Lola Takes Flight

The other thing about Mr. Richards was that he had always made me a little nervous back in high school. He was the kind of parent who seemed to think of his kids as his friends rather than as his children, especially once Marcy and Tim were teenagers. He seemed to relish being the "fun" parent and letting his ex-wife be the disciplinarian, a dynamic which I'm sure she loathed. So he would let Marcy throw parties at his house, and he would be there, drinking whiskey or bourbon while a bunch of high schoolers ran around doing shots and smoking weed. He'd arm wrestle with the boys and tell the girls dirty jokes, which seemed much funnier than the dad jokes we were expecting. I had no memory of him doing anything inappropriate, but it did make me a little uncomfortable the way he was always hanging around, watching us.

"Daddy's home," he announced loudly as he walked through the house and out onto the pool deck. "Looks like you all have made yourselves at home."

"Hey, dad," Marcy said, popping up off her lounge chair to give him a hug. "The wedding planner already finished up, and she says everything is ready for tomorrow."

"It better be, for what I'm paying her," he laughed. "Hey son, you planning to say hello to your old man?"

"Hey, dad," Tim mumbled, not getting up.

"And who we have here?" Mr. Richards said, turning towards me. I saw his eyes flick up and down my body, subtle but still noticeable. "Lola Andrews, what a sight for sore eyes."

"Hi, Mr. Richards," I said, waving at him from my lounge chair. "I'm actually going by Lola Kim these days."

"Lola Kim?" he chuckled, scratching his chin. "Marcy told me you had a boyfriend, but I didn't know that you'd taken his name already."

"Oh, it's not his name," I said, blushing slightly. "It's my mom's name."

"Ahh, right," he nodded knowingly. "Well, it suits you. I'd say you take after your mom more, anyway."

Mr. Richards walked over to the wet bar, fixed himself a highball, and then walked back over to us. But instead of sitting in the empty lounge chair next to Tim, he walked right past his son and daughter, taking a seat in the lounge chair next to me.

"So, Lola," he said, taking a sip of his highball. "Where's this boyfriend of yours? I'd like to meet him. Isn't he supposed to be here by now?"

"Oh, he--he actually can't make it," I said sheepishly. "He had something come up at work at the last second."

"Well, that's a shame," he said. "What happened?"

"Umm, well, he's in software, and his company is trying to expand into Asia," I said.

"Is that so?" he nodded. "How funny. I have a lot of experience opening up Asian markets."

"Oh really?" I said, taking a sip of wine. "Anyway, he was supposed to fly back yesterday and meet me here, but I guess things are taking longer than expected."

"They always do," he sighed, a wistful smile playing across his face. "I used to get stuck in Asia all the time when I was younger. Sometimes, I'd be there on business, and I'd get stuck so deep in Asia that I wasn't sure if I'd ever come home, or if I even wanted to..."

"Umm, okay," I mumbled, starting to feel a little uncomfortable.

"Where is he, princess?" he said, sipping his highball. "Tokyo? Bangkok?"

"Hong Kong," I said.

"The Pearl of the Orient," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not sure I ever left Hong Kong on time. That's a city that'll seduce you into staying longer than you're supposed to..."

"I... I'm not sure what you mean," I said, sipping my wine.

"Dad, what are you talking about?" Tim said, listening from two chairs away. "Stop bothering her."

"Relax, Tim," he chuckled. "Does it make you that uncomfortable to hear your dad reminisce a little bit about his younger days?"

"Whatever," he muttered, getting up and walking over to the pool. "I'm going for a swim."

"Tim's never been to Asia," Mr. Richards chuckled. "He's like his mom in that way. Not much of a traveler. Bit of a homebody."

"Don't talk about mom like that," Marcy said crossly. "I'm serious."

"Okay, okay, relax," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I was just telling Lola about what happens over there."

"What do you mean?" I said, feeling more nervous now. "He's... he's just there on business."

"So was I," he grinned, winking at me. "But don't worry, sweetheart. I'm sure times have changed. Truth is, I haven't been to Asia in over a decade now."

"No more business in Asia?" I asked off-handedly, taking a sip of wine. I was relieved that the conversation seemed to be wrapping up.

"Not exactly," he chuckled, leaning back on the lounge chair. "I'm still a player in the Asian market. But these days, I don't go to Asia anymore."

He took a sip of his highball, then brought the glass down, resting it between his legs. The way his hand was wrapped around the tumbler, it almost looked like he was touching himself.

