Willow has a girl's night and it turns into a nightmare.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Willow stared at herself in the mirror lodged to the wall within the cramped dressing room. She was at some fashion boutique downtown that Darlene had dragged her to. One of Darlene’s cousins was having a birthday party at some club and Willow really didn’t have a ‘freakum dress’—as Darlene called it—in her closet. The boutique had nice dresses with reasonable price tags attached. This place surely wasn’t for Farrah. Each piece of clothing within Farrah’s closet costed about three hundred dollars or more. She refused to purchase anything less and everyone within her proximity indulged her. In addition, all the store Farrah frequented did not have a plus-size section.
The dress Willow was currently wearing was about seventy bucks. It was a tight black knee-length dress that made her look like a dark brown sausage. Her double-D breasts were pushed up and high on display for all to see. Her unflattering rolls of fat showed through the unforgiving fabric of the dress.
“Girl, you have been in there for ten minutes,” Darlene said in an irritated voice, rattling her knuckles on the outside of the dressing room door that Willow hid behind. “Let me see what you got.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Will, you’ve already said that five times and we are on dress number five. Show me what you got. I bet you look great.”
Willow closed her eyes and sighed heavily before unlocking the dressing room door. Darlene took a few steps back as Willow walked out of the tiny space barefoot.
“Are you happy now,” Willow huffed.
Darlene gave her an once-over before smiling. “You look sexy as hell in that dress.”
“You’re just saying that,” Willow frowned.
Darlene shook her head. “Hell naw. It’s true, Will. Plus-size queens need to show off their curves too.”
Her best friend grabbed her shoulders and guided her over to one of the many full-body mirrors that lined the walls. “You’ve got to give yourself more credit. You are beautiful, intelligent, creative, and you have a great personality. But most importantly, this is your freakum dress.”
“Plus,” Darlene added with a suggestive wink, “I think Sebastian would have a good old time ripping this thing off of you.”
Willow rolled her eyes and moved away from the mirror, wanting to return to the comforts of the cramped dressing room and away from potential judging eyes. “It doesn’t matter what Sebastian thinks.”
“Why doesn’t it matter? I thought you two were together?”
No, they weren’t together as a couple. They get together to have mind-blowing sex and go about their lives. She knew the kind of relationship they were going to have, but they had yet to actually talk about the terms and conditions. They hadn’t spoken to each other in over a week since that heated eventful night that involved orange soda and vodka, ice cubes, and hard possessive fucking.
Willow snorted out a bitter laugh. “He and I aren’t together. We scratch each other’s backs on occasion. No strings attached.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s what he wants,” Willow said as she walked into the dressing room and turned around to close the door. However, Darlene wedged herself into the opening of the dressing room to prevent it. Darlene cocked her head to the side with a frown. “Did he tell you that’s what he wanted?”
Willow glanced down at her bare feet and wiggled her toes against the cold tiles. “No, he didn’t, but he doesn’t have to. Why would an attractive hot-blooded man like him want someone like me?”
He was a fuck with no strings. Nothing more. They sought each other when they needed a little fix, a break from reality. She was okay with that … or at least she thought she was.
Darlene sighed softly for a moment and shook her head. Willow knew her friend wanted to say something else pertaining to the whole Sebastian situation, but decidedly fought against it. “Are you going to buy the dress or not?”
“I’ll buy it,” Willow said, silently agreeing to change the subject.
After Willow shelled out seventy bucks plus tax, she went back to Darlene’s apartment to get ready for the birthday party. Darlene helped do her hair into an up-do. Lots of hairspray, lots of hair pins, and a flat iron achieved the style she wanted. Willow wore her freakum dress with wedged black heels that had an ankle strap. She borrowed some of Darlene’s large silver hooped earrings. She wore black lipstick and black smoky eye shadow that was applied by Darlene because Willow wasn’t much of a makeup person.
