The Bachelorette Party

by Donald Welch

  “Well, go on in there and get your breakfast and coffee.” With a kiss on his forehead, her mother would send him off to the kitchen, and Nicole’s father would pick up the morning paper that she had left by the chair. That was Nicole’s model for a loving but realistic relationship, and she planned to have the same with Alan.

  Six

  Do You Think I’m Sexy?

  DENISE RUSHED into the police station. She didn’t get surprised too often, but this call had been unexpected.

  “You are holding a client of mine, and I’d like to see him,” Denise told the bored-looking desk sergeant.

  “Your client’s name?” he asked.

  “Kevin Jameron.”

  “Oh,” he said with a smirk.

  Denise chose not to ask him why Kevin had been arrested, because the sergeant looked like he’d be only too pleased to tell her, and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

  “Hang out here for a moment, and we’ll get him out of holding. Someone will escort you into one of the interrogation rooms where you can talk with him.”

  After a few minutes, Denise was taken to a small room that stank of stale coffee and sweat to wait for her client, Kevin Jameron, who also happened to be Keisha’s brother.

  For the past three years, Kevin had been the number-one news anchor on the CBS affiliate in Philadelphia, a position he fought long and hard for after graduating from Temple University, where he’d majored in Journalism and Business. After college, he interned at WHYY-TV, the PBS Channel 12 affiliate in Philadelphia, and was asked to co-host several on-air pledge drives. His good looks, charm, and charisma came across so well on screen that pledges routinely jumped whenever he was on. Offers started coming in from New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles, requesting his demo tape. But Philadelphia was where he wanted to remain, so when he was offered the weekend anchor spot for Fox, he jumped at the chance, and his popularity soared. When an anchor position opened at CBS, he didn’t have to lobby hard for it, because they wanted him that badly. The city loved him.

  When he entered the interrogation room, his rumpled, embarrassed appearance was a far cry from the attractive, confident persona he usually projected.

  “Kevin, are you okay?” Denise asked.

  “Yes,” he said in a monotone.

  “Now, before I can get you out of here, I need to know what happened,” Denise said.

  “Denise, I’m a little embarrassed. Did you tell Keisha you were coming here?”

  “No. I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone. I was on my way to Nicole’s bachelorette party when I got your call. So, what’s up?”

  “Well, before I tell you, you have to promise me that you won’t tell my sister—or anyone else. What I tell you stays here. Okay?”

  “Kevin, what’s going on? What did you do?”

  “I guess I better start at the beginning.”

  KEVIN MET OLIVIA CHASE, a stunning thirtyish, five-foot-nine brunette through another anchor friend, Jarvis Mathers. Olivia posed as a socialite and business owner, and at one time she modeled locally, although she’d never really made it past a few successful jobs in New York. Jarvis told Kevin, who had a reputation for sleeping around, that Olivia had some girls if he was interested. Kevin contacted Olivia, met her for lunch, and became a client. Olivia operated her business out of a day spa she owned and operated in Cherry Hill, New Jersey.

  During their first meeting, Olivia told Kevin two things: The reason she’d considered bringing him in as a regular client was because Jarvis vouched for him. And anonymity was a must.

  She informed him that all appointments would take place in a nondescript building on Admiral Wilson Boulevard, a main thoroughfare leading toward Pennsauken, New Jersey.

  “What type of services are you looking for?” Olivia asked.

  “You might think I’m sick after I tell you,” Kevin said, slightly embarrassed.

  Olivia let out a howl. “I assure you that there is nothing that you can say that would shock me,” Olivia said.

  “Okay, then,” Kevin said, taking a big breath. “I’m into S & M and bondage, abuse, both verbal and physical. In other words—the kinkier, the better. I’m looking for a dominatrix who understands my desires. I like to be verbally and physically degraded and humiliated, and I enjoy being tied up and spanked.”

  “Okay, then, I think I have a few girls who fit the bill,” Olivia said, amused by his admission.

