18 Candles, 2 Queens, and 1 Party

Please note: All characters fictional and eighteen or older.

I was turning 18. Big deal, right? But my folks thought otherwise. They decided it was like I was being crowned the queen of England. Oh, wait, I did just become queen...well, Miss Teen Florida, but that's basically the same thing.

Only last week, I found myself center stage, my stance unwavering, eyes locked on the panel of judges as I basked in the spotlight of victory. The glittering sash, now bearing my name, was draped across my shoulder, the fabric cool against my skin. Me, Cassandra Dias, the new Miss Teen Florida.

My outfit for the big birthday party tonight? Totally TikTok worthy. A dress that stole the show, silver sash hugging my waist, with a fringed skirt adding just the right touch of flirt. The stage lights were all over it, playing catch with the sequins, turning me into a human disco ball that had zero chill. It moved as I moved, each sway, each twirl screaming, 'Yes, I'm the main event.'

And let's talk about my bling, okay? Earrings that vibed perfectly with my dress, swinging with my every move, flashing signals like, 'Yeah, look at me. I know, I'm all that and a bag of chips.'

Every kid at school made an appearance, from the nerds to the cool kids. My birthday bash was the year's main event, the talk of the town. All the popular jocks, cheerleaders, and rich brats who wouldn't usually spit on me if I were on fire, were suddenly my best friends. Funny how a sparkly sash changes things. Yeah, they were now ready to rub shoulders with the new 'it' girl, the Miss Teen Florida.

My usual squad? We're not about all that razzle-dazzle life, believe it or not. You can ask Lilly and Tasha, they're right here. We're more into the lowkey vibe, nerdy stuff, chill hangs. But today? They all wanted a taste of the glitz, a slice of my limelight. Gliding through the crowd in my starry dress, my winning grin refusing to fade, I was no less than a TikTok trendsetter.

The DJ's tracks lit up the house, pounding like a heart on Red Bull. Laughter tangled with the beats, filling the air with chitchat and an Insta-worthy energy. My squad? They were vibing, soaking up this electrifying ambiance - this was more Coachella, less average birthday party.

But out of everyone, two women totally stole the show. Ariela Fox and Demi Lay. They weren't just another pair of high school mates or pageant pals. These were poised, self-assured women, and they were stepping into my world. Most older peeps were family friends, but these two were a new game. Becoming Miss Teen Florida did come with its share of interesting intriguing admirers, and my newly minted 18 status was about to turn the heat up.

I mean, I'd heard all those gossipy tales from the seasoned models. They were just stories, right? A girl can dream, but who knew reality was about to crash the dream party?

So, get this: there I was, jamming with my squad, when who saunters up but Demi, an ex-Miss Universe, probably from the era of big hair and neon leggings. But hey, she's a total MILF, so she gets a pass. She wanted to dance, and like I'd ever turn that down. The woman was slaying in her black spaghetti strap backless dress that seemed to know the art of suggestion pretty well. Our dance was no biggie. Just a bit of innocent fun, right? Until my folks switched into overprotective mode, assuming I was making moves on Demi. Clearly, they needed a lesson in the rules of the cougar club.

Post that, I felt like I was on a one-girl Big Brother episode. My party had morphed into some low-budget teen drama. Major buzzkill.

I skedaddled outside, desperate for some air and a break from the Florida furnace. The pool was blissfully quiet, tranquil even. Well, except for Ariela. There she was, waiting, prowling like a seasoned huntress in a nature doc. And yeah, she pounced. Ariela always had a knack for shadowing me during my major pageants. She looked drop-dead gorgeous in her fire-engine red dress, flowing down to her ankles, hugging her like second skin. The dress moved with her, amplifying every gesture. It was a magnet I didn't stand a chance against.

Then she pulled a surprise attack. She flattered me, my lips, and then she went in for the smooch. Woah, hold up, was this the rite of passage for 18? I was thrilled, maybe even a tad excited, but also a bundle of nerves. This was fast-forwarding at warp speed. I somehow managed to make my exit, darting back to the party, playing it cool like I hadn't just had a poolside make-out session.

Just as I was blending back into the party vibe, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Spinning around, I was met with Demi, her timeless allure as mesmerizing as ever. She leaned in, her voice barely audible above the pounding beats, "FYI, I'm a better kisser than she is."

My heart did a somersault as she breezed past me, an invisible tether pulling her straight towards Ariela. What on earth was happening? I thought turning 18 was about getting a driver's license, not headlining my own steamy drama. The sparks between Demi and Ariela were like the climax of a binge-worthy series. This birthday shindig was snowballing into a soap opera.

