Chapter 4

I picked my phone and smiled on the name on the screen. It was Laura. She must be through with what she said she had to go for, and she might be on her way to the hotel.

“Hello”. I said, my face stretched in a smile, I was fond of it.

“Betty, have you checked into the hotel?”. She posed with so much concern.

“About to take a cool shower”. I said, sounding quite as casual as usual.

“Oh. Cool, I’ll join you in an hour time, I’m buying tickets for the Xavier party”. She said, a little louder than her typical self.

I paused. I’ve not been to Guts Island before, so I know nothing about the so-called Xavier Party.

“Xavier party?”. I posed, hoping she would discern the confusion in my voice.

“Yes, it’s a vagina party held in Xavier Le Premiere square, once every year. I’m buying tickets for you and I”. she said.

“Okay”. I said, not minding that it was worth haggling over. Vagina parties are weird parties, because during such parties, the bathrooms were frequently raided by dicks that had found pussies to punch.

“Also, remember you must look as hot as you can to the party”. She said, pissing me off at the spot. She knew I was literally divorced, that’s probably why she could say such words as looking hot to a vagina party, by the way, it was her who invited me to Guts Island.

“Okay”. I said, and she hung up without saying bye.

…………………………****.........................

Laura arrived just some minutes after I’d had a bath and worn a yellow short-gown I chose for the vagina party. She was cladded in a shiny black gown that stretched out her curves and barely masked her busty chest, and though my gown was short enough to leave a huge chunk of my laps bare, hers was shorter.

“Betty butter”. She said with a wry smile on her pretty face, and touched my face like a mother would touch that of her kid.

Compared to her, I was petite, and I was white, but she was a little bigger and curvy, in fact, she was Latina.

“Laura, what took you so long?”. I posed with a fake child’s tone.

“I had to go pick my cute outfit from De Prime boutique, buy the tickets for us, and get a nice ride before coming here”. She explained, flaunting her pretty, foxy gown.

“Well done, it looks good on you”. I said, gesturing at her gown, that was probably what she wanted to hear from me.

“Thank you”. she smiled and hugged me.

“And how does mine look?”. I posed, expecting complement.

“Outstanding”. She said, without even pausing to think.

“Why?”. I asked.

She smirked.

“No one wears yellow to night parties, unless they wish to get noticed”. She explained.

“Well, this is what I like for a silly vagina party”. I made faces. I had not expected her to be so concise, but she just did.

“Yeah, I’m you’ve, probably made your mind to chill with men and…”. She paused. She knew she was seriously sounding quite silly.

“So, what exactly did you say the vagina party is about?”. I posed. I wanted so much to end talks about men, because talks of them reminds me of how weak and vulnerable I am. A touch from a good-looking man, especially men with well built physique like my ex…wait, did I just say my ex?

“How was your ride from the airport”. Laura seemed not to be ready to talk of a party that we are yet to attend.

I wanted to tell that the Italian chauffeur was pretty and humble, and he was stealing glances of me while sitting behind the wheels, but I can’t be that quick with words, to avoid being judged to have finally made my men to have a thing to do with men after avoiding them for a couple of months after the divorce that shattered me.

“It was good, just that the chauffeur does not fancy Tatiana”. I said, casually.

“You talked with him?”. She widened her eyes, an impending smile written on the curves of her cheek.

“Not…really”. I lied. For god’s sake I talked with that young man, and I enjoyed talking with him, I even hoped he’d returned to my door post when I heard a knock on the door, but it turned out to be an ugly, booby looking room service guy.

“How then did you know he does not fancy Tatiana?”. She wanted to figure out what exactly was fishy.

“I asked him to play me Tatiana, but he said he does not have Tatiana, but he has Adele, so I asked him why he does not have Tat, and he said he had to remove Tat from his list because her songs are mostly for the broken hearted, so he needs no such thing in his cab”.

I said it all, I was so weak that a couple of consistent queries could make me spill every single word out like dicks spill semen when it is repeatedly plunged into a pussy hole. Gosh!

“Did you enjoy talking with him?”. She asked as soon as I was done ranting.

“Yes, I fucking did”. I said, and sat on the bed.

She folded her hands and smiled.

“When they said, Guts Island is magical, I thought it was myth, but here you are, the magic had just worked on you”. she said, and made silly faces.

“Maybe”. I whispered, fighting the urge to tell her that the colour of the room, and the soft bed, brought back memories of my ex-husband’s red room, and I thought of fucking the chauffeur just the first day I landed in Guts Island. It was truly magical.

“She just confirmed it. You know what, let’s strike a deal”. She said with her index finger held out.

“We’ll either bring a man home tonight, or we go home with a man, in any way possible, we must fuck a man tonight”.