  After considering various women, Kevin settled on Dahlia, an exotic dark-haired beauty who was one of Olivia’s best girls. Since that first meeting, a year ago, Kevin and Dahlia had met more than forty times for their romps in the hay. Kevin could not get enough of Dahlia. Most dominatrices could be very masculine and hard-looking, but Dahlia was the complete opposite. She was sweet, dainty, and very innocent—like a schoolgirl, but she still took on a toughness when in the role of mistress. Last night’s session was bittersweet. Dahlia had decided to leave Olivia’s business and move to the West Coast to start her own service. It was to be their final session. Kevin paid $2,100 for an overnighter.

  When Dahlia stepped out of the shower and entered the room, Kevin was able to catch a glimpse of this beautiful creature. He got an erection just thinking about everything they had done a few hours earlier. They’d tried something new: hypoxyphilia, during which he was deprived of oxygen in order to achieve an orgasm. Dahlia had made Kevin get on his back and then tied his arms and spread his legs. Once he was aroused, she would mount him and tie a clear plastic bag over his head. Kevin chose that dangerous method because the mere fact that it had caused a few accidental deaths excited him even more. As he climaxed, Dahlia ripped off the bag, leaving him gasping for air. The rush satisfied him like nothing else he had ever done.

  “You’re finally awake, huh?” Dahlia asked.

  “Yes, I am. Wow, baby, that was some night. I can’t believe you’re leaving me. What time is it?”

  “Around noon,” she replied, then suddenly drew back the curtain, letting in piercing sunlight, which blinded him momentarily.

  He pulled the bedsheet over his face to escape the light. “Hey, cut that out.”

  Dahlia laughed at her prank and closed the drapes. She noticed the twenty-one hundred-dollar bills stacked neatly next to her whip and mask on the bedroom table.

  “Why don’t you come over here and take care of this for me, Mistress?” Kevin pleaded for one more session as he displayed his stiff manhood.

  “I’d love to stay and play, but it is time for me to go,” she said, smiling.

  “But I haven’t received my full twenty-four hours of service, and technically I’m due one more hour.” Kevin pleaded in a childlike voice, “Mistress, I’ll pay you another five hundred dollars if you spank me with your dog collar. I promise I’ll be the best puppy you ever had.”

  Dahlia pondered a few moments and then decided to oblige.

  Kevin became giddy with excitement. “Thank you, Mistress.” He got on all fours and allowed her to put the studded dog collar and leash around his neck. Dahlia then told him to sit and be a good boy while she changed into her costume. Kevin couldn’t contain his excitement as he sat patiently like a dog waiting for a bone.

  His cell phone rang; it was a call from his sister, Keisha. He dared not answer it unless he asked for permission from his mistress. He hollered through the door, asking for her command to get his call. Dahlia gave him permission, but told him he had to make it short.

  “Hey, Keisha, what’s up?”

  “Hey, Kevin, I’m going to have to cancel our dinner date tonight, because I have to pick up Freda from the airport.”

  “Okay,” Kevin said, trying to rush her off the phone.

  Keisha sensed he was not alone. “Boy, what are you doing? Where you at?”

  Kevin’s long pause was explanation enough, as far as she was concerned. She knew he was a slut. “Never mind. Look, call me in the afternoon when you get your nasty ass up.” Both brother and sister started laughing.<
br />
  “Okay, bye,” Kevin said before taking his position back on the floor, waiting for his mistress to reenter the room. The anticipation of being dominated by a woman excited Kevin to no end. Dahlia, now dressed in all-black leather, flung open the door, cracked the whip to get his attention, and then slowly walked toward him, ready to give a command. The anticipation kept him aroused. Anticipation, anticipation.

  Suddenly there was a heavy knock on the door. “Police, open up!”

  Kevin tried to get dressed, and Dahlia scurried to the bathroom for an escape as five federal officers rushed in, guns drawn, and arrested Dahlia and Kevin within seconds. The officers recognized him immediately. One of the officers read them their Miranda rights, but Kevin wasn’t listening. All he could think about was the end of his career.

