The Randy Romance Novelist(77)
Dignified and educated women fell to their knees and started scooping up sexual aids, stuffing them in their bras and knocking out their neighbors for the goods.
In the center of the pi?ata brawl stood Delaney, holding an arm full of paraphernalia and tossing it to whoever wanted to catch them as if she was Oprah saying, “You get a cock ring, and you get a cock ring, and you get a cock ring.” She twirled in circles and sprayed them all up in the air, dancing under a sea of vibrating penis rings. “Everyone gets a cock ring!”
“Your friend has some serious problems,” the waiter next to me whispered in my ear.
I gave him the stink eye, not liking the way he was talking about Delaney. “Don’t talk about my friend that way, you . . . you . . . ghoul!”
Yes, Delaney had problems. Yes, she was experiencing a high dose of crazy at the moment, but this was her night, her dream party, and I would be damned if anyone but me judged her.
The floor was being swept up by all the ladies, making sure every last piece from the pi?ata was claimed, while I brought a chair over to the opposite side of the room, the seating area where the stripper would be entertaining Delaney.
I snuck over to my purse really quick to grab my one dollar bills for Delaney, when I saw a text on my phone from Henry.
Henry: Hope you girls are having fun. Please be careful and don’t let any strippers smack you in the face with their crotch.
I laughed and sent him a quick text back.
Rosie: Don’t worry about me. Just worry about yourself. I have plans for you tonight . . . Mr. Grey.
Henry: What? (confused face emoji con)
Not answering him back, just to keep him wondering, I stuffed my phone back in my wallet in time to see red flashing lights coming down the hallway and the sound of sirens approaching.
It was the stripper.
Delaney perked up and looked in my direction. Her hands clapped together right before she put them behind her back and said, “I’ve been a naughty girl; someone slap some cuffs on me.”
Wanting nothing more than to restrain my best friend after the activities that took place tonight, I escorted her over to her chair, grabbed the pair of fur lined handcuffs I’d brought for the occasion, and kneeled behind her so I could fasten her up.
The entire room went silent as the stripper entered the room. I couldn’t see what was going on, all I could hear were the sirens turning off and music turning on. The room gasped when clothes ripped, and I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face. I knew the man candy I picked out for this party had the right nipple size and penis package for Delaney; I couldn’t wait to see her reaction.
The cuffs were being difficult to clasp, but I finally got them place and stood up to take a good look at Mr. Beefcake, Man Balls Mahki, but instead of the stripper I picked, standing in front of me was the one and only, squirrel tail.
Alejandro.
He was already stripped down to his banana hammock and thrusting his junk at every woman in the room. The smooth, bare and perfectly proportioned nipple man I ordered for tonight was nowhere in sight, and in his place was Alejandro with a bush popping out of his underwear and enough hair on his body to keep a polar bear warm during the winter.
“Who is this hairy abomination?” Delaney seethed at me. We both watched Alejandro put his foot on a lady’s chair and thrust toward her face. I prayed stray hairs didn’t fall into her Cum Guzzler.
I gulped, not liking the tone of her voice. “Um, I have no clue. The company must have gotten my order mixed up. Let me call them real quick.”
“Do not leave me here. If that lap broccoli touches me, I will murder you.”
“Give me one second,” I held up my finger. Alejandro wasn’t even close to Delaney; I had time.
Quickly, I grabbed my phone from my purse, ignored one of Henry’s text messages and dialed the company’s number who provided me with Alejandro. The line rang a few times before someone picked up.
“Balls to the Wall, this is Roshanda.”
“Yes, hi Roshanda, this is Rosie Bloom. I scheduled for one of your male strippers to come dance at my friend’s bachelorette party tonight.”
“Hold on,” she replied with an irritated voice. I heard her fingers clicking away at a computer before she said, “Did he not show up?”
“Well, someone showed up, but not the person I booked. I booked the guy with the giant man balls, Mahki; instead, I got a hairy gorilla prancing around the room.”
In a monotone voice, the lady responded, “Let me see what is going on.”
More computer clicking.
“Ah, yes, we were afraid by the way you addressed the men at the audition that you were not going to be able to keep your hands off Mahki, so we booked you with someone we thought would work well with your party.”
“What?” my voice rose. “You can’t do that? I’m paying for this service, not for you to decide who smacks my friend in the face with their junk.”
“Yeah, you signed a contract, and in the fine print it said we reserve the right to change any reservations if it seemed like our employees were at risk.”
“That is ridiculous,” I snorted. “In what way would we have harmed your employee?”
“Let me look.” Her voice continued to be inconvenienced. “In the notes it says you referred to the stripper of your choice as giant man balls and said you couldn’t wait to give your friend a black eye with his junk. The dancer didn’t feel conformable with that statement and requested to have a fill in.”