At the Stroke of Midnight (Naughty Princess Club 1)

I shake my head at Ariel’s crass way of putting things, but she’s right. This is my moment. I’m standing on a cliff, and I need to make that final jump. Otherwise nothing will ever change.

“What is a Clone-a-Willy and why was it in the back of your closet in a shoe box?” Belle suddenly asks, standing in the closet doorway holding up a cylindrical container.

Ariel’s eyes widen as she charges over to Belle. My face heats up and most likely turns an alarming shade of red as Belle continues turning the tube around in her hands, trying to read the fine print.

“You have a Clone-a-Willy in your closet, unopened? You hid this magical marital aid in the back of your closet in a shoe box? Forget everything I just said. That stick has buried itself so far up your ass you’re going to need a crowbar to get it out,” Ariel complains, grabbing the object from Belle’s hand and waving it in the air, increasing my mortification.

“It was a gift,” I mutter.

“That’s a marital aid? What does it do?” Belle asks.

“Cindy here had an opportunity to make a mold of her husband’s dick and she never did it. Hours of enjoyment could have been had with this thing. HOURS, Cindy. I’m so disappointed in you right now,” Aril states with a shake of her head.

I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding and my hands clenched tightly in my lap to stop myself from screaming.

“Wait a minute. You can actually make a mold of someone’s frickle and . . . I don’t understand,” Belle says with a sigh.

“What the fuck is a frickle?”

“A frickle is for a boy and a frackle is for a girl,” Belle explains with a shrug, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Jesus God, am I in the Twilight Zone?” Ariel complains. “Never, ever say frickle or frackle again. It’s penis and vagina. Or dick and pussy. Anything but frickle and frackle,” Ariel scolds, pointing the tube at Belle’s face before turning and aiming it at me. “And you. When your husband buys you a mold to make of his penis, you make a mold of his penis! It’s hot that he wanted you to get yourself off when he was away. Or to get yourself off while he was watching. Now, granted, I’ve seen his penis and it’s nothing to write home about, and having an exact replica of that thing might not have been the best way to spice up your marriage, but maybe he wouldn’t have been sticking his dick in the babysitter if you had his willy in your nightstand drawer. He definitely wouldn’t have stuck his dick in me, I’ll tell you that.”

I squeeze my hands together so tightly in my lap that I’m pretty sure I’ll be cutting off circulation soon.

“Did you know the world’s most expensive sex toy is a white gold vibrator, encrusted with one hundred seventeen diamonds and worth fifty-five thousand dollars?” Belle asks.

“Holy shit,” Ariel mutters, ignoring Belle. “That Clone-a-Willy just made me realize something, because the picture on the box is of a less than impressive dick. Did you know Brian had his dick in us at the same time? We’re like that whole Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon thing, except it’s Six Degrees of Brian’s dick.”

I close my eyes and take a few deep, calming breaths before pushing myself up from the bed, stalking over to Ariel.

“No, he did not.”

My voice comes out quiet and meek even though my thoughts are screaming through my brain, dying to be let out.

“He totally did. He was dicking us at the same time, which means we were dicking each other. You and I basically had sex,” she says nonchalantly, with a shrug of her shoulders.

“According to a recent study, there are exactly twenty-six hundred slang terms for genitalia,” Belle continues, and Ariel and I both turn to stare at her. “I’m just saying. I’m not the only one who uses different words for body parts. It’s completely normal.”

“It’s not completely normal for two friends to have had sex. This crosses a whole bunch of boundaries I’m not ready for,” Ariel complains.

“We didn’t have sex, will you stop?” I argue, trying really hard to remain calm.

“It’s okay. We’ll get past this. We’ll need a few years of therapy, but I’m sure we’ll be fine. We just need to stop picturing the two of us riding the same penis at the same time, probably within hours of each other. Fuck, I think I’m going to be sick.”

Ariel presses her hand against her mouth and I watch her throat constrict as she swallows a few times.

“That never happened. We do not need therapy.”

“You were still married to him seven months ago. I can do the math,” she replies.

“I assure you, your math is most likely off.”