The Only Rule: The Casual Rule 3

by AC Netzel

But they plan to do something.

  I take a quick peek inside the wishing well and die a little as my face turns beet red.

  “Whose idea was this?” I look up at my wicked bridesmaids and scowl.

  “We came up with it together. You can thank us later,” Allie says matter-of-factly.

  “Thank you? I want to murder you.”

  “Pfft.” Allie waves her hand dismissively. “The contents here are more useful than an apple corer. Wouldn’t you agree, Sophie?”

  “Absolutely. Don’t you think so, Isabelle?” Sophie turns to Isabelle, who’s holding her stomach and giggling.

  “Oh, definitely,” Isabelle says sarcastically.

  “I hate you. And you. And you.” I tell the three conniving witches.

  “Yeah, yeah. Share your gifts with your guests. Everyone wants to see.”

  “Isn’t the fact that I have to wear this stupid hat humiliating enough?”

  Sophie shakes her head. “Nope.”

  “Fine.” I reach inside and pull out a huge silicone dildo with sculpted dick veins and balls. Big heavy balls. Unwrapped for all my guests to see. I place it on the floor next to my feet and sink my face into my hands. Oh, God.

  “Hold it up. Let everyone see.”

  Reluctantly, I grab the dildo by its sculpted shaft and hold it up high over my head. “Well, this is… oh, you all know what this is,” I say.

  The room erupts in laughter and applause. The ladies are so liquored up, I could hold up a rock and they’d probably clap. The rubber dick in my hands has propelled them to a whole new level of enthusiasm.

  “It has a suction cup so you can attach it to your shower wall. It’ll keep you company when Ben’s away,” my Aunt/Uncle Lillian yells across the room.

  “Thank you, Aunt Lillian. I’ll keep that in mind,” I say politely.

  I dip my hand in and grab the next mortifying gift. I hold up a pair of hot pink furry handcuffs.

  “That’s from me. That’s from me,” my grandmother hollers, waving her hand in the air.

  “Grandma, seriously?” I ask, shaking my head.

  “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it. I used to own one. I got you the one with Velcro, so you don’t worry about losing a key. Oh, the stories I can tell.”

  I hold up my hand. “Please don’t say any more.” My grandmother is a perv.

  The room has erupted to life. Everyone’s in hysterics as I continue to dig into the Wishing Well of Sin and pull out more sex toys. Well, everyone except the humorless trio. Beverly, Elizabitch, and Cam-eel cross their arms, practically in unison. They share the same appalled expression. Well, it is what it is. If The Club women seated with them can loosen up, they sure as hell can.

  “Looks like the Frigid-Three have sticks shoved way up their asses,” Allie whispers in my ear, staring in their direction. “Maybe you should lend them a vibrator from your pile. It might relax them.”

  I roll my eyes and reach into the Well again and grab a clear gel cock ring. Why did I say no to Vegas? Dutifully, I hold it up over my head for the ladies to see.

  “I purchased that,” my mother shouts. “The package said you put it around his semi-erect penis. It’s for his pleasure and will make intercourse last longer. Oh, and it vibrates. That’s for your pleasure.”

  I look to my side and watch my three brides-witches doubled over in laughter and scowl.

  “God, Mom,” I squeak out.

  A steady stream of various toys, pasties, edible and crotchless underwear are piling up on the floor in front of me as I continue to humiliate myself in front of my depraved guests. With this sex windfall, I’m guaranteed to win the award for the most vibrated clit in the Tri-State area.

  At least they didn’t hire a male stripper. They wouldn’t. Oh, who am I kidding, they totally would. Crap. I don’t want some random guy’s junk, shaking freely in a G-string, gyrating in my face.

  Tugging at Allie’s hand, I motion to her to lean down to me. “Please tell me there’s no stripper coming.”

  “We debated it, but figured this was humiliating enough,” she answers with humor in her voice.

  “Thanks.”

  “See? I’m looking out for you.”

  I reach in and pull an industrial sized tube of lube out from the Wishing Well. “You’re doing an excellent job,” I say sarcastically, holding it up for my enthusiastic audience of smut mongers to ogle and applaud.

  Again, I dip my hand in the well and pull out a spatula.

