Charity's Passion (31 page)

I'm already laughing. "Does he know?"

"Hell no!" Trisha shouts. "He wouldn't go; he was serious."

"That's not going over well," I snort-laugh loudly.

"It's tradition," Lena says with Trisha and Melissa agreeing. "He should go in just for a bit and let them have their fun picking on him."

"I get it. I'm sure he'll go along with it once they get him there. He was looking so fucking hot, though; the strippers might try to keep him," I joke.

"Not a chance," Lena says. "He's so absolutely love struck that those girls won't mean a thing."

"Right, he doesn't even notice me anymore since you came around," Lynda teases.

"Okay," Clarice shouts. "Enough about the boys. They're good, we're good, and there's only three weeks till the wedding. Time to focus on having some fun."

I think she's feeling the alcohol kicking in despite the water, I know I am.

There's a decent looking man sitting next to her at the bar trying not to stare at us. "Hey," Clarice snaps at him, "my friend is getting married—you should buy her a drink."

"No shit!" He seizes the opportunity to talk to us. "Congrats."

"Thank you," I reply, snarling at Clarice for this.

"What are you drinking?"

According to the rules, I have to accept and Clarice gets to sit out the next round.

I owe the bitch.

"Vodka and Red Bull," I tell him.

Twenty minutes later we're back in our limo heading to the next club. "
Reason To Love
" from Jason DeRulo is blaring from the speakers, but we're all screaming over it.

"I just wanna remind you all I get a pass at the next bar," Clarice shouts.

"Oh girl, that ain't right," Trisha laughs.

"Dem's da rules baby," she says.

Lynda leans over the seat towards the drive. "Can you open the sun roof?"

It begins to slide back and she stands up. We can only see her from the waist down, but that's enough to see as her hands grab the bottom of her shirt and lift as she screams to the crowd.

"Oh shit! Not without me," Jennifer says, pulling the straps of her dress off her shoulders and whipping her boobs out before she stands up beside her friend, shouting like a maniac.

The rest of us are in tears, clapping our hands for them. There are people, guys and girls, out on the street cheering and waving at the car.

Finally they drop back in fixing their tops and giggling like mad through flushed cheeks.

I see Melissa whispering with Kathy, asking her is she wants to go next, which I think is hysterical. Not only will Kathy never do such a thing, but Melissa couldn't bring herself to flash in public either. It's a lot of wishful thinking.

OMG!

OMG!

Kathy says yes, the tits come out, and up through the roof they go!

I end up on the floor. I cannot believe it, but I'm so happy to see it. Not only do they do it, but they stay up twice as long as the first two had.

God bless alcohol!

They are more than liberated when they come down. Trisha high-fives them.

"Now we're out of the next round too," Melissa says happily.

That leaves me, Lena, and Trisha. I have no intention of doing it. I'll let Justin fuck me against an open window, but I have no interest in it without him. "You two can go if you want," I tell them.

Lena chuckles, "You're fuckin' crazy if you think I'm doing that."

Surprisingly, Trisha agrees. She grabs her breasts and shouts, "The next person to see these girls had damn well better be Garrett, and it better be soon!"

"Yeah, you need to tap that fast or Jennifer and I will; I keep warning you," Lynda jokes.

At the next bar, Lena and Trisha join me for the mandatory round before we invade the dance floor. We're all dancing when I notice a few guys checking out my girls and I begin to formulate my revenge. I slowly make my way over to them.

"Some of them are available," I say to the men.

"Yeah? Which ones?" One of them asks.

I start pointing out every girl that had a tit out in the limo, and then I convince the guys to go buy them drinks and I will introduce them all.

"What about you?" The same guys asks.

"Sorry fellas, I'm the bride-to-be in this party."

They accept that with disappointed congratulations, but I make up for it by promising to be the best wingman they ever had and tell them exactly what the girls are drinking and hand deliver the men to each of them.

The ladies are just starting to look for me when I return with four guys and four drinks. "Four rounds free for me ladies," I laugh as I direct each guy and his drink to the appropriate girl. I leave them on the dance floor with Lena and Trisha following me.

Maybe it was too cruel.
HA!

We find a place at the bar where we can watch and laugh at the others as they try to ditch the boys as quickly as they can.

"That was awesome," Lena says. "I'm proud of you."

No matter how hard they girls try, the guys are not getting the hint until suddenly all of them come running at once in a blur of lipstick and fingernails.

"What happened?" Trisha screams.

They're laughing hysterically. Melissa gets enough control to answer. "Kathy lied and told them her name is Cherry—and then Lynda yelled for Cherry Bomb shots and we ran away."

"You got out of some drinks, Charity, but we're going to get you with the shots," Clarice hollers. She leans on the bar and orders eight Cherry Bombs.

After the shot I swig some water again, but my lips are getting tingly just to spite me. I'm starting to lose count on the drinks, and that's always as bad as it is good.

On the way to yet another place, Trisha has the driver stop at liquor store and she comes out with a bottle of Fireball. Somehow it's half gone by the next time we park and my short term memory is already getting hazy and surreal.

For some reason I seem to remember there being a spanking contest with some gorgeous guy bent over as we all took turns whacking his ass while he judged our technique.

I'm sure that wasn't real.

As we drive to the fourth or fifth club of the evening, I don't know why I can't remember how many stops we've made, Jennifer passes out on the seat and we have to leave her in there with the rest of the Fireball and Lynda yelling, "Go ham or go home," through the sunroof.

I'm not sure what that even means at this point.

