THE DAY OF
When the day arrived, though, I think the reality of what we were about to do finally started to register with her. She drove separately with her friends to Vegas, obviously, and I started getting nervous text after nervous text. I was driving myself, so I couldn’t immediately respond.
“CAN’T BELIEVE WE’RE DOING THIS!!! [three eggplant emojis]”
And a few seconds later:
“ur not going to talk right?! they might recognize ur voice. so don’t talk! [face with no mouth emoji]”
And then:
“you remembered to pack the pills right! [three more eggplant emojis] and the speaker?”
She was referring to the bluetooth speaker she’d bought and that we’d tested together. It was a square, black box that doubled as a mini karaoke machine. Most importantly, though, it included spinning, flashing, multi-colored lights on the top that synced up with the music you were playing and looked pretty cool when you turned down the lights.
Another text:
“maybe you should take an edible before you dance. might help calm you down. I packed some for me and the girls. figure it will make them less observant and maybe remember less too. ha!”
As to the last point, I didn’t need a reminder. I had packed some edibles and definitely planned on taking at least one.
The girls had reserved a large suite at the Cosmopolitan. They planned to go out to dinner and hang out a bit on the strip before heading back to the hotel. I was supposed to be ready to go by 10:00 pm. I’d booked a separate, much smaller room in the same hotel.
SHOWTIME
By 9:00 pm, I was a nervous wreck. I had convinced myself that everything that could go wrong, would go wrong, that I’d put on a terrible performance, that the girls wouldn’t enjoy it at all, and that all the embarrassment would culminate in me accidentally knocking the mask off and revealing myself. In an effort to stifle my mounting panic, I downed two shots of vodka and swallowed two edibles, some berry flavored gummies. I also swallowed the Viagra pill that Rachel had given me, the first time I’d ever done that.
Then it was down to the hotel gym. I figured that doing a little lifting would distract me and help me look as cut as possible when the time came to disrobe. Midway through a set of bicep curls, I got a text from Rachel: “heading back to hotel soon. be ready”
She quickly followed with: “so drunk already! ++edibles! omg”
It was almost the moment of truth. I finished my set and headed upstairs to change. Rachel had helped me pick the outfit. It was essentially a black rental tuxedo, but she’d managed to find some black pants that had velcro seams and could be ripped off like basketball warmup pants. Underneath I had a bright red pair of thong style silk underwear. As I was used to doing for swimming purposes, I’d shaved my entire chest.
By the time I was fully dressed, it was nearing 10 o’clock. Thankfully, the gummies had really started to hit. I had a great body high going, and I was much more relaxed. My thoughts were no longer racing, and I felt very present, very in the moment. I stared out my window at the lights of the Vegas strip and was captivated by the view.
Then I got the text. It was just one word, in all caps: “SHOWTIME!”
I took one more shot of vodka, took a deep breath, and looked at myself one final time in the mirror. I grabbed the mask and the speaker and headed for the door.
A few minutes later I approached their room. Before I got to the door, I stopped to put on the mask and made sure it was secure. Then I double-checked that the playlist on my phone was ready. Just before I knocked on the door, a wave of anxiety coursed through me. I did my best to stifle it. Then I knocked three times. I immediately heard excited voices on the other side.
When the door opened, the person standing in front of me was Sydney. She seemed a little startled at first — no doubt due to the creepy mask I was wearing — but she quickly broke into a big smile. And she looked gorgeous. To help you visualize, Syd is about 5’8”, with long straight blonde hair that she usually wears pulled back in a simple ponytail. She used to be on the UCLA softball team, an outfielder. She’s your stereotypical Southern California girl, straight out of central casting, effortlessly beautiful in a very traditional, all American girl kind of way. On that night, though, she was all done up like she was going to the prom or a fancy cocktail party; her hair was loose and flowing and she was wearing a tight-fitting, strapless black dress that really accentuated her curves.
She beckoned me into the room. Once I was through the initial hallway, the room opened up. It was a spacious suite with huge windows overlooking the strip and a separate bedroom off to the right. In the main room, it looked like the girls had moved around the furniture to clear out some space. In the center of the room was a large white rug that looked like some kind of faux fur rug. It looked very soft, with long strands like a shag carpet. Arrayed around it were both a couch and a loveseat, perpendicular to each other, as well as a single upholstered chair on the other side of the couch, opposite the loveseat. It was clear that the rug was going to be my stage.
My eyes first went to Rachel, who was already sitting on the couch, holding a drink. She was wearing a short white skirt and red blouse that showed a lot of cleavage. Rachel is about 5’6” with a very slender, athletic build. Her breasts aren’t huge, but when she wears tight clothes and the right kind of bra, it’s hard not to look right at her chest. In keeping with bachelorette party tradition, on her head she wore a white headband with a short veil that draped down her long curly brown hair. She was smiling and didn’t look particularly nervous, which surprised me a little.
Sitting to her right, in the upholstered chair, was Nicole. Nicole is short, barely 5 feet tall, with jet black hair and an olive complexion, but she’s easily the most shapely of the girls. She’s Italian, a New Yorker, but she looks like she could be a long lost Kardashian sister. She was wearing a tight-fighting, sequined blue dress; it was backless, with the front of the dress tying around her neck. It didn’t show any cleavage, but it didn’t need to; there was no question who had the biggest breasts in the room.
As I moved into the center of the room and placed the speaker on the ground, I finally spotted Maya. She was in the little kitchenette area fixing herself a drink. Maya is the most reserved of the bunch but has always been my favorite of Rachel’s friends. She’s a petite girl, a mix of Japanese (her mother) and Vietnamese (her father). She typically wears glasses and dresses pretty conservatively but is nevertheless very pretty, in a bookish sort of way. But that night she looked very different. Her glasses were gone, and she was wearing a very short, black skirt that showed off her athletic tennis player legs, and a backless, black tank top-style blouse that split midway up and tied around her neck, revealing quite a bit of cleavage. Simply put, she looked stunning.
Whether it was the edibles or nerves or some combination of the two, I felt like I was not fully processing all of the sensory input that was coming at me, particularly the sounds. I had been so engrossed in taking in the scene, in particular how beautiful all four of the girls looked, that I wasn’t really listening to anything any of them were saying. Finally, I realized that Nicole was trying to talk to me. It was probably the third time she’d asked, but I eventually heard her say, “so how does this work? Are there any ground rules?”
Thankfully Rachel remembered to step in. “The company told me there’s no touching allowed,” she said. After a pause, she added “and they also said that the performers don’t talk; it’s part of the mystery. It’s like the Blue Man Group or something.” I pointed at her and gave an exaggerated nod in agreement. Based on the way Rachel was talking, very slowly and deliberately, I could tell that she was pretty drunk, or high, or probably both. But I was glad she was at least with it enough to establish the ground rules. It was something we’d discussed beforehand, but I was worried she’d forget.
“But what if I really want to touch him?” Syd asked in a fake, pouty voice. She had managed to sneak up behind me, and it startled me a bit when she spoke.