by K. S. Adkins
Eye to eye, she rests her palm on my cheek and whispers, “As you wish.”
We showed up back at the campsite hand in hand and no one seemed surprised by it. Odds are they heard my screams of pleasure and know he’s just given it to me. Given it to me good!
Taking our seats by the fire, Hillary leans over and takes a strand of my hair. “You’ve got a little something stuck –” she says, plucking it out. “Just a twig, you’re welcome.”
There were times she was tolerable. This is one of them.
Pointing at Scott, Sugar asks him, “Okay, Sinclair. Charades, karaoke, or never have I ever.”
Without blinking, he blurts, “Never have I ever.”
“Fuck me,” I groan in mock agony.
“Happy to,” Van supplies, and I giggle.
“Excellent choice!” Sugar claps. “As our newest camper, Evander goes first.”
“Me! I get to ask!” Hillary jumps up. “Okay, Evander, never have I ever had sex in a sleeping bag.”
“Never,” he says boldly then adds while looking at me. “Or rather, I amend to not yet.”
“Kinky,” Sugar chirps. “Tay, never have I ever slept in the same bed as five people.”
Shit, guilty. “Done that.”
Raising a brow at me, I explain to Van, “Us girls make four, Scott passed out not caring we were crammed in his bed. He made five.” Seeing his doubt, I roll my eyes. “Whatever, Saint Church.”
Laughing, he decides to take a turn. “Hillary, never have I ever watched animal porn.”
“Who are you?” I laugh out loud.
“Never,” Hillary gags. “Or at least not on purpose.”
“I see where this is headed,” Scott chuckles. “Taylor, never have I ever had sex with an audience.”
“Done that,” I shout proudly.
“What the fuck?” Van says, throwing his hands up.
“With you, asshole, a half hour ago… damn.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” I snap.
“Evander,” India says, stretching her arms. “Never have I ever had a sex dream about Taylor.”
“Every fucking night for two years.”
“Forgiven,” I smile at him. “Sugar, never have I ever licked my own boob.”
Cupping her rack, she grins and says, “Done that and really, can you blame me?”
Reaching for my bag, I grab the lighter and joint I rolled earlier and light it up. Taking a nice inhale, I’m in the process of holding it in when Van asks, “Are you smoking marijuana?”
“Puff, puff, pass,” Hillary says, taking it from me. Blowing it out, I study his face, noting the curiosity I see there.
“I was hoping we would be smoking it.”
“Do you smoke a lot?”
“What’s a lot?”
“Where do you even get it?” he asks, avoiding my question.
“I’ve got a guy,” I explain. “He’s cool, plays in a band, plus he takes personal checks.”
“Your drug takes personal checks?” Didn’t they all?
“Gimme,” Sugar says, snagging it. Taking in a big hit, she coughs and hands it to Scott, who in turn also hits it hard. Completely in shock, Van watches everyone hit it, but asks India, “Do you smoke, too?”
“Not for the next eight months,” she sighs. “I’m going to miss it. Taylor gets clutch pot.”
Scott extends his arm, offering a hit to Van, but I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable so I say, “No means no, Van. We don’t do peer pressure.”
Taking it between his fingers, he is about to hit it when he says, “My parents would be proud.”
“Just take a little toke,” I prompt him. “Lieutenant Dan is no joke.”
Taking a huge hit, we all stare as Van begins coughing so hard spit and smoke are both coming from his mouth. Patting his back, I hand him his beer to wash it down.
“Damn,” he says, hitting it again. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Whoa,” I say while reaching for it. “Baby steps, Cheech.”
Passing it to me, I take another hit, get right in Van’s face and blow.
“You just got crop dusted, bitch!” Hillary yells out.
“She blew smoke, not ass, you idiot,” Sugar chuckles.
“Same thing,” she argues.
“I think I’m getting high,” Van grins after another deep toke.
“Wait for it,” I grin back because he ain’t felt nothing yet.
