Urges: Part Three (The Urges Series Book 3)

by Corgan, Sky

  From what I can tell, Lisa and her must have gotten into a fight right before they were supposed to leave for the party. Ethel looks stunning in a short red dress that compliments her mocha skin. I love her skin. It's so dark and smooth and flawless. She's a gorgeous girl, and men generally flock after her, but she doesn't want anyone who doesn't have money, no matter how nice he is. I'm still not completely sure why she's like this. It's not like she grew up in the ghetto. It's not like her father never had money. He's a dentist, and he's always spoiled her. Maybe she's just used to it. Maybe she thinks that's the way all men should treat her.

  “That bitch bailed on me at the last fucking minute,” she seethes, dropping herself heavily onto my bed and crossing her arms over her chest. I admire her nail polish. It matches the dress perfectly, as does her lipstick, heels, and ear rings. I've never seen a stripper look so high class.

  “I'm sorry, Ethel.”

  Her voice softens into sympathy, and she averts her eyes. “She's sick. She really wanted to make it. Got ready and everything. But then she started throwing up.”

  “That's horrible.” I know where this is about to lead. She's trying to hide her anger and getting ready to start pouting in hopes that I'll join her. It's not happening. “You said the guy throws a party every few months. There's always next time.”

  “Next time,” she huffs. “I don't think I can wait a few more months to get out of this hell hole.” She looks around my room as if it's a dump. Sometimes I wonder if she realizes how easy we actually have it. Probably not, if she's acting so childish.

  “You've waited this long,” I sigh, trying not to show my disapproval at her attitude. It's hard though. Unlike her, my mother and I struggled for several years while her and my biological father were divorced. If it wasn't for my grandmother paying for my admission into Catholic school, that wouldn't have even happened.

  “Sarah, you don't understand,” Ethel insists. “I went all out for this party. I bought this dress, and I even had business cards made for us.”

  “Business cards?” I quirk an eyebrow.

  “Yeah.” She digs in her purse and pulls out a billfold, opening it and extracting several business cards. She hands them over to me, and I look at the embossed front. It shows a picture of a girl hanging off of a pole with the words At Your Service Strippers.

  I scowl as I read the fake name of the company. “Could you have picked anything filthier for a name?”

  “Yeah, I could have,” the heat in her voice returns. “I could have picked Tits in Your Face or Naked Bitches.”

  I roll my eyes, handing the cards back to her. “Well, I'm sorry this isn't going to happen for you.”

  She takes the cards and puts them back in her billfold, trying desperately to temper her frustration at me. “It can still happen if you come with me.”

  “I think you'd do better as a lone stripper.” It's both a suggestion and a mockery at the same time.

  “Strippers don't show up alone, fool.” She glares at me.

  “Maybe they do for rich guys.”

  “I think there's a rule against it.” She scratches her head. “Safety in numbers, and all.”

  “Don't know. Don't care. Not going.” I roll my chair back around to face my computer, indicating that the conversation is over.

  “Are you seriously just going to sit here and play on your fucking computer all night?” She gestures to the screen. “There's a whole world out there, Sarah, and you're just letting it pass you by.”

  “We're done,” my voice is measured.

  I can feel her icy gaze on my backside. The tension in the room is getting thick, and I'm beginning to worry it might suffocate me. Hopefully, she'll leave soon.

  “Please, Sarah,” she begs.

  “No.” I'm unwavering.

  “I've got a really cute dress you can wear,” her tone lifts, trying to convince me with kindness.

  “Not interested.”

  “I'll show you.” She stands up and leaves, matching my stubbornness. Now, more than ever, I wish there were locks on the doors. Her father removed them because Ethel kept locking her door and sneaking out of the house when we were younger. Even though we're adults now, he hasn't put the locks back on. Maybe I should ask, next time I think about it. That would stop her from barging into my room all the time.

  Ethel returns several minutes later holding a baby blue dress on a hanger. I turn to look at it, and I feel a heaviness in my chest. She knows I love the dress. I've told her that every time I've seen her wear it. Secretly, I've always wanted to try it on, but Ethel is a real bitch when it comes to sharing clothes. The fact that she's presenting me with it speaks volumes about how much going to this party means to her.

  “You'll look stunning in it,” she emphasizes the word stunning. “You can wear these too.” She lifts up a pair of matching heels.

  Crap. This is the one and only time she'll ever offer to let me try the dress on, and if I put it on, it means that I'll be obligated to go. Backing out afterward will lead straight into a fight that might blow the roof off the house, and I really don't want that.

  “I don't know.” I bite my bottom lip.

  She knows I'm caving, and she pushes even harder. “Look. It's long enough to be modest. Besides, it's not like we're really going to be stripping. We're just going to use the cards to get in, and then we're going to hang out and have a good time. You don't even have to socialize if you want. You can find a corner to sulk in until it's time to leave.” The corner of her lip quirks up into a smirk.

  “So you weren't really planning on stripping?” I ask, hopeful.

  “Girl, I'll do what I have to do. That doesn't mean you've got to though. If someone asks us to strip, you can just pretend to get sick. I'll do all the work.” She gives me a confident nod. The idea of watching her strip makes me stomach turn. I wouldn't be able to hang for that. I just know it.

  I give the dress a longing look. It's cute, with a knee-length skirt, cap sleeves, and white lace embroidery on top. Nothing that a stripper would wear. I want to try it on so badly.

  “Come on, Sarah. It's just one night. You can help your sister out for one night.” She lays on the puppy eyes.

  “Fine,” I sigh, caving. What did I just get myself into?

  She squeals, absolutely delighted. “Yes! Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thanks you. You won't regret this. We're going to have the best night ever!”

  How wrong she was.