The party was everything I expected it to be. Not one to enjoy large social gatherings, the party itself was something of a bore for me. My guests were co-workers and friends from out of state, and they were enjoying it so much more then I was. Hey, just because it's my party doesn't mean that I want to ruin other people's fun. I'd smile, laugh, and act like I was enjoying the party as much as the others were, but I would've rather it been just myself and a few close friends doing the same activities.
It was the typical send off for a man about to be married. Porno movies on a rented wide screen, loud music playing though every room of the house, blow up dolls posed in humorous and suggestive fashions, that sort of thing. I was also pretty sure the guys hired me a stripper too. It was getting kind of late and the keg was getting a little low, so I know the girl had to be late. A couple of my friends who masterminded the party were talking in the corner and gesturing to the clock. She was definitely running late.
As if on cue, there was a light knock at the front door, barely audible over the music. If I was lost in the party and as drunk as my guest, I too would've missed it. Luckily though, I caught it, and I seemed to be the only one. I had to smack Mike on the leg to pull him away from the porno to tell him to answer the door. As he stood up, he kicked the coffee table holding about six half-full cups of beer. The accompanying shouts of disproval were cut short by the ringing of the doorbell. "Entertainment's here," Mike shouted as he wove his way though the seated guests. Smiling to each other, my party guests all grabbed chairs and started pulling them into a wide circle around the coffee table. Another group of my guests started clearing the empty cups of beer off the coffee table and pulling the table out of the circle, propping it against the wall in the corner. The speed and efficiency everyone worked with made me think of a colony of worker ants. By the time the girl stepped foot into the living room, the seats were set up for a show, and she had plenty of room to dance, all without blocking anyone's view.
She was shorter then I expected, about Catherine's height. She had short blonde hair and was wearing a black leather mask. I guess the stripper had a day job, or she lived in the area, or likely had some other reason for not being identified. Her figure was a lot like Catherine's too. It was covered in a stereotypical trench coat; the kind flashers would wear to easily expose themselves out in public. The black leather boots that covered her legs all the way up to and under the trench coat teased to something exciting under it. She wasn't naked under it, but she obviously didn't have much on. At a second glance, the blonde bobbed hair was a wig... and though she wore a mask, I recognized some other familiar features on her face.
It was definitely Catherine, my soon to be wife. I took a moment to scan the faces around me to see if anyone else recognized her. No one seemed to notice, most of their eyes were running from her feet to her head, imagining what was under that trench coat. I turned back in time to catch her eye and give her a knowing little smirk. A smile crossed her face as she noticed my smile, as well as the effect her presence had on me already. We had talked about this before. I told her all I wanted for my bachelor party was to have her as the stripper, but I never thought she'd go through with it. Here she was though, the only female in a house full of drunk and horny men.
"How's everyone doing tonight?" She cooed in a voice that sounded like she was teaching a bunch of early elementary students. As she asked, she played with a riding crop, bending it between her hands. The effect of the visual and audible stimulation sent the party guests into a roar. I just smirked wide at the way my fiancée had taken control of the room. She seemed to look around, lording over the group until her eyes fell on me.
Her mood changed at once. She quickly snapped rigid and asked, "How about drinks? Shouldn't we all have drinks?" She wanted to postpone what she was about to do. She was either trying to build the anticipation or just to buy herself some time. Without waiting for anyone to respond, she marched into the kitchen where the hard liquor was located.
Watching her make a beeline for the table caused someone to ring out in understanding. "Shots," he yelled. I didn't know who it was, nor did I care. I was just as entranced at Catherine's presence as all the other drunken partiers. "We should do shots," he continued as he bolted for the sink. My shot glass was still full of rum someone poured me earlier. I scooped it up off the coffee table and turned back to the kitchen in time to see someone tugging at Catherine's trench coat. She gave him a playful swat on the hands with her riding crop and said something only he could hear.
She flung something from her purse to another guest causing him to push his way out of the crowd that followed her every movement, opening a lane for me to move up beside her. There must've been some clean, empty shot glasses on the table because I saw her throw back a shot as I moved beside her. I placed my shot in front of her as she swallowed the first mouthful of alcohol. She looked around to see who was giving her alcohol, probably because all the alcohol was in front of her, and she didn't see anyone pour her another drink.
"How about a little more liquid courage?" I asked. It was an inside joke that only her and I understood, but it was enough to let her know what was in the glass.
"Why not," was her reply. She spread her arms wide on the table and bent low. She slowly opened her lips and took the entire shot glass into mouth. She pressed her lips all the way to the table before clamping down on it and throwing her head back. In one gulp she swallowed the contents of the glass. Her head came back down level to look into my eyes, and then she spit the glass to the floor in my general direction and smiled. The room erupted in cheers.
"All right sugar," She spoke, staring into my eyes. "Seeing as how you're the guest of honor, you get a front row seat. Lets get this show going." More cheers erupted from around her. She took my hand in hers and led me back to the living room where the chairs where set up in a circle. She walked me to the far end of room, allowing the guests to all fill in behind her and pushed me into an armchair as her music started.
"Don't I get a lap dance?" I ask, wanting a moment close to her to find out what exactly her intentions were.