With the fire burning, my feet in Van’s lap, we listen to Hillary attempt another scary story and fail. India announces she’s going to bed and Scott leads her off, leaving the four of us together. We girls carry on like we always do with Van looking content just to watch and listen. Then out of nowhere, he yells, “I can’t feel my legs!” And I fell out of my chair in a fit of laughter with the girls following suit.
Taylor’s absolutely no help and neither are Hillary or Sugar.
Does no one care I’m paralyzed?
I literally could feel nothing from the waist down. What if I never walk again? Slapping my crotch, I nearly cry when I can’t feel my cock. Coming up to her knees and settling between mine, Taylor tries composing herself but fails. I can’t even feel her there!
“Van,” she chokes on laughter. “It’ll pass, I promise.”
“This is the highlight of my weekend,” Hillary says, wiping her eyes. “I don’t even need to write this down. It’s forever burned in my memory.”
“I think he pissed himself,” Sugar adds.
“Not that he’d feel it,” Hillary roars.
“Ignore them,” Taylor says biting her lip.
“This is funny to you?” I accuse. “I’m fucking paralyzed! In a cloth folding chair! In the woods!”
At this, the three of them fall to the dirt and began rolling around in it. Laughing so hard they are struggling to breathe.
Though Hillary deflects nicely, I’m positive she pissed herself, but was too freaked out to say anything. The first to recover, Taylor sits up and says, “You’ll get your legs, Lieutenant Dan.”
“What’s with the Forest Gump references!”
“It’s the strain of weed you just ingested,” Sugar giggles. “It’s called Lieutenant Dan.”
“Good shit,” Hillary adds.
“I told you to go easy,” Taylor tries.
“I smoked weed that acts as a paralytic?”
“Mmhmm,” Taylor chuckles. “Though, I’ve never seen anyone go full Lieutenant before.”
“You could have told me!”
“I did,” she cries. “What did you think I meant when I said Lieutenant Dan?”
“Can you feel your cock?” Hillary asks.
“No,” I snap. “As a matter of fact, I can’t!”
“Get some of that, Taylor,” Sugar advises. “It’ll be like stranger for Van.”
“Stranger?” What the fuck is the matter with these three?
“Yeah, you know when you sit on your hands until they go numb and then get yourself off. It’s your hands doing the work, but it feels like a stranger.”
“Sugar,” Taylor chokes out. “I don’t think he’s ready for that.”
“Shh,” I demand. “Do you hear that?”
Each of them looks at me and Taylor asks, “Hear what?”
“God, is talking to me.”
“What’s he saying?” Hillary whispers.
“If God shows up, I’m hauling ass,” Sugar mumbles.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Taylor adds. “And I’m taking the weed with me.”
“Wait,” I say, demanding quiet. “I don’t think it’s God, maybe a coyote? I can’t tell.”
“Oh, that,” Taylor laughs it off. “That’s Scott banging India, and she’s screaming for the lord. You’ll get used to it.”
“So, he’s not here?” Sugar asks.
“Nope,” Taylor confirms.
“Thank fuck, “ she sighs. “I mean, amen.”
“That sucks,” Hillary pouts. “I had q
uestions.”
“Van,” Taylor says, running her hands up my thighs and cupping my cock. “Can you feel this?”
Maybe God really was here because I could feel it, and I wanted to thank him personally. “Squeeze harder, I’m not sure.”
Grinning up at me, she does as she’s told, and I let out a moan.
“Lieutenant Dan has at least one of his legs,” Sugar jokes.
“I need to get laid,” Hillary complains.
“Hey, Van Wilder,” Taylor says seductively. “I’m thinking I’d like to name a multiple orgasm after you.”
“You and me, now,” I growl. “I don’t care if I have to fucking crawl to the tent.”
Turns out I don’t have to crawl, and Taylor isn’t feeling the tent.
Instead she grabs a blanket and steered us down to the water. Lying on my back with her draped across me, I stare up at the night sky, finding myself aroused and speechless. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks. “So different from the city.”
