Page 23 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

THE BACHELORETTE PARTY

ROXY

Mari Lynn

Wear something slutty.

Oh, Knox is hanging with Chase and we’re crashing at your place tonight.

Change the sheets in the spare room.

Which is both ominous and deeply on-brand.

I stare at it, sip my iced coffee, and sigh. “Why do I feel like tonight’s going to end with someone getting kicked out of a bar?”

Chase looks up from where he’s balancing invoices at the kitchen table. “Because you know your friends?”

“Because I know my friends.” I toss my phone down. “It’s Mari Lynn. When we’re together, it’s never a quiet night. You and Knox just going to hang here?”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Want me to hide your keys? And whatever he wants to do.”

I nod. “Of course, y’all are our emergency pickup. And cool.”

He laughs. “Great. Between the two of us, we have bail money. We’ll keep our phones on.”

By 6:45PM, I’m staring at my closet like it’s personally offended me. “She said slutty, but how slutty? Like ‘hot girl summer’ slutty or ‘Vegas divorce party’ slutty?”

Chase appears in the doorway, towel slung around his neck, damp from his post-run shower. My mouth goes dry, and I have to really concentrate to hear him say, “Wear the red dress.”

I blink and my thighs clench. “Huh?”

He laughs and snaps. “Eyes up here, ma’am. I am not a piece of meat, you know. And the red dress.” His eyes darken. “You know the one.”

I grin slowly. “I love your meat, baby.” He rolls his eyes, but his cock twitches under the towel. I drag my finger down my chest and over my stomach. His eyes follow. “Ah, the one that makes people stare. That red dress?”

His nostrils flare. “The one that makes me want to throw you over my shoulder and carry you home before anyone else stares.”

Grabbing it from the closet, I shimmy into it. Skin-tight, thigh-high slit, deep plunging neckline. My red lipstick matches it perfectly.

When I turn around, Chase is practically panting. “Damn, babe.”

“Still letting me leave the house?” I purr.

He exhales, reaches for me, turns me, and pushes it up past my hips.

We’re in front of the mirror. I widen my legs and push my panties down.

He enters me swiftly with his hand on the back of my neck.

We watch ourselves as he takes me. I come unraveled and he follows suit, spilling his cum deep inside me.

He pulls my panties back up and says, “You can leave the house because I know you’re coming home to me.

I also know that every man that sees you tonight will want you…

and my cum is inside of you.” He slaps my ass and whistles as he pulls on a pair of gym shorts.

A knock sounds on the front door. Knox is there, holding a bottle of tequila and a grin. “Y’all have fun. Be safe. Call if you need us.” His thumb jerks over his shoulder. “Mari Lynn’s waiting in the party bus.”

It’s a literal party bus.

Neon lights are flashing inside. Music that gets you moving is already thumping. And a giant inflatable penis is tied to the back bumper.

Grinning, I climb aboard and immediately see trouble.

Bree is wearing a tiara and a sash that says “I Regret Nothing.” Sasha is dressed to kill. And Whitney looks nice, too.

Mari Lynn shrieks. “Roxy is here, bitches!”

Someone, I think it was Whitney, hands me a drink in a plastic cup shaped like… well, a giant schlong. The straw is also a penis.

We are full penis overboard here. And I love it.

“Drink!” Mari Lynn orders.

“I don’t even know what this is.” I mumble. It’s bright pink.

“It’s called a Flaming Cowboy.” Bree screams, “Watch!” And she holds a lighter to the top. It ignites and I almost drop it, but it quickly extinguishes itself. “Isn’t it cool?” She exclaims.

My eyes are wide. “I’m terrified.”

“Good. Drink.” Whitney yells. “Next up, we’re doing Blow Jobs.”

Uh, what?

Mari Lynn, Bree, and Sasha laugh. I drink.

It tastes like orange, grapefruit, and Redbull.

The first bar is a country-western dive with a mechanical bull.

“We’re not riding the bull! This dress is not for the bull.” I declare.

“We’re absolutely doing the bull,” Mari Lynn counters.

“Do you remember last time I did the bull?” I ask.

Bree and Sasha nod. Mari Lynn says, “You dislocated your knee, flashed the DJ your whole ass coochie, and still scored us all free rounds.”

“Fair point.” I grin.

I did flash the DJ my entire vagina and I did get us multiple rounds of free shots.

Mari Lynn rides first. She stays on five seconds, lands in a heap of panties on full display and boobs practically escaping her corset top. She pulls up her top and grins as she flips off the operator, before bowing like a champion.

Bree does it next—lasts seven seconds, flashes a titty, and somehow looks incredibly hot.

Whitney refuses to get on it. And Sasha says she needs more alcohol before she gets on.

Then, they start a chant and the whole place joins in.

