Girls Just Want To Have Fun!
True story. Girls do just want to have fun.
For fun, my girlfriends and I go to a pirate (argh!) bar where we drink soda pop, eat potato chips and play trivia. We nearly always come in second place (for which there is no prize). Occasionally one of us brings our significant other along like one might tow a small child you can’t find a sitter for. We insist that having a guy on the team will propel us into first place due to his extensive knowledge of sports, history and geography. Never happens. We still come in second.
My girlfriends and I have never gone to Las Vegas like the besties in my story—not collectively anyhow. I went to Vegas with a girlfriend/co-worker way back in the day; those days being in the 80s. We shared a room with separate beds at the Westward Ho, which sounds appropriate. We gambled, ate, drank, danced and flirted with men on the prowl, leaving them wanting more. She and I did not have any sex toys in our carryon luggage—not even one. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
What do you and your BFFs do for fun? Competitive ping pong? Wet T-shirt contests? Three-legged sack race?
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Pajama Party blurb:
When longtime friends, Tracy, Ashlin and Dara head to Las Vegas for a mini vacation and a little female bonding, the plan is simple: cut loose, drink a little, dance a lot, gamble and take in a male strip show. Once they’ve checked those activities off their itinerary, the three gals improvise and make a new plan. A pajama party that takes a turn—not for the worse—for the wild. With the help of a bag of sex toys, they put themselves on each other’s to-do list with some unexpected results that might test the bonds of their friendship, changing the dynamics forever.
Pajama Party excerpt:
“Tell us about your new business venture.”
“Me!” Ash’s heart pounded. She shook her head. I wish I’d never mentioned it. Why did Dara, who, by the way, never worked an honest day in her life, have to make a big production out of everything? When Juli’s birthday bash got the ax, the only things left to celebrate were Tracy’s divorce, which struck her as more of a tragedy than a triumph, and Ash’s new job. “It’s…it’s a little…um…a little naughty.”
“I’ll take a dozen,” Dara said. “Whatever it is. Make that two dozen.”
Ash and Tracy both laughed. Dara had a way of setting everyone at ease with her blanket acceptance of…well…everything. Tracy, the queen of suburbia on the other hand, would not be so tolerant.
Ash had no idea how she’d gotten roped into Sexy Siren Solutions after losing her last dull job as a technical writer for procedural manuals. Yes, she had a degree in marketing, minoring in education. And no one, especially her, could argue that she spent much too much spare time masturbating. As a matter of fact, she’d discovered the job opening while perusing the SSS website for a new and more reliable vibrator after the old one bit the dust. Old being a relative term.
“Out with it.” Tracy giggled. “We won’t judge—much.”
Ash squared her shoulders. “I’m the new Marketing Liaison for Sexy Siren Solutions.”
“Whoo hoo!” Dara exclaimed. “Can you get me a friends and family discount on a butt plug?”
“Wait now.” Tracy held her hands up as if Ash were a hungry lioness needing to be reasoned with. “What have you gotten yourself into? What exactly is Sexy Siren Solutions?”
Swallowing a lump in her throat, she knew Tracy wouldn’t be as open-minded as Dara. And her opinion meant the world to Ash. She spent too much time wishing she was single and independent like Juli, married and independent like Dara, or divorced and starting out fresh like Tracy. Being anyone other than her boring self struck her as improvement.
“It’s one of those home dildo parties, right?” Dara high-fived her. “Nice work if you can get it, girl.”
Tracy scowled. “Like Tupperware for nymphomaniacs?”