by Amiee Smith
(Okay, it might have been me.)
His voice is low, his words a mix of English and Farsi. My man is tired.
“Goddess Lilly, I don’t care about your fan club. And I fully intend to lick and bite your bruised ego later.”
Chills run down my arms. Arousal forms between my thighs. Oh! My sweet Michael is a savage and I want him all over me. I lay down a bone. I’m so distracted, I don’t bother trying to score.
“Where? In your car?” I ask.
“No. At home. In our bed,” Michael replies, in all Farsi.
“I have to stay... sleepover?” I say, in Farsi.
I mean it as a statement, but it comes out a question. Michael raises an eyebrow and plays. He’s not trying to score anymore. I reach for another domino in the boneyard. It’s shit. I can’t score. Now someone in the audience gasps. They’ve figured out what he’s doing.
Michael speaks to me in Farsi.
“I hope you can follow this, Lilly. You know there are two ways for this to end. We can do it slowly with all your fans watching or we can do this quickly. Either way, you’re going to lose. I need you to get up and talk to your Mafia. They need to induct Jon in some way. While this all happened before your time, he feels he has paid his dues and doesn’t get enough love from the girls. I feel bad for the guy.”
How many times can this man bring tears to my eyes in one day? My heart is so full. I need to tell him, but not here.
I speak in Farsi.
“Michael. You are my everything.”
I rise from the table and huddle with the girls.
“I’m going to lose this game. Michael is working two different strategies. He will let me save face if you guys induct Jon into the Mafia in some way,” I whisper.
Claire whispers back. “We’ll figure something out, but we should vote on it, first. Lilly, you get to vote too. After tonight, you’re definitely one of us. All in favor of husbands joining the Mafia?”
Everyone nods, but Brit.
“Why are you voting against Jon?” Jen scoffs at Brit.
“I’m not, but if we do this… then we’ll need to do it for… every husband. Ah… I mean, it won’t just be us anymore.”
“I’m okay with having Mafia Men,” Lynn says.
Jen smiles. “Girls, this is the best move of the night. Inducting Jon will totally get us out of shirtless purgatory.”
Everyone nods. I return to the table.
“Deal. And after we get married you will be inducted too,” I say in Farsi.
Michael smiles his perfect, illuminous grin.
“I know. 10.”
His move gives me somewhere to play, but I’m no longer trying to put points on the board. My eyes never fully leaving him.
“15. Domino,” Michael says, dropping his last bone.
The DJ shouts over the PA: “And that is game! The older guy who donated $5000 to our fund drive wins. All the women must leave. You can pick up your clothes at the front door. Sadly, that also includes you, Goddess Lilly. Please bless us with your presence in the future. Let’s get this party started!!”
“Whoomp! (There It Is)” pours from the speakers.
Michael totally played me. And I don’t care. Tonight, he proved why he is a thirty-four-year-old billionaire. The man has got tricks and dick for days.
And right now, I want his cock playing my cunt so deeply I feel him everywhere.
CHAPTER 20:
MICHAEL AHMED
Oxytocin, how I love you.
After the tournament, we drive the (clothed) girls the block to Claire’s ranch-style home and are unanimously invited to stay for a nightcap.
I’d prefer to take Goddess Lilly home, but this is the next best thing. Lying in an empty bed would feel like an L.
Especially since my woman is all over me tonight.
A hand grabs my shirt as I walk down the hall from the bathroom.
“In here,” Lilly whispers, drawing me into what appears to be a laundry room and shutting the door.
The scent of April fresh fabric softener circles around us. In the darkness, Lilly’s lips seize my lips. Hot. Hungry. Her mouth covers mine. She tastes like wine, a little defeat, but mostly horny woman.
“How fast can you fuck me, Michael?” Lilly asks, reaching for my belt buckle.
My hands cover hers.
“We need to talk, Lilly,” I say against her mouth.
“Ugh. Right now, Michael? You always get talkative when I’m ready to bust a nut.”
“Lilly, that is not the right thing to say,” I whisper before taking her face into my hands and kissing her like I’m ready to bust a nut. My tongue penetrates her mouth again and again.
