When the day arrived, though, I think the reality of what we were about to do finally started to register with her. She drove separately with her friends to the island, obviously, and I started getting nervous text after nervous text. I was driving myself, so I couldn’t immediately respond.
“CAN’T BELIEVE WE’RE DOING THIS!!! [three eggplant emojis]”
And a few seconds later:
“ur not going to talk right?! they might recognize ur voice. so don’t talk! [face with no mouth emoji]”
And then:
“you remembered to pack the pills right? [three more eggplant emojis] and the speaker?”
She was referring to the Bluetooth speaker she had bought and that we tested together. It was a square, black box that doubled as a mini karaoke machine. Most importantly, though, it included spinning, flashing, multi-coloured lights on the top that synced up with the music you were playing and looked pretty cool when you turned down the lights.
Another text:
“Maybe you should take an edible before you dance. might help calm you down. I packed some for me and the girls. figure it will make them less observant and maybe remember less too. ha!”
As to the last point, I didn’t need a reminder. I had packed some edibles and planned on taking at least one.
The girls had reserved a large suite at the Lagos Continental Hotel. They planned to go out to dinner and hang out a bit before heading back to the hotel. I was supposed to be ready to go by 10:00 pm. I had booked a separate, much smaller room in the same hotel.
*
By 9:00 pm, I was a nervous wreck. I had convinced myself that everything that could go wrong, would go wrong, that I would put on a terrible performance, that the girls wouldn’t enjoy it at all, and that all the embarrassment would culminate in me accidentally knocking the mask off and revealing myself. To stifle my mounting panic, I downed two shots of vodka and swallowed two edibles, some berry-flavoured gummies. I also swallowed the Viagra pill that Nkechi had given me, the first time I ever done that.
Then it was down to the hotel gym. I figured that doing a little lifting would distract me and help me look as cut as possible when the time came to disrobe. Midway through a set of bicep curls, I got a text from Nkechi: “Heading back to the hotel soon. be ready”
She quickly followed with: “so drunk already”
It was almost the moment of truth. I finished my set and headed upstairs to change. Nkechi had helped me pick the outfit. It was essentially a black tuxedo, but she managed to find some black trousers that had velcro seams and could be ripped off. Underneath I had a bright red pair of thong-style silk underwear.
By the time I was fully dressed, it was nearing 10 o’clock. Thankfully, the drug had started to hit. I had a great body high going, and I was much more relaxed. My thoughts were no longer racing, and I felt very present, very in the moment. I stared out my window at the lights of the Vegas strip and was captivated by the view.
Then I got the text. It was just one word, in all caps: “SHOWTIME!”
I took one more shot of vodka, took a deep breath, and looked at myself one final time in the mirror. I grabbed the mask and the speaker and headed for the door.
A few minutes later I approached their room. Before I got to the door, I stopped to put on the mask and made sure it was secure. Then I double-checked that the playlist on my phone was ready. Just before I knocked on the door, a wave of anxiety coursed through me. I did my best to stifle it.
Then I knocked three times. I immediately heard excited voices on the other side.
When the door opened, the person standing in front of me was Folashade. She seemed a little startled at first — no doubt due to the creepy mask I was wearing — but she quickly broke into a big smile. And she looked gorgeous. To help you visualize, Fola is about 5’8”, with long straight hair that she usually wears pulled back in a simple ponytail.
She’s your stereotypical Yoruba girl, effortlessly beautiful in a very traditional, all kinds of way. On that night, though, she was all done up like she was going to a fancy cocktail party; her hair was loose and flowing and she was wearing a tight-fitting, strapless black dress that accentuated her curves.
She beckoned me into the room. Once I was through the initial hallway, the room opened up. It was a spacious suite with huge windows overlooking the strip and a separate bedroom off to the right.
In the main room, it looked like the girls had moved around the furniture to clear out some space. In the center of the room was a large white rug that looked like some kind of faux fur rug. It looked very soft, with long strands like a carpet. Arrayed around it were both a couch and a loveseat, perpendicular to each other, as well as a single upholstered chair on the other side of the couch, opposite the loveseat. It was clear that the rug was going to be my stage.
My eyes first went to Nkechi, who was already sitting on the couch, holding a drink. She was wearing a short white skirt and a red blouse that showed a lot of cleavage. Nkechi is about 5’6” with a very slender, athletic build.
Her breasts aren’t huge, but when she wears tight clothes and the right kind of bra, it’s hard not to look right at her chest. In keeping with bachelorette party tradition, on her head she wore a white headband with a short veil that draped down her long curly brown hair. She was smiling and didn’t look particularly nervous, which surprised me a little.
Sitting to her right, in the upholstered chair, was Iyabo. Iyabo is short, barely 5 feet tall, , but she’s easily the most curvy of the girls. She was wearing a tight-fighting, blue dress; it was backless, with the front of the dress tying around her neck. It didn’t show any cleavage, but it didn’t need to; no question had the biggest breasts in the room.
As I moved into the centre of the room and placed the speaker on the ground, I finally spotted Amara. She was in the little kitchenette area fixing herself a drink. Amara is the most reserved of the bunch but has always been my favourite of Nkechi’s friends.
She’s a petite girl. She typically wears glasses and dresses pretty conservatively but is nevertheless very pretty, in a bookish sort of way. But that night she looked very different. Her glasses were gone, and she was wearing a very short, black skirt that showed off her athletic legs, and a backless, black tank top-style blouse that split midway up and tied around her neck, revealing quite a bit of cleavage. Simply put, she looked stunning.
Whether it was the edibles or nerves or some combination of the two, I felt like I was not fully processing all of the sensory input that was coming at me, particularly the sounds. I had been so engrossed in taking in the scene, in particular, how beautiful all four of the girls looked, that I wasn’t really listening to anything any of them were saying.
Finally, I realized that Iyabo was trying to talk to me. It was probably the third time she asked, but I eventually heard her say, “So how does this work? Are there any ground rules?”
Thankfully Nkechi remembered to step in. “The company told me there’s no touching allowed,” she said. After a pause, she added “And they also said that the performers don’t talk; it’s part of the mystery.” I pointed at her and gave an exaggerated nod in agreement.
Based on the way Nkechi was talking, very slowly and deliberately, I could tell that she was pretty drunk, or high, or probably both. But I was glad she was at least with it enough to establish the ground rules. It was something we discussed beforehand, but I was worried she would forget.
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