The Super-Duper Ch. 01

"We're going for a two-week stay at Chateau Montclair Resort," Gumby informed this mystery woman, who obviously have gotten on Somalia's bad side.

Hill's small and delicate facial features had taken on an expression of surprise. Her stylized eyebrows were raised slightly as her doe-shaped eyes widened. Her thin, lipstick-adorned lips parted slightly. "Oh, you guys are staying at the Chateau Montclair?"

Somalia knew that Hill was surprised that they were going to be residing in Chateau Montclair.

"Wow, how you did you managed to get booked into there? I thought it was an exclusive resort; they don't let any old body in there," commented Hill.

At that point, wordlessly, Somalia walked away from Hill and went back to the baggage claim. She left Gumby chatting with her. By the time, she returned with Gumby's suitcases, Hill was gone.

Her diminutive 5'3 friend stood in her spot with a facial expression that displayed her sense of disbelief. "Wow," was the only thing that Gumby said.

"So you've never told me how you know the Robo-Bitch from the airport," Gumby stated. Somalia had let out a chuckle that didn't hold any real joy.

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Somalia said to her friend, briefly looking away from the window. A wavering sigh slipped from her, before saying, "Well, it's nothing much to tell, except that she's married to Jules' father."

~oMRo~

After spending the last eight hours traveling, Somalia was tired. All she wanted to do was linger in her room's giant tub until her skin shriveled up like a prune and then crawl her ass into bed.

But, Gumby wasn't having it.

Gumby, due to a reverse case of jet lag, was too energized to go to sleep. She wanted to wonder the streets of Chateau Montclair and experience a part of its night life. And, she was planning on not doing it alone.

"I know that you are not planning on going out with me dressed like that," Gumby declared, as she stood in the doorway of the bathroom.

"What's wrong with what I have on?" Somalia asked, as she surveyed her outfit. She was wearing all black: a black turtle-neck sweater, a pair of black leggings and a pair of black, leather motorcycle boots. She had her waist-length curly hair pulled tight into a ponytail.

"There's nothing wrong it, darling, if we were planning on blowing up a federal building, all in the name of black power!" Then she pumped her fist in the air, for emphasis.

"What I have on...there's nothing wrong with it. You said that we were going to take a brief tour and then have a few drinks and then come back here. So, you're the one that's overdressed!"

"Honey child, look at what I am wearing..." Gumby proceeded to do a slow twirl.

Somalia took notice of the tight, cheetah-printed dress, the bright red "Fuck Me" pumps and the black beret that she was wearing on her head.

"I am ready for anything."

Somalia snickered. "We're just going on a tour. What's the big deal?"

"I want you to have fun for these two weeks and I want you to let your hair down, both figuratively and literally," Gumby reasoned.

"So, you want me to have a vacation fling?" Somalia inquired with an expression that conveyed her amusement.

"No, I don't want you to have a fling. But, if you do want to have one, I'm not going to stop you. All I am asking for you to do is have a bomb ass time. I want you to have so much fun that when we leave this place, you can look back and say 'I had fun'. That's all I want" was Gumby's reply. Her little speech was enough to persuade Somalia to have to try to be more open-minded to the possibilities. "Now, let's work on your outfit."

"What's wrong—?

"It's ugly, child, just plain ole' ugly".

Gumby heard the groan of disapproval, even before Somalia could even emit it from her throat. "There's nothing wrong with your outfit." She watched her friend tug at the bottom of the dress, as if that was going to make the dress longer.

"I look like a hooker," Somalia concluded.

"No, you don't. You look sexy and mysterious," countered Gumby.

"No, I look like a hooker," Somalia groaned as she stared at her reflection from the floor length mirror.

The first thing that she noticed was her breasts. Her 34D-cup breasts were huge to begin with, but in this dress, they were enormous. They looked like they were ready to spill out of the top of the coral-colored dress. The rest of her 34-25-44 curvaceous frame appeared to be struggling to stay inside of the dress.

"Where did you find this dress anyway?"

"Honey, this is a Herve Leger bandage dress—

"Wasn't that the guy from the show "Fantasy Island"?"

"No, you jackass, he's a designer. The dress originally belonged to a client of mine. Well, it actually belonged to her fat ass bridesmaid, who couldn't lose enough weight to fit into the dress on time. So she was booted out of the party. Shit, you're so lucky. You are wearing the hottest dress right now."

