked perplexed. “Do I know you?”
“We went to high school together.”
“Oh, fuck, wait! Are you the girl who got her period in chemistry class and the guy next to you kept asking who packed tuna salad for lunch?” He pointed at her and smiled at the other women in the room as though they would know what he was talking about.
“I mean, yeah. I did other things too, obviously.”
“Yeah, sure, sure. Shit, Emily Glass! We used to call you Emily No-Ass! I remember my girlfriend totally hated you.”
“Wait, which one?”
“Larissa Shapiro. You guys had a weird frenemy thing going on, right?”
“No. I didn’t even really know her. She just told everyone I was a lesbian freshman year for no reason.”
“Shit, man. That is so Larissa. Fucking crazy. So what are you up to now?” He crossed his arms, as if to cover up his nipples out of modesty.
“You don’t really remember me that well. You and Larissa made my life a living hell. And her friend Sabrina, or whoever.”
“Oh yeah!” he said, as if recalling a character from his favorite childhood cartoon show. “Sabrina was awesome.”
“I cried every day after school because of you assholes!” she shouted. “Fucking douchebag!”
“What?” He furrowed his plucked brow. “What? How?”
“Um, I don’t know—making up rumors about me so no boys would date me? Calling me Emily No-Ass? Telling everyone I had a hairy back? Writing Dickslut on my locker?”
John laughed nostalgically at Dickslut. Emily slapped him across his glittered face. At first she almost couldn’t believe she did that—she had never physically fought someone in her life, minus that one time that she bit Jason’s nipple in the pool when he had her in a headlock, but that was the nineties.
“What the fuck?” he said.
“That’s enough, asshole,” Lauren said, approaching him. “It’s time to go. Take your money and leave, whore.”
“Whatever,” he said. “You’re fat.”
* * *
“Shit, nobody’s carding!” Maddyson said. “This place could be okay.”
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