Twenty-One

Sutton

“Sutton, stop making that face,” Morgan said the next day as I lounged in the private jet.

“What face?”

“That I’m-so-gloriously-happy face. The young love and happy times and angels singing.”

I tried to frown, failing miserably as the corners of my lips turned up again. “I can’t help it.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “It’s so disgusting.”

“What is?” Heidi asked, bouncing from foot to foot as her blonde ponytail flounced behind her.

“All the love in the air.”

Heidi grinned broadly. “I think it’s great! Everyone is so happy. You’re happy, Mor!”

“Ugh! Where are Emery and Julia? They’ll be cynical with me.”

“Emery is going to be married in a couple of weeks. I don’t think she’s cynical about this bachelorette party,” I reminded her.

“I didn’t even get all the dicks I brought checked by TSA because we’re taking the private jet.”

“Are you complaining that we’re flying private?” Emery asked as she stepped onto the airplane.

“No,” Morgan said. “But it would have been epic.”

“Jensen was reluctant to give us the plane since he’s seeing Colton this weekend in New York, but I talked him into it.”

“And how much talking was done?” Julia asked with an arched eyebrow.

Emery smirked. “You’re the devil.”

Julia held her hands up and then promptly plopped into a seat next to me. “I’m just saying, I know how those Wright boys are handled.”

“Ew,” I said at the same time Morgan said, “Gross.”

Then, we looked at each other and laughed.

Kimber was the last on the plane. She glanced around in awe and shook her head. “What a way to travel.”

With everyone on board, it was a quick two-hour flight to Vegas where we went through several bottles of champagne. Tipsy and giggly, we hopped into an awaiting limo and were whisked to the Bellagio where Heidi had booked us the penthouse suite. My eyes were large as saucers as I took in the massive room with four bedrooms, six bathrooms, a parlor, Jacuzzi, private sauna, pool table, and a wraparound balcony overlooking the fountains and Strip beyond.

We spent the first day at the spa with massages, facials, manicures, pedicures, and full hair and makeup, and then the real fun began.

I followed Morgan into the bedroom I was sharing with her and opened up the giant suitcase she’d stuffed full of penis paraphernalia. She started handing penises to everyone with delight, and I grabbed the package of name tags.

“Okay, I already claimed the Virgin,” I said, slapping the tag onto my black minidress. We were all wearing different black dresses and heels, and Emery was in white, which was hilarious, considering she wasn’t wearing white on her wedding day. “That makes you the Bride-to-Be.”

I pasted the name tag to Emery’s chest and glanced down at the rest. “Heidi, you’re the Slut.”

Heidi shrugged and took the name tag from me. “I’ll take it.”

“Kimber, I think you’re the Drunk.”

“Me?” Kimber asked. “I’m the responsible one with two kids.”

“And I’m wearing the Virgin tag.”

She laughed. “Okay. Drunk it is.”

“Julia…”

“Bitch,” she offered.

“I was going to go with Tease.”

Emery giggled and grabbed the Bitch sticker. “Nope. Bitch it is.”

“I love you,” Julia said.

“And that leaves Morgan.” I stared down at the remaining name tags.

Morgan groaned. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Hot Mess.”

“Yes, the CEO is the hot mess.”

“You kind of are when you get wasted though,” Heidi said.

“Yeah, remember that time at First Friday?” Emery asked.

Morgan’s cheeks heated. “I try not to think about that night. Thank you very much.” She snatched the Hot Mess tag and slapped it onto herself. “Fine. I accept this, but only if I get a picture of everyone holding a dick.”

The girls laughed and scrambled together as we all held out the random penises, and Morgan took a selfie.

“That picture does not go online,” Emery said. “If my high school students saw that, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Morgan held up her hands. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

“It’d better.”

“Morgan will only use it to blackmail you later,” I told Emery reassuringly. She groaned. “Come on. Let’s head out to my part of the party.”

Catcalls and cheers followed us as we traipsed through the Bellagio in our bachelorette attire. Our party was offered two rounds of shots just as we paraded through the casino, and by the time we reached our awaiting limo, I was buzzed. Maybe a bit beyond buzzed. Between the champagne on the plane and at the spa, then drinks in the room, and shots on the casino floor, I’d already had more to drink than I’d had all summer. And we still had the strip club to go.

“How fucked up am I going to get?” I whisper-yelled into Morgan’s ear.

She laughed. “You’re already fucked up, little sis. And, man, this is going to be fun. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cut loose like this.”

“Just every weekend in high school and college. You must have missed it.”

“Oh,” Morgan said with a frown. “How did I miss that?”

“Life,” I offered with a shrug.

“Well, I won’t miss it this time. It’s long overdue. You were always the baby. Now, we can get wasted together.”

I giggled and leaned into her. “This is the best.”

Our limo dropped us off out front of the place I’d chosen. It had been interesting, to say the least, to do the research for this. Most of the big male strip shows in Las Vegas had several hundred women inside, and the guys danced for you. I’d found a place that was much more exclusive where the male dancers came to dance for you at your table, onstage, and in private rooms. I knew Emery would probably be so embarrassed, but I’d been to one of these before in college, and it outweighed the shows any day of the week.

We were seated in a VIP booth with bottle service, and as soon as we had drinks in front of us, guys flocked to our table. A waitress popped open a bottle of Patrón, and the table—dancers and all—did shot after shot.

I was spinning in a circle—or maybe that was just my head. Everything was lights and sounds and dancing. I was laughing and falling into people in my high heels. Nearly naked men in banana hammocks were grinding up on everyone, and I couldn’t stop giggling.

“Private dance!” I cried, tossing money at the cutest dancer.

He tried to grab my hand to take me back to a room, but I shook my head.

I pointed at my name tag. “I’m a Vir-gin. Virrrr-gin.”

He laughed. “Not for long, honey.”

“Dance is for the bride.” I stumbled a step forward, tried to clear the blurriness from my eyes, and pointed at Emery. “Her!”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Emery said. She waved her hands in front of her. “No private dances for me.”

“I’ve already…p-paid!”

“You take the dance then.”

“I’m a Vir-gin, Em. Vir-gin.”

Someone snorted behind me. And I whipped around fast, nearly falling over. I was laughing my ass off, too, because, nothing had ever been so funny.

A hand landed on my waist to try to help me up. I turned to the cute dancer I had bought a lap dance from for Emery and leaned in close. “Want to know a secret?”

He arched his perfectly manicured eyebrows. “What’s that, love?”

“I’m not a Vir-gin,” I whispered. Or I thought I’d whispered.

He laughed. “I’m shocked.”

“I’ve had a lot of sex.”

“Congratulations. Me, too.”

“I had sex yesterday!”

“Nice!”

The guy high-fived me. I missed.

“Oh my God, try again. I’m so white.”

He was really laughing at me now. “You’re adorable. We should do a shot to celebrate you having sex yesterday.”

“Wait, what?” Morgan said. “You had sex yesterday?”

“I had sex yesterday!” I cheered.

“Oh my God! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” Morgan grabbed my hands and jumped around in a circle. I teetered around with her, feeling like I was going to topple over at any moment. “You got laid!”

“I got laid!” I cried.

Then, suddenly, all the girls were in on it, cheering me on for having had sex yesterday. I felt no judgment. Or fear or ache about it. I felt like I was on top of the world. It didn’t matter that I’d imbibed nearly enough alcohol to kill me. This was right. This was perfect.

I was jumping around and deliriously happy with my girls.

Even the strippers were crying out with us, “She got laid!”

This was a feeling I’d never forget but probably a night I’d never remember.