Chapter 5

She said she was truly silly, a whore in the making, just like me who could be turned on by a man’s touch, but I knew that if any of us would bring a man home.

it was her, and if a man would take any of us home, it was me, because she was strong, while I could be manipulated with just a touch, and worse, a kiss.

“Why must it be tonight?”. I posed. I only wanted a place to be happy, not to get fucked.

“Because many men would be willing to fuck tonight if you ask them to”. She said, her words clear, and as concise as usual.

“Okay, deal”. I fell again. I keep falling to people’s desire, I hardly take decisions of my own.

“Good, but your gown is not good enough for a man to easily pull your undie from behind and thrust his hard mamba into your hole”. She was so dirty minded.

“If my gown would stop a man from gliding in from behind, then I will have to pull it for him”.

I said, making emphasis by holding my gown a little up, revealing a chunk of my white laps. How lucky a man would be to have me in bed. I’m just white and gorgeous.

“If you must pull your gown to let a man glide into you from the rear, then, you must do it right here, right now”.

She said and pulled a short gown from the paper bag she had with her and passed it to me.

The gown was the same as hers, she probably wanted us to look the same, but I know that not even the gown could make us look the same.

I’m petite and white, she’s a thick Latina, curvier and busty.

“Thanks”. I smiled, I so-much loved gifts. I had fallen again.

……………………..****.................

The chauffeur for the night’s ride was different from the chauffeur I had in the morning. He was dark complexioned, tall and muscular.

He looked more of a guard, but he had the charming smile that stole a bit of my breath when he threw open the car door for me and Laura, and while I hopped into the car without saying a word to him.

Laura, the whore of a friend, touched his chest seductively and gave him a sensuous wink, before hopping in and sitting next to me.

“Why?”. I posed, as though I had not known that Laura was capable of luring any man to bed without letting him think twice.

“The night is sensuous. Can’t you feel it?”. She said and touched my long nose, then she turned to the chauffeur. “Hot man, get the music”.

The chauffeur turned on the car and the stereo, and then came Nikky Minaj, while he glided into the long road.

“You know one good thing about black guys in Guts Island?”. Laura spoke into my ear. “They don’t suck pussies, but they are long between their thighs, and they can get you crazy with just a thrust”.

I smiled at how silly and bitchy her words sound in my ear, but those words brought a flash of my ex-husband; he literally doesn’t suck to get me to my climax, he tortures me into it.

“Maybe you should try one tonight”. I said in response.

“Trust me, I’ll sure bring one home tonight, and maybe get one for you. you sure need something long in that wet red hole of yours”. She said, so dirty and nasty she was.

“Never mind, I’ll get myself a man of my choice”. I said, surprised I had sounded that way; I had never said no before, but this very moment, I had just taken a decision for myself.

***

The chauffeur matched the breaks the very moment he pulled into the massive garage of Xavier Le Premiere square.

“Here we go, pussies”. He said and wore a pussy mask. He, too, was in for the party.

“Come get the door, dick”. Laura said in response, sparking a sort of confusion in my unseen mind. How could a chauffeur call his passenger such weird name, pussy?

He alighted and got the door for us, and we alighted, but while I made for the massive ground, Laura stayed back and stole a couple of kisses from the man, before coming after me.

“Hey, do you want to get lost in this massive square?”. She said behind me.

I spurned around to see her, standing behind me with her hand on her waist. I’ve always viewed myself as weak for any man’s gripping fingers, but here I am with a woman that had fingers that could grab men and make love to them when and where she wants.

“Why were you flirting with the chauffeur?”. I posed.

She made faces.

“Betty, when you go to Rome, behave like Romans”. She replied and, like a mother, she held my hand and pulled me to the corner where a man sells vagina masks.

“Need pretty masks for the party, I got the best”. The man was American, I could tell that from his accent.

“Give us two”. Laura said.

The man selected two masks from the pile of masks on his table.

“Have this”. He handed the masks to Laura. “Three cents”.

Laura took the masks from him and dropped a dollar bill on the man’s desk.

“Here is three cents and a tip”. She turned to me and handed one of the masks to me. “Have your mask, Betty”.

We wore the vagina masks and walked back to the heart of the square. There were too many people milling around the square. The men among us wore suit, but all the ladies were on tight, short dresses, but every one wore a vagina mask, except one young man who was sitting alone at a secluded corner, drinking vodka, and nodding to the blast of music.