All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.
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It had been a totally depressing day for me with no real estate deals completed today or this week, as a matter of fact, and none pending in the near future. But it was Friday, and I could go out with the girls and probably get good and sloshed and forget about the week I'd had. I guess I usually got to the point of slurred speech at Morey's Bar and Grill, much like the other three did. When four never-married and thirty-plus women get together on Friday night at a bar, that's what's supposed to happen, isn't it?
And that's why three of us take an Uber to work on Fridays. Only Amber, the baby of our group at thirty-one, drove to work. But she could stumble the three blocks to her place after our little party would break up.
"You about ready?" Bonnie called to me from her small office down the hall.
"I've been ready since about Wednesday," I yelled back at her.
"Yeah, me too," she grumbled, now leaning against my doorway. "Everyone else is gone, and I texted Amber. She'll be here in three minutes."
I put everything away, locked my door, and we headed to the parking lot to find Amber just pulling in.
"Good week, you guys?" she asked innocently as we climbed into the car.
"I'm going to tear your finely-manicured fingernails out one by one just for bringing it up," I growled at her.
"Whoa, sounds like the start of a great evening."
Twenty minutes more of chatter and griping, and we were at Morey's, where Christine had a table ready.
She greeted us. "A glass of chardonnay, one martini, one margarita, and my Michelob to start with."
Everyone nodded, and I took a very large and undignified gulp of my chardonnay. I waved at Eddie behind the bar, and he brought the bottle to the table. Maggie, our regular server, would pour and keep track of how many times she did it, as always.
"Um, Sandy, what the heck was that?" Christine asked, giving me a one-eyed look.
"You mean this," I snapped, downing the rest of the glass.
She looked at the other two, a question on her face.
"Don't ask," Bonnie cautioned, and we all sat down.
As I hit the chair, I realized how stupid I'd just been. Those two quick swallows were causing eye-focus issues, and if I wasn't careful, I'd be in for a short evening.
"Are you okay," Christine asked, leaning forward and looking me straight in the eye ... I think.
"Just frustrated with my day or the whole f'ing week, I think." I waved at Maggie, who poured my second glass.
"You going to suck them all down that quickly all evening?" she asked with a wink.
I giggled. I'd always giggled a lot, something I wasn't too fond of.
"No, I'll slow down...I hope."
I giggled again.
"You know what you need," Amber said, Shaking her head and sipping from her Margarita.
"What, a little more self-controlled drinking of my wine? You'd like me to sip, as you're doing, like a lady rather than like the lush I apparently am this evening?" To emphasize what I was saying, I took a dainty sip from my freshly filled glass, my pinky extended high into the air.
"No, you need a little excitement in your life."
I looked at her blankly. "Huh?"
Amber cleared her throat. "You know what I'm talking about, some great entertainment, a cruise, a man, maybe some wild sex."
"Amber," three voices said in unison, three of us glancing around to be sure she hadn't been heard by others.
"Don't
Amber
me. When's the last time any of you have had wild and blood-boiling sex?"
"Make that any of US," Bonnie tossed in, poking Amber's shoulder.
"Aren't we all kind of old for that?" Christine suggested.
"I'm only thirty-one," Amber answered, a pleading look on her face.
"Ugh, don't remind me," Christine retorted. "I'll have a zero in my age again after my next birthday."
"You'd better hurry then, Chris. No wild sex after forty."
"You had to say that word, didn't you," Christine said, curling her nose at me.
"And how come, no matter what we start talking about, it always ends up being sex?" I asked, taking a second, careful sip from my still nearly full glass of chardonnay.
"This started with Amber mentioning excitement, remember?" said Christine, the older and wiser one."
"Well, sex can be exciting, right, Sandy?"
I snorted. "I barely remember, but Harvey and I were so out of sync that on the day I decided to tell him that it wasn't working, he decided to propose to me. Very awkward."
"But the sex was good, right?" Bonnie wasn't letting up.
"Why are you picking on me? I'm not the only one who's had sex, am I?"
"I think we've established in our time together that we've all
done the deed
pleasant or unpleasant as it might have been."
We all looked at Amber, expecting her to blush, but she held it together.
"And she said excitement, and that rang a bell," Bonnie said. "I heard about something exciting from a college sorority sister that I keep in touch with. As an incidental, her name was Candice Parker in college, but now she's married to Tim Kane. She's now Candice Kane."
"Candy Kane," I said with a giggle.
General laughter from the other three.
"But here's the important thing," Bonnie continued. "She told me about a game they played that turned out to be fun and exciting and unusually daring."
"Daring? Are we daring?" Christine asked, looking at each of us."
"I guess we could be if we wanted to," I answered. "There's really nothing to hold us back.
"And that's the question, I guess. Do we want to be?"
"Tell us about the game, and we can decide." Cautious Amber chiming in.
"Oh, no. That's part of the excitement, and that can begin right now." Bonnie grinned at each of us as we all took another sip of whatever we were drinking.
I waved at Maggie again and soon had glass number three of chardonnay. I noticed that second margaritas and martinis were getting low, and Christine excused herself "to make room for my fourth Michelob." We were all much looser and happier than when we'd arrived.
Christine returned and sat down. " Now, continue, Bonnie."
"Well, a part of the fun and excitement is each of us agreeing to do whatever the game requires."
"But if we don't know?" Cautious Amber again.
"Amber, I bet your heart is beating faster right now just thinking about this." I stuck my finger in the middle of her very ample chest.
"It is," she admitted.
Amber had always been a little shy, was five foot three or four, on the edge of chunkiness, but with very large boobs. A cute face should have had boys after her all the time, but a bad experience a few years ago had left her uninterested in relationships, even to the point of hardly ever dating.
Then let's all agree and get on with it."
I heard my name. "Sandy, are you in?"
"One hundred percent," I responded, hoping I wouldn't be sorry later.
"Amber?"
"Okay, I guess." She was staring at her Margarita.
"Amber?"
"Yes, I'm definitely in."
"Chris?"
"Could be my last chance, so I'm definitely in."
"Since I brought it up, I'm in, of course." Bonnie smiled at us.
"So tell us about the game." Bonnie was my best friend, and I was anxious to learn what lay in store for us.
"Here's what the game amounts to. We all write out challenges for someone. We'll draw at random, and if you draw your own, we'll draw again.
"Challenges?" Amber looked nervous. "Like blindfolded pin the tail on the donkey?"
"Um, not exactly, but let me explain. There should be ten things to do on the list, and if you can somehow connect them, it would be great. They should be things you wouldn't normally do yourself. Amber, would you skinny-dip in Alum Creek for ten minutes?"
Amber's eyes opened immensely wide. "You mean that could be on a list I might get?"