Surprise

  Surprise

  Robin Roseau

  Credits

  Many thanks to Amy and Carin for thoughtful comments after reading the first draft. This is a stronger story because of the time they gave me.

  Surprise

  "Surprise!"

  I jumped back, my hand to my chest, my heart pounding. Yes, they had surprised me all right.

  I looked around; there were perhaps twenty people, all of them having popped out from various hiding places around the dance studio. Then I turned and glared at Heather, my best friend ever, and wondered if I still considered her that.

  "You forgot your phone. You never forget your phone; it's welded to your ear. I should have known."

  "Happy birthday, Jane!" she said, hugging me. "It's not every day you turn forty."

  "You promised," I whispered into her ear. "Low key. No presents. No fanfare. Just a quiet dinner. You promised."

  She laughed. "I crossed my fingers."

  Before I could say anything else, several of my friends, a number of acquaintances, and two people I didn't even know surrounded me. Someone plopped a stupid party hat on my head, snapping the elastic band under my chin. I got passed around from one to another, some offering hugs and a cheerful, "Happy birthday", others offering a kiss, and one or two asking me if I was surprised.

  I sure was.

  Maybe I shouldn't have been. Heather was infamous for doing things her way, regardless of what anyone else wanted. This wouldn't be the first time she had pulled this sort of crap on me.

  I accepted my last hug and looked around. I was the only one wearing a stupid hat. I reached up for it, but Heather was there, putting her hands on mine. "There are rules tonight, Girlfriend."

  "No killing the hostess?"

  "Naw, go for it," she said. "But you have to use the preferred style of execution in this studio."

  "Oh, what's that?"

  "You would have to fuck my brains out." She laughed at her joke. What was disconcerting was most of the guests laughed, too.

  I wondered how long they'd been here and how much they'd had to drink.

  Did I mention Heather was gay? Oh, you couldn't tell from looking at her. She looked every bit as hetero as I did. She didn't trip anyone's gaydar, until she made a comment like that, anyway. She'd been making them to me for years, but other than one sloppy kiss in college, I'd successfully fended her off.

  "Tell me why you're my best friend?"

  "Because I throw such awesome parties!" She laughed again. "Now. The rules. Rule one. The party girl wears the hat."

  "Then you should wear it. You're the party girl."

  "Uh, uh, uh," she said. "Rule two. If the party girl takes off the hat, the first person who catches her gets to make her do something."

  I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

  "Whatever she wants."

  "You're making this shit up, just like you always do."

  Heather released one of my hands and, without looking, pointed to a large poster taped to the wall of the studio. There were two, actually. One said, "Happy Birthday, Jane". But the other was, "Party Rules".

  I read rule three. "You bitch," I said. Apparently, my birthday spanking was to be delivered before I was allowed to leave. Then I read rule four and began screeching.

  Everyone laughed.

  "Got to rule four, did you?" Heather asked with a grin. "Go ahead. Take the hat off."

  "You. Wouldn't. Dare."

  She put her hand on her hip. "Oh, really? Are you sure?"

  The thing is, she would dare.

  "No one is spanking my bare ass!"

  "Then leave the hat on." She grinned. "Read rule five."

  "Rule five," called out Molly. "If the party girl gets within ten steps of an exit, she receives a second birthday spanking."

  "Bare assed!" everyone read together.

  "By whoever catches her," Heather added.

  "So that's why all your butch friends are here?"

  "They're hoping you make a break for it," Heather said with a grin. "You won't outrun Kennedy."

  "Especially not in those heels," Kennedy called out. "But I don't mind if you try."

  "I bet you don't," I said. I actually liked Kennedy. She was probably the most athletic person I knew, but she never lorded it over anyone else, not like a lot of people in such amazing shape. Instead, she was really kind. If I were ever going to join the dark side, as Heather called it, I'd do it for someone like Kennedy.

  Not that she'd ever be interested in a mousy woman like me.

  "Read rule six," Heather said.

