Monogamish - The Bachelor Party

This is the second part of a series that starts with Monogamish--The Courtship. I hope you will enjoy it. If you finish this installment, you know the drill: vote, favorite, and especially comment, please--all the time-wasting BS you hear at the start of every YouTube video...

As always, I aspire to make my stories merely plausibly ridiculous, or maybe ridiculously plausible. Either way, this ain't real life, so don't lecture me on realism. I just hope that, given these two highly-improbable characters, you will feel like their ride makes some semblance of sense.

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MONOGAMISH -- The Bachelor Party

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Amy and I settled on a date for our wedding as the first Saturday in September after our graduations. It had not been super easy to put it together so fast, but we had both our mothers' enthusiastic support, and they made it happen. We were both a little surprised at the level of support we got for our decision to marry forthwith, but it turns out that when you have been getting along very well with your future in-laws for almost seven years, you get their support, even if the two of you are only twenty-two and twenty-one.

Amy's dad had passed away already, but my dad, upon hearing that I was going to get married, and it would be to Amy, had simply grunted, "About damned time. I was beginning to worry that your mother had dropped you on your head sometime when I wasn't around." Amy had given him a huge kiss on the cheek at that. My dad of course had reams of exacting, practical things to say about getting married, but it was a measure of how much he approved of Amy that he waited all the way until the weekend to start the almost endless flow of 'things to keep in mind.'

The process was further made smooth by Amy's choice of Maid of Honor, Linda, who was Amy's mother hen whenever they got together and planned. My Best Man, Tommy Franklin, was less helpful, but endlessly supportive. He was my best friend, at least among my non-gamer buddies. I am not ashamed to admit that he may have gotten the nod for the honor over others because he is... There is building, a big one, named after his grandfather on campus. Tommy has resources... like actual large deposits of actual natural resources like iron and copper.

Both Amy and I needed all the help we could get with putting the wedding together because we had each had the immense good fortune to have secured jobs by the time we graduated, and both those jobs took a little bit of travel already. Linda was invaluable because she had graduated a semester early and had at least a little time on her hands. She declared that our wedding was her last summer internship. She was actually working in hospitality management, so that wasn't totally bullshit. Tommy... had a job. Or at least, he had a monster paycheck and a set of nebulous, flexible responsibilities that fluctuated in size.

And if you are thinking about it, yes, Amy did, in fact, have full and complete carnal knowledge of Tommy, dating back to a two month stretch shortly after she and I had our first date. And I likewise had complete familiarity with Linda, from a period slightly before Amy's and my first date. When Amy and I had begun going on some dates with each other, which was well after we had begin having sex, we had still been quite sure that we were not A Thing. That kind of round-robin thing was just who we were back in the day. For the most part, everybody had remained friends. For the most part. You live, you learn.

Who knew that things would work out like this? Aside from our parents, apparently...

But now, (most) of the planing was done, and (most) of the preparations as well. We were just over a week from the wedding. All there was left to happen (besides a few days of extra hours at our respective jobs to get stuff done before our honeymoon) was the rehearsal dinner... and our bachelor and bachelorette parties.

Amy and seven of her crew, including Linda, were headed to New Orleans for the weekend, intent on drinking the town dry, plus whatever other shenanigans they had up their sleeves. I was not consulted, but they all seemed to be utterly scandalized at their behavior, even though they had not actually gone yet.

As for my festivities... here was where Tommy shone, and why no one begrudged me choosing him as best man. He, I, and six of our mutual buddies from college days were headed to Vegas for two nights. We were each, except for me, picking up our own airfare, gambling losses, and personal hotel room. Tommy was picking up a huge, 2,000 square foot party suite at the Planet Hollywood Casino, everybody's drinks, meals, a show, and other... entertainment.

Tommy was close-lipped about that last line item, but I knew what was going to show up at our suite. His ideas of a bachelor party were straight out of the seventies and eighties... positively medieval. I would need to be careful. Willpower was never my strong suit.

Zero hour for both Amy and myself was early Friday, and we drove together to the Atlanta airport, parking in a remote economy lot and bussing together to the terminal. We didn't mind the ride. Bussing around together had been a big part of our life thus far.