  “What the hell is that?” Allie asks.

  “It’s a spatula. I must have misread the invitation. I didn’t realize it was themed,” Cam-eel explains.

  Bullshit. She knew.

  Oh, she knew.

  ~o0o~

  Allie clinks a knife against her water glass three times. “Attention, ladies. Quit the sex toy chatter and listen up. I have a maid of honor toast to make before we all head out and Julia gets to sample all her new toys.”

  The room hushes with an occasional giggle when my guests glance at the pile of toy turpitude stashed on the floor near my feet. Allie stands beside me then begins.

  “I’m going to share a little story about fate.

  I moved to this neighborhood in the fourth grade. That’s when fate first stepped in and I met Julia. She’s my sister from another mister, my defender, my therapist, my partner in crime, and my best friend. We’ve been through everything together. Most happy, some sad… But we always had each other’s back. We’ve dated some losers. And then we dated super-losers. But we relied on each other to pick the other one up when they were down and shake off the residual loser dust until the next time.

  Then came an unseasonably warm October day and things changed. Fate was feeling frisky. Julia and I were sunning in Central Park, a girl’s day out. We spotted this good looking, nameless, shirtless guy in a pair of khaki shorts catching some rays. I thought he was worthy of further investigation. Julia did not. I was looking to have a little fun at Julia’s expense and, knowing she can’t say no to a dare, dared her to talk to him.

  Caving in to her stubborn side, she accepted, and approached him, asking for the time. That’s when this fine specimen of man opened his mouth. They didn’t talk long, but it was long enough for Julia to label him a good-looking asshole and wanted nothing more to do with him.”

  The room breaks out into laughter as Allie continues.

  “As fate would have it, they met again. This time at a work dinner. They pretended they didn’t recognize the other from the Central Park debacle and had the meeting. It was a disaster. They ended up in an argument and she walked out disliking him even more than the first time.

  But fate was a feisty little bitch and wasn’t finished with these two yet. They met again. First at work, then they had dinner and discovered that they liked each other. Eventually, they became friends. Not gonna lie… Really good friends, if you get my drift.

  “Still, fate had more work to do. Yeah, friendship was all right, but Julia and Ben were destined for more. And this incredible thing happened. They fell in love. Not your ordinary love either. They had that fairytale kind you read about.

  “There was only one problem. Neither of them knew it. Sure, they claimed they were ‘just friends,’ but ‘just friends’ don’t look at each other the way they did. Anyone who came within five feet of them knew. It was evident they were way past smitten. Sparks were flying, glances stolen, and secret smiles. Am I right?” she asks, looking around the room. My mother and sisters nod in agreement.

  “Oh yes,” my mother adds. “I knew. I told her so.”

  Allie glances at Ben’s sister. “It was obvious… right, Lizzy?”

  “Um… well… yes,” Elizabeth answers reluctantly.

  Cam-eel shoots her a stare so icy it could freeze the sun. I look back at Allie and she’s wearing a sly smile. She did that on purpose. Allie’s so bad. Thank God, she’s on my side.

  Elizabeth shrugs apologetically and mouths “Sorry” to Cam-eel while Allie c
ontinues.

  “There was a short period where they weren’t together. But eventually, our two lovebirds figured out that they were miserable without the other. And they finally saw what fate already knew…

  “Their love story was one for the books.

  “Sure, they hit a few rocky bumps as most couples do and Ben’s made it on my shit list once or twice.”

  She pauses and raises a brow at Beverly then turns her gaze to Cam-eel. “But there’s no mistaking… Julia is the only person who has captured his heart,” she says, stressing the word ‘only’ and never breaking eye contact.

  She looks back at the room. “He adores Julia and makes her happy. That’s all I want for her.” She glances over at me and smiles warmly. I tilt my head and smile back. “Julia is my soulmate. Mind you, no sex stuff. But I’m thrilled to share her with her other soulmate, Ben. P-l-e-n-t-y of sex stuff there. You with me, Bev?” She asks, giving her an exaggerated wink.

  I place my hands over my face and shake my head. Peeking through my splayed fingers, I spot Ben’s mother positively mortified. My perverted grandmother gives me another thumbs-up.

