“Holy fucking shit,” the brunette yells. “It’s you! I’m, I-I mean, you’re them.” she continues to stutter.
Keen to shut her down and not draw attention, I stepped in. “Indeed, we arethem, ladies, but we’d like to keep that betweenus,if you don’t mind.”
“Who are you?” The barmaid asked.
“That’s Marley Layton and Sean McCarthy from Carnage,” the blonde that had just arrived said with a smile.
“Shit, I knew I recognized you from somewhere. I can’t believe I asked if you were cops.” She laughed.
“Neither could we,” Maca told her.
“So, what are your names, ladies?” I asked.
“I’m Cindy,” said the barmaid.
“Of course you are,” I replied, “And I bet you two are Tressy and Barbie.” They all look at each other, confused. “If I press your belly button, does your hair get longer?” I asked the brunette.
“Dude, how high are you?” Maca asked from beside me, but the girls start to laugh as the penny dropped.
“Barbie, Cindy, and Tressy are all dolls.” The brunette explained to Maca.
“How the fuck do you know that?” Maca gave me a confused look.
“Because my sister had one of each when she was a kid.”
Shit.
He let out a breath as if he’d been punched. Fuck, why did I mention my sister?
“And my eagle-eyed action man used to kidnap them on a regular basis, making them strip off and shag him before he would let them go.” I add for the sake of some humour.
“You’re sick,” said Cindy.
“Actually, I’m Marley, and that’s Maca. You’re Cindy and you two lovely ladies are...?”
“I’m Mel,” said the brunette.
“And I’m Dawn,” said the blonde that wasn’t the barmaid.
They were both pretty—not as pretty as Cindy—but good looking enough. Mel was short and curvy with dark hair, skin and eyes. Dawn was tall and slim with broad, athletic shoulders—a swimmer if I’d had to guess. She had zero curves and not really my type, but right then, sex was sex.
“So, ladies, how’d you fancy coming back to our hotel for a few drinks?” I asked them with a smile.
After waiting around for three more of Cindy’s friends to arrive, we made it back to our room in two taxis. Word must’ve gotten out on where in town we were staying, and there were a few fans and a couple of photographers waiting outside. For some reason, Maca decided to put on a show for the snappers and posed with his arms draped around two of the girls.
After signing some autographs, I eventually dragged him inside and up to our room, where we found Milo sitting on a chair outside.
“What the fuck you doing here?” I asked.
“Len’s orders,” he grunted, obviously not happy. Milo was big, and I mean a huge bloke. There was no way that his arse could be comfortable on that chair he was sitting on.
“What exactly were Len’s orders?” Maca jumped in.
“That you two go to your room, alone, and don’t slip back out later tonight.” I looked across to Maca and we both started to laugh.
“Tell Len to either come join the party, or go fuck himself.” Maca told him as I let all eight of us into the room.
“You coming in, fat boy?” I asked Milo.