We put off braving TSA and hit Starbucks for a last coffee together first. I had a danish, too. Amy passed, fretting about remaining perfectly shaped for the wedding dress. I heard rumors that the dress was awesome, but then, Amy would look great in a white sack, and that was not just my opinion.

We did not want to be interrupted, so we told no one we were traveling with where we were, and we talked as we read text reports from everybody else as they made their way through TSA. Most of both parties lived in or near Atlanta like we did. A few were suffering the morning in La Guardia or O'Hare.

Coffee fortifying our brains, we went through TSA quickly, like they were giving us a wedding present. We each grabbed our rolling bags, and went down the long escalator. We paused, letting the first train to all terminals go, so we could say goodbye. She was in Terminal A, and I was in D. We were not going to try to say goodbye while actually on the train!

We had lots to say to each other, most of it with our lips mashed together. We drew a few glares, and a few quiet cheers. It may have looked like I was shipping out to The Front.

When we finished our remarks and broke apart with big smiles, Amy said casually, "Have fun and be safe, Todd."

"Of course! You too, darling," I replied.

"And be sure to fuck at least one of those strippers Tommy has hired," she added in a serious tone.

I just goggled at her. "Yeah, right. Yes ma'am," I retorted, throwing a salute.

"I'm serious, Todd," Amy said, letting me see in her eyes that she was not joking or teasing me. "This is your bachelor party. An ancient rite. You need to get laid."

I stared at her. "Amy, why are you telling me this? I mean..." I didn't know what I meant. The facts of the matter were that I had indeed fantasized quite a bit about doing the Groom Gets Laid By Strippers At His Bachelor Party meme. I just had firmly dismissed letting myself do it. Must be careful, remember?

Well... mostly firmly. I had assumed that Amy would not be impressed by said meme, and I was madly in love with her, after all.

"Todd, I'm heading for my bachelorette party. In New Orleans. If I don't, at the absolute minimum, suck some cock, I will consider the whole thing an abject failure," Amy went on, calmly, but watching me carefully.

More circuit breakers tripped. Or, I expected them to. I expected myself to flip out in outrage. But that expectation died aborning, dismissed and unloved. "Not what I was expecting from a goodbye talk," I said, mostly not choking, and with what I was discovering was quite good humor.

"Todd, we say 'I Do' next Saturday," Amy said. "This is our last chance for some good old-fashioned recreational sex... meaningless recreational sex that is," she corrected herself. "You and I are going to have all the recreational sex forever with each other," she leered. I couldn't help but smile a little at that point. My pants kids even stirred little bit. Amy can leer like a champ. "But you and I have both enjoyed our share of casual sex over the years. It's been a big part of both our adult lives. A lot of casual sex, right? We even had a lot of casual sex with each other, back in the day. Right?"

I took a deep breath. "I cannot deny facts," I said quietly. "But..."

"But nothing. We both deserve some last fun."

"So you are telling me to get jiggy with some stripper to justify you doing the same?" I said, with less heat than I had thought I was going to put into the words.

"I don't need to justify it," Amy said firmly. "But I figure you are going to give in to temptation anyway, after wasting time on some useless, cute, noble resistance, and I don't want you feeling guilty about it when you do."

I stared at her. She stared at me. I finally broke and grinned sheepishly. She smiled sweetly. "Yes, dear," I said in the most dolorous tone of voice I could muster, while hanging my head apologetically. "I will fuck a couple of strippers this weekend if it will make you happy."

"Ooh, plural?" Amy laughed. "I like your gumption!" She stepped closer and kissed me once more, sweetly. Then she whispered in my ear. "And just so you know, I'm confident about this. Not because I'm confident that someone won't try to get you to run away with them at the last minute. I half expect that, you're so awesome. I'm just confident because I know no-one can fuck you like I do."

She stepped back in a subtly sinuous manner.

"You have no idea how much I want to grab you, lay you this linoleum floor and fuck you silly right here," I growled. "But some Karen would probably call Security, and our journeys would end before they begin!"

Amy laughed. Then she looked at me with eyes filled with promise. "Part of me says go for it anyway, it would be worth it." We stared at each other for almost two seconds. Two dangerous seconds. "But," she went on, "I read about a new blowjob technique in Cosmopolitan that sounds awesome. I want to practice it first before I show it to you on our wedding night, so I kind of need to get to New Orleans."

