Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Now, I really feel a migraine coming because this is not what I planned to do with my Friday night. Again, as a big nerd, I have nerdy habits and Friday nights are usually my time to relax with the latest copy of The New Yorker, and a nice pot of chamomile tea. Instead, my friend’s blowing up my cozy evening in by sending me in her place as a raunchy stripper cum entertainer!
But I can’t help but feel for Kiki because I know how hard she works. I also know what it feels like to survive on very little because I’m here on scholarship too. We’re living on the precipice of existence, and sometimes it feels like our entire future hangs on a single midterm or exam. Again, however, the difference between me and Kiki is that good grades come easy to me. I have an excellent memory, and veterinary science has been a good fit.
Meanwhile, Kiki struggles like most other students I know. She hits the books night and day, and while her grades are good, it’s not without struggle. Plus, my friend lives hand to mouth, and my heart contracts because poverty is never easy. So with another reluctant sigh, I nod.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I say in a grim voice. “But you owe me big time, girl. I mean, this isn’t a small favor. It’s a huge one.”
Kiki’s big blue eyes go wide with appreciation.
“Yes, of course, and thank you, Cin,” she sniffles before enveloping me in a big bear hug. “I’m so grateful, and yes, I’ll owe you a billion dollars and a trip to the moon! Plus, I have just the outfit for you to wear.” Then, my curvy buddy scampers to her closet before rummaging around in its depths. She reappears with a tiny scrap of fabric dangling from a hanger.
“Here it is!” she says with a smile. “This is perfect for you, Cindy. You’ll look ravishing in this.”
I eye the pink material skeptically because it’s nothing more than a rectangular piece of cloth fluttering in the AC.
“Okay, I get it. A sparkly pink tube top. But what should I wear to go with it? A black skirt? Black heels maybe?”
Kiki lets out a melodious peal of laughter, mirth in her blue eyes.
“No, girlfriend, this isn’t a tube top. This is a tube dress! This is your whole outfit, other than shoes and a purse of course.”
I blink with astonishment at the pink rectangle.
“No way,” I say in a low voice. “There’s not enough material for it to be a dress, Ki. There’s no way that’s an entire outfit in and of itself.”
“But it is,” Kiki reassures me while detaching the scrap from the hanger. Then, she holds it up and pulls on the fabric. “See, it’s stretchy,” she murmurs. “It’ll look amazing on you, Cin. You’ll be a knockout, not that you aren’t already,” she says in a hasty tone.
I wince because this evening is going from bad to worse. Not only have I been guilt-tripped into subbing for my friend, but now, it seems she’s not a caterer – she’s a so-called “dancer,” which is obviously a euphemism for something filthy and wrong. To add insult to injury, I’m expected to go out and shimmy and shake my generous assets while basically nude! I can already tell from the thin fabric that everything will be on display – from my generous bust to my round, heart-shaped ass. OMG, what in the world is going on?
But ever the people pleaser, I snatch the fabric from my friend’s hand before stomping into our attached bathroom. “Okay, but you owe me,” I call again before closing the door. “Big time!”
“Of course!” Kiki calls right back with a big smile. “You’re going to love it, Cindy. This is a million times better than staying in on a Friday night with the latest issue of The New Yorker. I mean, the guys will be hot, and the music pumping. Meanwhile, The New Yorker’s mascot is Eustace Tilley, who’s a total nitwit. They should sub Eustace out for a dude from Magic Mike. Seriously, Condé Nast’s revenue would skyrocket if they put a hot, muscular male stripper on the cover instead of that ridiculous cartoon man. I’m just saying because Eustace is the opposite of sexy, and I’m not the only person who thinks so!”
I stifle a giggle because Kiki’s right. We’re young women who adore ripped and muscular alpha males, and Eustace and his monocle can stuff it. The problem is that said alpha males don’t adore us in turn. Instead, the big men on campus swagger by with a posse of girls trailing behind them in a cloud of perfume, and don’t even see me and Kiki. We could be invisible, or members of a local convent, for all the attention we get.