I also knew that once the trip was over, things would go back to normal. Normal as in Blake getting drunk a few times a week, Brandon coming home from poker hammered and me having to take care of them both.
I couldn’t push the issue of Blake finding his own place. San Francisco was one of the most expensive cities to live in, and there was no way that Blake had enough money to find his own place just yet.
Even though he promised me that he would be out by the time Brandon and I got married, I didn’t see that happening. I did feel safer living with two guys, but since our enemies were now in jail, I could breathe easier.
“You just haven’t mentioned him lately when we send instant messages at work,” Ryan said, breaking my train of thought.
“He’s Blake. You know, the guy who is a bad influence on his big brother. The one who wants to fuck anything that walks.”
Okay, that wasn’t quite true. Blake was indeed a ladies’ man, but he still had standards. He’d gone out on dates a few times since he had lived here after he and Stacey broke up again. Blake had shown Brandon and I pictures of the current women in his life, and they were all beautiful.
“Stacey is still coming to the wedding, right?”
“Yeah, as far as I know. She RSVP’d.”
“Isn’t that going to be awkward with Blake there?”
“I hope not. They both told me that they are bringing dates and promised to be on their best behavior. It’s been what?” I thought for a few seconds. “Four months since they broke up and Blake moved here?”
I was starting to feel like Ryan. These last four months with Blake here did seem long. I was sure it had been at least six months, but then when I counted it out, it was only four.
“Think they are going to come home drunk tonight?”
“Brandon at least will. Blake usually gets him drunk and drives them home, and then gets drunk himself. He’s the DD until they are safe at home. It’s so weird and I don’t know how much more I can take. Before Blake showed up, Brandon rarely drank.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure it would stop if Blake moved out. I know Brandon loves having his brother here. They get along really well and since Jason is here in the city, too, they really only see each other at work or maybe on the weekends if we don’t have plans.”
“Have you talked to Brandon about it?”
“Not really. I mean, I’m sure he knows I hate having to take care of him, making sure he doesn’t pass out in front of the porcelain God every night.”
“Maybe you should talk to him? Brandon’s a good guy. Maybe he is just stressed about the wedding?”
“He’s the one who wanted it so soon.”
“That’s true. I don’t know then, but I would just talk to him. Tell him you want the old Brandon back.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
After we had two drinks and talked more about our love lives and my upcoming wedding, Ryan and I parted ways. She was beaming about my Bachelorette party and couldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait either, but I was scared of what she had planned.
That night, like every week, Brandon came home drunk. I was almost to my breaking point.
*~*~*
“What should I wear?” I asked Becca. I had called her instead of Ryan. Ryan was planning a top secret Bachelorette party for me, and of course wouldn’t give me any idea as to where we were going.
“Just wear clubbing clothes,” she responded.
“We are taking a five month pregnant lady to a club?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Spence, I am not giving you anymore clues. Just wear your clubbin’ clothes, okay?”
“Alright,” I huffed.
Unlike Ryan, I hated surprises. For her Bachelorette party, we at least told her what we were doing. We left out the part about the stripper, but that was a given. It’s more of a surprise when you get the random cop at your door, or in her case, a pizza delivery guy.
“Wait, Acyn isn’t going to show up is he?” I asked. No one else knew that he wanted to be more than friends. Everyone just thought we were co-workers.
“No, silly. If that happened, your co-workers would know he is a stripper since they are coming. We are smarter than that.”
“Okay, good,” I sighed with relief.
“I’m going to hang up now. That was too much information I just gave you.” She laughed.
I dressed in a simple black skirt, light pink tank top with sequins and black heels. I pulled my hair back into a high ponytail. If we were really going clubbing, I didn’t want my hair to be all sweaty against my neck.
So this is the final fling before the bling, huh? I thought to myself as I finished putting shiny lip gloss on my lips. I was starting to get nervous. My sister, Stephanie, Audrey and I were driving into the city to meet up with Ryan, Becca and the rest of my friends.
No one would tell me what we were doing. I begged my sister. I pleaded with Audrey, but it was of no use––no one would spill. They both were dressed in clubbing clothes, so I just prayed to myself that we were going to dinner and a club. That is normally what girls do for these things, right?
I didn’t mind wearing all the penis attire. When a guy knows it’s your bachelorette, they tend to buy you drinks in hopes that your single friends will hook up with them. And yes, a few of my friends were single. I had a feeling that this would be a night I would remember for a lifetime––unless I got really wasted and blacked out.
We pulled up to Ryan’s house, made sure our lips were perfect, and walked into a house full of women.
“Yay, she’s here!” Ryan screeched.
“Oh God, I’m nervous now,” I said, looking around the room.
The girls who were already at Ryan’s house had their penis attire on. Everyone was sporting penis necklaces, flashy diamond rings on their left hand––that literally flashed colors––then I was draped with a “Bride-to-Be” sash.
“Look, the penis necklace whistles,” Brandi said, blowing into the––penis.