“I’ve never done this,” I admit. “Camping, fishing, smoking pot, or staring at the stars. Not because it was denied me, but because I was embarrassed of my parents. I didn’t know what I was missing. Thank you for showing me.”
“I have so much more to show you,” she whispers while tracing my chest. “Plus, all the things, I never had anyone special to do them with. We can do them together, Van.”
“Do I make you happy, Taylor?”
Moving to straddle me, she leans down to lick the seam of my lip, whispering, “In all my crazy life, I have never been as happy as I am right now.”
“Would you let me take you here, under the stars?”
“Van,” she says softly as she removes my belt. “I’d let you take me anywhere.”
Thank God, the use of my legs isn’t required for her to ride me.
Being an adult is sucking right now.
As if my schedule isn’t hectic enough, tomorrow afternoon I have a Ford Motor Company luncheon to oversee, tomorrow night a killer corporate cocktail party, and the following day I’m meeting with the caterers to approve the menu for Van’s parents’ party. The location is secure, invitations went out this morning, and the decor will be shipped within the next two days. Planning their event isn’t difficult just time consuming because I want it to be perfect. I even asked Van to send me photos of his parents over the years for a slideshow I have planned, and his secretary Janice sent them over an hour ago. I also need to go grocery shopping, pay my bills, and get Sugar up to speed before she covers for me. She always steps in for me when I need coverage. Saturday is a sweet sixteen party in West Bloomfield and honestly, Sugar is better with teens than I am. She is patient and laid back where I’d usually sneak out to my car to do a shot, lest I slap a millennial. This way, Sugar makes some extra cash, a kid doesn’t get assaulted, and I get to watch Van dominate the lacrosse field—everyone wins.
Though, I’ve been busy this week, Van has been out with Scott twice.
As partner to the firm, I am positive for the first time in his life Van is slacking on the job.
Truth? I’m proud.
Van needs down time, too.
And shit, I’m running late for brunch.
Plus, I’m missing him, so at the light I text him a cleave shot.
To my credit, I manage to make it to brunch only fifteen minutes late.
Having already ordered for me, I sip my mimosa and catch up to the conversation.
When the lull hit, I ask India, “How are you feeling, momma-to-be?”
“Like fat shit,” she smiles.
“Well, you look fantastic,” Hillary says and we freeze. “What? I can’t say she looks fantastic?”
“You can,” Sugar offers. “You just never do.”
“Well, I just did,” she rolls her eyes. “And fuck you, I do mean it, too.”
“I can’t believe you’re pregnant,” I smile at my best friend. “I’m so happy for you. Scott, too.”
“We weren’t trying,” she explains. “We weren’t not trying either. When I found out, I never realized how much I truly wanted the very thing I convinced myself I never needed.”
Funny how life works. I completely understand what India means because that’s exactly how I feel about Van. However, she is signing up to change diapers, whereas I am hoping he and I will have another thirty years under our belts before I changed his.
“Scott’s walking on air,” Hillary points out. “I’ve never seen him happier.”
“Neither of us thought we’d be parents,” she says, wiping her eyes and looking at me, she whispers, “Wishes do come true.”
I am so happy it had for India. Hell, I’d have stolen a kid if that’s what it took to make her smile. But her wish has been granted and that’s what mattered. The baby growing inside of her mattered.
“You will have the most kick ass shower any baby mama has ever seen,” I promise her.
“I propose a three-day banger,” Hillary chimes in.
“Taylor does a hell of a banger,” Sugar says raising her glass and we all follow suit.
“To India, Scott, and our niece or nephew to be.”
Clinging our glasses, Sugar says, “As far as aunts go, this kid is so fucked,” and we all burst into laughter.
But two hours later, I’m no longer laughing.
“Why do we let you talk us into this shit, India?” I ask with an eye roll and a large amount of apprehension.
“They’re a new client,” she explains. “I have to make a good impression, plus, it’s supposed to help with the morning sickness. Come on, I got passes for all of us.”