“Roxy! Roxy! Roxy!”

“Damnit.” I down another shot, hand Mari Lynn my earrings, and strut toward the bull. “Fuck it. Let’s do this.” Hiking up my dress, I straddle it and mutter, “Y’all better have my bail money ready. I’m about to get arrested for indecent exposure.”

Seven seconds in, I’m holding on with sheer spite. Ten seconds in, my dress is dangerously close to betraying me. Twelve seconds—the bull jerks. My thigh cramp betrays me, and I fly. I land on another bachelorette wearing a sash that says “Bride to Be” and my boob full on slaps her in the chin.

“Ow,” she groans.

“Sorry, honey.” I fix my girls, peel myself off her lap, and pick a chicken wing out of her hair. “On the bright side, it’s good luck if a stranger’s boob says hello to your face.”

She blinks, clearly wasted. “Is it? You have really great boobs.”

I snort. “Sure. I read it on Pinterest. And thanks, babydoll.”

Mari Lynn is dying laughing and filming the entire thing.

Whitney hands me a margarita. “That was fucking majestic, Rox.”

I bow. “I try.”

We hit up three more bars. Somewhere between the second and third, a group of cowboys start following us. They’re not threatening, just interested. We are not.

“Are we being stalked?” I ask Mari Lynn.

“Probably. But they’re kinda hot.” She retorts.

“That’s not the criteria for safety.” I reply.

“Babe, we’re in a neon bus with a penis balloon. But the driver is also our security and he’s been with us the whole time. We’re safe, girl. I wouldn’t endanger myself or y’all.”

Shit. She is sort of a celebrity. I didn’t even know we had freaking security.

At the third bar, someone dares me to karaoke.

I flip through the book and pick “Before He Cheats.” Obviously. Carrie is a queen.

I drunkenly and publicly dedicate it to Danica and Holden and Mari Lynn films it to add to our socials. Obviously. By the second verse, the entire bar’s singing with me.

Mari Lynn waves a lighter in the air. Bree dances on the table-top while Whitney makes out with one of the cowboys and Sasha tries to control her face.

The cowboys buy us shots.

“I feel powerful,” I declare, slamming my glass down.

“You are powerful,” Mari Lynn yells.

Bree slurs, “You’re Roxy Fucking West, bitch! And I’m fucking getting married!”

“Hell yeah, I am.” I yell. “And fucking right you are!”

We clink glasses.

Somewhere around 1AM, the party bus ends up at a taco truck.

“Do we even know whose idea this was?” I ask, biting into an al pastor.

“Does it matter?” Mari Lynn shrugs, salsa on her cheek.

“No.” I sigh happily. “No, it doesn’t.”

Bree passes out in a lawn chair someone dragged from a patio. Trent shows up and gets Whitney. Sasha calls an Uber and says she’s going home to have drunk sex with Miguel.

Mari Lynn starts line-dancing in the parking lot.

I check my phone. Chase texted me a few times, checking in.

I send him a quick text.

Roxy

I think we need extraction.

Trent just got Whitney who made out with a cowboy and said he would not care. They are 100% in an open relationship.

Sasha went home to ride Miguel like a bull.

Bree is passed out and Mari Lynn and I are wasted and big backing tacos.

He replies instantly.

Chase

Knox and I are on the way.

We already knew that. Or we suspected it.

We’ll bring Bree back here.

I don’t know what big backing means.

I laugh out loud.

God, I love that man.

Fifteen minutes later, his truck pulls up. Knox is in the passenger seat.

Chase leans out the window. “You alive?”

“Barely.” Racing over to the truck, I kiss him through the window.

Knox gets out and goes over to Mari Lynn.

She grins and throws her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply.

He lifts her and carries her back to the truck before opening the back door, setting her on the seat, and buckling her seat belt.

He says, “Going to grab Bree.” He does just that.

He buckles her too as she drunkenly thanks him and passes back out.

He waves at the driver for the party bus and gets in beside Mari Lynn.

Chase eyes me as I slide into the front seat and I buckle up. “Good night?”

Grinning, I nod. “I rode a bull, flashed a bride, sang karaoke, ate tacos, and might be slightly tipsy.”

He chuckles. “Sounds about right.”

I sigh, resting my head on his shoulder. “You’re the best husband ever.”

He kisses my hair. “That’s because I’m planning to peel that red dress off you when we get home.”

“Deal.”

“Damn man… I’m back here.” Knox grumbles from the back seat.

We all laugh.

When we get home, after helping get Bree onto the couch and saying goodnight to Knox and Mari Lynn, he keeps his promise… and then some. Because he’s Chase and I’m lucky as hell.

Tomorrow, we plot Danica’s downfall. But tonight, I let myself be worshiped.

I feel like a damn masterpiece.