2
I want my whole fucking life to implode.
I was once a silent fixture on the wall, turned party girl, only to become the silent fixture once more. In the past almost year since my separation turned divorce, I have been trying to find a middle ground.
I have worked on myself abundantly and have found that in lieu of dropping ecstasy and getting blackout drunk, I enjoy glasses of wine on my couch.
I have discovered that I love to be the social butterfly all day while running my coffee shop, but I also love to be the introvert while in my own little world at home.
I went from a safe and boring, loveless, vanilla marriage to drooling over three untouchable, bad boys and dreaming of a gang bang while having been celibate for almost two years.
Yeah, I’m still working on finding that sexual middle ground apparently.
The funniest part is that while I seem like a quiet, proper lady who probably radiates ‘born with a silver spoon up my ass’ vibes, I am secretly depraved. The thoughts in my head, both during the day and at night are questionable, to say the least. I don’t know if the sexual desires I have are born from a lifetime of being sheltered in all manners, a lack of sexual experiences, or all the above, but the desires remain in my head just the same.
I am a confident woman, and I am also a proud woman. I know my worth and I know my strength. These are the qualities that are a lucky byproduct of my upbringing.
However, no matter how badass I may feel, I am still not bold enough to walk up to my three wet dreams. So, I wrote about them instead and in my book, they will remain. I may always have to read it one-handed, but hey, girls have needs too.
“Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” I whine to my sisters as I settle in the backseat of Lily’s black Range Rover.
Poppy and Lily glance at each other and give a conspiratorial look. I’ve been asking in our group text for the last two hours and they refuse to tell me what the plan is for tonight. My sister-in-law Remi is behind the wheel acting as our DD since she can’t drink. She and Lily did their second round of IVF and Remi is currently pregnant with their second child, since my sister carried their first.
They have a little boy, Benji at home and baby girl Everly will be here in four months. Remi and Lily are the sweetest couple in the world. They make me believe in happily ever afters and true love. I know it’s out there, even if I didn’t find it in my ex-husband.
Lily is my older sister by 1 year and she was the first one to leave our hellhole of a nest. She didn’t necessarily leave our family by choice though. When she came out at the age of 16, my parents made her life horrible. My Conservative father all but disowned her after that. She was given the choice to follow the family rules and lifestyles, including marrying an Ivy League boy someday or moving out.
So, when she graduated High School, she fucked right off. I had never looked up to someone more in my entire life than I did her at that moment. I wanted to follow her immediately. Run for bigger and better things, leaving our pasts behind us. But, as much as I hated my life and parents for what they did to her, I chose to stay, and I stayed for both of my sisters.
Lily was cut off after moving out, and her inheritance was threatened. I knew that by staying I could watch out for our little sister Poppy while waiting for mine to kick in so that I could use the money to take care of both Lily and me if need be. Luckily for Lily, my mother did eventually convince my father to allow Lily her inheritance which she gladly took as restitution, as did I.
Poppy was the last to leave, but she was the baby and was treated differently than Lily and me. She was a daddy’s girl. For some reason or another, he chose to take his anger out on Lily and me, leaving Poppy alone completely. Not that I would ever complain. I would gladly take every ounce of his condescension and rage if it meant he’d leave my sisters alone.
Poppy followed the plan our father had laid out for our lives happily. She married an Ivy boy at 19 and has been living the doting wife, cookie-cutter lifestyle ever since. She is lucky in the sense that her husband Justin is wonderful to her. Though he may be of similar upbringing as us, he seems to have turned out tremendously different than my father.
At 25, Poppy is beyond in love with three under 5 at home. She couldn’t be happier and no matter her choices, Lily and I still adore her. She is our baby sister after all. We are just about as close as any three sisters can be. Well four, if you count Remi, and we do.
A chuckle pulls me from my thoughts and drags my attention to the front seat of the car. Remi lets out a scoff at my question, knowing that my evil sisters aren’t going to open their big mouths about their secret plans for me tonight. I assume it’s nothing wild considering Remi is 5 months pregnant and already pretty uncomfortable most of the time, but I still don’t understand the need for their need for secrecy.
“Hey, so Violet. I’ve been thinking about your book,” Lily says changing the subject. Mmmhmm I see you sneaky brat. “You know how you were talking about the covers and about marketing photos? Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?” she questions.
We had previously discussed the theme for the social media and marketing I should be doing for the book. I know nothing about any of that side of things. When I began to write, I just knew I had to get the story out. I never even really considered people actually reading it until one day a few months ago when my sister asked to see my nearly completed manuscript. She fell in love with it and shared it with both Remi and Poppy. They all went on and on about how I needed to follow through with getting it out there once it was complete.