“Why? It got you hard for me,” she says with a chuckle in between working her tongue in and out of my mouth.
“Yeah, it totally did.”
Goddess Lilly grinds her hips against my cock, pushing at the zipper of my pants. Gripping her ass, I lift her hips so her legs are wrapped around my torso, her back against the wall. I can almost feel her very ready cunt through her pants.
“Hey. Hey. 7 Minutes in Heaven is done for you two. Other couples want to use the laundry room,” Jen says from the other side of the door.
“See, Michael. If you weren’t doing so much talking…”
◆◆◆
All twelve of us gather in the dining room where Claire has assembled a spread of afterparty snacks on the table. I’m holding a bourbon in one hand and Lilly’s waist in the other. She is talking to Jen on one side of our “we” and I’m talking to Jordan on the other.
Claire taps a knife against her wine glass.
“I would like to propose a toast.”
She waits until everyone’s eyes are on her before continuing. Claire can really command a room.
“Not many people know the story of how the five of us met. 25 years ago, we executed a scheme to get out of Girl Scouts. We each convinced our parents to let us hang out together every Friday night instead of going to troop meetings. Our plan included a detailed written report outlining each of our virtues, talents and strengths, and why spending time together would be more enriching than Girl Scouts. Lynn wrote up our report in purple Crayola marker. Our parents were so impressed they agreed, and our Friday night sleepovers were born. Now, we do those sleepovers quarterly and meet up for dinner and drinks on Fridays as often as possible. We maintain a text message chain and do Wine and Skype chats every Wednesday. Over the last 25 years, we have never welcomed anyone into our circle. As Jon likes to say, we are wolves and very protective of the bond of friendship between us. But recently, we met a brilliant…”
Brit smiles and raises her glass. “Stylish…”
Jen embraces Lilly’s hand. “Badass…”
“Geeky…” Lynn says, lifting her glass from across the table.
“Ambitious…” Dana says, with a gleaming smile.
“…Goddess Lilly.” Claire tips her glass toward Lilly. “Tonight, it is my deepest honor to induct Lilly Ella Shepard to the Smart Girl Mafia.”
Collective cheers ring throughout the room. Lilly is quiet, wiping tears from her eyes. Releasing me, she moves around the table and hugs each of the girls.
Jon speaks with sincere despair in his eyes. “Now there are six scheming, meddlesome, mischievous, too-smart, bossy, boozing women in this group! I’m just one man!”
“Wait. Wait. Jon, I hope this will bring you some comfort…” Claire continues.
“Honey, the girls and I were talking tonight…” Jen says, winking at me.
“And you are a wonderful husband to Jen and a spectacular friend to all of us...” Lynn chimes in.
“So, we created an unbinding, subject-to-change, easily revocable Smart Girl Mafia clause which extends membership to all husbands,” Dana says, smiling.
“Jon, tonight you will be the first inductee,” Brit announces.
“With your membership, you will be able to vote on select SGM issues and you will be included on a sep
arate wife/husband text messaging chain which, for now, will include all of us and you,” Lilly explains.
“Honey, because we aim to be transparent, here is the fine print… you will NOT be allowed to attend quarterly sleepovers, truth hikes, most brunches and dinners, or participate in Wine and Skype calls and we will still maintain our girls-only text chain,” Jen says.
“But I’ll be part of the group?” Jon asks.
“You will definitely be a part of the group,” Lynn says.
“Excellent. And I would like to be the head of Husband Retention. I can’t help you find them, but I can definitely guide guys through the Mafia onboarding process,” Jon says, striking a deal of his own.
“Seems fair,” Dana says.
“And when there are more husbands, I would like to create a separate text chain and events just for us,” Jon proposes.
“Very fair,” Lilly responds, smiling at me.
“And I want to be informed of all your schemes,” Jon says.
“Honey, stop while you’re ahead,” Jen whispers, patting her husband shoulder.
“Okay. I’m in!”
“You’re in!” The girls speak in unison, toasting him.
