A Work in Progress Ep. 05

As the conversation proceeded, Greg gathered that they were there for a bachelor party that the first black guy had planned as he was the best man. The gathering was to commence in under an hour, up in one of the suites and the surprise entertainment had canceled on them.

Greg decided he might be able to up the ante after all.

He shot a quick text to Rhonda telling her to hold up and stay in the room until he contacted her again because he had to check something out.

The moment he hit send, he received one from her telling him that she'd broken a heel on her stilettos getting in the elevator and was running back to their suite to get her black pumps. He again told her to stay there until he contacted her. To this she answered with a simple 'K.'

By this point, Greg heard another member of the quartet, a smaller, rather androgynous looking guy, declare that they didn't really need a stripper anyway.

"It's so old school cringey, really."

"Old school, aye?" the gray haired man interjected. "Back when I was your age, we were still hiring ladies of the evening for bachelor parties."

Greg took this as his cue. He folded his laptop and turned to face the group.

"Sorry guys. I couldn't help but overhear and I think I might be in a position to help you gentlemen."

A little more than thirty minutes later, Rhonda took yet another look at herself in their suite's full length mirror. Even though she had already committed to walking out in public once, her ill-fated trip to the elevators, she still harbored a great deal of anxiety over her outfit. After all, no one had seen her on her previous excursion when she'd managed to plant her heel in the gap between the lift and the floor, subsequently snapping it off.

If she was being honest with herself, she was feeling anxiety and arousal in near equal measure.

She was getting very antsy and couldn't imagine what the hold up was. She had also gotten pretty wet and had, perhaps not surprisingly, discovered that a seemingly decent quality pair of crotchless underwear did far less to contain this than even the smallest pair of regular panties. She'd had to retrieve a dry washcloth from the bathroom to pat the inside of her thighs twice so far.

"Summer is over but I'm definitely still in heat." she said softly, to the empty room.

She picked up her phone to text Greg but before she could begin to compose a message, he walked in the door.

"What's going on? Is there something wrong down at the bar?"

"No. No, not at all." he said, enthusiastically.

Then he villainously rubbed his hands together again before continuing.

"You look fantastic, by the way. How do you feel?"

"Ah, well, anxious, but also super horny, honestly."

"Great!" he exclaimed. "That's good. Very good."

"Greg," she began, somewhat forcefully, "what the hell are you up to?"

He laughed and Rhonda was pretty sure there was a nervous edge to it.

"You see, there's been a little change of plans." he replied, with a grin.

"Really?"

"Yes. I was in the right place at the right time so I called an audible."

"I see." she said, suspiciously and then coaxed him into explaining.

Greg gave her a synopsis of the conversation he'd overheard the eclectic group of men having and Rhonda instantly connected the dots.

"I can't be the stripper for a bachelor party!" she cried.