  Dahlia didn’t go peacefully. She started screaming obscenities and kicking the arresting officers. Someone had tipped the media about the raids, and they were right there to catch all the action when officers made the busts. Aggressive newscasters surrounded them with questions and close shots. A CBS cameraman reluctantly positioned himself for a close shot, because he was not only one of Kevin’s coworkers, but a friend. It was a media holiday for the cameras and microphones. Dahlia was still dressed in her black leather costume, while Kevin was in a stupor and wore only silk briefs. A federal officer exited the building behind them, carrying a black leather mask and a black rhinestone studded cat-o’-nine-tails.

  On the ride to jail, Kevin was in the backseat of the police car, numb. The feds told him this was one of many arrests as a result of a four-month investigation. They had tapes, photos, and testimony from one of Olivia’s girls, who’d tipped them off about the operation. The informer thought she had been treated unfairly by Olivia, who was raking in millions.

  KEVIN FINISHED telling his story and he finally worked up the courage to look Denise in the eye. While she wanted to drop her jaw to the ground, she didn’t wish to add to her client’s distress. Denise looked Kevin squarely in the eye and projected the confidence he needed to see in her.

  “Kevin, I’ll do all I can to get you out of this. It’s too late to get you out tonight, and I’ll try to do what I can tomorrow, but you know it’s Nicole’s wedding day and it’s the weekend. Just be patient, and I’ll get you out as soon as possible.”

  Kevin knew one thing for sure: He wasn’t going to be at Nicole’s wedding tomorrow.

  Seven

  You Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’?

  VALERIE HAD settled into Nicole’s apartment and was arranging snacks and fruit trays while Nicole got ready for the bachelorette party. The phone rang, and Valerie called out to Nicole, “Nicole, your phone. Nicky?”

  The sound of running water indicated that Nicole was still in the shower, so Valerie decided to answer the phone. “Hello? Oh, hi, Tisha, it’s Valerie…. Nicky’s in the shower…. You’re not?…What’s the matter?…Oh, I see…. Okay, well I’ll tell her…. Can I bring you anything?…Okay, sorry…. Bye, Tish.”

  Valerie was puzzled by Tisha’s unpleasant tone and the way she cut off the call. She could sense that something was wrong, but Valerie was a little preoccupied with an unsuccessful business meeting she’d had earlier. She was supposed to sign a lease on a new building for her day-care business, but had hit yet another delay. But she’d vowed not to let it get her down and ruin everyone else’s evening and instead chose to focus on the gladiolas and calla lilies perfectly arranged in a Waterford crystal vase Nicole had received at one of her wedding showers. Hopefully their beauty, class, and simple elegance would set the tone for the evening.

  Making her way over to the sofa, Valerie picked up a photo album that had been neatly placed on a stack of magazines under the coffee table. Flipping through it, she recognized many of the old family and school photos of all the girls throughout the years of their friendship. She came across one that made her laugh out loud.

  Just then, Nicole entered in a robe, holding a glass of her favorite white wine, looking for something. “Have you seen my nail polish?”

  Valerie was immersed in the photo album and didn’t hear her.

  “Valerie Coates, I thought you were here to help me get things set up. You’re taking a break already?”

  “I’m sorry, Nicky. I was just looking at some of our old photos. I can’t believe you still have all these.”

  Nicole sat down next to Valerie and spotted a photo taken of all the girls at Hershey Amusement Park when they were about fourteen years old.

  “Jesus, this one is funny. Look at all of us. And oh, my God, the hair! Will you look at our hairstyles! Look at Keisha. Hey, remember how we all laughed because her brother hid her shoes and she had to wear sneakers with her outfit?”

  “Girl, we were so fly.”

  “Yes, we were, but I also remember that Keisha was so mad. Look at her face. And would you look at Denise? Even then she looked like she was in charge of everything.”

  “When does Denise Upshaw listen to anyone but Denise Upshaw? When she found out that Alan and I were getting married and that we wanted to keep everything low-key—no big wedding, no fanfare—she had a fit.”

