CHERRY BLOSSOMS // Revisited // Bachelorette // 2.9

Odele had dedicated her entire day working next to her dad on her very own children’s book. Geoff was done with the Choo, all the drawings off to Jenny, one correction back, fixed and resent. Now they’d wanted him to prepare some new drawings and repurpose others to make promotional pieces. So, more trains for crying out loud. He worked up old sketches that he’d abandoned. But Odele blew him away. Seven years old and she drew ten drawings, pastiches, pieces that told a big story about a princess and a prince who was supposed to protect her but he built a moat to keep an ogre out and then he found out the ogre could swim. A moral to the story? Maybe. You could find one if pressed. Was the princess Nia? The ogre Rocco? Geoff the moat-building prince? Inadequate prince. Odie never met Rocco, but she’d heard plenty. Was this a leak from her subconscious? Or was it just her being a kid and him being a dumb, introverted paranoid boy who liked to find meaning in every damn thing?

Whatever Odie’s muse, her work was stunning. Copic swirls in perfect color combinations and drawings of ogre shapes and a pretty princess that shouldn’t come from the hand of a seven-year-old girl. They were abstract and emotional. Odie didn’t carry a perfect line yet but her hand formed shapes with meaning, traveling from her heart and her little brain down to her fingertips. He got her to scan them and just before dinnertime she was arranging them on the computer and he was helping her write the story. She was amazing. He’d abandoned his own work, he’d get to it tomorrow morning when Nia was coming home, she’d want to sleep off her night of bachelorette debauchery and wouldn’t be available to see her sweet husband until the afternoon. So right now he was helping his daughter—showing her how to follow through, follow her heart and finish a project. They’d worked through lunch without eating, just a coffee around three and a hot chocolate for Odie. As they wrote the last words down on paper, they both were dying for dinner. He offered to take her to the bakery for some eggs for dinner and his little girl accepted.

He checked his phone one more time. Still nothing. He’d kept a little mental itinerary during the day. Nia should be eating at Scarpa’s now, Nia should be getting a back rub now. Right now, she should be in the middle of her pub crawl. He could picture that gaggle of pretty girls and their aunts and relatives all stumbling along out of their rented Sprinter, turning heads, being loud, adorned with all sorts of cute penis shaped objects. It made him smile.

He wanted her to do it. He wanted her to get passionate with some stud. Get railed by some meathead with a big hard cock. He wanted her to feel good and horny and sexy and he wanted her to get sweaty, then drop it all, clean herself up and come home to him. He’d rub her feet and Nia would tell him how it was. What she liked, what she didn’t like. Tell him all the dirty details, like he was her close girlfriend. But then he’d take her to bed afterwards, and he’d make love to her. Slow and passionate and feel every bit of his strong sexy wife.

While he walked with Odie down to the bakery with a nervous but excited swirling orb in his belly, tickling his sex organs while it spun, he had a funny thought. It was such a wonderful wholesome day spent with his baby girl and he held her hand and walked the sunset city, low orange light throwing blue shadows across Roncesvalles. Headlights twinkled, and the city felt cool and spring fresh, laughter from the cafes and bright happy Saturday night faces passed on the sidewalk, smiling at this dad and his beautiful little daughter.

He felt dirty.

This little innocent lady gripping his fingers while she skipped with him: Would she ever marry a man who wanted her to have sex with other men? He wouldn’t want that, which was weird, because he was accepting of his own strange kink. But he felt sad looking in Odele’s eyes and thinking she’d end up with a man like that. Like, he wasn’t enough for her and wasn’t it sad that she would have to go outside to get satisfaction. He hated the thought of his daughter not being protected by her man, being out in the cold and looking for cheap thrills from strangers. It was a dangerous world out there and you couldn’t trust other men. He suddenly felt like this was all a big mistake. He suddenly saw all the wrong in it. All the things he’d expect others to see. But he’d always thought that, ah, they just don’t get it. Maybe they did, though. When he thought of Odie and what he’d want for her future, this wasn’t it.

***

They’d started the day with a lunch at Scarpa’s. Mussels, steak, octopus, squab, and lots and lots of red wine. The lunch had been one of the best she’d ever had. Best mussels she’d ever had for sure, cooked in garlic and lemongrass. By the time they’d left the restaurant, she’d had a real glow from the wine and everyone was in great and loud spirit as they got on a Sprinter and headed to the day spa.

Once they were in the limo, they adorned Donna with a crown that Lisa Nosotti had made, with flower bunches twisted through a ring of woven plastic branches. Miniature penises hung from the crown and dangled around her shoulders, swinging while she laughed. They were made from wine gum and occasionally one would be plucked and eaten to great laughter and whooping. Lisa had a Ziploc baggy in her purse, ready with replacements.

