by Carrie
But my attention shifted to Patty — my white-shoe lawyer girlfriend, wearing a short muted gold Kors halter dress quite above the knee — who was dancing on her toes and waving her arms like a swan. I thought she’d float away. Sandra nudged me again, “I can’t believe what he’s doing to Lynn. Are we next?”
“Like hell,” and watched the stripper take off Lynn’s panties. He waved her flimsies to the other stripper. A macho thumbs up was made to my disgust. Cassidy was gone and the stripper was heading our way and I wasn’t going to be that easy. He was giving me the look so I turned away.
When I turned back he was heading for Patty. Obviously he hadn’t seen me or he needs glasses. Patty was still hopping on the balls of her feet to the fabulous music. I hoped and prayed that she’d ignore him. Instead she smiled like a goat as he made his creepy move. I guess I insulted him. Too bad. He’s probably some low life construction worker with a porky wife and a subscription to Readers Digest.
Sandra pointed to some guy in a bow tie with white shirt and black pants by the punch bowl and said, “Look, they brought back-up.” Back-up? I didn’t understand that, but then I didn’t understand any of it.
And to my dismay Patty didn’t care, I mean of all girls, her social position. It seemed as natural to her as breathing as she allowed the stripper to zip down her dress. If only her country club mother could see this.
Sandra nudged me again. There was Lynn on the table getting a good fucking. And no one was even watching. All the girls were just dancing away having fun. Another nudge and I turned back to Patty.
She’s not as full as I am, but she’s still absolutely stunning at about 5’4”, very toney and thin with an over all natural firmness that makes her incredibly gorgeous. And she incredibly let the stripper dispose her of her $2000 dress as if it were an old rag.
She didn’t even have a bra on, just a muted gold lace string panty that firmly hugged her mon and a matching panty waste with garters and stockings. She was stunning. But what was worse you could see the greed in the stripper’s eyes as he took her hand and brought her to him. I’m gland I brushed him off.
I turned back to Sandra to tell her how lucky we were, but she was off with Lucella who was stupidly taking off her top. I was about to march over and say something, but all of a sudden I felt terribly alone. No one was paying me any attention. So I took stock of myself. Things could certainly be worse. Then I noticed the dressed stripper bringing a drink to his friend who was busy fucking Lynn. I was boiling. At least bring something for my girlfriend.
I went over to him and said, “I’m Carrie Dupree and I wish you wouldn’t do that.” “Do what?” His insolence was grating. But I had a ploy. I asked him, “Can you dance?” He looked at me like I was crazy, “Of course I can dance.” “Good. If your friend wants a drink he can get it himself.”
I took the stripper to the dance floor and showed him what I could do. He wasn’t bad himself and kept up with me. But I couldn’t help but keep my eye on Patty who had been taken over to the “fucking” table by that “pirate”. Like a dope she was holding his hand while waiting on line to get fucked — and she was acting like it was her first time, or was it???
Cassidy appeared. She whispered as she eyeballed my dancing partner, “I don’t think he likes your type.” NOT LIKE MY TYPE? I told her, “There’s not a guy who doesn’t like me, Cassidy. And the hell is the matter with you? You’re getting married and you pull something like this?!”
She said, “Why isn’t he doing anything to you?” “ME?” She said, “If he doesn’t think you’re pretty enough give him to one of the other girls.” I wanted to slap her, really slap her hard. “I’m prettier than any of you and you all know it. I was a top model while you were home watching Barney Miller re-runs.”
She bit back, “I could have been a model too if I weren’t busy getting my MBA at Stanford.” “Oh yeah? Then how come you’re not as rich as me?” She gave me the finger, and was off — in nothing but her black satin panties: The classic bitch. Passive aggressive and completely selfish.
If it was her goal to get me fuming mad she succeeded. Cassidy really thought she was better looking than me? Oh, come on. No one but a fool or totally and insanely nuts could ever believe that. Wherever we go guys come onto me first and if they can’t get me then they have to go to her and yes, I know, if you ask her, she’ll tell you that’s not true, but that’s because she’s a slut and a big fat liar. I had enough.
I marched myself out of that den of iniquity. If they all wanted to act this way then fine with me. Maybe Desperate Housewives or American Idol, or even that boring Animal Planet was on TV. I’ll ring the staff and have them make me some popcorn and then crawl under my duvet. Halfway down the hallway I abruptly turned around, “Why are you following me?” The stripper, the one clothed, said, “Because….
End of Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 172
Diary of a Rich Girl to be continued…
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