And I want in, too. It will be an honor to be a part of the SGM wife/husband text chain. I just need to get my woman through 20 more dates and bonded to me.
Then I’ll get my happily-ever-after.
CHAPTER 21:
LILLY SHEPARD
After the induction ceremony, we agree all the guys could stay the night “just this one time.”
“What are the sleeping arrangements, Claire?” Dana asks as we store leftover food in Ziploc containers and place dishes in the dishwasher.
“Oh, my word. I hadn’t considered sleeping arrangements since we all tend to crash out wherever. There is the guest bedroom with a king-size bed so two people can sleep in there, the sleeper chair in my office, and the sofas in the living room,” Claire says, rinsing dishes.
“Do you still have the tents and air mattresses from Burning Man?” Brit asks.
“Yes. Three. In the garage,” Claire replies.
Jordan speaks as he helps load the dishwasher. “I know I’m low man on the list, but I could really use a bed.”
“I want a bed too,” Dana says, handing glassware to Jordan.
“Let’s make it easy. Couples get the tents. Jordan and Dana can share the bed. Brit and Alex can sleep on the sofas in the living room. And Carlos can crash on the sleeper,” I suggest.
“Excellent plan. Thank you, Lilly. You saved us from a 2-hour conversation that would inevitably have ended with rock-paper-scissors,” Claire says.
I glance over at Michael who is in deep conversation with Alex about an investment opportunity. My Persian prince doesn’t do clean-up, but I hope my Beverly Hills man with shiny pillows can handle a night in a tent.
◆◆◆
“How did we end up in a tent?” Michael asks (a little whiny) in Farsi, stretching out on the air mattress.
“It just happened this way,” I say in English, slipping under the covers.
Our accommodations are surprisingly roomy, and the queen air mattress is comfortable. Claire provided us all with ample pillows, sheets, and thick, warm comforters. The autumn night air is mild with a hint of a crisp breeze; a beautiful night to sleep outside.
“Why does Jordan get the bed? He doesn’t know Dana.”
“Michael, do you want to complain or have epic tent sex?” I ask, rolling on top of him.
He’s wearing boxers and an undershirt. I’m in cloud pajamas and a well-worn MIT T-shirt.
“Epic tent sex.”
“Good. It’s far more courteous if we’re out here with other couples having epic tent sex. Us paired-up gals know we need to make amends. Shhh. Listen.”
I cover his mouth with my hand.
“Fuck, Lynn,” Nick’s deep labored voice, easily recognizable from across the backyard.
“Oh baby, you are so sexy. Keep doing that,” Jon’s voice, a moaning whisper from his tent on the opposite side of us.
Michael groans and grabs my ass, drawing me closer to his body. His cock already hard against my cunt.
“Since the shirtless incident was my fault, I need to make major amends,” I say, kissing and nipping at the base of his neck.
Michael moans as my teeth graze and grip his skin. Shifting a bit, I motion him to remove his clothes. I remove my glasses and get naked. My body yearns to be close to him.
Michael leans back against the pillow.
“Do I get a say in how you make your amends?”
“No. You crashed my first sleepover with my friends and relentlessly beat me at dominoes… in public.”
I run kisses over the soft hair on his chest and my tongue over his scars. Michael always smells fantastic. Clean with the right amount of spicy cologne. Normally, I hate the smell of men’s fragrances. But on him, it is so very right. He is so right.
“Babe, my woman shirtless for a bunch of nerdy dudes is way worse. And you were dancing on a table. I saw you. I need a say in how your amends are executed. Let’s have a strategy session. Come up here.”
I shimmy up his chest and nestle my head in the crook of his neck… whispering in his ear.
“Michael, I mean this in the most loving way possible… shut the fuck up.” I pause to give him time to adjust to the new parameters of our sex-play. “Good. Now I’m going to use my tongue and my teeth and eventually my cunt to show you how much I love you. Got it?”
“Yes, Goddess Lilly.”
◆◆◆
“Truth hike in 15 minutes!”