She stared at the final product in the mirror. Willow had to admit, makeup made anyone—including herself—look incredibly decent. Eventually, they both left the apartment and drove to a downtown club called, Glow, in their own vehicles. As she drove by herself in the car, she couldn’t help but feel a ping of jealousy for Darlene. Her best friend looked absolutely gorgeous tonight. Her dress was a short form-fitting number bathed in crimson red. She had flat-ironed her afro and with carrot oil, her brown tresses spilled over her shoulders and down her back.
Willow remembered what Darlene’s cousin looked like too. Her envy rose even more. Beauty seemed to be a familial trait in Darlene’s bloodline, but it must have skipped over Willow in her family and got soaked up by Farrah.
When they arrived at Glow, there was a long line outside of it with two bouncers protecting the entrance. One of the bouncer’s was another cousin of Darlene’s which was the reason why the club was the chosen venture. When the young women walked near the door, which was sectioned off by ropes, he lifted up the robes and let them inside. The waiting people in the long line protested and complained as the girls went inside, but the bouncers didn’t care and ignored them, standing tall like bulk black statues.
The club was hot, crowded, and smoky. Darlene grabbed Willow’s hand and guided her to the roped off VIP section where the birthday girl was already guzzling down vibrant-hued drinks with her tiny crowd of attractive friends.
The boost of confidence that Willow had acquired in Darlene’s bathroom had dissolved into a puddle of goo at Willow’s cute shoes.
“Happy birthday, lady,” Darlene shouted affectionately over the thumping music while she kissed Georgia’s cheek. A thirtieth birthday was a big deal especially when you were a single woman with no signs of settling down or having kids any time soon. Georgia wasn’t in the mood for marriage or kids. She was in the mood for fun. She once told Willow she would re-evaluate her life when she was forty. Willow admired that kind of confidence and wished she had it.
Darlene and Willow settled on one of the empty leather couches in the VIP section. A waiter came by and asked what they wanted to drink. Willow ordered a Slippery Nipple. A memory popped into her head of Sebastian licking and sucking her nipples in between him tugging them playfully with his teeth while his green eyes stared up at her, watching intently for her reaction.
Don’t think about him, she thought.
When the waiter returned, he carried everyone’s drink orders on a large black tray he holstered above his head with one hand. When he reached Willow, he handed her two Slippery Nipples and a folded napkin.
“I only ordered one,” she shouted over the music.
She tried to hand him back the extra one, but he shook his head. “Someone paid for both,” the waiter said back loudly before he left the VIP section. Darlene grinned from ear to ear as she plucked the folded napkin from the utterly confused girl’s hand. She opened the napkin and scanned it before gasping. She then gave Willow a ‘girl, you got to see this’ look.
Willow’s frown deepened. “What?”
She placed the spare Slippery Nipple on the table and leaned over to read the napkin. She had no idea someone had written in the napkin.
Two slippery nipples are my specialty.
Willow’s eyes widened in utter shock. “You see what happens when you wear a freakum dress,” Darlene said a matter-of-factly with a bright smile. Willow rolled her eyes.
“This is a mistake. This guy probably thinks someone else over here ordered the drink.”
“You need to give yourself more credit, Willow! You are smoking hot tonight. Let’s have some fun, please,” Darlene pleaded. “Since you and Sebastian aren’t together or anything, you are a free woman.”
Darlene was right. She was a free woman.
Willow grabbed one of her ordered drinks and tossed her head back as she downed it in one gulp. She did the same to the second one before saying to Darlene, “Let’s do it.”
Nearly everyone at the birthday party had left the VIP section and went to the dance floor. Darlene and Willow danced with each other. They smiled, laughed, and moved their bodies to the music. Those Slippery Nipples had made Willow feel loose and free on her feet.
Darlene leaned into Willow and said over the music, “I’m going to the restroom.”
Willow nodded her head in acknowledgement and watched her best friend—and boost of confidence—nudge her way through the crowd and disappear from the dance floor. She stood there like a statue for a long moment in a sea of bodies that were thumping and bumping to the music. She decided to leave the dance floor and pushed herself through the swaying crowds until she ran into a tall body.
Strong brown hands steadied her by grabbing her arms. She looked up and noticed a familiar smile on a familiar face.