  “Since I’m the one who issued the dare that catapulted you to meet the love of your life… I just want to say on behalf of fate and myself…

  “You’re welcome.” She raises her champagne flute. “To Julia and Ben… I’m thrilled beyond words that fate’s plan to give you a happy ending is coming true.”

  Everyone raises a glass and toasts. I stand from my wicker chair, wrap my arms around Allie and hug her.

  “I love you, you evil bitch” I whisper, half-laughing, half-crying.

  She chuckles. “You loved it. Love you, too,” she whispers back and squeezes me a little tighter.

  Chapter 6

  “Fucking sun,” Allie complains, grabbing her sunglasses out of her handbag.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  “Not bad, all things considered. Thank God, Ben bribed me with good tequila. The cheap shit gives me a migraine.”

  “I’ll let him know. He’s coming to pick us and all the shower gifts up sometime tonight. Thanks again for staying over and doing this with me.”

  “I’m crushing this maid of honor gig, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, mortifying me in front of my and Ben’s family with sex toys was exactly what I counted on when I asked you,” I answer sarcastically.

  “You’ll thank me later… when Ben has you restrained in fuzzy pink handcuffs, blindfolded and banged like the dirty whore you are.” Her grin is wide as she wiggles her brows.

  I laugh, shaking my head. “We’ll see about that. Did you see Camille’s expression when I pulled out the first dildo? She was appalled.”

  “If anyone needs a dildo, it’s that girl. I know Ben’s mother isn’t aware of the drama behind the scenes, so I get the invite, but Camille knows. Considering her past clashes with you, the stupid girl shouldn’t have shown up, even with an invitation.” A sly smile rises from her lips. “I have a little confession.”

  “Should I be afraid?” Knowing Allie, it’s a safe bet my feeling of dread is warranted.

  “I stole the butt plug your sister contributed to the wishing well and slipped it in Camille’s handbag.”

  “You didn’t.” I close my eyes and cringe.

  “Did,” she states proudly. “You always said she acts like she has something shoved up her ass. Now we’ll know what that something is.” She chuckles, clearly amused with herself.

  “God, Allie.”

  “When she left, I told her she better button up her sweater. Her inner bitch was peeking through.”

  “Really?”

  She laughs. “Yeah. I said it like it was a joke, but we both knew I meant it. She’s like a damned tick. She latches on tight and doesn’t fall off until she’s sucked all the blood out of you. She probably gives out hard candies for Halloween. There’s something about that resting bitch expression she wears that makes me want to smack it off.”

  “Unfortunately, that expression is attached to a pretty face.”

  “Pretty face, ugly soul. They cancel each other out. That makes her barely mediocre. You, my friend, are the whole package. Looks, smart, and a hot fiancé. She’s probably sewing up her Julia doll as we speak and sharpening the pins she’s going to stick in it.”

  “We’ve wasted enough breath on her. Let’s change the subject.”

  “Consider it changed. Why didn’t your mom join us on this wedding favor excursion? I figured there was no way Rose would miss a wedding errand day.”

  “She said she has agita. The stress from Shower planning has her heartburn in a tizzy. She’s been popping antacids like candy. She knew you were around and for some inexplicable reason, she trusts your judgment. She’s taking it easy today and staying in.”

  “Rose is incapable of relaxing. She’s probably vacuuming the driveway as we speak.”

  “Probably.”

  “Remind me again, why are we here?” Allie glances up at the weathered wooden storefront sign above us.

  “Because I promised my mother I would shop locally for the wedding favors before looking elsewhere. She asked me to check out Mrs. Baker’s Gift Shop and see if I could find anything.”

  “This place sells touristy crap. What the hell are you going to find here?”

  “Most likely nothing. Let’s appease my mother and walk around. You and I both know that Mrs. Baker is going to call her if we don’t show up and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  I push the glass door open. The familiar jingle of the bell above the door reminds me of when I worked here as a teenager. Apparently, they still use the same security system they used ten years ago. The scuffed floorboards creak with each step taken, the wood worn and dulled from years of foot traffic and sand dragged in.

  We walk past a massive display of brightly colored plastic beach toys right at the entrance. We then step around plastic pails, goggles, frisbees, and inflatable rafts piled so high, they’re close to tumbling over.