"So it will just be all blowjobs for you?" I asked. Oddly, I felt only intellectually curious.

She just snorted contemptuously. "That reminds me," she said, and pulled a small gift-wrapped box from her purse, handing it to me.

I smiled and went to open it. She stopped me. "Not here. It's just your favorite condoms." I almost actually blushed, and stuck the present in my backpack. We hadn't used condoms in a while now. "I have another box of my own in my purse," she added reassuringly.

"Yes, dear. I'll be careful," I said in the same sheepish tone of voice. Both our wrists thumped as our alarms told us it was time for us to get in gear.

"See that you do," Amy said primly. "Oh, and did you pack your allergy meds?" She added slyly.

I rolled my eyes for real this time. I had forgotten to pack my meds one time. One. Time. It just had been when we went to Arizona for Spring Break our senior year, the first trip we took as an engaged couple, and I had sniffed and sneezed the whole time there. Now she practically reminded me every time I went to work.

"Yes," I said snidely. "I packed my meds."

"Good," she smiled. "But why then did I find them sitting on the bathroom counter just as I was heading out the door behind you?" she asked sweetly, pulling my meds out of her purse and placing them in my hand.

Marrying this force of nature would be hard, in all sorts of glorious ways.

We wordlessly hugged each other on the train to the first stop for Terminal A. We just stared quietly and mouthed, "I love you," to each other as she stepped off the train.

I was left on the rumbling car with my thoughts. Thoughts about what Amy had said.

Part of my brain still wanted to be mad. Fail. Part of my brain wanted to be psyched as fuck. Partial fail. Mostly I wanted to be boggled that she had said it at all, but... Fail there too. It was pretty on-brand for my bride. Not flipping out about the situation was pretty on-brand for me.

Were I honest with myself, had I not been suffering at that point from a whole heaping helping of Responsibility Talks from my dad, I might have been the one to broach the subject...

Was I going to take her up on her offer? More accurately, was I going to obey orders?

I heaved a dramatic sigh as I got off the train at Terminal D. My father had always said a good husband does as he's told, and everybody will be happy...

*

I love Las Vegas. I had been twice before that weekend. The first visit was with my parents, and we had a marvelous time, even though I was eighteen, and not able to drink or gamble. I could have gone to certain of the strip clubs, I had grumbled very quietly. I could have gone to the Mustang Ranch, or whatever. I was not afforded those opportunities. But Hoover Dam was amazing, and we took a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon. We even went to a comedy circus show that was crazy funny, and so filthy dirty it had my mother ablating her makeup, she was blushing so hard.

I had gone to Vegas one other time, for a Spring Break. Amy had not come on the trip, but a number of girls did, including two I had/was dating. That part had sucked, because apparently I had not been as clear as I thought about my exclusivity, or lack thereof. Live and learn, remember? It had still been a blast, though all we did was spend our days at the pool, where there were girls who were not hating on me every second, and our nights at one or another of the few clubs that let in under 21s.

Now, I was going as an adult. In the company of men like me. Bold. Robust. Educated. And utterly unprepared for the action of casino gambling. Several of us burnt through our whole trip's gambling budget between getting off the plane and dinner on Friday. Tommy thought it was hilarious, and advanced those who had already tapped themselves a modest chance to get even. No one got even. Except Tommy himself, which was unfair, since he didn't need it.

We had dinner in a steakhouse, of course. One where the Rat Pack used to eat, drink, and womanize. Marilyn Monroe had probably been nailed in the restrooms of this joint. I was certain of it.

After, we had VIP tickets to one of the Cirque de Soleil shows, though not the one I was hoping for. I will never let Tommy know that error on his part as long as I live. It was still incredible. I love those shows.

After that, we all gambled for a couple more hours. A brief, intensive group Google between dinner and Cirque had netted us a lot of tips on how to lose as slowly as possible. We had shared them with each other, and most of us who hadn't been broke before dinner were still mildly solvent by the end of that first day.

We topped off our jet-lagged evening with Louis XIII cognac in Tommy's party suite, listening to jazz, because we were feeling pretentious like that. For a bunch of 22 year-old dudes, it really was a new experience in manliness, even for Tommy. We all bitched that we could not smoke cigars in the suite. I swear, if we had thought to bring them, we would all have been sitting there in black suits with narrow ties loosened around our necks.

