-Gordon Lightfoot, “Sundown”

The strobes turned off, leaving the stage lit by the spinning disco ball in the center of the room. The stage lights came up as the DJ walked out to center stage, mic in hand; slipping a little on some of the formerly coffin-shaped giant cake on his way, but recovering in time to not fall. Behind him, Julie picked up the last of the discarded lingerie from the stage, including the outfit she’d worn for the number.

“HOT DAMN! Wasn’t that great, guys? I mean, yeah, we’ve all heard about the girls who strip at their boyfriend’s bachelor party, but how many of them bring friends? And put on a show like THAT? I don’t know about you, but I, for one, am never gonna hear Bela Lugosi’s Dead or Bloodletting the same way again! Let’s all give Julie another hand!”

Everyone at the party cheered or lifted their beers as Julie gave the DJ a peck on the cheek before leaving the stage. She bounced down the steps, giving the audience a couple last jiggles of her tits along the way. The DJ continued.

“I think we’re all happy you two came home for the wedding. Welcome back! And let’s have one for the Man of the Hour! Where are ya, Troy? Where’s the only guy I’ve ever met whose bride and best man are the same person?” A spotlight shone around the audience a couple of times as the DJ looked out into the crowd. Some of them applauded prematurely before the DJ said “Uh-oh! Looks like he’s gone, and so are your two friends. Maybe they’re back up in the suite waiting for you, eh, Julie?”

An “OOOOO” went through the room and a path cleared for her. She walked up to Claire, who’d been waiting with a hotel bathrobe for her.

“Hey,” Julie said, taking the robe and putting it on. She took out the fake fangs and stuffed them and the lingerie into the robe’s pockets. “Thanks. How long ago’d they go up?”

“A couple minutes into your solo number; guess you got him too worked up. Him, Susan, Brenda, and that other girl.”

“Other girl?”

“Yeah, the one who didn’t get the message ‘dress casual, ‘ I guess.” Claire gave Julie a smirk. “Hey, thanks for flying us all here. Er ... I know I said I wasn’t up for being part of the show, but seeing all of you up there ... got room for one more in the suite?”

Julie’s face wrinkled a little bit as she quickly connected some mental dots. Susan had picked the “Brides of Dracula” theme and Julie had been worried that with her past issues, she’d have a problem putting on a show for an audience, but she’d insisted she wanted to do it, so Julie had been a little distracted making sure she was ok. Then she took in what Claire had asked and realized she’d been making a face for several seconds.

“Oh, no, that look was NOT for you, Claire! Yes! Absolutely, come on up, but er ... mingle for about an hour first, ok? Ya know, keep the party going for us; we’ve got the lounge for the whole night. There’s just something I’ve gotta take care of.”

Claire stepped closer to help her tie the belt around the robe, then gave her a passionate kiss as the people around them cheered again. “Ok. But don’t take TOO much care of him before I get a turn, ok?”

Julie hugged her and gave her breast a little feel as the hug ended. She quick-walked out of the lounge toward the hotel elevator, the “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” under her breath now audible in the late night silence of the lobby. The fucks continued as she waited for the elevator, all the way up to their floor, and down the hall to the Bridal Suite.

On the table as she entered the room, next to a large bouquet of roses (She bristled a little when she was what kind.) was a large package and an expensive-looking open laptop. On the couch behind them, Troy was sitting naked with Brenda riding him reverse-cowgirl. Julie looked over to the bed and saw Susan naked and curled up like a sleeping kitten.

“Hi, hon,” he said between thrusts. “She was here.”

“Fuckin’ Helena,” Julie said, slamming her fist on the table and knocking the roses onto the floor. “I tipped the doorman AND the bellboy AND the guy at reception an extra hundred each to let me know if any expensive sports cars or limos turned up!”

“She got to all of them. And she’s back to Helen while she’s in town. She’s waiting for you on Skype.”

“And let me guess: You two can’t stop or cum until after I talk to her.” Troy nodded again. Brenda continued mindlessly bouncing on his cock, unaware that Julie had even entered the room. “Ok, THIS! This has just made the top of my ‘If I had a time machine’ list: Kill Hitler, stop myself from shoving you into the pool on your 6th birthday, invest on the ground floor of IBM; foursome with you, JFK, and Audrey Munson; and don’t teach her how to do our thing!”

“You ... ungh ... didn’t have ... mnn ... to invite her ... ohh...”

Julie walked to the minibar and grabbed two little bottles of bourbon. “And let her find out on her own? And that she wasn’t invited? That’s, like, how every fairy tale begins, Troy, and I said I didn’t want a fairy tale wedding!”

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of an incoming call on Skype. Julie walked over to the laptop, took a deep breath, slammed the contents of one of the bottles, and hit Answer. The screen filled with the image of a woman with short black hair and long, curled bangs. An emerald tiara sat on her head, matching her earrings and necklace. A smile of delight was on her face.

“Julie, dear,” she said as if they’d just bumped into each other on the street. “How delightful to see you!”

“Helen,” she replied as if she’d just bumped into someone she’d hoped to never see again on the street. “You’re looking well.”

“That’s Contessa to you, and I’m looking SENSATIONAL, darling!”

“Ok, Cuntessa. I see you got the invitation.”

Helen gave a wink and kept smiling. If she’d picked up on the “cuntessa” thing, she ignored it. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world! And you got the laptop. It’s yours, just the first of my four presents for your big day. Don’t worry, there’s nothing nefarious on it. The box is for Troy, he can open it after we talk.”

“And I suppose some Best Buy cashier is out of a job for letting you walk out with it.”

“Nonsense! Paid cash in full,” she said, waving the receipt in front of the screen so Julie could see it, holding her thumb over the price. “I don’t have to do things like that anymore if I don’t want to, and I wouldn’t skimp for my oldest, dearest friends on their special day. Now, be a peach and take me over to the other couch. I can barely hear you over your hot librarian.”

Julie took a deep breath, carried the laptop over to the coffee table by the other couch in the room and sat down at it. “Her name’s Brenda, and she’s not ‘ours, ‘ Cuntessa.”

“Oh, they never are these days, are they? When did you stop calling them fucktoys again?”

“After Madrid, when I saw you last.”

“You should have stayed with me. The Count had a cousin who was a Baron. Not as loaded, but just as old and with just as bad a heart. You could have fucked him into an attack in half the time I took, and Baroness Julie has a lovely ring to it.”

“Yeah, see, I’m not greedy enough to kill someone for their money and title.”

“Nonsense again! The Count passed with a smile on his face banging a woman a quarter his age. What man doesn’t dream of going out like that?”

“Mine,” Julie responded, cracking open the second bottle. Helen bristled for a second at that and Julie took a victory sip from the bottle. “What did you do to Susan?”

“Who? Oh, the other one. Don’t worry, I had her pegged for one of Troy’s little ‘wounded birds’ right off. I’m sure the poor dear’s suffered enough, so I just had her take a nap, she’ll wake up whenever you want. And he was mine first, honey. So were you, come to think of it.”

“And I won’t deny it was fun, but you always take things too far, Contessa!”

“Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers out there are starving to death. You, me, him, we’ve all got an advantage over them, why SHOULDN’T we use it?”

Julie took another drink. “Because we don’t know who else out there has it too! What if there’s some group of people who can do this and won’t appreciate high profile stuff like marrying royalty and dealerships just GIVING us flashy sports cars? Or some government group? We could all wind up...”