  "Rule six. The party girl may ask anyone to dance." I looked at her. "That's not a bad rule. Do they have to say yes?"

  "Of course they do," she replied. "And rule seven?"

  "Rule seven: the party girl must partake in all scheduled entertainment." I turned to her. "What does that mean?"

  "It's plain English," Heather said. "The party girl -- that's you -- must partake -- that means join in-"

  "I know what partake means. What scheduled entertainment?"

  "Well, the entertainment. That's scheduled. That means-"

  "I know what scheduled means!"

  "Well, if you asked the question you really want the answer to, I'd answer it."

  "What scheduled entertainment?"

  "Every hour, on the hour, there is an activity."

  "Oh, god." I had attended a bridal shower for Heather's sister once. Heather was evil, pure evil, when it came to designing activities.

  "No, no. These are fun. I promise."

  "You also made other promises, I will point out." I didn't point out she hadn't kept them. I was annoyed with her. "Fun for whom?"

  "Jane, it's your birthday, not mine. If I were scheduling my birthday party, then it might be the sort of entertainment you're worried about. Don't you trust me?"

  "No. Based on rules one through five, I already know I'm the entertainment tonight."

  "Oh, come on. It's your birthday. I didn't invent birthday spankings. Don't blame me for being traditional."

  Everyone laughed.

  "Hey!" she protested. "I can be traditional." She glared at all of them. She turned back to me. "Every activity has at least two participants. You're one. But if you honestly can tell me you're not enjoying my activities, then you can make me do them with you. Otherwise I have other ways for picking participants."

  I studied her carefully. "You might think it was worth it."

  "I might, but this is supposed to be fun, Jane. You've heard of fun before. I think I saw you have some a couple of years ago. Maybe it was just gas. Okay, you might find some of the games embarrassing, but you shouldn't. They're fun."

  I sighed.

  "Trust me, Jane. Only three more rules."

  "Rule Eight. There is no rule eight." I looked at Heather. "Ha, ha. Rule Nine. The party girl must have fun." I turned to her. "What if she doesn't?"

  "What is the punishment for breaking the other rules?"

  "I'm sure that will enhance the party girl's ability to follow rule nine."

  "Maybe not, but it will enhance the fun of whoever gets to spank her. Rule ten?"

  "Rule Ten. The party girl will forgive the hostess."

  I turned to her, and she was looking at me nervously. "We'll see," I said.

  "All right. First game. Clare, pass out the paper and pencils." Clare came to me first, handing me a square piece of colored paper and a pencil. Then she passed out the rest to everyone attending. The paper was arranged in a five by five grid, and in the center, it said, "Free Space".

  "Bingo?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said. "With predictions. In each square you write something like, Jane will slug Heather. Then if you see Jane slug Heather, you cross it off. First bingo wins. But you shouldn't let
anyone see your sheet or she might go around and tell people not to do the things on it."

  I laughed. "Is there a prize?"

  "Yep." She pointed to the display case to the right of the door. She had a small boutique with dance gear, and the display case normally held small accessories, dance-related jewelry, and the like. Instead, it was filled with wrapped presents, each in a different color wrapping paper. There were dozens.

  "The winner gets to pick one. Some of the prizes are actually booby prizes though." She grinned. "On the other hand, one of them is a hundred dollar bill. They're in the case so no one can feel them up. But don't get all sappy on me. Everyone chipped in for the prizes. Now, go fill out your card. Don't let anyone see it! You get five minutes; any you don't fill in remain blank. Anyone writing after I call pencils down will be the target of severe public humiliation." I had no doubt.

  We all separated, each of us finding a flat surface to write on. Then Heather said, "Go!" I looked around the room. Some of these people were good friends. A few were instructors at the studio, so I knew them, but I wouldn't have called them friends. Still others I barely knew, and there were two people I didn't recognize at all.