Then they all spent over two hours at Donna’s cousin’s day spa. They got massages, had their nails done and foot soaks. Nia had the dry rub before her massage and it was incredible. A stiff brush scored all over her bare body, exfoliating and flushing metabolic waste out. It made her scalp tingle and her nipples got so hard they hurt, pressed up against the terry towel she was laying face down on. Then they rubbed her down with coconut oil and ylang ylang and by the time she’d stumbled to the pedicure chair, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Then they scrubbed their heels and feet and wrapped them in hot towels while laying back with a cooling mask. She fell asleep. They woke her up to rub her feet with lotion. Most of the girls were just as bad off. All of them with a huge lunch in their stomachs, soaked with way too much wine. It felt amazing, but the energy was ebbing from the party. Then espressos were served, and Nia had two with lemon while they finished her feet off with a French tip pedicure. Things were picking up again as they got back on the Sprinter and headed to the first of the bars for an early still-light start to their pub crawl.

That’s when things got weird. And sitting now at Giuseppe’s, she couldn’t remember where the second or third bar was. She could picture what they looked like inside, snippets of conversation echoing through as she sat weaving at the dinner table. A lot of talk about Geoff. She remembered that. Donna had seen him on Breakfast Television and there was a unanimous cooing at how cute he was. All the girls that had kids had one of Geoff’s books, and they all gushed politely for her. But she remembered Angie’s aunt Stella had fallen coming in the vestibule of one of the bars. She’d cut her knee, and had cried too. Nia could remember a lot of blood and how sad it looked to see a heavyset grown woman in such a state. But Stella was fine, sitting at another table right now and clapping while the music pounded and Donna opened her gifts, still wearing her penis crown. She remembered a fight between Lisa and Angie’s cousin, Gracie. Didn’t recall what it was about but that she had seen them right in each other’s faces with Angie plucking her finger into Gracie’s bared cleavage.

All seemed forgotten now, injuries and fights. Donna was wearing a T-shirt over her dress that said Feyoncé on it in gold glitter, a gift from Lisa, she thought. She was pulling items out of a gift bag with lingerie stuck to it as part of its design. There were penis shaped suckers with clever sayings like Booty Banger and Super Phallactic, there was a candy garter belt and candy handcuffs. From the bottom she pulled out two inflatable cocks that you wore in a harness on your hips to duel with, and Gracie and Angie started blowing those up right away, struggling to do it because they were laughing so hard. Someone passed her a stiff board and a lipstick. The pale white board bore the imprint of lips pressed on it in a kiss. The lipstick had been shaped like a penis, but the glans had been worn down so that only the shaft remained. Other girls had pressed their lips in different colors and she didn’t want to touch her lips with the used lipstick, so she refreshed with the one she’d brought in her purse. She took a pen and signed her plump lip kiss with her name like the others had done. It was supposed to be framed and kept as a memorable keepsake. She passed it left to waiting hands and watched a moment as two girls strapped the huge blown up cocks to their hips and proceeded to the dance floor and bashed them against each other, stumbling around in their high heels.

Suddenly, behind them, there was a cop there. Her heart surged, knowing it was the stripper. The girls laughed as he put his arms around their shoulders and they tried whacking him with their inflatable cocks. He took their hands and put them on each others oversized phalluses and helped them stroke each other, making dirty snarling faces and bursting out laughing. He danced with them and he put their hands on his body, on his hips as he gyrated them and they each gave his bulge a good squeeze. Then he had them sit down, their big inflatable dicks sticking straight up between their legs. He moved into the centre of the gathered women and he danced. He was wearing a police uniform, very tight, short-sleeved, showing off his pumped up and tanned arms. He had black hair and soft pouting lips and a very nice jawline. He looked young. You couldn’t see his eyes because they were behind aviator sunglasses. He was a great dancer, strong and fast, very fit and capable. His hips were narrow, and he had a great round butt. His police slacks had quite a pronounced bulge, and she watched it bounce behind the fabric. Other girls reached out and squeezed at him and grabbed his thighs and his ass.

She texted Geoff.

***

Geoff and Odie didn’t quite finish Odie’s book, but they got very close. It was eight at night and little Odie was driven to get it done, but they were creatively extinguished. All that remained to do was piecing the book together using inDesign so they could have a finished product.

Geoff was going to surprise Odie and get it done.

He’d brought Odie up to bed and told her they’d finish the book tomorrow and Odie was stumbling, so tired she couldn’t even answer. She just nodded, pouting lips pursed, her brow surly, like a drunken biker from that night in Innisfil. He didn’t have to even read her a story, just tucked her pink princess sheets up to her sweet chin and her little mouth was already open and lightly kid-snoring.

He made coffee and went back to the studio and put all of Odie’s pictures into the book and arranged all their text they’d written. She’d fleshed that story out with him a little, and he tried to steer her away from the element he felt a little sensitive about. Odie resisted, frowning at him, hating being challenged on her own ideas. So it remained as she told it, and now he was piecing together the tale of the unfortunate prince who wasn’t aware of the big ogre’s abilities. The prince underestimated the creature and put his princess in peril. Geoff shook his head and smiled at his iMac. This story was telling him something. He laughed out loud.