“You alright,” Simon asked.
Willow blinked. “I’m sorry that I bumped into you. What are you doing here?”
“One of my old college buddies is having a bachelor party and we decided to bring him here as a standard procedure,” he replied. “I see you and Darlene are here too.”
Willow nodded her head slowly. “Yeah, her cousin is having a birthday party here.”
“It’s a small world, huh? Us being in the same club at the same time?”
“Yeah, it is,” she said with a weak smile.
Simon then asked, “Are you in the mood to dance?”
“Aren’t you and Cara together,” she asked in return. Her hopes—and confidence—rose slightly.
Simon elaborated with a nervous smile, “One of my college buddies wants to dance with you and he’s too chicken to ask you himself.”
There she was making a fool of herself again. “Oh, so he sent you to do his dirty work,” she replied with a frown.
“More like to put in a good word,” Simon corrected with his signature charming smile that could melt butter and make a girl’s knees weak. Willow crossed her arms over her chest and squinted her eyes at him, looking at him long and hard before saying, “I guess one little dance wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’ll send him your way then.”
And then he left.
Willow stood in the crowd feeling like a complete idiot for even considering the possibility that Simon would even want to dance with her.
“Did you get my message,” a voice said from behind her, breath tickling her ear. She shuddered and goosebumps scattered onto her skin. She turned around to face the owner of the voice. He was handsome no doubt with dark brown skin, shining bald dome, and a bright smile that rivaled Simon’s.
“Are you the one who sent the Slippery Nipples,” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Did they taste good,” he queried with a lifted eyebrow.
Willow nodded, “They tasted just fine.”
“Do yours taste good?”
“That’s a secret you’ll never know,” she said.
Sebastian knew the answer to that question. He loved tasting her nipples during foreplay, when he was fucking her, and in the afterglow when she is lying on her side with her back pressed against his warm chest and his fingers lazily roll and tug at them while he and her both drift off to sleep.
He knew that secret all too well.
“Did Simon put in a good word for me,” he questioned.
Willow’s eyebrows shot upward. “You’re his friend that wants to dance with me?”
“Yeah, I am,” he said, moving in closer to her.
“So what exactly do you want here? A dance or my nipples,” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head to the side.
“I’ll take the dance first,” he grinned, “and let’s see what happens next.”
She danced with him non-stop through three bass-pounding songs. Her flesh was coated heavily with seat that glistened under the neon lights stationed above. His hands were all over her body and she was so into the music, she didn’t even give a damn. His lips were on her neck and then brushed against her ear. His musky cologne drowned her senses.
After the third song, she excused herself to go to the restroom. As she pulled away from him, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Don’t be too long,” he said, grabbing a handful of her ass like he owned her.
She pulled away from him and stumbled through the crowd. Eventually, she found her way to the restroom. Much to her dismay, it was crowded. Stalls were occupied. Toilets were flushing. Women of all sizes and shapes were fixing themselves in the mirror. She stumbled to a sink and looked at herself in the mirror. She was lightheaded from the alcoholic drinks and the dancing.
Georgia appeared in the reflection too with a frown.
“Something wrong,” Willow asked.
“Have you ever heard of a game called ‘catch the pig’,” Georgia questioned.
Willow’s brow furrowed. “Should I?”
“In the game, the bachelor writes down a number on a napkin and folds it. Then his friends take a guess at the number. Whoever is the closest to the number becomes the catcher. The goal is to find a pig and take the pig home.”
“What the fuck are you getting at, Georgia,” Willow frowned, shaking her head.
Georgia turned on the faucet and washed her hands, unable to look Willow in the eye. “While you were dancing with your new little guy friend, the waiter came to the VIP section and gave me the low down. He saw the whole thing. You’re the pig, Willow. That motherfucker is trying to take you home because of a game.”
Hot salty tears bubbled up in her eyes as she stormed out of the bathroom. She walked briskly around the club looking for a familiar face. When she found Simon with her buddies sandwiched into a booth, she rushed over. She grabbed the drink closest to her and threw it in his face. She didn’t care if it splashed on his friends.
