Dinner Party

This piece is graphic. It is entirely a work of fiction and does not reflect my view of the world. There is crime, racial terminology and other undesirable viewpoints that were used to reflect the era that this work took place in. It is not meant to offend anyone, so do not read it unless you can take it.

Scott McPartyguest

two clear goblet glasses
Photo by sergio souza on Pexels.com

Franklin and Clara Price walked under the flowered archways to the front door, and were then greeted by a lanky, Caucasian fellow. “Welcome to the party,” he said. Franklin noticed that he wasn’t wearing a nametag and assumed that it was the yacht club’s way of showing that he was less than dirt to the patrons. “Would you like me to take your coat, ma’am?”

“No thank you dear,” Clara said.

Franklin handed the keys and a crisp $20 bill to the man. “Park around back if you would.”

“My pleasure,” he said with a smile that, if the sun hit it just right, could light the thick, mink fur that Clara was wearing.

Before Franklin and Clara could step fully into the door, a woman holding a tray of hor d’oeuvres approached. Clara took one and Franklin passed. Caviar and Crème fraîche tartlets were among Clara’s least favorite, as she detested caviar, always telling Franklin that it tasted the same as a saltlick, but Franklin threw it back and swallowed it with a glass of champagne that another of the wait staff had presented; he could have sworn that it was Dom Perignon, but couldn’t decide between that and some cheap knock-off, but he would never say that out loud. He feared that thinking it would be enough for someone like Stephan to scoff, so he finished the glass quickly to push his mind onto the next topic.

“Oh Clara, you look just wonderful darling!” Jasmine Shaw yelled from across the room. In her left hand was a glass of champagne and in her liver was the previous three. “It’s been too long,” she stumbled, “but you haven’t aged a day.”

“Thank you, Jasmine,” Clara smiled, obviously disgusted by the drunkenness, but Jasmine wasn’t sober enough to notice. “I love those pearls! Did Dominic give them to you?”

“You don’t know?” She hiccupped. “That bastard Dom and I separated months ago. Turns out he was sleeping with our maid all along.”

“I’m sorry to-”

“Oh please, don’t pity me.” She held out her hand and showed a 24-karat diamond on a small silver ring. “Apparently all of the extra – hiccup – extra hush money that he was paying the pool boy was enough for him to afford this. With all of the alimony I’m raking in from Dom, I’d say this all worked out for the best.”

Franklin was looking around the room, desperately trying to get away from the conversation at hand. All he could think was that he was impressed at Jasmine’s lack of slurred words and that he would love to take Clara to the bathroom right now and fuck her brains out. Her mink fur was what drew in eyes from around the room, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what she had on underneath; she was sporting a stunning black dress, maybe Prada or Louis Vuitton, but what mattered was that beneath that was nothing but a scrumptious body that was to be devoured after this boring excursion.

“Evenin’ Franklin,” Ronald Hayes said, “I can’t believe you haven’t escaped to the bar yet.” He slipped a glass into my hand. It smelled like his favorite, a 12-year-old Lagavulin on the rocks. The poignant smell burnt his nose hair. He had a bad habit of reaching into the glass and grabbing a piece of ice and sucking it during a conversation. His fingers struggled to find a piece as he chased them around the glass, but then it settled in his right cheek and sipped the tainted beverage.

“Thanks. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he shifted the ice to his left cheek. “These things always remind me how much of a fucking accessory we are.”

“Right? For fuckssake, we make all the money and we’re still the one’s paraded around like we’re no better than cattle, or even the fucking waiters here. They don’t even have nametags, see that?”

“Of course, I did. I’m not surprised. The Griswold’s are one of the only families that seem to own slaves and get away with it. I’m surprised the niggers haven’t burnt this place to the ground in some retaliation yet.”

“Pfffpt, you know Charles probably knocked up one of them bartenders when the Mrs. was off fuckin’ some other idiot. As long as Charles’ whippin’ arm stays strong, this place will, too.”

Franklin and Ronald walked to a bookshelf and pulled the third book from the right on the second shelf from the top. Gears shifted behind the shelf and hundreds of little ticks and clicks resonated through the fake pages. It opened and a gust of wind went in, chilling the hairs on the back of Franklin’s neck.