"Well, I look like as if I am hot in the ass, right now."

"Hardy-fucking-har-har, Molly! You look great. I look great...." Gumby stood next to her and stared at both of their reflections. "We both look great!"

"We look like we're two divorcees who are in town looking for a fling." Suddenly, Gumby pinched a meaty piece of flesh from Somalia's arm. "Ouch, what was that for?"

"That's what I am going to do for now on. Whenever you get into a negative, 'Debbie-Downer, the glass is half-empty, pessimistic' bullshit, I am going to pinch you."

"Well, that shit hurts," Somalia groaned. She rubbed at the tender flesh.

Somalia and Gumby had decided to take a tour of the resort as the first part of their night's festivities. Actually, it was Gumby's idea of taking the improvised tour and having cocktails afterwards. Somalia was just going along with it. Fifteen minutes into their "unofficial tour", Somalia was already enjoying herself. But she wasn't going to admit that to Gumby. As they taken in the sights, she was absolutely smitten with the town, which was a part of the Chateau Montclair Resort. For Somalia, she thought that it could be a part of the Disneyland theme parks with its fifty-eight stores, twenty-seven restaurants and hundreds of available activities for people of all ages.

'I want to bring Julian here for a vacation,' she thought as she strolled down a cobble-stoned road. 'Maybe if I can save up enough money, I could take Jules next year, during his summer break.'

At that moment, a sleek silver Porsche had pulled up to a sidewalk, a few feet away. She watched two teenaged girls slip out of the automobile and stroll into a Gucci store.

'Okay, maybe not next year, but sometime in the near future.'

The two women window-shopped, visited some shops while taking a lot of pictures. After three hours had flown by, the women decided to get something to eat because they were starving. The first few restaurants that they tried to patron were too crowded and the waiting time was too long. They eventually found a restaurant, called The Snowbird and The Falcon. The place wasn't crowded and they didn't have to wait to be seated. After Gumby had her jacket and Somali's duster placed into coat-check, the women was escorted to their assigned table by the hostess.

Walking behind both the hostess and Gumby, Somalia felt several eyes on her as she walked. Out of her peripheral vision, she spotted several men ogle at her physique. She felt like she wanted to disappear from the embarrassment. She even caught one elderly man checking out her backside while he was sitting at a table with his wife!

'Great, just great,' her mind grumbled.

The hostess had set them up with a booth arrangement that built next to the entryway of a walled off area that was made private by a wall that was entirely made up of glass. The unique partition was made up of frosted glass, so no one was able to make out what was going on inside of the room. The hostess had placed a menu on each side of the table and said to them, "Right now, we have a private party going on in our Falcon Room and they have been a bit rowdy, at times, so please don't be alarm."

"Oh, don't worry about us two. Besides, I am hoping their festiveness will rub off of my sister-in-law here, so maybe she won't be such a stick-in the-mud," joked Gumby, who earned a giggle from the hostess and a glare from Somalia.

The hostess wished them a great time and left them alone to observe the menus. It was during this period where Somalia checked out the restaurant's décor. She decided that it was definitely different any of the other places that she's been. She's never been to a restaurant that had actual trunks of redwoods serving as columns. Or had the scent of pine leaves wafting through the air. The booths had black leather upholstery that felt so soft to the touch. She never had been to a place where it was upscale enough, but didn't reek of the snobbery that usually sticking to these places. The Snowbird and The Falcon was the type of restaurant that still required the male patronages to wear ties and blazers, but didn't treat their customers like shit, if they didn't own a black, American Express credit card. Somalia thought back to the last time she had visited a hoity-toity restaurant was when she was fifteen years old. It was a restaurant called Tavern on the Green and it was for Hill Morgan's Sweet Sixteen birthday party.

'Ugh, please don't bring up that obnoxious bitch,' her mind warned.

"I like this place," Gumby announced, snapping Somalia out of her thoughts.

"I do too," she agreed. Then, both women heard a round of laughter rang out. It had come from the infamous private party that was in The Falcon Room.

"You know what that sound was, right? That was the sound of fun," informed Gumby.

"I see that you're still on that fun kick," she said as she perused the menu.

"I am and I will be until I know for certain that you are having the time of your life."