When I looked into hiring an agency to get my book out, it just wasn’t something I was interested in. I wanted to go the self-publication route. I have the money to do it all myself. I just don’t have the know-how. Enter my sisters. Remi is in marketing/social media and my sister Lily owns a successful photography business. They both have been trying to help me, I just didn’t want to make any decisions on branding until the series was done. I didn’t want to jinx myself. Now that it’s complete, I have decided on branding, somewhat.
“Yes, I want it to be as spicy as my book. I want it to be obvious that it’s hot and steamy. I want my Instagram and marketing pages to look like porn sites,” I tease, kind of.
I really do want the marketing for this book to feel as steamy as the book itself. I want it to set the tone for the words. I want people to look at my book and know that it’s not for the faint of heart but for the sexually adventurous. For closet kinky fucks such as myself.
Everyone in the car falls into a fit of laughter including me. “Okay well, I think that can be arranged,” Lily replies when she finally stops laughing. She turns around from the front seat and grabs my hand, a look of seriousness overtaking her face.
“I want to shoot it for you Vi, as my gift to you for all the great things happening in your life right now. I’m so proud of you for finishing this series. I know I joke about it being a sluts-dream book, but really, it’s awesome. Just writing it alone is such an accomplishment, but me and Rem meant it when we said we’d help you get it published. We want this to be huge for you. Let me shoot all your marketing pictures and your cover photos. Whatever you want, just let me know and we’ll make it happen.”
Ugh fuck, now I’m teary-eyed and my hoe mask is smearing.
I grip her hand tightly and bring it to my lips for a kiss. “I love you guys, thank you so much for this. Just having your support means more than anything,” I say with a watery smile, meeting Poppy and Lily’s faces and then catching Remi’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Of course! That’s what family is for,” Lily says as she sniffs. “Now stop that crying bullshit and tell me what you want on the cover. Since there will be three books in this series, I think it should be hot as fuck photos of the three main male characters. Nothing gets me hotter than being able to visualize the main characters properly when I’m reading scenes. Unfortunately, there aren’t that many harem books for lesbians out there, but I can appreciate a hot man when the mood arises,” she says with a big smirk.
“Oh yeah? Can you now?” Remi shoots a scowl at my sister.
They lapse into a half-hearted argument while I sit back and close my eyes, picturing the three main characters from my books.
It would be a good idea to have some sexy man-meat on each cover, just like my favorite RH series, Madison Kate. Being able to see perfect replicas of Archer, Steel and Kody made fantasizing that much better.
I suppose I could do the same.
The only problem is the three boys from my books actually do exist. But I could never, ever ask them to be on the covers. That would be the creepiest most humiliating thing in the world. Can you imagine?
“Umm hi, you don’t know me, but I’ve been secretly stalking you for a long time and I wrote a book series inspired by how hot you three are. It’s about all the different ways I’ve imagined you fucking me. Wanna come get naked and take some photos for the covers? ”
Holy shit, they would probably have me arrested.
Ten minutes later, we pull up in front of a cool-looking club called The Alchemist . It’s an old industrial building with not much street appeal. Not at all where I pictured either of my sisters wanting to go, especially Poppy. Remi grew up in a normal, middle-class, happy family. She has adjusted my sister’s lifestyle somewhat away from the wealthy way she was raised.
Lily was never one to act stuck up, but she also never knew how to live a simple life. I didn’t either until I moved out. My loft is nothing extravagant and I tend to live a modest lifestyle, as I prefer it. Poppy, on the other hand, has always been spoiled and continues to be by her husband. She has a jaded outlook on life, but she is unbelievably happy.
“Uhhh, this is an interesting looking place,” I murmur as we all pile out of the SUV. “I feel maybe a little overdressed for this.”
I look down at my tight black velvet mini, opaque black knee-high stockings with a black bow on the backs of my thighs, and my matching velvet black pumps. My dress is strapless and has a sweetheart neckline. I kept my whole outfit black and sexy, with a bit of slut added in from the stockings and garter belts. I love wearing black because it makes my lavender hair color pop that much more. It’s down in long, soft waves tonight. The only jewelry I have on is a black string choker tied into a bow around my throat.
When I dyed my hair lavender shortly after my divorce, my sister freaked out and thought that I was just going through a post-divorce episode. She couldn’t believe that I stepped out of my comfort zone and left the blonde life behind me in favor of something that would have surely gotten me kicked out of our parents’ lives had I not already left them years ago.
So, when I got my first, second, and third tattoo, my sister’s shit absolute bricks. Now I have a full sleeve on my right arm and one large tattoo from my upper left thigh that comes to my ribs. Once I dyed my hair and allowed myself that one freedom of outward and open rebellion, I realized that I wasn’t rebelling at all; I was just allowing the inner me out for the first time ever.
Elliot would have never allowed me such liberties when it came to my appearance. Everything had to be just so, as it did with my father. Growing up and never being allowed to ask questions, carried over to my marriage. Once I was free of that, I was truly able to embrace the inner Violet and let her out to play.