The bar was padded with brown leather and the seats were red swivel chairs that probably came straight from prohibition. Couches lined the walls and cigar smoke loomed above them. Franklin thought that if a fire started in here, everyone would be dead before they even noticed, asphyxiated by their own vices.

“Another Old Fashioned for me,” Ronald said to the bartender. He looked at her gut while she prepared the drink, “so think?” he whispered to Franklin.

“Na, she’s too skinny for him,” he said, not even pretending to lower his voice. “You know he goes after the one’s that could out eat a bear.”

“Ha! You’re right. He’d probably fuck some queer before he fucked a skinny chick.”

The bartender put the drink on the bar with a smile and turned to wipe an already clean surface. Franklin shifted the half-melted ice cube to the right side of his mouth. The gears of the shelf turned again and in came Reginald Fisch, whose last name suited him well. His ex-wife sued him for everything he was worth after he had an affair with her sister and he practically bent over and let her rape him in the ass; he lost more than most poor men make in a lifetime.

“How the fuck did he even get in here?” Ronald asked. “Don’t they leave shark bait out back for the seagulls?”

“Hey Shark Bait, did the shark finally get bored of taking all your money?” Franklin laughed.

“Fuck you Frank.” Franklin cringed. He hated when people called him Frank. “I got your wife to let me in. She said she wanted someone who could satisfy her.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened. We’ve all talked to your Tina (his ex-wife) before. What does she call you? Not Reginald or Shark Bait… was it – Ron, help me out.”

“Ya know, I think it was… the pistol? Because you shot once and then were as spent as the money she was taking from you? Or is it two-minute Reg, who on a good day could last about as long as the Wright Brother’s first flight. No, wait, I got a better one! She called you the Ninja, because she didn’t feel a thing by the time you were done.”

“Martini please,” he grunted at the bartender. “Fuck you guys. I try to step out and have a quiet drink and this is what I get instead?”

“I don’t know what else you’d expect from us,” Ronald said. “You were dealt a shit hand when your whore of a mom named you Reginald. It’s not our fault that you’re a fucking joke.”

Reginald downed the whole drink in one sip and asked for another with extra olives. That was his routine. Franklin and Ronald would make fun of him until he was drunk, and then he’d get so drunk that he’d fuck someone in the broom closet, and then they’d have more insults to throw at him next time an event like this came around.

“You know what, keep them coming until I can’t see straight,” Reginald said to the bartender. “You’ll know I can’t see straight when I start hitting on you.” She smiled passively and made the drink, continuing to wash the same spot that she had last time. Reginald turned to Franklin and Ronald and said, “all jokes aside, you’d think Charles would hire some half-decent help. He keeps hiring from ugliest sluts imaginable and then asks why we don’t come by as often as we used to.”

Franklin took a second to think about what Shark Bait had said, but then smirked at the thought of him fucking her in the closet later. If he was lucky, Shark Bait would knock her up, then they wouldn’t even have to get him drunk to make fun of him, they’d just reference his biracial 3/5th of a kid, or the abortion that he had to have. Then again, last time he knocked up some random girl, he decided that it’d be more worth his money to just get her killed than force an abortion. Reginald would always boast about how amazing the help can be when you have an extra ten grand lying around.

Clara and Jasmine walked to the balcony and stepped out. The air was brisk, but the fur shielded her from the frigid breeze. Jasmine was in a sleeveless, Vera Wang dress, but the champagne did enough to protect her from the cold. “Come on dear, I’m telling you that Dominic cheating on me was the best thing that could have happened. I mean, if that hadn’t happened, I’d still be the same, sexually unsatisfied woman as before, with a man that couldn’t care less about me. I mean, with the money that he’s giving me, I’ve been able to pay some attractive young men to do whatever I say. They’re the be – hiccup – st at giving me what I want. If you dangle some loose change in front of them, they’ll drool at the chance to pleasure you.

“If you give them enough, they’ll give you a neck, back and foot rub, and then eat you out like you’re a goddamned ice cream cone.” Clara took a cigarette out of her purse and set it on her lips. She’d been trying to quit for months now, but she thought this wasn’t the time for added stress. The lit tip flared as smoke warmed her whole body from top to bottom. “Can I get one of those from you?”

