Church Girl Gone Wild by Ni’chelle Genovese Page A

eyes at them all. It was a costume no-panties party and they weren’t about to joke me for the rest of my life for wearing some.
    â€œJust because I didn’t wear my panties doesn’t mean I have to do something, damn.”
    Storie held up her hand. “Eva, I’m the last person you have to justify yourself to. I don’t judge remember?”
    â€œNope, me neither,” Laurence added.
    I waved them both off motioning for Storie to lead me inside. She paused long enough to hold out her hand showing us folded slips of paper.
    â€œTake one and don’t look. Everyone inside pulled out of a bowl before you got here and the last one is mine. It’s about to go down. I want me a random Bearless fizuck.”
    We’d all concluded that Storie’s momma was a little eccentric; that’s why she actually named her after the stories, or the soaps. She couldn’t pick one character so she just went all out. What she ended up with was an all-out daughter. It was a tradition Storie started back in high school. At the start of summer, my bestie would throw her no-panties party when her even more eccentric uncle went out of town.
    It was mostly for single people but couples with no boundaries and cheaters and everything in between would be there. Storie personally made the invitation list herself. She just had to approve of everyone’s guest. Everybody showed up in whatever theme she came up with and the rest was never talked about. Last year it was bathrobes, and the year before that hospital gowns, this year she wanted black togas which in black folk language was basically a black sheet. Nobody wore panties or drawers and from the things I’d heard, just about anything went.
    â€œWell, y’all are the last of my guests, so, let’s get this shit going,” Storie called out, clapping her hands together and leading the way.
    Laurence unceremoniously pushed me forward and I stumbled into the dark sour and fog-clouded main entrance. It was the first time I’d ever seen her uncle’s place and since I’d never met the man eccentric definitely fit. Storie locked the door and I could see an army of at least thirty people in togas mingling throughout the first floor. Storie led us through a wide-open seating area. Bright gold and purple throw rugs and walls lined with oversized cushions. The walls were painted deep purple and every now and again the candles would flicker showing off tiny gold flecks in the paint. It was her uncle’s private hookah lounge.
    We stepped into the living room and my jaw hit the floor. I was transported to a penthouse loft on the highest floor in New York. Every wall was wallpapered from floor to ceiling with a mural overlooking the city at sunset. The real country appeal of his VA view was blotted away, hidden behind thick silvery velvet drapes. I could see a glass-encased fireplace glowing with a soft blue and green flame toward back of the living room.
    Storie positioned herself in front of a flat-screen television that looked like it was just floating in midair and I don’t mean on a stand or mounted to the wall. It must have been on invisible wires or something. The guys she’d gathered for her party came in every shape and size of appealing and I visually crotch raped them to my heart’s content. Ever since Que’s pocket-size short self pulled out his thick and long panty dropper I couldn’t keep my eyes from dropping. Some of their togas didn’t leave a lot to figure out unless they were growers.
    Storie made a hand motion and the music automatically lowered itself. A guy no taller than me brought her a box setting it down on the Star Trek –looking coffee table with its pretty blue crystal in the middle.
    Storie addressed the room: “All right, we are about to play a new game. I call it Indulgence. Take out your slips of paper. Unfold that shit.”
    I did as she directed, reading what looked like some