Suddenly, Demi and Ariela were locked in a stare-down that could melt ice. The energy between them was palpable, a high-stakes game of poker at the heart of my birthday bash. Then, the DJ flipped on some retro disco - was this his idea of a joke? But as the nostalgia-soaked tune filled the room, their expressions altered, and I swear, they kicked off a dance-off like they were competing for the mirrorball trophy.

Watching these two MILFs pull off a dance duel straight out of a sitcom in my living room had the entire crew in fits of laughter. The sheer absurdity of it all was a reminder of why we were here - to party, and maybe enjoy some reality-TV level drama on the side.

The dance-off then seemed to segue into a flirt-off, with each diva doing her damnedest to outshine the other. Ariela, the femme fatale I'd admired from afar, was suddenly there, making her intentions known. And Demi, the beauty queen turned guru, seemed to have more than just career advice for me tonight.

Next thing I know, Lilly, my ride-or-die, corners me, demanding the 411. "Cassie," she nearly yells over the music, "You gotta dish, what's the tea with you and those two... MILFs? This is turning into a full-blown soap opera!"

"Well, Lilly," I shot back, playing it cool, "It's just my birthday, yeah? They're just... well, they're just being nice."

Lilly wasn't having any of it. "Cass, that's not 'nice.' That's 'interested.'"

Before I could fire back, Demi was there, vibin' and swooping me away from Lilly towards a chill spot. Under the sparkle of fairy lights, she whispered a birthday wish and, after a quick glance around, went in for a sneak attack. It was quick but left me shook, my heart racing, and a streak of fire-engine red lipstick painted on my cheek.

"Oops," she laughed, wiping away the evidence. As we slipped back into the party, the squad kicked off the 'Happy Birthday' song, and I was met with hype and cheering. I glanced up to see Ariela, her smile wavering as she clocked the lipstick mark. But she was quick to bounce back, cozying up to my folks with a bottle of mom's fav vino, ready to make her next play in this high-key showdown.

Before I had a sec to breathe, Ariela, ever the charmer, was shepherding my parents towards me for an insta-worthy group photo. "Cassandra," she began, her voice as sweet as a caramel frappuccino. "Your folks thought a group pic would be lit. After all, we're pretty much fam!" She looped her arm around me, pulling me in. Maybe a tad too much.

As mom snapped the pic, Ariela planted a quick peck on my cheek. No lipstick mark, but her perfume was there, a hint of victory in her eyes.

Across the room, Demi watched, a poker face in place. This match was far from done. Spotting my BFF, Tasha, she strutted over, owning the room. They'd met a few times before at pageant gigs, and they clicked, despite the age gap.

"Demi!" Tasha squealed, spotting her instantly. After a few giggles, Demi leaned in to whisper some gossip in Tasha's ear. Tasha's eyes popped.

"For real?" Tasha asked, sounding doubtful but totally hooked.

Next thing I knew, Tasha was heading my way, but Demi intercepted, leading me away from the buzz of the party. I caught Ariela's worried look as we vanished. Tasha, clued in on the plan, stood guard by the restroom, ready to play her role in Demi's bold strat.

Once we were alone, Demi pulled me close, her lips on mine with a need that left me gasping. Before I could process, she was making me scream in delight as she went down on me, right then and there, her face stuffed with my pussy, under my skirt. "Holy fuck!" I yelled, the thrill more intense than anything! I was shook! I'd never had a woman do this to me before.

After the hot moment cooled, Demi and I fixed up, prepping to re-enter the party scene. But not before Demi planted one more smoldering kiss on me, leaving the taste of our encounter on my lips. It was heady, but we had to keep our cool, re-entering the party as if nothing happened.

We breezed out of the restroom, slipping back into the party like two gals who'd just been chatting about her new lipstick line. Well, one of us had been 'chatting' about more than just lipstick.

Back in the hype of the party, Demi shot Ariela a look. A victorious grin on her face, and even from across the room, I could see her eyes challenging Ariela. It was like she had just made her move, and Ariela knew it. The game was on.

Always the strategist, Ariela had a trick up her sleeve. She worked her way to the DJ's booth, a self-assured smile on her face. The crowd hushed as Ariela grabbed the mic, her eyes shining in the party lights.

"As a special birthday vibe, let's switch gears," she said, not breaking eye contact with me. The crowd cheered as the DJ flipped the music to a slow jam. Ariela's eyes on mine, a silent question there.