  In a mocking voice, Valerie imitated Denise: “Absolutely not, Nicole Lawson. We will be having a party for your closest friends. I will take care of everything. Now that’s final, end of discussion.” Valerie fell back on the sofa laughing as Nicole joined in.

  “You sound just like her!”

  “Please don’t tell her. She’ll get mad at me. Promise me.”

  “Girl, don’t worry about Denise. She’s more bark than bite. And besides, it is just a joke. You know what? I think you should do your impersonation of her tonight while everyone is here.”

  “Are you crazy? She would never speak to me again, and you know that! She still hasn’t spoken to Zenora since she claimed Z messed up her hair on purpose when Essence magazine did the photo shoot with her for their ‘Woman on the Move’ section. I actually thought it looked nice.”

  “It did look nice. There are a lot of things one could say about Zenora, but when it comes to hair, we all know she’s the best. Denise just got angry because she was not in control of where she was placed in the photo, and she felt it was because the talent coordinator was not feeling her hairstyle. He placed her in the back. She let her ego get in the way.”

  “She means well. I just don’t want to get on her wrong side.”

  “You are so sweet. Girl, who could be mad at you?”

  “Denise!” Valerie assured.

  “Just like in school everybody loved you. You were the only girl that didn’t have one girl jealous or mad at you. You’re still sweet, kind, and one of my dearest friends.”

  Valerie gave Nicole a hug. “Thanks, Nicky.”

  “No, I mean it. I love all you girls, but you’re the only one that never had any drama. You will make some guy very lucky one day, that’s for sure.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. You just have to open up a little bit more. You’re too shy around guys.”

  “I am not!”

  “Okay, here’s an example: Remember when we had Keisha’s birthday party a couple of years ago at the Pyramid Club here in town, and Rick Fox, the basketball player, was there? He asked you to dance, you said you couldn’t and excused yourself to go to the restroom. Girl, you didn’t come out for thirty minutes.”

  “That is not true! If I remember correctly, I had a really bad stomachache—and besides, he was married,” Valerie said as she walked to the bar area and got a bottle of spring water.

  Nicole teased, “He was separated and had filed for divorce. Everybody knew it. And every single girl was on him except you. If I remember correctly, he came over to you. Besides, what’s wrong with just an innocent dance?”

  Valerie stuttered, “Well, I—I couldn’t. I like Vanessa Williams.”

  “You don’t even know Vanessa Williams!”

  “So, it doesn’t matter. It just didn’t seem righ
t. As a matter of fact, I don’t think he should have been in the club. Technically he was not single. And what was he doing in Philly anyway?”

  “Wasn’t that the NBA All-Star Game weekend?”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Valerie remembered.

  “It was public knowledge that those two were having problems. Listen, he asked you to dance, not go back to his hotel room with him. He is fine, though.”

  “I’m not really into those high-profile guys. They get spoiled with all that attention. When I do settle down, it’s going to be with someone that is not in the public eye, and is very much single. And why are we talking about this right now, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your party, miss?”

  Nicole took another sip of wine before getting up. “Okay, whatever. Let me get dressed. You’re just trying to change the subject. Didn’t I hear the phone ring?”

  “Sorry, it was Tisha. She’s not going to make it tonight.”

  “What! Why not?” Upset, Nicole sat back down on the sofa.

  “She’s not feeling well. I asked her if there was anything that any of us could do, and she snapped at me. She really didn’t sound good at all.”

  “That’s a bummer. This might be the last time we may all be able to chill together for a while. Was it one of her migraines?”

  “I don’t know. She was very vague. It was a short conversation. In fact, she cut me off, but she said to tell everyone she was sorry.”

  “I hope she’s okay.”

  “You know, ever since Kimmy was born, Tisha’s been getting these migraines off and on, and she won’t see a doctor,” Nicole said, her brow wrinkled with concern. “I’ve asked her time and time again to see a doctor, but she won’t do it. Do you think she and Roland had another argument? Maybe she’s just using not feeling well as an excuse.”

  “I don’t know. I just try to stay out of their marriage. Tisha has made it quite clear that the topic is off-limits.”