D Net girls party preparation Done 1.1

Somebody had told her she had to read Brotopia. It was a well worn copy, someone had written notes in the margin, maybe from a college class? Carla liked to read at night, softened the events of the day, let her calm into sleep. And, contrary to her gadget girl life style, she liked paper books. She hit the section on the Amazon party and had to smile. She was there, very young, impressionable, got to see what life is like as technoelite. Head on the pillow, sleep started to come, in a half memory, half dream, she pulled up the invite, still had it on her Q phone. Smile.

Five years earlier. Bong. An inbound message on ShadowMail. Carla opened her invitation.

Mail:



Private party, please RSVP. Theme is adventure on the Amazon with stylish jungle inspired costumes. <DATE, TIME, LOCATION>.

Can't go, she thought, nothing to wear.
Hey Mycroft, What time is it?  0730 was the reply.
Carla went back to sleep. A couple hours later, she woke up, she was hungry. For some reason, she wanted chicken salad. Fortunately she had a package of Costco rotisserie breast meat. Dab of sour cream, dab of mayo, lets of veggies, onion chopped fine, romaine, cabbage, sea salt, pepper, few strands of saffron to finish. Opened a bag of organic sweet potato crackers, munch time.

She checked online, the CutePaw "daring" V neck, three piece ensemble looked like it had promise... for someone else at some other time. The Tropical Palm Trees yoga print? No. Ex Officio Camina? No, it's a party. Hey Mycroft, what's the weather? 20, high of 22, low of 16, low overcast clouds. Great, she would hit some consignment shops, Labels, Second Chance, Hunt, Zelda's and take her bike.

Labels was always fun, she didn't find clothes, but a lovely estate pair of dangle butterfly earrings. Second Chance had a something that was promising. Supposedly worn by a local escort hired to accompany a safari in Kenya, size 4. Another young lady walked in, saw she was holding the kacki skirt and vest. She walked up, eyed Clara up and down, high school teacher radar sweep.

I'm Chara she said. Nice outfit, planning anything special?

I got an invite to a party, Amazon adventure theme, didn't  like what I saw online. this skirt is great, but paired with the top it's a bit much, Bwana Clara, great white huntress. I have a nylon travel shirt at home, that would work, bought it for a trip to Belize. Wonder if they would sell just the skirt?

Clara eh, said Chara. You know, it's a funny thing. I have a short skirt that would be perfect for that top. The party, she paused, reached into her small beaded bag, pulled out a Q phone, the older model 1, tapped a few times, brought up the invite, I've been invited too. What say we split to outfit, arrive together, see if anybody notices and, in a low purr, what they think.

Even years later Clara remembered what happened next. Chara started going out of focus, soft, she was profoundly aware of her lips, had a vision real as day of her kissing Chara. Closed her eyes. No, she was a boy toy girl; end of story. Handed Chara a $20, will you buy it, I'll be right outside, gotta get some air. Chara took the money between two fingers with a knowing smile.

It took months till Clara was desensitized enough to Chara's phenomes, or whatever that was that she was comfortable being alone with her. She needn't have worried, since puberty, men and women both were attracted to Chara, she had developed coping techniques. But past it they got and became fast friends.

On the party night, they hired an autodrive, arrived, there were 20 guests in front of them, they were checking invitations. One couple dressed in black tie was turned away, no invite, or not with the theme? Hard to say from the back of the line.

The lady at the door was armed. Big pistol, despite her beauty and the black bikini top, both girls took in the gun first. Chara said quietly, Desert Eagle .50, not to be trifled with. Carla replied, open carry is legal in Washington, but I'll bet she has all the tickets. Body builder too from the looks of her. When their turn came at the entrance, she looked them up and down, probably looking for evidence of weapons, even though they would pass through a metal detector. Linda and Leslie Hamilton I presume, she said, apparently remarking on the matching clothes. As she checked the invite on each phone, partly by habit, she greeted each by name, welcome Chara, welcome Carla. They could see her name badge on her top, halfway down her cleavage, Clara. Hmmmm. They each gave a slight giggle as they realized their names were so similar, they just might have to put fortuity to the test.

With a knowing smile, Clara and Chara placed their bags in the baskets on the weapons sensor conveyer belt and walked through the metal detector, nothing was found, wasn't room for anything but imagination in their garments. Detected, inspected, but not rejected the pair walked into the party. You would think they were working girls, without a word they split up, sizing up the situation. The situation in a bang flash: Older guys, younger women, serious money was involved to make this happen. A couple conversations and dances and they would find they were tech elites with the ever present finance people sprinkled in.

Clara, comfortable in her skin, danced, usually just once, with several men. She would thank them, give a quick kiss on the cheek and turn. She was prowling, but there was a shortage of young hunks. Clara had nothing against older men, when they weren't drunk they could be respectful, interesting to listen to, and generous. Just that tonight, she wasn't into Vincent, Vladamir, and Vergil, the Viagra triplets. Plenty of time.

The DJ called for a ladies dance, just the ladies for this one. Good chance to reconnect with Chara and see how she is doing. The DJ chose two songs, Johnny Otis Show's, "Willie and the hand jive," followed by Ray Charles, "Hit the road Jack." Chara, it turned out knew the moves for Hand Jive, Clara stepped back just keeping the beat, dancing in place. An older lady moved in, her safari pants looked like they were painted on. They were painted on! She was naked as a Jaybird, (don't ask about the origin of that expression), but obviously comfortable in her skin. When she and Chara got to the part about hand jive with your feet everybody clapped. Then the song changed, turns out it was the Sweet Sister's cover. Chara and the lady didn't miss a beat, (Chara only had to hear three notes or so to identify any song).  They even did the dance kiss by the waterfront. Carla had to smile, Chara's very special talent was coursing through the ladies bloodstream, you could see her eyes widen, "what the ...."

The two ladies fell right into the Sweet Sister's dance routine, painted lady in the middle, Chara on her left, Carla, a pretty quick dance study filled in to her right and followed along as best as she could. Every eye in the party was on them, so they switched to shoulder action as the don't ya come back no mores started repeating so the attention deficit population could find something else to gawk and gab about.


Ladies dance was over, the older painted lady said, "That was great, I am now seriously motivated to get laid. I'm Yolanda.  Let's get together sometime." Before they could say their names, out of nowhere a well appointed lady appeared in a silk safari suit and offered them each a business card. You don't see business cards that much anymore, remarked Carla as she looked at it. Wow! The card was printed on a 1 oz sterling silver blank. No you don't, smiled the silk lady as she walked off.

Clara walked over. That was quite the show. Reached into her holster, I got one as well, holding up a silver card.  What say we go over together, she was marked as VIP on the guest list, and in this crowd, that is saying something. Carla smiled, pulled out her phone, mind a selfie? She shot the three of them. Chara and Clara joined her with their phones and they bumped together, exchanging the photo and some basic info.





NOTE: intentional use of British derived customary system of measurement.










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