"To the luckiest man alive," I said, raising my just re-splashed snifter, "me!"

"Got that fucking straight," Tommy said, the voice of experience.

"Damned straight. You don't deserve her," added Hassan, who had also dated Amy one summer back home for three, what I am sure was for him, glorious weeks.

"I deserve her more than you two scrofulous assholes," I retorted.

Everyone drank to that, including the scrofulous assholes.

"You still better be ready for the entertainment I've booked for tomorrow night," Tommy said pointedly, brandishing his insanely expensive brandy. "I didn't fly out here last week to interview talent for nothing!"

"You came out here last week?" Owen asked incredulously.

"Absofuckinglutely," Tommy said firmly, with a gleam in his eye.

"Okay, groom-boy..." Wong said. Everybody called him Wong, except his parents. Wong's given name was utterly unpronounceable, and after four years of knowing him, and kicking his ass at Ticket to Telluride and Magic the Gathering, I had given up trying to even spell it. "Are you going to get wild tomorrow night?" he asked me with a taunting expression.

"Are you?" I shot back, temporizing.

"Fuck yeah," Wong said, and was joined by several others. "But I'm free as a bird, dude. You are the one being fitted for a ball and chain."

"Ahhh, but what a ball and chain," I said loftily, sipping my delicious brown liquid. Then I lowered the glass and said simply, "That said, Amy and I had a discussion in the airport. We are both clear that we are not married yet."

That got a few whistles and a fist-pump from Tommy.

"Dude, you mean she is going to act single this weekend too?" asked Wally. "Are you remotely cool with that?" he inquired incredulously. Of course he did. Wally was a generous soul, and a chivalrous, gentlemanly guy with all women... except he was sort of a pig when he was in a relationship himself. It was one reason he was currently among the utterly unbeholden among us. It was okay in his book for me to fuck around, but not Amy.

Fuck that.

"Amy," I said, making an ass of myself by audibly slurping three thousand dollar booze, "will always do Amy. And after this weekend, she and I will only do each other. Sucks to be you, rest of the male race."

I got some frankly worshipful views. A few pitying ones as well. I got it. But they didn't get me and Amy.

I was going to get wild.

I hoped.

Unless I chickened out.

Amy would kill me if I did, but I might anyway. Like the insurance ads, I was feeling mightily dad-like these days...

*

We were all up and fed and caffeinated by ten am, because we each had bought entries into a poker tournament with a ten thousand dollar minimum payout that started at that time. We were stoked for it, because we had been playing a lot of poker recently, and we were sure we would individually and collectively own this tournament.

There was talk of an all bachelor party final table.

We had only been playing against each other...

Tommy went out in twenty five minutes. He re-bought and was out a second and final time in forty. Hassan crashed and burned shortly thereafter. Owen declined to re-buy. I didn't blame him. I was at his table and it had been a brutal, scarring, bad beat. All of us, whether we rebought or not, were out by 11:30 in the morning.

The drinking began at 11:35.

At 1:30, we found ourselves at a daytime pool ultra lounge. We were already there before any of us realized it was a topless daytime pool ultra lounge. So that was some extra, unlooked-for fun.

Owen disappeared for two hours. I was almost certainly the best looking among us, though women who like their men in the form of living sides of beef might prefer Hassan. But Owen was the inexplicable master of random pussy.

For myself, I crashed back in my room at five. I don't know or care what everybody else did. We met up again for Japanese food awesomeness at seven. The eight of us drank... eight full bottles of sake. The night was about to begin.

About nine, the eight of us took over a craps table that had just opened. We had a great time.

By 9:45, we had forgotten all the advice about how to lose slowly and were tapped out, one and all.

"Such a shame, gentlemen," Tommy declared loudly. "Now we just have to go back to the suite and toast our friend whose life's about to end!" I flipped him off, everyone else cheered, and we headed for the elevator.

We were, admittedly, ahead of Tommy's schedule. So we drank more cognac (not Louis XIII this time), and actually played Carcassone, with the expansions, like the board game geeks most of us actually were, instead of the sophisticated men of the world we were pretending to be. I fucking won. I may have literally mooned everyone when I did. We were not, in actual fact, sophisticated men of the world.