We're not inside long. I have the hazy recollection of a round of Irish Car Bombs and two guys both trying to talk to Melissa. Suddenly the two guys are fighting and we're getting tossed out with them. The bouncer won't even let us plead our case.

And,
holy shit
, when we get back to the limo, Lynda is not in the back seat anymore. We find her up front in the seat with the driver shaking hands—really, really fast.

Of course we cock-block him and drag Lynda out, laughing our asses off. We make her get in the back with us.

"Any place in particular that you want to go to next?" The driver asks as he composes himself.

It's late, my feet hurt from all the dancing, my face hurts from all the laughing, and my stomach hurts from all the drinking. I've been the wingman for the girls, turned down a few hunks of my own, and watched a handjob. And to top it off, I'm still thinking about how wonderfully hot Justin looked earlier and I'm saving room for him as dessert when I get home.

"How about a dinner?" I suggest.

He laughs, looking around at my broken and disheveled crew. There's makeup running in sweat, girls rubbing their bare feet, one still asleep, and I'm not sure if Clarice is going to throw up or not. "I think it's a good idea," he says. He turns up the music; Luke Bryan is part way through
"Drunk on You"
and that fits perfectly.

"What the fuck is in an Irish Car Bomb anyway?" Clarice groans.

The driver delivers us to Scotty's Diner on Lexington Ave and by the time we're going in my girls, myself included, are starting to shape up. We even managed to raise Jennifer from the dead.

We're in, seated, order placed, and the coffee and orange juice has arrived. I lift my orange juice over my head. "Ladies, I want to thank you all for a great night; that was so much fun."

Melissa lifts her coffee. "And here's to the beautiful bride—you lucky bitch."

Everyone laughs and drinks to the toast.

"Oh, Christ! My liver is so happy to have something without alcohol. I can feel my kidneys opening back up like deflated balloons," Lena jokes, grateful for her juice.

"I don't know about any of you, but I'm freaking starving; it hit me as soon as I walked in and smelled the food," Trisha admits.

"Hell yeah," I agree along with everyone else.

"I know we had a lot of fun, one of you chicks are going to have to call me tomorrow and tell me all about it," Kathy says as we laugh. "I'm serious, I got a lot of fuzz in the head—does anyone remember spanking a guy on his ass, or was that just me?"

"That was real?" I shout, maybe a little too loudly. I switch back to my inside voice as we all giggle our assess off. "I thought that was just some vodka-induced hallucination I had."

"No," Lynda says proudly. "My girl Jennifer here did that for us." Jennifer looks proud with Lynda patting her on the back. "We couldn't get you to do anything bad. We tried getting you too make out with a bartender, give a belly shot—nothing. You're too dreamy for your fiancé. But Jennifer convinced this totally handsome thing to judge our spanking; got the whole bar cheering for us and everything."

"Oh my God," I breathe, slightly embarrassed.

"Wait! Wait! I got proof." Melissa is whipping her phone out. And flips it around and shows all of us a picture.

Of course it's me, one hand death-gripping the guy's waistband and the other drawn way back ready to explode on a very round butt.

"Look at my face—I look like Braveheart."

Now we are laughing too loud.

"You need to send me that," Lena says. "That can be the new mandatory background on the screens at work by Monday."

"Don't you dare!" I growl, followed by a giggle and a hiccup that takes all of seriousness out of my plea.

"No, I got your back," Melissa says. "This was for a one-time viewing."

Thankfully she deletes it.

"So now that the evidence is gone—who won?" I ask.

"I did!" Lynda shrieks proudly.

"Of course you did," Lena says. "You obviously are good with your hands, we saw your work with our driver."

Much, much too loud again.

"What did I miss?" Jennifer asks softly.

"What, you didn't feel the limo shaking while you were taking your nap?" Kathy chirps.

We're loud enough now that people are looking at us, but the food comes quickly and our mouths quiet down when they're stuffed with food.

The drunkenness slowly slides off me and I begin to wonder what Justin is doing. I'm hoping he's almost done with his night too. I want him to come home to a show: my naked body, some oil, and a few of our favorite toys.

I need to hide my smile around these girls, but it isn't easy.

I am looking forward to getting dropped off though.

OUR APARTMENT IS DARK
and quiet when I get in, and that's perfect for me. I quickly put my things away and I begin removing clothes, making a trail with them that leads to the
gym
.

Right where I want him to find me.

I hang my panties on the door handle before punching in the lock code and pushing the door open.

I'm not expecting music to suddenly turn on in the darkness as I walk in, but
"XO"
by Beyonce cuts the silence.

I see Justin moving beside me in the city lights gently filtering in through the windows. His beautiful naked body and hard manhood catches shards of reflections as he closes the door for me.

"You beat me," I say softly, almost at a whisper. My lips curl into a smile.

"Of course I did," he teases as he presses himself against the back of me to kiss my shoulder. The heat of his hardness melts into the skin of my lower back.

"I love this song," I tell him, feeling the rush of wetness between my legs.

"I know you do."

This is the quiet before the storm. I treasure it, not wanting to deny what's coming, but not wanting it to rush it for an instant.

Justin's hands touch mine and he slowly guides my arms over my head, making me feel angelic and pretty. He leaves my hands there and gently slides his fingertips down my arms to my shoulders where he's still kissing me. His fingers turn into my soft underarms and down my sides, tickling my ribs and waist.

His mouth opens and I feel his hot tongue tease its way to my earlobe. His teeth close around it for the slightest nibble, just barely a promise of what it's about to happen.