Sisterhood of the Traveling Pranks

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Chapter 4 - Genevieve

Snickering, I look over at my unassuming and completely oblivious “date”, Jeremy. Looking down at my dress, I fix a smile on my face as I smooth out the skirt of the dress I’m wearing. I chose this one on purpose as it dips low to show cleavage but covers enough to still maintain my relative innocence. It’s not the dress itself that is going to do the work for me, but my actions.

Idiot, I think to myself. Thinking he can fucking date all three of us and ask Ivy to marry him? I won’t be some dude’s side-piece, not while I have breath in my body.

I try to breath deeply as my anger threatens to consume and take over all the Zen I’d been working on for the past several hours.

Well, I needed help with my Zen. Liquid help.

A ring! A motherfucking ring!

I take another deep breath, bring my lips up into a tight smile. I hope he thinks it’s just nerves and not the rage I feel boiling in my veins. Alcohol was both a good and bad choice before I left the house.

Okay, I’m not a big fan of alcohol, but I needed something to loosen me up before Jeremy came by to pick me up at the house, so I snuck into my parents’ liquor cabinet and took a few gulps of straight-up vodka. Just enough to take the edge off.

Now I’m feeling no pain and floating on high-grain alcohol and bad intentions. Yes, bad, but as they say, revenge is a dish best served cold, and I am the fucking arctic right now, complete with polar bears, glaciers, and the biting wind that freezes you all the way down to your motherfucking soul.

I hope Jeremy gets burned by the gaping ozone layer. Yup, folks, even after a few hundred years that bitch is still there, only slightly smaller after everyone turned to hybrids and electric vehicles.

After a few minutes of awkward small talk to which I mostly hummed my half-drunken responses, we pull up to Toxic, an 18 plus dance club where you had to wear a puke-green bracelet in order to drink liquor from the bar. I don’t think I would partake as I am already feeling pretty damn good, but after what Low had told me about the wine at the restaurant, Jeremy would most likely bribe someone to get us those sought-after bracelets.

If that douche brings me a drink without me seeing who prepared it, I’m throwing it straight in his pretty, cocky smirking face. I don’t put it past him to roofie me, and if I’m handing out my V-card, it’s going to be to someone I want to sleep with.

And I want to remember every damn second of it, too.

Just as I thought, crisp bills are exchanged for two vile-looking wristbands, and Jeremy is caressing my wrist as he tapes the two ends together. Is there anything his father’s money can’t buy in this town?

Maybe only his dignity after we three sisters are through with him.

We are immediately at the bar, and Jeremy is buying a beer, looking over to ask me what I want. I smile dizzily and tell him I want a soda for now. The warm hum of alcohol is still in my system, though the loud music and his general presence is a bit of a buzzkill.

I smooth down my dress again even though it’s still plenty straight. Nervous habit, I guess. Maybe I should’ve asked for a little rum in my cola…

Jeremy tosses back half his beer before we even leave the bar, and I sip slowly on my drink before we find an empty table near the back away from all the writhing bodies on the dance floor.

“Glad you could come out with me tonight, Genevieve,” he rumbles into my ear as he slips into the seat beside me. He’s so close that I’m breathing in the scent of beer on his breath and my nose crinkles. I was never a fan. Too bitter-smelling for my tastes.

Again, I hum and smile in response. Whereas it would usually be a tight-lipped upward tilt, the buzz in my veins from the shots I took smooths out my usual tendencies enough for me to make it look more genuine.

Inside, I want to hurl my guts out onto his expensive-looking shoes.

“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?” he asks with a quirk of his lips as his eyes flicker down to my mouth.

No, I want to say. Not quiet. I just don’t trust what’s going to come out of my mouth around you. And you bore me. You’re boring and rude and I wouldn’t fuck you if you had the only dick in town.

I giggle instead, sounding vapid and silly. My alcohol-soaked mind doesn’t care, and I cover my mouth as he starts talking about his car. I try to focus in on his words, but those too are boring, and I finish my drink quickly before a song comes on that I like.

“Let’s dance!” I exclaim as I shoot up from my seat. “I love this song.”

It’s the most I’ve spoken this evening, although he’s waxed idiotic about the expensive car daddy bought him with his ill-begotten gains. Not that I know that they are crooked, but point me in the direction of a squeaky-clean politician and I’ll show you my beaver. That’s how certain I am that most of them were as oily as a greased-up pan after Ivy’s been cooking bacon. Slippery and slick, that’s what they are. And they gave zero shits about us common people, I was certain.

