The Bachelor's Party

“You can’t do it.” “Yes, I can.” “You can’t possibly do it,” He frowned, then prepared for a smirk. “Well, in this case, you can’t possibly pull it off,” “Literally.” He ended. This argument went on for another hour in between shots of tequila and glasses of martini. Sounds of clanking of glasses made by clumsily and angrily setting down the glass on the counter accompanied our conversation. The next thing I knew, I was emerging from a big wedding cake next to two hot topless girls. Then, I realized I was wearing nothing but a lacy black bra, daisy dukes shorts, and black louboutin stilettos. Wait a minute, hold your horses. This isn’t me. Nor, in any chance I would own something provocative as these. I was not in good terms with lacy and sexy Victoria’s Secret. I was also, definitely, not like the unforgettable California girls Katy Perry was describing in her song, who wore daisy dukes. Lastly, I can’t believe I can even stand on a six-inch heels. A loud bang silenced the whole room. Somebody just burst into the room, almost breaking the door. It was another handsome man with brown hair and hazel brown eyes. He was walking towards me, one second, then the next, my whole world was upside down. He carried me on his shoulder and suddenly, I uncontrollably gave a squeeze on his cute tushy. I am drunk as hell. “Hello, boys,” His voice reverberated through his back. “Sorry for the intrusion.” “But I’ll take this one back.” He winked and patted my butt slightly. #nf