“Puke on my feet again and I’m defriending you on Facebook,” Hillary warns.
“This is a great place to pick up chicks,” Sugar claps. “I’m stoked!”
“You’re horny,” I amend.
“Same thing.”
“This is a horrible idea,” I mumble, grabbing my mat. “And why are we doing this sober?”
“I have you covered,” India says, producing a fifth. “My way of saying thank you.”
As quickly as possible the three of us passed that bottle around as if drinking from it was the key to eternal youth. Burping up an actual ball of fire, I shake out my shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
As a group, The Shit entered the seventh layer of hell.
Yoga.
Oh no, wait. I’m sorry.
Hot yoga.
AKA Satan’s playground.
“Jesus, fuck,” Hillary grouses, wiping her upper lip. “People pay money for this?”
“Why aren’t we naked?” Sugar asks while rolling her mat out.
“In thirty seconds I will be,” I say doing the same.
“Hot yoga is good for stretching your muscles and relieving pressure on your joints,” India adds.
“The only joints I’m worried about putting pressure on are the ones rolled up in my freezer.”
“This isn’t exercise,” Hillary groans.
“I miss the 90s when Jazzercise and Thigh Masters were cool.”
“And Hammer pants,” Sugar insists. “Those were legit.”
“And body suits,” I smile in memory. “I rocked a body suit.”
“They’re making a comeback,” Sugar alerts me.
“As soon as they make them with elastic waists and Velcro, I’m in.”
“Those snaps were a bitch, weren’t they?” Hillary muses.
“Remember when I had to take Philip Taulbee to the ER after the snap incident?” India laughs.
“Oh my God, that’s right!” I snort. “Who busts an incisor on a body suit snap?”
“He called you chastity belt for months,” Sugar giggles.
“He did,” India nods. “Then, when I offered him the cookie he couldn’t get it up.”
“I don’t miss high school,” I confess. “Having these titties in tenth grade was not a high point for me.” and my girls all nod their agreement. None of us will ever forget my chest entering a room two
minutes before I did.
Now in a row, the four of us attempt to follow the class’s lead, which lasts all of seven minutes.
“Not good,” I grumble.
“What?” India whispers.
“Why am I suddenly gassy?”
“Gassy?” she tries not to laugh.
“Like I’m going to rip serious ass, India. What the fuck is happening to me?”
And when the instructor tells us to move into the downward dog, the one position I could handle, it happened.
“What did you eat?” Sugar gags falling over.
“It’s the Fireball,” I laugh loud, then put my hand over my mouth breaking pose.
“You had some push behind it,” Hillary says, pulling her tank up to cover her face. “I’ll give you that.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” India says, running for it.
For the next half an hour, I swear I try to keep up, but it’s hopeless. I’m not cut out for Zen shit. So when the chick says, free flow and the music changes, I do what comes naturally.
“Uh, Tay,” Hillary says, pointing to the class. “I don’t think that’s what it means.”
Continuing on, I shrug and explain, “The spirit filled me, now shut up and let me flow.”
“The spirit?” Sugar asks on a laugh.
“What did you expect to happen when the beat dropped?” I argue.
“Beat?” Hillary asks. “It’s Adele.”
“So? It’s catchy.”
“Can we go now?” Sugar asks, pulling her yoga pants from her ass. “I don’t do sweaty with clothes on.”
“India bailed, so let’s follow suit,” I nod while rolling up my mat.
Out in the lobby, after India assured us she is fine, Hillary chimes in with, “I can’t wait to tell Evander about this.”
Leveling her with a look, I warn, “Snitches get stitches, Miss Misery.”
“And it would be worth every last one, juggernaut.”
Before I could issue another threat, I rip ass again, killing my own argument.
When I proposed driving to Boston for the championship, it was so I would have Taylor to myself. However, with Friday rush hour, construction, food stops, pee breaks, and a brief battle with motion sickness, the eleven-hour drive turned into fourteen.