“I’m all out,” Clara said with smoke pouring through her mouth. She closed the almost full pack of cigarettes and put it back into her white Coach purse, which couldn’t be seen under the fur. Jasmine didn’t say anything about the cigarettes and kept going.

“I once went to this Italian place in New York, I forget what it’s called, but I left a $1,000-dollar tip on a $200-meal, and the waiter ran out to meet me at my car, assuming I had made a mistake. When I told him that I hadn’t, within minutes he was eating my pussy in the back of a cab. When I was done, he went straight back to work and told me to come back any time I wanted to. I went back the next day, this time with a few lines of coke in me and I just about exploded with pleasure.

“Dom would never do that. The best he would do is wait for me to give him head and then fall asleep. Do you know how long I went without an orgasm? Almost thirty years. I was starting to believe they were a myth until I found out how grateful the help can be.”

Clara starred at the crashing waves, letting the cigarette calm her nerves. She turned to look inside just as Reginald went to the bar. Jasmine just kept going, grabbing another glass of champagne from some of the help.

“Just look at him.” She hiccupped. “Can you imagine how angry Dominic would be if I let one of these cups of hot chocolate have their way with me? I’ve never slept with a black man, but I’ve always wondered if what they say about them is true.”

“What do you mean?” Clara asked, not listening and plotting her escape from the conversation.

“You don’t know? Apparently, blacks carry some massive packages, and that’s something that I’ve gone too long without. I want one of these guys to tear me in half.” She hiccupped again. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’m gonna do a line and start working on the help. Charles has impeccable taste in staff.”

Jasmine walked to the only bathroom in the whole club and her eyes beamed when she got a good look at the backside of the man greeting people at the front door. She looked at Clara and stuck her tongue out like a dog. Clara forced a smile, but then turned to the balcony and kept watching the waves flow. She blew smoke out of her mouth and it was swept away immediately. Reaching into her purse, she grabbed another cigarette and lit it. She threw the other off the balcony into the sandy floor below.

“What do you guysss think?” Reginald asked with a slur in his speech. “Do you think I’ll have a chance at Jasmine? I’m sure she could use someone else’s money if she’s gonna keep sleeping around town.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Shark Bait?” Ronald said. “How can you actually be going after her? She’s been around the block so many times that the owner of every restaurant here knows her name, cup-size and what her pussy tastes like.”

“Is that suspossed to scare me?” he slurred. “Why shouldn’t I know what her pussy tastes like too? All you’re sssaying is that she’ss good in bed.”

“Do whatever the fuck you want,” Ronald said. “Just try not to get AIDS. She’s more diseased than a nigger in Africa.”

“I’m fine.” He paused to think about his next sentence. “I don’t even think you can get AIDS from a woman. Tha’ more of a women issue.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“Leave him alone, Ron.” Franklin said. “If we let him go through with it, we might be able to make fun of him for life. And if he does get AIDS, he won’t be our problem anymore. Honestly, I’ve thought about fucking her too. I mean, can you imagine those tits bouncing around as you fuck her in the ass? It’d be hypnotizing. Clara’s great, but sometimes it gets old. She keeps talking about kids, but then cries when she realizes how much it’ll fuck up her pussy.”

“Why don’t you do the smart thing and make her get her tubes tied?” Ronald asked. “She doesn’t want kids, she just thinks she does because that’s the thing to do right now. Can you imagine having a few little shits running around your house? Think about how quickly you’ll have to throw plastic all over your furniture because they can’t stop themselves from shitting all over themselves.”

“I know. I don’t want them. I just want her to get off my back and onto hers.”

Ronald laughed as Reginald stood up and left the bar. He had seven or eight martini’s and it was starting to hit him hard. “Should we go check on him?” Ronald asked.

Franklin threw another ice cube into his mouth. “Now you’re gonna get soft? Just let him go. If he doesn’t show back up in a few minutes then we’ll assume he passed out, face-first right into the toilet. Then we can go save him and we’ll be heroes. But you have to give him mouth-to-mouth if he’s drowning.”

