4. Arabella
4
Arabella
“ L et me see!” Wrinley whines from the bedroom. “You've been in there so long. Just come the fuck out already. I'm sure you look amazing.”
I've been standing in front of the bathroom mirror for way too long, assessing everything, from my tits to my knees, in this dress she brought me to wear. It's much shorter and more revealing than anything I'd choose for myself. Not that I don't like to wear sexy clothes, because I do. I just prefer not to showcase the worst parts of my body, like my squishy stomach or my thunder thighs that no one wants to look at. It's low cut, with silk fabric that drapes halfway to my freaking belly button and the back isn't much better with a large opening that starts at my shoulder blades and stops just shy of my ass crack. So much open real estate means no bra, of course, but at least it's black so the parts that are covered shouldn’t stand out for the wrong reasons. Thank fuck for small favors.
Wrinley whips the door open before I answer. “Seriously, what are you doing in here? We're going to be late.”
“I can't wear this. It's too tight and shows off way more than I’m comfortable with. Can we please find something else?” I plead.
“Ari, I love you, but you look amazing. You have the hottest fucking curves in all the right places and guys will be rubbing their dicks all night to thoughts of you in this dress! I have an idea. Hold, please!” She sticks up her index finger to indicate she'll be right back, as she rushes into the other room.
I wish I had her confidence. Wrinley oozes it from every pore and I have to dig deep to find a single shred. I don’t know how she does it.
“Got it,” she yells from the other room. When she returns, she’s holding two shot glasses filled with what I'm assuming isn't water.
“What is that ?”
“Tequila. Reposado to be specific,” she grins. “Just do it. And before you lecture me about peer pressure, I've been your bestie since the seventh grade. We're past pressure. You will do the shot. You know it'll make you feel better and chill you out.”
She's not wrong. Tequila is liquid courage in a bottle. With a half-hearted shrug, I take the shot from her hands. “Fine. Give it. But I'm holding you responsible if the shit hits the fan because I drank tequila.” I point an accusatory finger as I down the alcohol in one gulp, and I shudder as it slides down my throat. “Now give me another so we can get the fuck out of here.”
When the doorbell rings, I make Wrinley answer it. I'm assuming it’s our dates.
“Ari, the guys are here!” She yells from the other room. “Get your fine ass out here, right now.”
“For fuck sake, Wrin. Do you always have to yell?” I chuckle, making my way into the living space to meet the guys.
“Arabella, this is my date Thadd and his friend Brad, who will be your date for the night.”
Thadd and Brad ? This can’t be happening. Could they sound any douchier? And of fucking course my date’s name is Brad. Karma is a cruel mistress that loves to play with me. A giggle escapes my lips, and they all stop to stare at me in confusion.
“Are you okay?” Brad asks. He almost sounds concerned.
“I’m fine,” I snicker, trying to collect myself. “So about this club. You’ve been there before?”
Thadd answers first, “It’s actually a bar-club mashup situation. I got a membership a few months ago, and Brad just got his. You ladies won’t need to be members because you can go as our guests. It’s a cool place, but they’re kind of strict about things, especially the two drink max. I figure we can hang in the bar for a bit, then check out the club and then maybe even have some fun.” He wraps his arm casually over Wrinley’s shoulder and pulls her in close for a kiss. I’ll have to remember to ask her about that later. Where did she even meet a guy named Thadd?
“What are we waiting for?” I ask. Between the alcohol and nervous anticipation, my body is tingly all over. I need to get this show on the road. I may be doing this for Wrinley, but I’m also hoping to have some fun of my own. I’m not a prude, by any means, but my bedroom experiences are admittedly limited to basic, boring positions, the occasional ass slap and a hair tug here or there. Nothing to write home about. I know there’s more for me out there. I just need to find it and knowing we’re about to be in a kink club, has my parts ready to party. “Let’s go.”
Brad leans in and reaches to take my arm. “Come on ladies, I’ll drive.”