Day 4, 0828: Wilbur walked over to Pete Ross.Day 4, 0828: Wilbur walked over to Pete Ross. "Think it'll work?" Pete asked hesitantly. Wilbur nodded confidently. He'd seen first hand what Jambo's "Purple Passion" could do. As long as the men didn't drink the ladies' punch, and stuck to the "Panther Piss" that Jambo had supplied for them, it would be great. The young, well-to-do gentlemen of the town had all met at the Pussy Kat Klub one night, frustrated with the teasing and petting of the young, well-to-do, newly emancipated women. Since only a couple of said ladies would set foot in Jambo's Snakepit, the men decided to bring Jambo's Purple Passion to the ladies. The set-up had been quite simple, really. The Ross estate was large enough for each of the twenty or so couples to have privacy, and Pete's parents were going to the Orient for a month. Invitations had been sent in the form of two glasses with the recipient's name on them. The young men had then ordered two batches of punch from Jambo, who had been very happy to oblige when he saw the "donation" they had managed to collect for him. The two barrels delivered were clearly labeled: Panther Piss for the guys, and Purple Passion for the gals. The bartenders had been instructed not to serve the other stuff to the other sex, under penalty of death. The bartenders' laughter had died when they realized that none of the young men had cracked as much as a grin. The women had been persuaded that both barrels were identical; once poured, they looked the same. It was only a matter of time... Lucy came over to Wilbur and Pete on slightly unsteady legs. Both men raised their eyebrows, and Pete said, "23-skiddoo," very quietly. "Guess who I invited as _my_ guest, Willy-nilly?" Lucy cooed, leaning on Wilbur for support. Jiminy Christmas, he _hated_ that nickname. Pete grinned, and left the pair alone. "I sent my driver for her, too." "Who, Lucy-wucy?" Wilbur asked, using the pet name that she thought was so cute, but made him gag. Before Lucy could reply, he heard his name called. The voice was _extremely_ familiar, and Wilbur's heart dropped into his feet. No, not her. Not here. Not _tonight_. Sallie Cross, all sixteen years and three days of her, beamed at her brother from across the room. |