"That was a rhetorical question," the septuagenarian snaps. "My point is, I worked really hard to make this happen—-"
"What exactly is this?" I ask helplessly.
"You see those men, don't you?"
"I saw them, yes." And frankly speaking, I'd rather not look their way again, considering how most of them are in their swim trunks.
"I hired a speed dating agency for this event," Elaine declares grandly, "and all thirty of them are here to ask you out."
My jaw drops.
Elaine nods at Francesca. "You can take her to change now."
"But—-"
"It's time for you to spread your legs—-"
I gasp.
"I mean, wings." Elaine may be quick in correcting herself, but the evil gleam in her eyes tells me she meant what she said the first time. "You're already twenty-six years old, Mary Cavendish," she says archly. "It's time you've gotten yourself a boyfriend—-"
"But I don't want a boyfriend," I protest.
"Why not?"
Because I'm already in love!
That's the truth, too, but I also know if I blurt those words out, Elaine and Francesca would only nag and nag about wanting to know who I'm in love with—-
I shrug and say lamely, "Just because."
Elaine rolls her eyes. "That's the best you can do?"
"My reasons are immaterial," I insist. "What matters is that I don't—-"
"Take her away, Che-Che," the older woman tells my friend.
"Elaine! Come on!"
But my-best friend-turned-traitor just starts dragging me a private cabana even as I continue to protest how crazy this all is.
"Just humor her," Francesca says coaxingly. "She did go out of her way to prepare this for you."
"I appreciate her efforts," I argue, "I really do, but isn't this too much?"
"Elaine was just terribly concerned when she found out you were still a virgin—-"
"Che-Che!" The older woman might be like a second mom to both Francesca and me, but my V-card is something I've never discussed with Elaine. "You told her, didn't you?"
Francesca flashes a sheepish smile. "Sorry, it just slipped."
"Yeah right!" How does the topic of another woman's virginity just "slip"?
My friend clasps her hands together in a gesture of apology. "I'm really, really sorry—-"
I cut her off, asking uneasily, "What about those guys? Please don't tell me that they also know—-"
The look on my best friend's face says everything.
"Oh my God."
I'm not the type to drop an 'OMG' every few sentences, but when I think about how all those strangers are now aware of my zero experience in sex—-
"Oh my God."
Francesca winces. "Sorry."
"This is going to be the death of me," I groan.
"It doesn't have to be," Francesca says quickly. "I mean, it's just five minutes—-"
I stare at her blankly. "What do you mean five minutes?"
"Each guy gets five minutes to chat you up," my friend clarifies. "So thirty guys, five minutes—-"
As Francesca takes her phone out, I'm already computing the figures in my mind, and the answer makes me groan anew. "Two and a half hours, Che-Che! That's one hundred fifty minutes of having to talk to men!"
Francesca, however, only looks at me in awe after shoving her phone back into the pocket of her shorts. "I keep forgetting how smart you are."
"Not the point here," I growl.
"Let's just think positive," Francesca urges. "The sooner we get this over with, the better, don't you think?"
"But I don't want—-" My voice breaks off when I see Francesca opening one of the built-in cabinets of the cabana to pull out a selection of newly purchased swimwear. "What's that for?"
Francesca beams. "They're all so pretty, right? Elaine bought them for you—-"
I look at her in horror. "They must've cost her a fortune!"
Francesca looks at me in surprise. "You recognize the brands?"
"I used to buy—-" My mouth snaps shut when I remember who I'm talking to, but it's too late.
Francesca crosses her arms over her chest. "Did I hear you right? You used to buy these things?"
"For myself," I lie right away.
"Oh, really?" Francesca's smile is a little too sweet.
I hurry towards the selection of swimwear Francesca has laid out on the bench. "Am I supposed to wear one of these?"
"Are you trying to change the subject?"
I pretend not to hear her and grab the first one-piece I see. "Off to change," I say airily, but as soon as I'm inside one of the cubicles, I hastily take out my phone to send a text to Nicolaas, who's not only my boss now but also happens to be the man who swept my best friend off her feet in a whirlwind romance.
Me: Just a heads-up, but I kinda accidentally told Francesca that I used to buy swimwear for your former mistresses.
Nicolaas: WTF
Me: Sending you our location in case you want to grovel.
I hit Send, and after a moment's hesitation—-
Me: Sir.
Since my bosses are in an all-important meeting with the Emir Sheikh of Ramil and his American queen, I'm not sure if he'll get here in time, but...oh well.