My sisters on the other hand, still look the same as they did growing up for the most part. All three of us are thin, leggy, medium height, and blonde. We couldn’t have made our mom prouder than when we popped out looking like baby Barbies. She has to work to look like a statuesque Stepford wife, but we were born that way.
Lucky us. Eye roll.
Not for the first time, I wonder what it would have been like to have a mom who just loved her daughters simply because we existed. Or a father who looked at us as though we are living, breathing human beings rather than pawns to advance his political career. For years, we stood at his side, modestly dressed, with fake smiles on our faces as we pretended to be a picture-perfect family. Photos were taken, articles were written, and his facade as a doting husband and father was solidified.
Gaining my freedom granted me the ability to finally become the me that has always existed inside of my head. For the first time in my life, I feel comfortable in my own skin. My sisters have made subtle changes over the years as well.
Poppy still embraces her long blonde hair which she always keeps styled to absolute perfection. She wears minimal makeup that only accentuates her features, as we were taught, and keeps her clothing classy and simple for the most part. On occasion, she wears sweats and jeans which may not sound like a big deal, but for her, it’s huge.
Lily had long blonde hair growing up as well, which she has since, chopped off. It’s now an adorable long bob that frames her perfect doll face that’s generally makeup-free. She dresses in leggings, chunky sweaters, and band tees most of the time. She’s comfy-causal and it suits her.
All three of us have crystal blue eyes and pale skin. Again, Barbies. I hate it. Hence, the purple hair and tattoos. I’ve never liked having to look like ‘America’s version of perfect’. In fact, I despise the very idea. It’s simple minded and bigoted in my opinion. Everyone is perfect in their own rights. We all deserve the right to feel comfortable in our own bodies and to be accepted exactly as we are.
Alright. Maybe I did rebel a little bit. A big fuck you to the patriarchy in which I was raised.
“Don’t worry Vi, you’ll love it! I heard someone at the gym talking about this place. I looked it up and the reviews are awesome!” Lily enthuses from the front of our little pack while we wait in the line out front to get in.
It’s actually pretty busy for a Thursday night. Every time the bouncer lets someone in, I can hear the low thumping techno beats coming from inside. I look around and take note of the types of people and attire around me. Everyone going in and out actually seems to be dressed in similar attire as me.
I smirk as I look at my sisters. All three of them are in some sort of jeans and a cute top combo. At least Lily is wearing a black lace corset, black jeans, and sky-high heels. My smirk turns into a full belly laugh as I look at Poppy’s face. She’s wearing dark jeans, thigh-high leather boots, and a white tank top. She scowls as she takes in all the cocktail dresses and heavy makeup around us.
“You said it was a casual bar, Lily!” she cries as she shoves our older sister who laughs in Poppy’s face in return. “You literally forced this outfit on me! These aren’t even my clothes!”
Remi just grumbles as she supports her belly underneath her chunky purple, off-the-shoulder sweater. She paired it with light-colored boyfriend jeans and chucks. Her long black hair is curled simply, and she wears no makeup. That’s just how Remi is; a natural beauty who doesn’t need to dress up or cake her face on to stand out. Her small, heart-shaped face, big brown eyes, and full lips along with her naturally dark tanned skin don’t need a speck of assistance to draw you in.
We make our way to the front and get in pretty quickly despite the line. It’s still early enough that they aren’t at capacity yet. The bouncer looks me up and down and grins in approval, waving a hand for me to enter. I smile back at him and push Lily ahead of me. He nods at her as well but gives Remi’s outfit a once over and his grin fades.
I prepare for an argument in case he won’t let her in based on her casual outfit, but Remi stands tall, and hugs her belly tighter. The bouncer sees her bump and frowns before rolling his eyes and gesturing her in as well. Lily grabs Remi and yanks her in the club, clearly over the whole silent debate at the door. I follow Lily and Remi in with Poppy holding my hand, trailing behind me as we weave our way into the club and through the throngs of people.
“Bar?” Lily shouts over the music.
I respond with a thumbs up, not seeing any reason to lose my voice so early in the night. We make it to the bar and Lily leans across it, all sorts of happy and smiley as she calls to get the bartender’s attention. She orders us three Sex-on-the-Beaches and sparkling water for Remi. I take a moment to look around. The club is a fun-looking place I have to admit.
Its dark and moody vibe meshes well with my soul. Old and worn brick walls, probably original. Vaulted ceilings with exposed industrial piping and ductwork. Black curtains block out the windows along the far wall. A beautiful slab of polished pine creates the bar top. Industrial style metal barstools line the front. Huge wooden beams along the ceiling have Eddison bulbs dripping from them, giving off a very soft glow.
Brown tufted leather sofas throughout create private seating areas. There are tall, exposed wooden pub tables with metal chairs for relaxing and drinking. Dark slate grey concrete floors with a shine to them, reflect the lights. There’s an area roped off for dancing and a platform for a DJ.