Jeremy seems to enjoy the fact that I wanted to dance, and his eyes cast a lingering circuit over my body as my breasts bounce on my upward movement.

I decide I’ll punch him in the face later. I had teasing to do right now while I was still slightly tipsy.

I pull him to the dance floor in between couples writhing and rocking against each other and find a spot where there’s enough room. It doesn’t matter as everyone sees who he is and gives him space. Even without money exchanging hands, his presence and his father’s money and power still speak for him, and people bow down in deference.

Assholes.

The good thing about Toxic is that it plays all kinds of music. Oldies, newer pop, Reggae, Rap. If it starts playing country, I was going to sit the fuck back down. I don’t know how to line dance, and I don’t care to learn.

Right now, there’s a new song on, the electric beat catchy and allowing me to find a rhythm quite easily. A hand slides up the curve of my waist and I have to turn away before the disgust on my face is seen. With my ass to him, Jeremy pulls me closer, and I try to pretend he’s my most recent celebrity crush. Yeah--that would do.

Think Callum Levy, Vee. Hot supermodel turned actor. God I would climb that man like a tree and ride his face until he was drowning in my cum.

With Callum’s likable abs on my mind, I grind my ass into Jermy’s hardening crotch.

Jesus. Now I know why he’s quite popular with the ladies. The boy’s not small in the man bits department.

It would be a fucking damn shame if Callum wasn’t so gifted.

Think Callum’s dick.

Much better.

Well, it’s better until Jeremy decides to spin me around to face him so his hand can catch me at the small of my back and press me up against his growing arousal.

I pull back a little, fighting to gain a smile on my face as he frowns down at me as I draw away..

“What’s wrong?” he asks, still attempting to pull me closer to him.

Shaking my head, I speak. “Need a drink. Something a little stronger this time?”

He smirks knowingly and nods his head. We head over to the bar and he orders me some fruity-looking cocktail with about three to four different kinds of liquors in it.

I’ll be sipping that slowly, thank you very much.

A few minutes later, I’m back to happy, half-drunk Vee. Vee who can stand to be in close proximity to the vilest of the vile and not care. I almost forget why I’m here until he pulls me until I’m almost fused to his body, his cock twitching between our bodies as he grinds a little into the heat between my legs.

“God, you feel so fucking good.”

Time out, folks.

I’d been teasing him, grinding then pulling back for a while, and I need a breather.

Without Jeremy.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I mumble into his ear. I hear him groan before speaking again.

“Alright, then. But hurry up, baby. This is just getting good.”

I’ll bet, you sanctimonious prick.

As I hurry in the direction of the bathroom, I hide behind a potted plant that has purple and green beams of light shooting out of it from the vase it’s nearly busting out of.

Taking out my phone, I tap out a quick text to Low.

Vee: The bird has flown the cage. Stage 2. Proceed at will.

I get a notification within an instant.

Low: Ur fucking retarded, you know that, right?

Vee: Just get in there, you pussy.

Low: Whatever. Deuces.

I settle deep within the palm fronds of a cluster of plants and watch as Low, dressed identically to myself in the low-cut, deep purple bandage dress that hugs every curve and dip. Assessing my sister, I realize now why it was such a perfect choice. We are all the same size, and damn do we look good tonight.

I watch for a while as Harlow teases and taunts, never getting too close to him, and when he tries, she just shakes her head like he’s being a naughty little boy.

Pulling her hips to him, she backs away before rocking up onto her toes to whisper into his ear. He nods but looks put-out, and she struts away as if on a mission.

To his credit, he doesn’t try to find another dance partner that’s not my identical image, and he starts to slowly saunter away to the table that we had been sitting at earlier before dancing.

Backing away into another corner to get a better vantage point, I see Ivy walking toward the dance floor with another guy. She too is wearing an outfit identical to mine and Low’s, and it only takes about thirty seconds before Jeremy sees her and strides angrily towards my sister. She hears him say something and turns around, looking angrily up at him like he’s a complete buzzkill.

I squint, trying to read their lips. As I can’t see Jeremy’s, I can only surmise what he’s saying, so I focus in on Ivy’s mouth.

‘...Ivy, you idiot!’ I watch her enunciate.

Jeremy stumbles back, his straight shoulders slumping forward in confusion.

She says a bit more to him that I don’t catch, except for the words go away, right before he wanders off, tail tucked between his legs.

Grinning, I walk up to him, enjoying the look of consternation and befuddlement on his face. “Ready to dance some more?”

