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Bull Or Bare - Note NSFW Thread

"You can go before me, Riley honey," Connie reassured. It was second nature for her to think of other people first. "And yes, Molly. They've comped the minibar for us." She turned to smile at Heather again next. "I'm glad you're coming with us. It will be kinda fun in a way. Sort of like a sorority get-together, or maybe a slumber party." Optimism was also second nature for the stewardess.

The suite was nothing special, but it was better than a chair at the airport. The bedroom was two double beds. The bath had a functioning shower and sink, which served each of our four heroines in order. The minibar in the fridge was well stocked, even for four frazzled travelers on an unplanned detour. Things were, if not ideal, tolerably pleasant.

For the moment, Constance was leaning against the bed in her blouse and skirt, with her shoes safely stowed in the closet, sipping from a miniature bottle of gin. "Well, this has been an interesting night so far. I mean, I meet crowds of strangers every day, but here we are, four strangers, about to spend the night together." She tipped over the bottle, now empty, as she asked, "It's strange how things seem to work themselves out like this, isn't it?" with a crooked smile.
 
Waiting her turn to get into the shower Molly headed for the minibar and took her time choosing among the tiny bottles and eventually settled on a small glass sized bottle of red wine. She threw herself on the sofa and opened it, took a big mouthful and then worked herself out of her jacket which she dropped on the floor.
"I dunno what college you went to Connie but ... I don't remember them having dorm rooms this big."
She took another big mouthful of the wine and finished the bottle before laying her portfolio on the table in front of the sofa, opened it and started browsing the drawings and water colours inside and spreading them around the sofa and on the floor as she removed them. Some of them were quite large A1 in size and others smaller but none smaller than A3, except for the one A4 sketch pad where she usually just jotted down ideas or quick sketches of anything from people to landscapes. The same variation could be seen on the larger papers as well, people, faces, animals, cityscapes and landscapes, some which seemed obviously drawn through the window of moving vehicles, such as trains or cars. Most of them were done in an impressionist or surrealistic style but there were some with expressionist and non-figurative tendencies as well and some more traditionally figurative portraits.

Close to the bottom of the portfolio she finally found what she was looking for, an A2 sized drawing of Heather reclining in the nude on a love seat looking out a window. The drawing was really well done and the likeness of the much younger Heather was near photographic in accuracy. That was where she would ask the once famous actress to sign her autograph. On the back of course.
 
Still having a luggage to collect from the lobby, she naturally fell behind in the group’s voyage to the designated hotel room. Perhaps last to enter the place, however at least she would thankfully get to use the bathroom first. Upon her arrival, her eyes glanced across the admittedly spacious looking area reserved for her group’s temporary lodging. The others didn’t seem to mind it, but Heather would hardly call it a suite, rather a large room. Not particularly an interesting place, really. Thus, it was up to its guests to render it more enticing. “Wonderful.” She uttered, clear satire in the soft tune of her voice. Despite all, she was indeed happy to be under a different roof than the airport’s high ceiling, glad that she no longer had to listen to the grumble that surrounded the front desk.

The view outside the window, towers and terminals in the distance, blurred by the ongoing storm outside, it acted as a mockery to her eyes. A reminder of her current stranding. Things could have been surely far worse however, more uncomfortable to say the least. She closed the curtains, and turned around to note the whereabouts of her hopefully patient companions. “I’m going to the bathroom.” Heather announced. A pair of trainers and short socks, what was left of her as the woman disappeared behind the bathroom door. Eager the wash out the trouble of today’s chain of inconveniences, she stripped down to enjoy the warm sprinkle of droplets on her bare form, cozy wandering of water stream over her gentle contour.

Once done, leaving a subtle mist behind her, she stepped out of the bathroom. Her outfit didn’t change. Now makeup free however, her glances were not as sharp, natural beauty of her visage drawing a more composed, serene image of herself. Like any other hotel, the hairdryer lacked the power to dry her hair fully. Now having them loose, her dark locks were still moist. The immediate vicinity of the sofa seemed to host a small art gallery, new works still being unfolded atop the table and ground. One bed was occupied by the charming flight attendant. Heather sat on the edge of the other, already feeling more relaxed. Enough to remain quiet for the moment, other than the mild noise of the hairbrush she held in her hand as she idly patted the back of the object against her palm.