Dana calls me out of a deep sleep. Michael’s naked body spoons mine. He tightens his arm-hold on my waist and mumbles something in Farsi about “broken” and “penis” and then in English says, “went all Goddess Lilly on me.”
For the record, I did not break his penis. But I did ride him like a powerful deity taking flight. Yes. Yes, I did.
“Dana! Can we skip the hike this one time?” Jen asks from her tent.
“NO! Ten minutes!”
I pry Michael’s fingers away and try to get out of bed. The mattress has deflated a bit, so I keep slipping back into my man’s body, arms and legs flailing. I’m always clumsy Lilly at the worst time. Always.
“Stop moving. I will help you,” he says, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Michael’s hand gives me a boost and I find my footing at the edge of the bed.
“How did you get through life without me?” he asks, groggily.
“I have no idea, lover man,” I chuckle, rolling my eyes at the same time.
I slip on a bra, panties, black leggings, my MIT T-shirt, white ankle socks and a pair of rarely worn gray and red New Balances.
With my travel toiletries bag in hand, I unzip the tent and head to the sliding door off the kitchen. I pop into the half bath and brush my teeth, wash my face, swipe on two hits of Tom’s deodorant, put in my contact lenses, remove my head scarf and fluff my spiral curls with my fingers.
Exiting the bathroom, I intersect Lynn and Jen. We give each other a tired wave. They appear as rung out as I feel, Lynn already in sunglasses.
I return to the tent to drop off my bag and get my purse.
“How many dates do I have to wait to use your toothbrush?” Michael asks, peering up from his phone.
“You're good, lover man. It’s in this white bag.”
“Thanks, babe. Did you mean what you said last night?”
Michael knows I meant it. He made me say it ten more times before we fell asleep. But this morning, I don't feel like busting his (beautiful) balls about it.
I slip on my sunglasses and retrieve my purse.
“I love you, Michael.”
“I love you too, Lilly.”
◆◆◆
Jen drives us in her white Volvo SUV to The Claremont Hills Wilderness Park at the base of the San Gabriel Valley Mountains.
The sun blazes high above our hea
ds. An odd silence hangs among us as we hike up the rugged dirt trail. Dana and Lynn lead the way. Claire and I coast in the middle of the pack. Brit and Jen trek behind. All of us are in sunglasses and carry square Fuji bottles of water.
Claire assembled a basket with water, fruit, and homemade vegan granola bars for after our hike.
“Who wants to start?” Claire asks.
“Start what?” I inquire.
“You’ll share a truth. Something you’ve been too afraid to admit to us or yourself. It’s kind of like peer counseling in nature,” Lynn explains.
I nod, a little apprehensive about what’s about to go down.
“I’ll start,” Brit says. “I accidently let Alex go down on me last night. So, I’m going to leave town for a bit. Go up to Oakland. I’ve got a friend who needs someone to play piano on his album.”
“Why do you need to leave town?” I ask.
“Alex and I don’t hook up. It’s better that way. If I don’t create some distance between us, he’s going to go all alpha on me and before I know it, I’ll be caught in the web of the patriarchy,” Brit shares.
Lynn inquires further, “A. How did he accidently go down on you? B. Is this the first time? C. He already goes all alpha around you, so that ship has sailed.”
“A. I asked him, but I was a little high and tipsy. B. It was the first time. C. He thinks he needs to take care of me. Anyway, I’ll be gone a week or so.”
“Was it good at least?” Jen asks.
“It was incredible. I let him do it again this morning.”
“Brit! Wait… where did this all happen?” Claire asks.
“Laundry room,” everyone says in unison.
“Brit, are you sure you don’t like Alex?” I ask.
“We’re just friends. It’s complicated. Who’s next?”
“I kissed Jordan last night,” Dana reveals.
“Oooh. Good kiss? Bad kiss?” Jen asks.
“Great kiss, but I’m too old to be kissing boys at sleepovers. I want a real relationship. Like what you all have with your men.”
“You’ll find it, friend. I promise. Keep your heart open,” Lynn says, embracing Dana’s shoulder.