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because I’m sure as hell not going to.”

“Fuck you. We’ll just let him drown then.”

Clara stomped her second cigarette out and walked back through the party. Everyone around was drunk at this point, so she decided she’d venture down to see what Franklin was up to before Jasmine came back. She passed Reginald as she pulled the book and entered the speakeasy.

“Hey Clara,” Ronald said. “I see that you finally got away from Jasmine.”

“No, she’s actually going to come in here in a minute.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I was joking but now that idiot is going to ruin our conversation?”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and Shark Bait is fucking her in the bathroom,” Franklin laughed. “Too bad that’ll still only give us about 2 minutes.”

“Why is he even here?” Clara asked. “I thought he was broke or something.”

“We thought so too,” Ronald said. “I honestly have no idea how he got in here.”

“Whatever. At least we have 2 minutes. Tom Collins please,” she asked the bartender.

They drank their drinks and made fun of the two drunkards who were probably making weird, uncomfortable love to each other, simply because no one else would be able to stand listening to them. The slurred speech was probably more of an aphrodisiac than Jasmine’s tight asshole and worn pussy.

Five minutes passed and Shark Bait still hadn’t come back, and Jasmine was nowhere to be seen. “Maybe we should go check on them,” Clara said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ronald said. “Maybe he’s just having a hard time getting it up with all of the alcohol in his system. You know that if he comes back from the bathroom boasting about his most recent conquest, that nothing actually happened, then we can make fun of him even more.”

“You’re right,” Franklin said, “but I have to piss. Even if they’re fucking in front of the toilet, I’m still gonna go. Maybe I’ll accidentally miss and get some on Shark Bait’s Rolex.”

“We’ll be here,” Clara said, sipping at her Tom Collins.

Franklin stood up and walked to the back of the bookcase, pulling a lever to open it for him. He passed the staff and countless other people that he had never met before and didn’t care to talk to. He knocked on the bathroom door and no one answered. He tried the lock and it gave, the door cracked open. Inside was Jasmine passed out in front of the sink, and Shark Bait laying in front of the toilet with vomit seeping out of his mouth.

The ice cube shifted in his mouth as he locked the door. Franklin slapped Shark Bait a few times to try to wake him up, but he didn’t give. He wiped vomit that stuck to his hand on Shark Bait’s suit, then turned to Jasmine. Her dress had been hoisted up when she collapsed from the sink, to reveal a perfectly shaven vagina. Her asshole was bleached white and stuck straight up in the air.

Franklin unzipped his pants and grunted as he slid it into her unconscious vagina. She groaned, but it was in neither pleasure or pain. Her brain wouldn’t let her comprehend what was going on, just like everyone else that he’d ever done this too. After his dick was lubricated, he inserted it into her glowing asshole.

After ten minutes, he was done. Franklin zipped his pants back up and washed his hands. He turned to Reginald and set his head in the vomit-filled toilet bowl, then watched as the slow, disgusting bubbles stopped forming. For Jasmine, he reached into her purse and opened a small plastic bag full of cocaine and carefully poured it into her nose. Blood started streaming down her face, and then he felt for a pulse… nothing.

He checked his suit in the mirror and then left the bathroom. He looked around to see if anyone noticed him coming out, but no one seemed any wiser. Clara was waiting outside, wearing her fur and talking to the same man who parked our car for us when we got here, but now it was running and waiting for us.

“Did you have a nice evening, Mr. Price?” the man asked.

“It was just lovely, thank you,” he said.

“My pleasure.” He opened the door for Clara and then for Franklin, and they started driving away.

They sat quietly for a second as they drove away from the yacht club. “Did you have any issues?” Clara asked as she kicked her heels off.

“No. The ipecac kicked in right when I needed it to. He stumbled to the bathroom right when the roofie hit too. I can’t believe he didn’t notice me putting that much shit in his drink. He didn’t even say anything about the taste!”

“I’m not surprised. I’m just happy that Jasmine and her drunk ass is finally taken care of. She annoys the fuck out of me.”

“I know she does.”

“I smoked a little bit to pass the time. Sorry.”

“I can smell it on your coat. We’ll get you a new one.”

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