“Everyone, grab a penis straw. You are to drink out of this wherever we go,” Ryan instructed.
Ryan passed out the peach colored straws.
“Limo’s here,” Becca said, looking out the front window.
Ryan ushered me and the girls into the limo. “Ladies, remember, if you find a hot guy, blow your whistle and we’ll make him buy Spencer a shot.”
“I plan to blow more than my whistle,” Bel said, laughing with Carroll.
“I bet you do,” Audrey said, laughing with them.
The girls and I were rowdy on the way to the Japanese restaurant Ryan made reservations at. When we arrived, we were seated at two hibachi grill tables that faced each other. Each side had their own chef and after ordering my meal, my friend, Jessi, started the night off right by ordering me a Sake bomb.
The girls ordered their drinks and after dinner was complete, a round of Sake bombs were ordered for everyone. We were a loud bunch. People were watching us as we whooped and hollered. What did they expect when you had nine wild women together?
“Now what?” I asked, a little tipsy. “We going to dance?”
“Nope,” Ryan shook her head.
“But I thought we were going clubbing?”
“What gave you that idea?”
“Becca told me to dress in clubbin’ clothes,” I said, looking over at her.
“We are going to a club, but not that kind of club,” Ryan corrected.
“A strip club? We are going to a strip club? You had me wear a short skirt to a strip club?” I asked, starting to get pissed.
“No, just get your ass in the limo. I promise there will be no strippers.”
We piled into the limo again; the girls were uploading pictures to Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. We were having a great time, but I still feared what Ryan meant. What other club could there be?
I thought about some of the roma
nce novels that I had read. “Oh my God!” I shouted, grabbing Ryan’s wrist. “We aren’t going to one of those BDSM clubs, are we?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Unable to stifle her laugh, she and the rest of the girls started laughing.
“Oh my God, we are!”
“Relax, Spence, Brandon would kill us if we did that,” Becca said, patting my knee.
“I just didn’t know what you mean by ‘club’ if we aren’t going dancing.”
The girls all looked to Ryan for guidance. I knew they wanted to tell me.
“We are going to a comedy club, you dipshit!” Ryan said, raising her voice over the loud music flowing through the limo.
“Oh,” I murmured.
“Thanks for ruining the surprise,” she huffed.
The limo pulled in front of a comedy club and the driver opened the door to let us all out. Ryan handed the doorman a packet of printed tickets from her purse and we were ushered inside. A few tables upfront were blocked off and had reserved cards on them. I followed Ryan and the rest of the girls up to the tables as a waitress came to take our drink order.
“Who’s performing?” I asked Brandi after the waitress left.
“The Wingman.”
“The Wingman?”
“Yeah, have you read his book?”
“Um––no?”
“You should; it has lots of sex in it and it is funny as hell. I really liked it!”
“Well, let’s see if I like his act first,” I said, turning my attention back to the stage.
A lady by the name of Stacey Prussman did a little opening show to get the crowd ready for “The Wingman”. After a few jokes, she finally started to announce James.
“Are you all ready for your headliner? He’s the author of The Wingman Chronicles, and his TV pilot, The Wingman, won Best Pilot at the Hoboken International Film Festival in June 2013. Stand up and make some noise for “The Wingman”, James Holeva.
James ran up on stage holding a wireless mic. He was kind of cute. His brown hair was spiked like he had just fucked a girl in his dressing room, and she couldn’t keep her hands out of his hair; it suited him.
He removed his leather jacket and turned towards the audience. He was wearing a black t-shirt and designer jeans that hugged him just right. Black looked good on any man. I loved when Brandon wore black shirts. After all, the first night we danced, he wore his black pinstriped shirt that to this day still makes me hot.
“San Francisco, where are my dirty girls at tonight?” he shouted into the crowd.
Girls in the crowd, including my rowdy friends, cheered and let him know that we were here.
“If you act like a whore, you’ll be treated like a whore. That being said, more girls should act like whores,” he said, starting his show.
James continued to perform in your face sex jokes, stories about his adventures, talking about how girls think. He was right on a bunch of points. He definitely knew what he was talking about. James harassed the crowd and then finally noticed our row of nine.
James turned to me. “So, something tells me you girls are having a bachelorette party?”
“Why do you think that?” Ryan yelled back at him.
Of course it was Ryan who would speak up. She always had a way with talking to men. Come to think of it, she was the one to talk to Michael and Colin first. I wonder what their plan would have been if we never talked to them in Vegas?
“The penises around your neck, penis straws in your drinks and the ‘Bride-to-Be’ sash kinda gave it away. Usually girls at my shows end up with penises on their heads, but not until after the show,” he said, smirking at her.
The crowd and I laughed. Ryan just might have met her match.
“Speaking of,” he continued, “where are we going after the show?”
“Wherever you want,” my sister, Stephanie, screamed at him.
My sister was recently single. She and her boyfriend, Chris, broke up and now she was all for having a good time. I heard for months about my bachelorette party and how she couldn’t wait for it to happen. She wanted to be free and get guy’s phone numbers while we were out.