The server had shown up. He appeared to be young, Somalia concluded. She figured that he must be working here to pay for his college tuition. He had taken their beverage order: for Gumby, a glass of white wine and for Somalia, a glass of Perrier water. He left the table so he could fill out their orders. The women continued to survey the menus. Gumby noticed Somalia's almond-shaped eyes go wide as she read the menu.

"I know what you're thinking about and I want you to stop it," Gumby warned. "We're here to enjoy some fine dining and besides it is my treat!"

"Gumby—

"Zip it," Gumby stated, while interrupting her. "All I want you to do right now is figure out how you want your steak."

The server returned a few minutes later and taken down their orders. Gumby ordered herself a high-priced version of a surf-and-turf: a filet mignon with a Maine Rock lobster tail and asparagus spears. Somalia, however, ordered the least expensive meal that was on the menu: sautéed spinach, a chicken breast that was grilled and smeared with hollandaise sauce. As she ordered her meal, she could feel the disapproving glare from Gumby. Once the server was gone, Gumby kicked Somalia on her left shin. She squealed in pain and glared at her.

In response, Gumby said, "You are too far away from me for me to pinch you."

To pass the time, as they waited for their food, Somalia and Gumby chatted. Gumby told about the comings and goings that occurred of her wedding-planning business. Somalia found her best friend's job to be very intriguing and busy. When it was her turn to talk about herself, she talked about her job a clerical associate for public hospital. It wasn't a glamorous job, like Gumby's profession, but it was an honest job. Then, she talked about her life outside of work, which mostly revolved around her son, Julian.

Occasionally, during their conversation, it was interrupted by the festivities that were going on in The Falcon Room. At one point, they witness a trio of servers enter the room with trays of food that appeared to be set ablaze.

Eventually their food was served to them. Each woman had a waiter served them their meals, which was propped and positioned to look fancier than it actually was. Like before, Gumby had taken her iPhone out of her clutch purse and taken a picture of her food. All Somalia could do was shake her head and laugh. After their dinner was gone, the two women ordered a dessert, chocolate-raspberry flavored mousse that was served with a vanilla wafer that was coated with chocolate. Rather than be totally gluttons, they decided to order one and share it with each other. Before her dessert arrived, Somalia excused herself from the table, so she could go to the restroom. Once again, she felt several eyes glued to her tits and ass as she strolled to the ladies' room.

After relieving her bladder and washing her hands, Somalia stood in front of the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror that was mounted above the sinks. She began to pick at her dress yet again, in an effort to make her look little less like a tramp.

"Honey, if I had your figure, the last thing I would be doing is picking at that dress," the bathroom attendant said to her, after she was picking at it for a few minutes.

Somalia gave the woman a small smile and started fumbling with her hair. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw someone enter the bathroom. Going back to the task at hand, she fixed wayward strands of hair, when she heard "Big Rhonda, is that you?"

Somalia's eyes drifted over to the figure that was standing a few feet behind her. She recognized the person.

'Shit, damn and motherfucker,' she thought.

She turned around and came face to face with another member from The Crew. This time, it was one of the Harper Twins, which one? Somalia was unsure. Before she could say anything, the woman shocked the shit out of her, by running up to her and hugging her.

"Oh it is so good to see you!" the woman squealed in excitement.

"It's..." Somalia tried to think of a nice thing to say, but couldn't conjure up anything. "...nice?"

'I wish she would get the fuck up off of me,' the taller woman silently groaned inside of her mind.

The twin let go of her as if the woman actually heard Somalia's thought.

"Oh, Hill has told me that she saw you today at the airport! But, of course, both of you live in New York, so you both will take the same flights out! Did you come here for the reunion? Are you a part of some surprise?"

Somalia could not get in a word because this Harper woman was chattering worse than a monkey in a banana tree. After watching this woman's lips move twenty miles a minute, she interrupted her.

"What reunion? I'm not here for a reunion. I am here with my sister-in-law. We're on vacation."

"It's a pretty small world and such a coincidence because we are here at the same place and at the same time! The whole entire Crew is here! This is the place where we decided to meet up this year—

"Meet up?"

"Yeah, we meet up every year! It's like a reunion of sorts! And every two years, we meet up at some place extravagant, like last year's vacay! Last year, we had gone to Bora Bora! It was Cassandra's idea..."

'Okay, so this one is Chelsea,' Somalia mentally concluded.