“Genevieve, did you know--” he starts to say.

“Ooooh! I love this song!” I interrupt. “Dance with me?”

He goes from annoyed to aroused in .06 seconds, and I pull him toward the dance floor as a perky beat starts to pump a lot of bass with little substance into the air. I imagine it would be the perfect song to fuck to, but I couldn’t have placed a name to it without having to Google the fuck out of the words, “heavy bass and nonsenical words”.

Again, I tease him with a roll of my hips, letting him touch a little more to keep him from speaking about my sister--well, sisters--being here, and soon he has forgotten that Ivy is even there. I wonder if he even realizes Low is present as well.

After another round of drinks, I beg off for the bathroom, and the sister switch commences again. Low comes out all teasing strokes and taunting sways of her hips, and then Ivy comes in when she’s gone until Jeremy looks thoroughly confounded.

At one point, he sees Low with some guy as I peek in on them from behind my favorite foliage, and laugh out loud at the confusion creasing his smooth brow as he backs up from Low and stumbles into another bar patron. He apologizes absently as he walks away. In my hilarity, I startle some drunken revelers into thinking the plant can talk. I sneak away as they start asking questions of the fichus.

How fucking drunk are these people?

I make my way around the perimeter of the room until I see the deejay popping in another song in the middle of the current hit playing loudly.

“Hey!” I call over to him, gaining his attention. “Can you do me a favor?”

He nods, his cocky smirk only slightly less irritating than Jeremy’s. I need this guy as an ally, so I grin hugely and saunter up to him.

Thank you for the liquid courage, bartender.

“I need you to do me a huge favor,” I tell him before taking a memory card out from between my cleavage and leaning in.

***

Everything is set, and currently Low is keeping Jeremy entertained, him still probably thinking she is me. Personality-wise, we’re not very alike, but the stupid asshole doesn’t seem to be able to tell the difference. No matter. That won’t be a problem in a few minutes.

I can’t wipe the grin off my face, and it grows to epic proportions when the deejay--whose name was Lance I recently found out--taps a microphone and announces a special request for karaoke.

Spotlight on yours truly at centerstage, I watch as Jeremy’s head swivels to me and then to Low, the hint of a knowing smile on her face. She winks and gives me a surreptitious thumbs-up.

The song I chose isn’t popular today and is considered an “oldie”, but it had the most apt lyrics I could find and was catchy enough.

’If your lips are movin, if your lips are moving

If your lips are moving, then you’re lyin’, lyin’, lying, baby.

As I start the first verse, I see a couple of identical figures walking towards the stage where Lance and his equipment is set up. As one, then the other sister, joins me onstage, I gesture to them before going back to my focus. I sing directly at Jeremy as he stares blankly at the three of us before schooling his features.

His posture is stiff like he’s thinking of bolting, but he remains cocksure, almost as if he was taking everything in and digesting it slowly.

’You can buy me diamond rings and deny-ny-ny, ny-ny-ny, deny-ny,

But I smell her on your collar so goodbye-bye-bye, bye-bye-bye.’

I gesture with a jut of my chin to Lance, who nods absently and flips on a switch. He toggles it a bit, and my face lights up as a spotlight bursts over Jeremy’s tall stature and blinds him for a moment before his eyes adjust.

Low and Ivy join me in the chorus, singing back-up.

‘I know you’re lying (lyin’)

‘Cause your lips are movin’ (movin’)

Tell me, do you think I’m dumb?

I might be young (young), but I ain’t stupid (stupid)

Talkin’ around in circles with your tongue’

I saunter over to Lance, whose head is bobbing with the beat and sing to him as I mime browbeating him with my words and pretend to smack him twice across the face. Being a good sport, he pretends I’ve hit him before I move back to in between my sisters.

’I gave you Bass (bass), you gave me sweet talk (sweet talk)

Saying how I’m your number one.

But I know you lie (Lie)

’Cause your lips are movin (Movin)

Baby, don’t you know I’m done?’

We finish out the song as people move away slowly from Jeremy. Oddly enough, he’s no longer looking tense, and he has a small smile curving his lips slightly. At the end of it, he nods at the three of us before his grin widens. Knowingly.

Fuck.

Winking our way, he strides slowly to the exit as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

I trade glances with Ivy and Low on either side of me. A new song has come on, and the people have already gone back to dancing.

The look we give each other as we move off to the side of the deejay platform says one thing only.

We don’t think this thing with Jeremy is over with. Not by a long shot.

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