Chapter 22: Hen Party

“Coming in! Are you decent?” yelled Paige Turner, pounding loudly on the gate in Georgia Cumming’s back yard fence. She opened the latch and slipped in, not waiting for a response.

“I’m still dressed, but nobody said anything about decent,” replied Georgia. She was standing at the side of the house, on the deck where her fancy mixing system was located, pouring rum into the blender. She was barefoot and wearing a small maillot swimsuit.

“That will have to do. Decent is too boring, anyway,” replied Paige. She came over and set a bottle of rum on the side of the mixer. “I believe it’s my turn to provide.”

“I think you’re right,” agreed Brenda Houseman. She was laying on a chaise lounge, wearing only oversized sunglasses and a string bikini bottom. “I was last week, and Barbara was the week before and ... anyway I think Terri’s next week.”

“Fine by me,” agreed Terri Tallman. She was wearing even less than Brenda. She was totally naked, laying face down on a lounger, wearing only sunglasses and a floppy straw hat. She was sipping her rum punch through a straw. Glancing over at Paige, she said, “Take off some clothes and stay awhile. I think the Saturday Afternoon Half-Drunk Sluts Club has enough members present for a quorum now.”

Paige and the others laughed at this. Paige took off her cover-up and took a rum punch from Georgia. “Speaking of which, where’s Barbara?”

“Coming! Coming!” sang out from the other side of the fence. Moments later Barbara Blockings slid in through the gate and wandered up. Georgia quickly poured her a drink, which Barbara rapidly downed. “Oh, that’s just what I needed!” She set her own bottle down on the counter. “I wasn’t sure if it was my turn or not.”

“Not,” commented Georgia, continuing, “Not that it matters. You can never have too much rum.” She poured her friend another drink.

Paige settled onto a lounge chair and pulled out a tube of suntan lotion. Terri’s comments about a Saturday Afternoon Half-Drunk Sluts Club was only partially a joke. By mutual agreement all five of the women had settled into a routine of meeting at Georgia’s pool after lunch on Saturdays to work on their tans and drink. The tanning was usually done at least topless and often nude, and the drinks almost invariably involved rum, so they alternated providing a bottle of rum. It usually worked out that everyone brought one bottle a month. The Slut component of the title was equally appropriate. After an afternoon of half-naked drinking with sexually charged women, they would almost always break up and go home to ravish their husbands. Paige wasn’t sure what Georgia and Barbara were doing in the absence of husbands; she didn’t think it would be a problem for either of them.

“So, is it official?” asked Terri, looking over at Barbara.

Barbara shrugged, sipping her drink. She had already peeled off her beach cover-up and kicked off her flip-flops. “About as official as it’s going to get, I suppose. I mean, there’s a waiting period, but we’re separated. The divorce will be official later. Shit! I left my suntan oil at home!” she replied, looking through her beach bag.

“Here, use mine.” Paige passed her bottle over. She draped a beach towel over her lounge chair and peeled off her bikini, top and bottom. “So, you’re separated?”

“Jerry has moved out. He got himself an apartment halfway between here and Tampa, over in Polk City. He and the boys moved all his stuff out. I guess it gave him some time to explain things to them.” Exactly how, she wasn’t sure. She had never told the rest of the women, or her children, all the details of their problems. She was too embarrassed by the idea of her husband going to a hooker to be spanked to tell anyone.

Paige retrieved her suntan lotion and began working it into her chest. “Irreconcilable differences?”

“That was all we needed to tell the judge.” Barbara knew her friends wanted more sordid details, but she wasn’t about to tell them the truth.

“And he didn’t give you any grief on the settlement?” Terri was surprised by that. She had heard enough about the details to realize that Barbara had taken her husband to the cleaners. She knew her lawyer had been good, but this was a fast and total capitulation! “You must have something really juicy on him!”

“Terri, Brenda, and Paige - you’re all on official notice. Barbara needs some heavy-duty sex. Work out a schedule for your husbands to come over and visit. If they visit twice a week, Barbara can have Sunday to recuperate!” interjected Georgia.

This set off a wild chorus of laughter and outrage. Another round of drinks was forthcoming.

Barbara gave a sly smile and sipped at her drink. She, too, had peeled off her bikini top, but kept her bottom on like Brenda. “So, where’s the boys today?” she asked Brenda.

“Who knows? Who cares?” replied Brenda. “What’s the name of that divorce lawyer? I want to divorce my children!”

“Both of them?” asked Terri.

“Hell, all three of them! Their father is the worst of the bunch!”

Paige tsked loudly. “Tough week?”

“Laugh, go ahead and laugh. Someday you too will have children and it will be me laughing at you. They’re not children, they’re the spawn of Satan.”

“Speaking of which, where are they?” asked Barbara. “Both your cars are at your house.”

“They belong to Frank. We had the DNA tested and they are his, not mine. He’s being daddy today, even if it kills him. Especially if it kills him!” said Brenda.

“They’re home? And you don’t worry about them seeing us?” asked Paige.

“Are you worried?” asked Brenda.

“Hey, the only house that can see into the back yard here is yours. You don’t care if the twins see us like this?”

Brenda snorted, standing to replenish her rum punch. “The one you have to worry about is their father. He’s the deviant one. Anyway, the only room which can see us is the master bedroom, and the boys aren’t allowed in there. Besides they’re only six. I don’t think we’re about to end up on naughty-moms-dot-com anytime soon. By the time they’re old enough to be interested in that sort of thing, we’ll all be old enough...”

“Let’s not go there!” exclaimed Georgia.

“ ... that they won’t be looking at us anyway,” finished Brenda, giving her hostess a big raspberry.

“Speak for yourself!”

Paige spoke up. “You know what Ben Franklin said he liked about older women? They were so grateful.”

“That’s cold! That is so cold!” protested Georgia.

“Somebody is looking for a good dunking!” agreed Barbara.

“That would just go to prove what I tell Bob about our afternoons,” replied Paige.

“What, that we spend our time in a drunken lesbian orgy?” commented Terri.

“Ack!” said Brenda.

“Precisely!” agreed Paige.

“And his comment would be?” asked Georgia.

“Oh, nothing, really. He did ask if he could watch.”

“Ack!”

“Watch or join in?” Georgia pressed.

“I think that would be quite the party. Probably wouldn’t do to have it outside, though,” said Terri.