"...everyone is here: Maya, Dante, Eugene, Ethan and Eli, Cassandra and of course there's me, then there's Hill and Tristan...."

'Tristan? Tristan is here?'

A bone chilling shudder had dripped down Somalia's spine. She hoped Chelsea Harper didn't see it. Of course, she didn't. The woman is too busy being a chatterbox.

"...today everybody had gone skiing and we had a blast! You should join us for the next time we go! Oh wait, you're here with your sister-in-law! But that's okay; you can bring her with you! You should go out with us tonight! It's just me and the guys! You should come; I don't feel like being the lone girl in this sausage fest! We're going to this hotspot called Ice and we're going to be chilling up in the V.I.P.! The girls are back in their rooms! Cassandra is in her room sick, well, it's really morning sickness—

"Cassandra is pregnant?" Somalia thought Cassandra was too much of a whore to even settle down with a kid.

"Oh yeah, but don't tell anybody! She hasn't told our parents yet!"

"Well, congratulations, auntie" said a bewildered Somalia.

"Thanks," Chelsea beamed. Then she went on to explain about the others. Maya wanted to be left alone for the rest of the night. Cassandra was sick and she didn't want to stay in. "...Hill is at the hotel too. I think she just didn't want to be around Tristan any longer than she had to. I think it has to do with their divorce—

"Hill and Tristan have divorced?"

"Yeah, it's been finalized since last March. On the twenty-eighth, I think..."

Somalia had smirked and laughed inwardly. The day that the divorce was finalized was on Julian's birthday.

"...It was a long process due to the fact the Hill wanted more money for her alimony. She knew that she couldn't take care of herself properly, ever since she doesn't have a job and her parents can't afford to take care of her, because her dad lost his savings due to that Bernie Madoff scam. So how long are you here for?"

"Me? I am here for two weeks—

"Wow! This place is freaking expensive! How were you able to afford it? I remember Hill telling me that her mother said that you were on welfare..."

'What is wrong with these people?' Somalia mentally grumbled.

"...so you can't afford to stay here on your salary. So what's up? Do you have a sugar daddy?" Chelsea questioned.

Unlike Hill's random questioning, Somalia wasn't even upset with this woman. She felt quite differently. "No, there's no sugar daddy. I just budget my earnings and saved with whatever money that I could."

"Oh, I wish I could be able to save some money. My father always—

"Ooh, look at the time. I have to go back to my table before my sister-in-law starts to worry about me. It was nice seeing you, Cassandra. I might see you around" and with that being said, Somalia made a quick exit out of the restroom. She heard Chelsea correct her about her identity as she left.

"What took you so long?" inquired Gumby, when she returned to the booth. "For a minute there, I thought you might have fallen in the can."

Somalia noticed that the dessert had arrived. She offered some to Gumby, who declined. "The waiter had to bring another one, because I ate the first one," she confessed. "So, you didn't answer my question: what took you so long? Did you have to squeeze out a monster turd? Did ya' ass blow up the bathroom, Molly?"

"No, you jackass," Somalia chuckled. "I was on my way out when I bumped into another one of my old friends from high school."

"Did this new one call you poor too, like the other one?"

"Is the Pope a Catholic?" was her reply.

"For those people to have been your friends back in high school, you had some shitty taste in friends."

Somalia chuckled.

"They were not my friends. I knew this, back when I was a kid and I still feel that way now. Back then, I had the lowest self-esteem and no confidence and those kids ate it up. Before I had gone to Walcott, I thought the kids in my old public school were mean. They had nothing on those private school kids. The only happy memories that I have from those years were when I was playing b-ball."

"What about your little bambino? Wasn't he created on your prom night?" Gumby inquired.

"No, not on my prom night," she answered, as she licked mousse off of her spoon. "Shit, on the night of my prom, I was busy helping my dad fix his car in our garage. But, my mom did try to pressure me to go to prom. We had a big argument about that. Part of me to this day still harbor some resentment and animosity towards my mom—

"You are angry at Mama Dee? What for?"

"A part of me blames her for the mistreatment..." Then, Somalia had decided that this wasn't the place to discuss such subjects. After all, she was supposed to have fun these two weeks. "Never mind; forget what I was talking about. Now, in regards to Julian's conception, he was conceived on the night of my graduation. On that night, I had gotten the chance to take my three years' worth of anger out on Julian's dad."