Pete's Vagina -42.1- Too Many Men

It put a damper on the festivities, the news that there were guys downstairs.

“Beverly!” Joanna spat. “I’m going to pull her scalp off and have it made into a wig!”

Joanna’s Aunt Beverly had been on the phone earlier. Had she called up some friends and invited them to crash the party? Probably.

I didn’t understand the family dynamic of the Linklaters, but Beverly seemed to hate everyone. What was she doing here anyway? Were Joanna’s parents so clueless that they had actually left Beverly as the responsible adult at a teen party?

“She’s got the key to the liquor cabinet,” Megan remarked. We’d all seen Bev sipping something that might have been a cocktail.

The sudden sound of a crash downstairs caused everyone to jump. I looked around. Half of the girls in the room were still naked, or mostly so. In fact, I was the only one who was completely dressed, even if I was wearing a cheerleader outfit.

“Find something to put on!” I hissed at them. “I’ll go downstairs and find out what’s happening.” They scrambled around like startled birds, some of them grabbing at things to wear.

“Petey-pete-pete!” Megan called to me as I started toward the door. “They’ll see what you’re wearing!”

I shrugged. “If they’re Bev’s friends, they probably don’t know me.” And even people who do know me might not recognize me in a skirt with a blouse tight enough to show I had tits. I ran my hands through my hair nervously before I reached the head of the stairs.

“Be careful, Pete!” someone called to me.

Someone else commented. “Better call her Gayle when she’s dressed like that. Or is the secret blown up for good?”

Yeah. Damn.

Peals of rumbly laughter rolled up the stairs, and a male voice called out. “Catch her! Don’t let her get away!”

I ran down the stairs, three steps at a stride, almost tripping. I grabbed the banister to make the turn and to keep from falling. Behind me, someone called, “Pete! Gayle! Pete!”

I made another turn at the arch into the big dining room. Two guys were there, manhandling two girls who were squealing as they were pushed, stumbling and flailing, from one man’s grasp to another.

“Let her go!” I screamed. I saw Bev sitting in the breakfast alcove with another man who was pouring from a large bottle with a green label into the glass Bev held. She waved it at me, spilling whatever was being poured.

The man looked up and right at me. “Cheerleader,” he commented. “Is that your sister?”

I didn’t hear Bev’s reply as the two men in the dining room let their nearly naked prey escape when they turned toward me. “You guys get out of here!” I ordered the men, but my voice seemed shrill and shaky.

“You guys get out of here!” One of them mocked me in a falsetto.

“I think she’s volunteering for our little game of keepaway,” the other suggested. They started in my direction, their arms held wide like inexperienced middle linebackers.

“Joanna’s upstairs calling the police,” I warned the men as they advanced.

“No, I’m not.”

Joanna’s voice came from behind me, and I started to turn when I realized the two assholes were going to rush me. I did the only thing I knew how to do.

I played offense.