  “It looks exactly like it did when we were kids,” Allie whispers. She twists her neck side to side and frowns. “Smells the same too—that weird combination of old people, patchouli, and musty ocean.”

  “Shhh. Mrs. Baker might hear you. It’s not that bad.”

  It is that bad. When I was fifteen and worked in this store, I held my breath as long as I could. You get used to it, but it got pretty pungent during the hot summer months, especially when the air conditioner broke down. Even with all the touristy knickknacks and the lingering musty scent, there’s a cozy warmth to this place. Like an extension of Mrs. Baker, minus the stench.

  “Yeah, whatever you say. Get a hundred of those so we can leave.” She points to the huge chicken wire cage near the entrance filled with hermit crabs. When I worked here, I sympathized for the little guys. When Mrs. Baker wasn’t around, I was tempted to open the cage and set them free. Beach area gift shops steal their crab dignity and leave them to live in obnoxiously decorated shells. They’re forced to live in fishbowls with coconut huts and plastic palm trees. I don’t think that’s what Mother Nature intended when she plunked these crabby little critters down in the sand.

  “I’m going to give out hermit crabs?”

  “‘It screams Jersey Shore.” She tilts her head back and forth, gesturing jazz hands. “Your mother would be all over that.”

  “No living creatures. Let’s keep looking.”

  We spot Mrs. Baker piling boxes of salt water taffy on the countertop next to the cash register. She’s in her usual navy blue slacks and crisp powder blue button down shirt. Allie and I theorized that she owned a hundred pairs of navy slacks. That’s all we ever saw her wear, like a uniform. Her gray hair is still in her signature tight bun, and she’s wearing a pair of ‘sensible’ orthopedic walking shoes. She hasn’t changed at all.

  “Come on, let’s say our hellos.” I grab Allie’s hand, drag her down the aisle, and tap Mrs. Baker lightly on her shoulder.


  She spins around, placing her hands on her cheeks and beams. “Julia! Allison! It’s so good to see you. It’s been too long. Look at the both of you, all grown up and gorgeous.” She gives us each a quick hug.

  “Hi Mrs. Baker,” we say in unison.

  “Rose called and mentioned you might drop by.” No shocker there. “She caught me up on your impending nuptials. Congratulations. That’s fantastic news.”

  “Thank you.” Knowing my mother, I’m going to get a note to add Mrs. Baker to the never-ending wedding invite list. “We’re just doing a little window shopping.”

  “Well, don’t let me keep you. Shop. Shop.” She waves us off, shooing us away. “Call me if there’s anything you need.”

  “Thank you. We will.”

  We stroll down an aisle lined with nautical themed Christmas ornaments. Clichéd ‘Christmas at the Shore’ trinkets fill every inch of the shelves. The top row is overflowing with Santa statues—as fishermen, mermen, and sexy lifeguards.

  Allie grabs a starfish ornament with glued-on pink plastic sunglasses and a painted bikini dusted with iridescent glitter.

  “You like Christmas… order a hundred of these, and we’re done,” she says.

  I purse my lips and frown. “Tacky. I want something that represents Ben and me.”

  “Then hand out a box of condoms. That’ll be a favor they’ll never forget.” She bursts out laughing. “A favor. See what I did there?”

  I blow out an exasperated breath, shake my head and ignore her. “I’m going to walk around and see what else is here.”

  “Fine, I’m going to try to get this stench out of my nostrils. I’ll be sniffing soy candles and the endless supplies of incense on the other end of the store.”

  Allie leaves me on my own to peruse the aisles. I know this is a total waste of time. I’m not sure what exactly I want, but I guarantee Mrs. Baker’s Gift Shop doesn’t have it. After sauntering through aisles of seashell night lights and fluorescent colored ‘Seaside Heights’ and ‘Jersey Girl’ sweatshirts, I reach the last aisle near the front windows. There’s a long glass case filled with sterling silver earrings. Most of the jewelry inside the case is hidden by displays of kitschy costume jewelry on top of the glass. Puka shell necklaces in white, turquoise, and coral hang on wire necklace stands on top of the glass counters. There’s a small wooden rack of braided friendship bracelets made of multicolored embroidery floss and cheap plastic beads.