"Once you get to my level," he smiled, glancing at me sideways. "You just kick back... and let Asia come to you."

I choked on my wine, spitting some of it back into my glass.

"Dad, what are you talking about?" Marcy cried. "Don't be gross!"

"What did he say now?" Tim called, sticking his up from the water. "Dad!"

"I made a joke, that's all," he chuckled. "And Lola laughed so hard she choked on her wine. Didn't you, sweetheart?"

He reached over and gently touched my shoulder.

"I think I'm gonna go lie down for a bit," I murmured, getting up and wrapping my towel quickly around my bikini-clad body. "See you all at dinner."

...

The rest of the night passed by relatively uneventfully, but I couldn't get the conversation with Marcy's dad out of my head.

I was already feeling anxious and insecure about what Chase might be doing in Hong Kong, but Mr. Richards had gone out of his way to imply that I was right to worry. Being stood up at my best friend's wedding as bad enough, but now my imagination was running wild with thoughts of Chase and other women.

But more than that, the conversation had left me with a wariness I couldn't shake. I'd known Mr. Richards for years, but I hadn't seen him since high school, and I was taken aback by the familiar tone he had used with me. His questions about my boyfriend, and his comments about visiting Asia, had been weirdly specific and somewhat intimate. If he were another man, I'd have assumed he was hitting on me, but that didn't make sense given that he was Marcy's dad, and especially since both his kids were sitting right there with us. Still, I tried not to dwell on it too much, figuring that perhaps I was reading into things too much.

The next day was Marcy's wedding day. It was a beautiful day, and I spent most of the morning getting ready with her.

As Marcy's maid of honor, I wore a lavender dress that she'd bought for me, a sleeveless, A-line silhouette with a deep v-neck that flattered my large breasts. Beneath the dress, I wore a demi-cup bra, cut low enough that it would be hidden below the neckline of my dress. My underwear was a tiny black thong that was barely even there, which I'd intended for Chase to enjoy. Alas.

Marcy also bought me a pair of pearl earrings as a thank you for being her maid of honor, so I was wearing those too. On my feet were a pair of kitten heels, also lavender, and around my neck was the thin gold chain with the tiny golden key on it. I wore my hair down in long, cascading waves of silky black, with the pink-dyed streak framing the left side of my face. Marcy's makeup artist did my face, and by the time she was done, I knew I was ready to turn some heads. But that only exacerbated my frustration that Chase wouldn't be here to see it.

The wedding itself was beautiful, and the vows that Marcy and Phil exchanged touched my heart. Even so, it was strange for me to listen to them pledge their lives to one another. Marcy and I had grown up together, and I still thought of us as kids figuring out how to pass for adults. But here was Marcy, looking lovingly at Phil, the two of them embarking on a lifelong commitment to each other. Meanwhile, the guy I was sleeping with wasn't even here, and he'd scolded me for telling people he was my boyfriend.

As the ceremony ended, I felt embarrassed by how sharply our paths had diverged since high school. Back then, we'd been so similar, almost inseparable in many ways. But now, Marcy had somehow zoomed past me, flying off into adulthood with a career and a husband and, probably soon, a family of her own. We were both 22-years-old, yet it seemed like she was years ahead of me in life, and it made wonder where I'd gone so wrong.

But although I was feeling somewhat melancholy, I knew I couldn't indulge in those emotions. It was my best friend's wedding, and I was the maid of honor. I needed to be happy and upbeat for Marcy on her special day, so as soon as the bar opened, I began trying to drink myself into a good mood.

I was at the bar refilling my glass when Tim approached me, a look of frustration on his face.

"Hey, Lola, I'm sorry to ask, but I need your help with something."

"Hey!" I cried, full of alcohol-induced enthusiasm. "Of course! What's up?"

"My mom and dad are about to start fighting, and I need to get them apart before it blows up," he rolled his eyes. "They're supposed to be the fucking adults, but they always do this."

"Yeah, sure," I nodded, glad to be helpful. "Whatever you need."

"I'll get ahold of my mom, but can you just, like, get my dad to take a walk, or something?" Tim asked. "I can't deal with him right now, and I'm afraid if I try to calm him down, I'm just gonna end up screaming at him."

"You want me to go for a walk with your dad?" I said, trying not to sound nervous.