"And the birthday girl gets to pick her dance partner," she added, no doubt expecting I'd choose her. The crowd waited, breath held.

But, much to her surprise, I called out Demi's name, and Ariela's face was priceless. She wasn't going down without a fight, though. As I took Demi's hand and we started grooving, Ariela saw her chance.

Ariela, a twinkle in her eye that hollered 'plot twist,' pulled a move straight out of a TV drama. She strutted onto the dance floor, leveraging her upgraded booty--no pun intended--to bump Demi out. With an 'oops' and a sly grin, she took Demi's spot, wrapping me in her arms as we swayed to the beat. The crowd went wild with laughter, cheers, and even some wolf whistles. It was a funny, totally unexpected switch-up, and Ariela was clearly not tapping out of this match without a fight.

As the party started to chill, guests began to dip. My crew tried to rally me to our usual spot, but no way was I leaving my own bash, especially when I was center stage in this wild chase.

Feeling fewer eyes on me and a more laid-back vibe, I figured it was time to shake things up. There was Demi, playing bartender, cracking open another bottle of top-shelf juice. I moseyed over, grinning all impish, "Holding up alright, Demi?" Her shook face was gold.

Before she could recover, mom swooped in like I'd just taken candy from a sketchy dude. "Cass, darling," she chimed, pulling me away. "Your pals are feeling lonely. Why don't you head back to them?"

Before I could fire a witty retort, Demi changed the game. "Speaking of kiddos, Ariela," she hollered, her voice ringing over the hush, "Where's your daughter? You know, the one who's also 18 and should be raging here?"

The room went dead. Mom's mama bear mode took a hit from Demi's verbal bullet, and Ariela looked like she'd seen a ghost. Even the DJ seemed to have dropped his beat.

"Yeah, Ariela," Demi persisted, her voice escalating. "What's an adult doing at a teen party, trying to snag my..." She let that hang, her slip echoing loud and clear.

Mom went full protect mode. "Hold up, Demi!" she clapped back. "You're no teen yourself. And Ariela is a family friend, not some...some...cougar on the prowl!"

Before Demi could fire back, Ariela took the reins, "Thank you, darling. And for your info, Demi, my daughter had other plans tonight, with friends her own age."

But Ariela had more to say. Turning to my mom, she looped her arm through mine, "I think the birthday girl might be pooped. All this partying must be wearing her out. I could help her to her room if you want."

This was getting wild. One minute, these glammed-up women were flirting with me, the next, they were hissing and sniping at each other over me. And now, one of them wanted to escort me to my bedroom?

Mom looked torn. On one hand, Ariela was an old friend, as dependable as a loyal pup. On the other, she was as clueless about the escalating drama as a zen monk at a rave.

But hey, it was my birthday, and I was adulting now. Plus, mom and Ariela go way back, right? So, with a sigh that sounded like she'd just agreed to let a squirrel babysit, she said, "Alright, Ariela. But just to her room, okay? And no wild parties in there. Those stay out here!"

As Ariela and I made our grand exit, I shot Demi a quick look. She didn't look defeated. Instead, she looked stoked. Clearly, the night was far from over.

Suddenly, I felt a wave of exhaustion. But once we were behind closed doors, Ariela, being all sly, locked us in. Point for Ariela. As for me? I'd say I'm winning too!

"You're probably wiped, sweetie," Ariela cooed, her voice dropping to a purr. Her eyes were sparkling, a playful grin on her lips. "How about you get comfy? We can chat, have our own after-party."

Turning 18 was about exploring the unknown, and Ariela was tempting me with a wild adventure. "Sure," I managed, trying to keep my voice steady. "Sounds cool."

Always the planner, Ariela whipped out a mini bottle of champagne she'd snuck in. As she popped the cork and poured us each a glass, I got the sense I was in for a wild ride of a night.

"Happy 18th, Cassandra," she toasted, clinking her glass against mine. "To a year full of adventures."

We spent a while chatting, laughing, getting lost in stories of Ariela's old modeling days and her adventures, which seemed straight out of a movie. I was drawn into her world, spellbound by her charisma.

Then, the conversation took a surprising turn. "You know, Cassandra," Ariela began, her voice slightly lower, more intimate. "You're an amazing young woman. Beautiful, intelligent, full of life. And 18. All grown up."

Before I could respond, Ariela leaned in closer, her hand lightly touching my cheek. "And," she continued, "very, very desirable."