“Do you like a big cock?” he asked, turning towards Stephanie.
“Um…”
“Spencer does!” Audrey shouted out.
The crowd laughed again. I, on the other hand, shot my evil eyes at her. Now it was my turn.
“So, is that why you’re getting married?” James asked me.
“No, of course not.”
“Oh? So you’re saying your man’s small, but you’re fucking a black guy on the side?”
“No way, he’s…” I stopped. Everyone was laughing. I didn’t need to tell him and the rest of the club about my sex life––or so I thought.
“Do you like to suck cock?”
I laughed with the crowd. This guy was not going to back down. This is what Ryan wanted. She wanted me to be heckled. I bet she planned this whole act. She always wanted me to open up and be carefree, just like her.
“Yes. Yes, I do.” I replied.
Brandi and Jessi both choked on their drinks. Bel and Carroll screamed out, “I knew it!” and Ryan and Becca just laughed and shook their heads. They already knew that part of my sex life since we played drunk Truth or Dare. I turned to my sister; she and Audrey were laughing and clapping with the crowd as well.
“Do you? It’s a bachelorette party night. One of your last nights to really party. One of your last nights when another guy could comfortably eat your pussy,” he said.
I felt my panties moisten at the word “pussy”. I thought about that morning and how Brandon did nothing but just that. He liked to eat me out. Loved it, in fact. He never could get enough and neither could I.
“You know once you’re married and it’s six months from now, you’ll have a ZZ Top concert between your legs,” he continued. “When your man eats you out for your birthday, he’ll be walking around with a rug burn for a week.”
Everyone including myself was laughing. I saw tears rolling down Brandi’s face.
“Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with ya. You’re gorgeous and he’s a lucky man. So tell me––what do you like sexually? Do you like to be spanked?”
Do I like to be spanked?
“She does!” Ryan yelled.
“Since this is your last hurrah as a single woman, I think you deserve a spanking before you leave. What do you think?” he asked the crowd and turned to me for an answer.
“I don’t think so,” I said. Spanked in front of a crowd? On stage?
“Spencer, do it!” Ryan yelled at me.
The rest of the girls agreed with her and I felt obligated to do it. After all, I was having a good time. My many vodka cranberries were flowing through my veins and self preservation was out the window.
While waiting for me to make up my mind, I heard James on stage, “If a girl tells you she doesn’t like to be spanked, you’re just not hitting her hard enough.”
What the fuck?
“Fine, I’ll do it,” I said, taking a huge sip of my drink before standing.
“Alright, get your ass up here. I’m gonna spank you like you’re one of Bing Crosby’s kids.”
The girls cheered. What the fuck was I doing? Going to get spanked by some comedian? Granted, he was funny and easy on the eyes, but this was not like me. This was like––Ryan.
James asked me my name, when I was getting married and out of all the girls with me, what my sister’s name was.
“You wanna spank my sister instead?” I asked, trying to get out of this embarrassing situation.
“I’ll do that in private after the show. You’re the one getting married, so it’s your lucky night and you get to be the one to get spanked on stage.”
Great.
The crowd and my friends went crazy as I bent over a wooden bar stool parallel to the audience. I was really going to kill Ryan. After my bridal shower, this was the icing on the cake. I didn’t do nearly as bad at her bach
elorette. In fact, I was the one who got the short end of the stick that night––not her.
James talked to the crowd as I tuned them out, waiting for the first smack, and then it came.
Smack.
“Harder,” Brandi yelled.
Smack.
“Harder,” Audrey yelled.
Smack.
“Harder,” Ryan yelled.
“Do you want the belt?” he asked.
“Give her the belt!” Jessi screamed.
“Give her the belt!” Stephanie, screamed.
And finally, Becca joined in, “Give her the belt!”
“Only if you tell the crowd, ‘I will not sue James Holeva’.”
“I will not sue James Holeva,” I mumbled.
“You heard it,” he said to the crowd. “That’s legally binding.”
And then he spanked my ass repeatedly with his black leather belt. Each whipping ricochet could probably be heard in the back of the club. Yeah, I liked it. James knew how to spank ass, and I I found myself wondering if Brandon did since we’d never gone there.
After my spanking, James closed out his show with telling the audience to ask him questions, and then he answered them. The girls and I ordered another round of drinks. We had all night to party since the boys were not expecting us until the next day. This was my last night to be wild.
“Where’s Stephanie?” Jessi asked.
“Yeah, where’s my sister?”
She was gone. No way she was with James––right?
We sipped our drinks; strange men were buying me shots that I handed out evenly amongst the girls. Some commented that they could spank me if I wanted them to. I declined. My ass was already stinging.
“Where is my sister?” I asked. It was getting late. It was last call for drinks and the club was slowly becoming empty.
“I’ll go…” Becca trailed off.
I looked up. My sister was coming from the back, her hair out of place and her lips a little swollen.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Audrey asked.
Audrey was one of our oldest friends. She was like a second sister to us and could talk to Stephanie like I could.
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