  I one corner, I wrote, "Fred will try to hit on Kennedy." Kennedy was as gay as Heather was, but that never stopped Fred. In the far opposite corner, I wrote, "Jessica will try to hit on Kennedy." I smiled at that.

  "Four minutes!" Heather called out.

  Oh shit, I'd only written down two. I had twenty-two to go. "Heather will announce an upcoming studio event" went in the second row, second column. I almost had a diagonal "bingo" filled in. I knew I wouldn't fill every square, so I was trying to set myself up for easy wins. In the last spot for that bingo, I wrote, "Clare will tell us about her latest break up."

  I looked around and filled in more spots and more spots, growing increasingly frantic when Heather announced, "One minute," then "thirty seconds". I still had seven blank squares when she said, "Pencils down!"

  I immediately slapped my pencil down and looked up. Heather was watching me intently. "Damn. I was hoping."

  "Yeah, yeah. Erica is still writing." I pointed.

  "Erica!" Heather yelled. She stalked towards the offender, her hands on her hips. Erica looked up at her and shrugged. Everyone else grew quiet, wondering what Heather would do.

  I had a pretty good idea, whatever it would be, I wouldn't want to experience it.

  Heather shook her head. "You know, I had some small punishments lined up for someone who was still writing for a few seconds, but that was egregious."

  "Sorry?" Erica said. She didn't look sorry.

  "Well. Shall it be the wasabi challenge? Pom-poms? The cone of shame? Or maybe we should just play a game of Hairspray."

  I wasn't sure what most of those were, although I had a pretty good idea what the wasabi challenge might be. And Erica was quite vain about her hair -- one of my squares said she'd play with it. I didn't think she'd appreciate whatever Heather might do to it.

  Then Heather smiled, and it was That Smile. The one no one ever wanted to see. "Wait right here," she said. She ran off to her office. Clare moved over to stand next to me.

  "I hope you're not too mad."

  "She promised she wouldn't do anything like this."

  "You know Heather. And it's your fortieth, Jane. Happy birthday!" She grinned at me. "She spent weeks planning, and she really does want you to have fun. This needs to be a birthday you'll remember."

  "I don't even know all these people."

  She looked around. "You know most of them."

  "Most is not all." I sighed. "I'll try to have fun, but I am not happy about some of the rules."

  "Oh, come on. It's not like the spanking will be that bad."

  "It's humiliating."

  "Not as bad as whatever is going to happen to Erica." She nodded. Heather exited her office. She had some sort of sailor girl's costume and a bright, pink wig. "O.M.G."

  I laughed.

  Erica had been acting fairly cavalier, but when she saw Heather, she said, "No way. I am not wearing that."

  "Who wants to see Erica wear this?" Heather called out, waving the wig and costume. At least half the people called out, "I do." I tried to be loudest, but I wasn't remotely as loud as a few people.

  "You all suck. I am not putting that on."

  "I'll give you a choice, Erica," Heather said. "Put it on without any further fussing, and you can take it off when your embarrassment is over. One more fuss, and I think I can find a few people to help you into it."

  She huffed. "Fine." She stomped over to Heather and grabbed the things from her.

  "Someone start a timer," Heather said. "Erica has to wear that for as long as it takes her to get back out here with it on."

  Erica ran for the dressing room, laughter chasing after her.

  "All right," Heather called out. "Who needs something to drink?"

  "I do!" I called out.

  * * * *

  It took Erica perhaps ten minutes to emerge. I spent the time talking to whomever stepped up to me, which was about half the room, at least for a minute or two. It was nice to see everyone. I hadn't seen Molly in ages.

  "I can't believe you're making me wear this. I hate cosplay!"

  Everyone turned to Erica. She looked ridiculous and cute at the same time. But she had put everything on, and it even looked proper.

  "I need a drink," she added.

  "Not yet," Heather said. She grinned, stepped over to the corner where the sound system controls were, then returned with a sheet of paper. She handed it to Erica. Then, while Erica was looking at the paper, Heather pulled out her phone and turned it to face Erica.