"Or just, find him somewhere quiet to sit down and cool off," Tim said, looking over his shoulder. "If they start screaming at each other and Marcy finds out, she's gonna start crying, and everything will go downhill from there."

"Okay," I nodded. "Sure."

Tim and I walked over to where his parents were standing. They were off to the side a bit, away from the crowd, but not out of earshot. I could hear them arguing in hushed tones, but Mr. Richards was gesturing wildly, and it looked like he could explode at any moment.

"Mom, let's go," Tim said, snaking an arm around his mother's shoulders.

"It's bullshit, Debra," Mr. Richards shouted. "You don't tell me how to live my fucking life. Not anymore."

"Let's... let's take a walk," I said softly, gently touching his elbow.

"What?" he said, turning to me distractedly. "What do you want, Lola?"

"Take a walk with me," I whispered. "Let's go cool off."

"Fine," he said, then he looked over his shoulder towards Marcy's mom. "Fucking bitch."

Together, we walked quietly around the house, sitting down by the pool again.

"Let's just relax for a second," I said, sitting on the side of the pool. I slipped off my heels and dipped my feet into the water.

"Marcy put you up to this?" he grumbled, sitting down on a lounge chair nearby. "She's always taking her mother's side."

"She didn't," I said. "Actually, she doesn't even know I'm here with you."

"Really?" he said. "Then why did you step in? That was brave of you."

"I just saw how upset you were," I said, trying to soothe him. "You shouldn't be that upset on your daughter's wedding day."

"You're sweet," he said, smiling. "You're sweet and you're right. Thank you."

"Why were you so upset, anyway?" I asked.

"Because Debra is still trying to control me," Mr. Richards snarled. "Even though we've been divorced more than ten fucking years."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You know I paid for this? All of this," he said, gesturing around him. "This house, this wedding, this life. I paid for all of it, but according to Debra, I'm not supposed to enjoy it."

"I don't understand," I said.

"I wanted to bring a date here tonight," Mr. Richards said. "I wasn't asking to bring her to the ceremony, or include her in the photos. Just the party afterwards. Just so I could have some company tonight."

"You mean like a... girlfriend?" I asked.

"Just a girl," he said, chuckling to himself. "But Debra flipped her shit because she can't stand to see me enjoy myself."

"Just a girl?" I asked, kicking little waves in the pool with my bare feet. "What does that mean?"

"C'mon," he laughed, looking at me sideways. "You know what I mean."

"I do?" I cocked my head quizzically.

"Marcy never said anything to you?" he asked, frowning. "About me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shook my head.

"Bless her heart," Mr. Richards smiled, standing up. "What I mean is... girls like you, you're trouble."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"You're trouble," he muttered, turning away from the pool. "For a man like me."

With that, he walked calmly back around the house to rejoin the celebration.

...

After cocktails, there was dinner and speeches and dancing, but for me, there was mostly drinking. I gave my maid of honor toast--something about how Marcy was "like family to me"--but I kept it short because I was already starting to slur my words a little.

Being there without Chase, I didn't really feel like dancing, and I was also worried that dancing might give some other guy the wrong impression. Working at a nightclub, you learn how guys use the dance floor to their advantage, creating opportunities to assert themselves physically. I knew that being here alone, especially as the maid of honor, single guys would have a target on my back. And indeed, several guys tried to coax me out onto the dance floor, but I told them all I'd hurt my ankle. The only guy I wanted to dance with was Tim, but I thought that Marcy might not like that, and it was her wedding.

So I drank, and the night slipped by, and eventually, it was time for Marcy and Phil to drive off to the hotel where they were spending the night.

"You can't go already!" I pouted. "Let's party tonight, like old times!"

"Lo, I love you girl," she cried, throwing her arms around me. "But my husband has been poking me on the dance floor for the last 30 minutes, and if I don't take care of that, I think he's going to explode."

"Your husband," I gasped. "Oh my god, you're married!"

"It's so crazy, right?!" Marcy said. "I'm so glad you're here, Lola. Thank you for being my best friend!"

"Always," I said, putting my hand over my heart. "Phil can fuck you, but you're my best friend."

"Deal," she said, giving me a tight hug. "Love you, babe."

"I'm gonna miss you so much," I said, tears forming in my eyes. "What am I gonna do now?"

"Aww, Lola, it's all gonna work out," she said, squeezing my arm. "You're gonna someone, whether it's Chase or... or someone else. I promise."