His iPhone was face up on the antique rolling barn table where he worked on the computer. The lights were low, and it created a pleasant ambience. Next to the iMac sat the baby monitor, and he watched his daughter sleep as he finished the exciting project that came from her own amazing brain and that she’d executed professionally with her tiny seven-year-old hands. The screen on his phone came to life, a text seen written on its waking surface. A bolt went through him.

Nia: Stripper has some body

G-man: have fun!

Nia: you bet

G-man: how’s his pecker?

Nia: he’s keeping it hidden

G-man: what kind of stripper is this?

Nia: I know. maybe he’s got a little one

G-man: what a let down

Nia: hello!

G-man: what?

Nia: it ain’t little!

G-man: okay

Nia: gotta go, just fell in love

Geoff laughed and held his phone to his chest. Nia was feeding him what he wanted. He didn’t know how much was true. But the fact that they were together in this gave him such an amazing feeling. He felt filled with love for that woman.

He hoped the stripper sported a big one. Hoped Nia had a great time tonight. He challenged himself, examined the feeling, and was convinced he was okay. He wanted Nia to have a good time in the bad ways she wanted.

***

The stripper’s cock was long, and he spun it in circles for all the ladies.

She’d been texting Geoff, watching while all the other girls went crazy for this kid. He’d ripped his shirt away with a grand flourish. His body was beautiful. He had tanned Mediterranean skin; he’d oiled himself up so all his ridges gleamed in the halogen spotlights in the restaurant. He had a dumb tattoo on his upper arm, something that looked like a number on a sports jersey and a maple leaf in the centre. Kid probably played some sport at University. He threw his sunglasses off and his eyes sparkled. He was very good-looking. She’d come aware, leaning forward in the chair. Then the tearaway pants were snapped off and thrown in her direction, past her side, the fabric brushing the flesh of her thigh below her skirt hem. She clapped for him. He’d found her. He’d found the prettiest girl and while he should have spent his attention on the bride-to-be, he was still a boy and he knew what he liked. She danced in her chair for him and she kept in touch with Geoff. His genitals filled up his thong pouch. He shook it and wiggled it for the girls, but he had his eyes on Nia. Then somehow he snapped that thing away with one finger and he showed them all the wonderful and beautiful thing he had between his legs. She let Geoff know.

His cock was pretty long, but not that thick. He’d got it plumped up with a metal cock ring at the base. He had it shaved, and it shone like his skin, getting a good coat of whatever oil he’d rubbed on his torso too. He had one of those cocks that was long enough a guy could spin it around in circles like a propeller. It slapped against his thigh and it bounced around until he could find the rhythm again. The girls went crazy, screaming and laughing. He brought it over for each of them to get a look at. Angie and Donna watched and laughed. Aunt Stella reached out and gave it a good tug and it made him laugh.

When he made the clockwise tour and wound up at Nia, he set up residence. He showed it to her. He made eye contact and tried to get her to touch it, but she acted disinterested. He swung it in her face; she could feel the draft it created. Everyone urged her on, clapping and laughing. Lisa came up behind him and she grabbed both his ass cheeks and he turned to her over his shoulder and danced against her, pressing his rump into her hips. Lisa was drunk as could be and her hands came right around and she gave his cock and his balls a good feel then she came to her senses and covered her face up and ran back to her chair.

Nia picked up her wine glass and took a sip. The stripper was back to her, determined to get a reaction. He waved his long cock in her face, danced and shook his hips, gyrated until he was right up against her. His thighs were on either side of hers, his hands on her shoulders, his cock so close she could smell the coconut oil he rubbed on himself. Then he took her wrist that held her tall stemmed red wine glass and he moved it out and down. She knew what he was going to do. She held her glass steady, and he dangled that long cock over her glass and lowered it until the end of it sunk into her wine. She shook her head at him, unperturbed. He smiled confidently at her while his cock sat in her glass. Then he took it out, splashing wine on her black dress, letting his cock swing and touch thigh to thigh.

She watched him coolly and put the glass to her lips and took a steady and long sip, holding his eyes the whole time. A smile peeled his chiseled but boyish cheeks and he winked at her.

The crowd went crazy like she was their hero. The noise was deafening. Someone screamed right next to her and it practically blew out her eardrum and made her flinch. The stripper reached for her other wrist now and she let him, let him lead her hand between his legs and he put his big wine-soaked cock in her hand. She squeezed it, didn’t burst into giggles, and watched him. And he watched her.

She stroked it and felt his balls. They weren’t huge, and they didn’t dangle, but they were warm and soft and she could tell they were sensitive by the flinch he gave when squeezed. Then she let him go, took another sip while he danced himself away, headed for the bride. But she’d made an impact. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her after that.