“You fucking asshole,” Willow screamed at him. “Is that what I am to you? A fucking pig to taken home and fucked by your little buddy to win a game? I thought we were friends.”
“Willow, I can explain,” Simon said, his face dripping wet, as he tried to push himself out of the booth.
“No, you can go fuck yourself,” she said, spitting in his face before she turned around and stormed off. She found the catcher of the game on the way to the VIP section to get her things. “What took you so long, baby? I was waiting for—“
Willow cut his fake speech short by slapping him across the face. “Find yourself another pig, you piece of shit.”
She pushed him out of her way and continued to the VIP section.
She had to get out of here.
She wanted to go home and die.
Willow banged on the rusted metal door of Sebastian’s warehouse home with every ounce of her strength in the brutal December cold. She cried the whole way to his home with a foot made of lead. Her whole face was wet with tears that cascaded down her face and refused to stop. Her voice was hoarse and raw.
“Open the fucking door, Sebastian,” she cried aloud as she pounded at the door with both of her fists. Moments later, the door creaked open and she stumbled her way into the building. She quieted down and sniffled as she tried to compose herself after she nearly had a mental breakdown at his front door.
“So I had very eventful night,” she asked, turning on her wedged heels so she could face him as he closed the door calmly. He was dressed in a black hoodie, black t-shirt, and black cargo pants. She knew that she looked like a hot mess. Her makeup was streaked on her face from crying. Nearly all of her hair had found its way out of her up-do.
“Aren’t you going to be a good host and ask how it went,” she asked, sniffling again.
“How did it go,” he questioned coolly.
“I was going to let a man take me back to his place to fuck me,” she answered truthfully. He was quite unmoved by her confession as if he already know or he just didn’t care. “And then I found out that I was nothing more than an unassuming participant in a game called ‘catch the pig’. Guess who the pig was?”
His cold silence angered her, but she couldn’t stop now.
“Ding, ding, ding! You got it. Willow Angelique Carter was crowned the pig,” she said, her voice crackling with raw emotion. She was on the verge of crumbling for good. “I was on my way home to pity myself and cry myself to sleep, but then something hit and I had to come here because I want to know the truth.”
She stomped over to him. Her high heels gave her significant height, but he was still taller than her. She kept distance between them, not wanting to get to close in fear of melting into him.
“I know we have this no strings thing going on, but I need to know,” she paused for a moment, collecting herself. “Am I your pig?”
He stared down at her intensely with his green eyes and said nothing.
“Answer me, Sebastian! I need to know. Am I your pig?”
She clenched her jaw and tried to blink back her tears when he didn’t answer her but failed. She nodded her head slowly. “I’m done. Get out of my way,” she ordered, trying to restrain herself from breaking down in front of him. He blocked her escape out of the door.
When he didn’t comply within the few seconds her spent patience had allotted him, she yelled, “Get the hell out of my way, Sebastian.”
She pounded a fist into his chest out of frustration and anger. He then grabbed her wrist tightly and yanked it above her head. “Let go of me,” she growled, struggling against him. He moved away from the door as she had requested but turned around and smashed her frontside against it. Her hand was still wretched up high above her head.
Willow closed her eyes as she felt his hot breath fan against the shell of her ear as he spoke to her in a low and concise voice. “I can smell him on you. When I get back, I’m going to rip this dress off of you and clean you myself. Do you understand?”
She squeezed her eyelids tight and gaped her mouth open, nodding her head. He pulled away from her completely. “Go upstairs,” he ordered.
She did exactly as she was told, refusing to look over her shoulder as she crossed the spacious warehouse and trotted up the metal staircase like a scared child. The only fleeting thought that consumed her was where was he going this late into the night dressed like that?
When she reached the top of the stairs and stepped into Sebastian’s bedroom, she heard the warehouse door slam shut. He was gone.
You can run, a tiny voice in the back of her head told her.
But she didn’t want to. She had her answer.
I gotta say I truly miss writing these characters.