Then, she and Phil climbed into the car, and drove away. As I watched her car disappear into the darkness, it dawned on me how alone I really was.

Marcy, my childhood best friend, was gone, off to start her new life with Phil. Chase, my would-be boyfriend, was halfway around the world in Hong Kong, supposedly in a conference room, but maybe in a hotel room. Marcy's brother Tim, my high school crush, was somewhere around here, but she'd made it painfully clear that she didn't want me anywhere near him. And then there was my father, who I hadn't seen or spoken to in more than 4 years. Where the fuck was he? Why was everyone always leaving me to fend for myself?

I walked up to the bar, a little dazed and already quite drunk.

"Champagne, please," I said.

"Two, actually," said a voice beside me.

I turned to my right. The voice belonged to a guy, probably around my age, with sandy-brown hair and an average build.

"Hi," he said, smiling at me. "I'm Will."

"Hi Will," I murmured, distracted by my own thoughts. I reached for the champagne flute.

"You're Lola, right?" he said, picking up his own glass. "You were in the wedding party."

"Thanks," I said to the bartender. Then, I looked at Will. "Yes, I was. Nice to meet you."

I started to walk away, moving back towards the house, but Will started walking with me.

"So how do you know Marcy?" he asked.

"She's been my best friend since we were kids," I mumbled, my thoughts still racing. "Sorry, I just need to be somewhere quiet for a little while."

"I know someplace we can go," Will said, his smile turning into a grin.

"No, sorry, I meant alone," I said, stepping away from him. "But it was nice to meet you."

"Hey, wait," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "I... I know you."

"What?" I said, trying to shrug his hand off. "I don't think so."

"No, what I mean is..."

He trailed off, glancing over his shoulder at the bartender. Then, he leaned in closer to me, putting his hand back on my shoulder.

"... I know who you are."

I reached up and removed his hand from my shoulder a second time. Then, I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I hissed.

"You're Lola Andrews, right?" he whispered, his eyes twinkling. "From USC?"

My heartbeat jumped. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears.

"Sorry, what is this?" I said, trying to stay composed. "What are you talking about?"

"I knew it," he grinned, looking me up and down. "God, you're even hotter in real life."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I murmured, playing nervously with my champagne flute. "My name is Lola Kim."

"My buddy went to USC," he whispered, leaning in again. "He couldn't stop talking about your post. None of us could."

A lumped form instantly in my throat. Despite the hot evening air, I could feel beads of cold sweat forming on my back.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I repeated slowly. "But I want you to leave me alone."

Unfortunately, I did know what he was talking about.

If you've read my previous stories, then you know that back when I was a senior at USC, I got involved with a guy who was dating one of my friends. I knew it was wrong, but it happened, and then it happened again and again.

Eventually, she found out, but instead of confronting me about it, she posted something about me to an anonymous social app that was popular among college student at the time. She mentioned me by name, linked to my social accounts, and referred to me as "USC's #1 Hottest Big Cock Slut." Among other things, the post said that I "don't know how to say no to a big dick."

After awhile, I succeeded in getting the post taken down, but not until after hundreds of men had sent me pictures of their dicks. I guess it shouldn't have surprised me that the post had been shared around with guys at other schools. Still, I'd wanted to believe that chapter was behind me, so it was a shock to be approached like this so brazenly by a total stranger.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone," he whispered. "And I won't. I just thought..."

He paused to look me up and down again.

"You're here alone, right?"

I pursed my lips tightly, glancing past him at the bartender, trying to make eye contact.

"I just thought we could go somewhere private," he said, touching my shoulder again. "Together."

"Stop touching me," I whispered, looking at the ground. I fidgeted, but his hand stayed where it was.

"I just..." he said, moving his lips to my ear. "I've got a big dick, and I wanna fuck you so bad."

"Get away from me," I murmured. "I'm not like that."

"You sure?" he whispered, moving his hand to my waist. "Let's go find out."

The lump in my throat finally burst.

"FUCK OFF, ASSHOLE!" I screamed. Then, I raised my champagne flute, tossing the liquid in his face.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled in surprise, stepping back from me.

"Go jerk off on the internet with your loser friends," I screamed. "You think I'm a slut?! I have a boyfriend, okay?!"

"Hey, I know who you are," he said threateningly.

"Oh yeah?" I snarled, pushing him backwards. "Well, I know who you are. Just a fake-ass wannabe with little boy's dick."