This was moving way faster than I had imagined, and Ariela, being the diva she was, played her next move smoothly. She moved in, pressing her lips to mine in a sensual kiss. It was a heady mix of excitement and butterflies, of novelty and a thrill of the forbidden.

"Wow! Look at your crown," she gushed, eyeing my Miss Teen Florida crown showcased on my nightstand. Ariela seemed stoked, carefully lifting the glittering crown and watching it twinkle under the soft bedroom light. She flashed me a playful look before crowning herself, striking a hilariously queenly pose. "Always wondered how I'd rock one of these," she laughed, filling the room with her infectious giggles.

But before I could react, she was inching closer, still sporting the crown. Her hands snaked around my waist, pulling me towards her. "Let's treat the queen, shall we?" she murmured, her voice dropping to a sexy whisper. Okay, the vibe was definitely shifting even more sexual now.

My heart was going all EDM as her lush red lips moved in for another kiss, all bold and hungry this time. But the plot twist? I was kissing her back, just as desperate. Guess the birthday girl was scoring more than just presents tonight.

Even though I knew Demi was probably scheming her next epic move right outside my room, it didn't stop me from helping Ariela strip off her red dress, revealing her smokingly gorgeous bod and a pair of amazing double Ds. The reality of having her in my room, stark naked, on my birthday of all days, was an overload. I was struggling for breath.

"Guess I have that effect on girls," she teased, her voice laced with playfulness. "Girls?" I thought. This was crazy. My friend's mom, acting all sexy and daring, and now she was all into me.

But the realization hit me like a tidal wave. In a sudden surge of panic, I did the most unexpected thing. I bailed. I rushed to the door, unlocked it, and bolted, leaving a stunned Ariela behind, in her birthday suit.

My parents rushed past me, alerted by the noise. To their surprise, they found Ariela in my room, totally exposed. "Wardrobe malfunction?" she shrugged, totally chill.

My parents didn't question her weak excuse, they were more worried about me. By the time they found me, I was outside, sitting alone on a bench in the driveway. Party guests were still leaving, heading to their cars, but I was just there, hidden in the shadows, avoiding the mess.

One moment I was about to get super intimate with a smoking hot woman, and the next, I was alone, drowning in confusion and regret. Guess growing up was more complicated than it seemed.

"Everything okay?" My dad asked, finding me in my hidden spot.

"Yeah, dad, I guess. Thanks for the epic party. It was maybe...a little too epic," I replied, the irony clear in my voice.

Suddenly, my mom came rushing out, always the drama queen. "Oh my god! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, mom, I'm cool! Just helped Ariela change into something comfier. And... I think I needed a breather. Also, I think she's crashing here."

"Oh, probably a good call," my mom agreed, completely missing the subtext.

"Wait, what?" I spluttered, blindsided.

"She's probably had too much to drink," my mom reasoned, still clueless about the night's escapades.

"Maybe you should get ready for bed? We'll prep the guest rooms for anyone who needs to stay over," my dad suggested.

As my parents headed back inside, I shuffled towards the front door, feeling low. But before I could escape, Demi appeared out of nowhere, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"You know," she started, her voice full of mischief. "I think I might've had a tad too many too," she declared, letting her champagne glass fall to the ground. "Oops!"

Oh, great.

Wasting no time, Demi pulled me in for a heated kiss. As she tasted Ariela on my lips, she pulled back abruptly. "Ugh! That witch! Is she still in your room?"

"Uhm, I mean, that's the last place I saw her," I stuttered, barely finishing before Demi stormed off towards my room.

The door was still slightly open, and Ariela, now sporting nothing but my school tee and her underwear, was lounging on my bed. The sight stopped Demi in her tracks.

"What? What is this? You can't be in here," Demi spluttered, her voice laced with outrage.

"Excuse me? Since when did you turn into her mom?" Ariela shot back, smirking defiantly.

"Bitch, please. I'm nobody's mother, thank you! Goldstar lesbian here. And you, what would your daughter say if she saw you in Cassandra's bed, wearing her way-too-tight shirt and just your panties!" Demi whipped out her phone, ready to capture the compromising moment.

Ariela leaped out of my bed in a desperate attempt to stop the photo. As I watched the chaos from the hallway, I couldn't help but marvel at the absurdity of the situation. Was I genuinely this desirable? My friends would never believe this wild tale, except maybe Lilly, who thrives on scandalous stories.

Stepping into my own bedroom felt like walking into a circus. Ariela was desperately trying to reclaim her phone from Demi, who was dancing just out of reach, a wicked grin plastered on her face. The sight of Ariela hopping around was...distractingly enticing.