  Erica's face turned to one of horror. "You're not serious."

  "This is my serious face," Heather said, pointing to her face and grinning. She held up the phone. "Be a good sport."

  Erica took a breath. Heather pushed a button on her phone and nodded. Erica began to sing. "You put your left foot in, you put your left foot out, you put your left foot in and you shake it all about. You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around. That's what it's all about." She acted out the dance as she sang, and with her in the costume, it was absolutely adorable.

  She did the entire song then came to a stop, looking at Heather. Heather punched a button on her phone and said, "Excellent! I'll upload this later."

  "You'll what?" Erica squeaked.

  "Facebook, Baby," Heather said. "Maybe it will go viral."

  "I am going to get you," Erica said. "When you least expect it."

  "If it's any consolation, you can go change to your own clothes again." She waited until Erica was headed for the dressing room before she called out, "Let's get some dancing going."

  * * * *

  Dancing at a dance studio isn't as simple as it seems. One would expect everyone would dance. But people who spent their lives teaching dance or training for competitive dancing didn't necessarily care to engage in social dancing.

  Heather hadn't invited anyone like that. This was a dancing group, and some of them were good. Damned good. They were fun to watch.

  I stood at the side of the room, watching the dancers. I'd been there for a while before Heather stepped up beside me.

  "I know you didn't want a party, but are you having fun?"

  "I don't even want to think about the entertainment you have planned, Heather. You are evil, you know."

  "I promise. I tried very hard to think of things you would enjoy."

  "Like the hat?" I asked.

  "Okay, the hat is for my amusement," she replied.

  "And the rules?"

  "Would you still be here?"

  I sighed. "Probably not."

  "Why aren't you dancing?"

  "Because I'm a crappy dancer and I'd rather watch." I gestured with my nose.

  "You are not a crappy dancer-"

  "-Said the woman who owns a dance studio and is one of the most amazing dancers I know."

  "Wh
ich means I should know. This is social dance, Jane. It's not about looking good. It's about feeling good."

  "Well, we both know I never look good. If you took a picture of this room and then asked, 'Who doesn't belong', you know anyone playing would pick me. Everyone here has an amazing body except me."

  Heather put an arm around me. "You're using the wrong measure of worth and attraction, Jane. I wish you would learn to trust me."

  "Said the woman with the lithe dancer's body. We're both 40 now, and you have a better body than I had at sixteen."

  "It's my job, Jane. But you have curves I don't have-"

  "I'll say!"

  "Good curves, Jane. And cleavage. Your breasts... God, I could just eat them up."

  I looked over at her. "You're always hitting on me."

  "Do you know why I'm always hitting on you?"

  "No, actually. We'd be terrible together, and we'd lose a best friend."

  "It's your breasts, Jane. I see them and I can't help myself."

  I bumped her with my shoulder. "You are so full of shit."

  "A lot of the time, yes, you're right. Not this time. They're lethal weapons, Jane."

  I turned back to watch the dancers. A minute later I asked, "Are you really going to upload that video of Erica?"

  "Already done, and about half the people here have shared it, too." I glanced at her and she was grinning. "I think she did it on purpose."

  "I bet she doesn't do it again. Erica hates cosplay."

  "But she loves being the center of attention. So, pick someone."

  "Pick someone?"

  "To dance with."

  "I don't want to dance, Heather."

  "Yes, you do. I want you to trust me."

  "Like I trusted you would listen when I said low key?"

  She turned me to face her. "I would never hurt you."

  I believed her, except Heather and I had different ideas of what hurt. I sighed. "You pick."

  "Uh, uh," she said.

  "There aren't a lot of guys to choose from."

  "Are you worried you'll turn gay if you dance with a woman?"

  "Heather!"

  "Pick someone. Maybe Clare."

  "Fine. Clare."

  "You don't want to dance with Clare. Pick someone."

  "If you're so sure I don't want to dance with her, why did you suggest her?"