Orientation and farness of the blonde’s drawings made them vague for her as Molly rearranged her portfolio, working she presumed. Constance was busy being cheerful as usual, and drinking. Inspecting gaze of the woman next shifted to the youngest member of the group, whom she thought to be more suitable for a small favour. “Riley, was it?” Heather called out. Instead of complaining about a lack of privacy, it was better to think about the advantages of not being alone. “Would your care to untangle my hair, dear?” Heather offered the ornate brush she held in her grasp.
 
Riley entered the room relieved that they no longer had to be in that hectic lobby. They saw that there were two large beds and a coach, so at least Riley wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. They could figure out later who would share a bed, though Riley wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with any of them. But Riley figured two of the women would share a bed and since Riley was the smallest, they would probably take the couch.

Riley took off their hat and shoes and went to the mini bar. They poured themselves a coke, grabbed a rum, and checked to see if anyone minded underage drinking. Seeing none, they added it in, and took a seat on the chair. Riley texted their mom that they had a room so she could stop worrying, then looked over at the Art Molly had started pulling out. “Wow, Molly they are beautiful. Did you make all these yourself?” Riley asked in awe.

Finally, Heather walked out of the bathroom, looking beautiful, and a Riley couldn’t help but look over. When she asked Riley to help brush her hair, Riley was pretty surprised. “Ok,” they said startled, “I don’t mind.” Riley got into the bed behind Heather and started gently brushing her hair. Riley actually had experience brushing others’ hair before, and had no trouble untangling it. They enjoyed the feeling of the beautiful Woman’s hair in their hands.
 
Molly nodded in response to Riley's question.
"Most are from back home but some are from my trip across the country. Scenes from trains and portraits of people I've met since I came to New York."
While Molly's English was mostly flawless it still had a vague hint of a Scandinavian accent to it, but only just discernible to an untrained ear.
"Feel free to browse but please keep drinks and food at a safe distance please."
These drawings were after all to a large extent her life's work, even if of course the oils on canvas were still stored in her home town of Lund in the South of Sweden, waiting for her to have them shipped over to her new apartment in New York. Back home was also the few sculptures she had attempted in stoneware, a series of clearly transsexual figures in various poses. Should anyone be interested she had photos of them on her phone and of her oils on canvas.

When Heather reappeared from the shower, seemingly much more relaxed and casual than when she went in Molly picked up the drawing she had made of the actress when she was just fifteen and presented it to her, with the request that once she was properly dried off she would sign the back of it. The image was inspired by one of the first movies Heather had made as an adult and quite possibly the first in which she had appeared topless, something often asked of declining childhood stars once they became adults and entered the industry of so-called b-movies or independent films whatever one wanted to call it.

She explained to Heather that she had drawn it when she was fifteen and added that she had at the time had a huge crush on Heather. Molly then bit her lip rather nervously and attempted a conciliatory smile before announcing that she'd be back in five minutes, ten at the most and after having picked out a new set of clothes she disappeared into the bathroom for a much needed shower. Not only due to being stuck at the airport most of the afternoon but also because she had been travelling by train almost non-stop from New Orleans and not really had a chance to wash up properly or change her clothes.

She almost moaned with pleasure as the warm water flowed down her body. She used the hotel's complimentary shower gel and shampoo to wash her body and hair before towelling off and putting on fresh underwear, baggy black jeans and a pale green long-sleeved t-shirt with a self-portrait by Frida Kahlo with her hair cut short wearing a clearly over-sized man's suit, printed on it. The verse in Spanish she had printed above the image would translate into English as: See, if I loved you, it was for your hair, now you’re bald, I don’t love you any more. She ran her left hand through her hair a few times and stepped out of the bathroom, refreshed and like Heather without make up.
"That felt so fucking good," she said and then smiled as she was unsure how either of her temporary roommates would react to the profanity.
She then walked over to the fridge and got the second bottle of wine. She then put her jacket on and went out onto the balcony for a smoke.
 
Although what she asked of the student was pretty much an innocent request, she admittedly was a woman who liked to order others around. Perhaps a habit she formed because of the way things worked on a film set. At least she wasn’t accustomed to barking her demands like a know-it all-director would. Regardless, it was pleasing to feel the tiny bristles running through her hair as Riley kindly worked behind her on the bed. Even the distinct sound of her wavy curls being untangled had a soothing effect on her. Quite an easy task to fulfil, but also an easy way to earn the woman’s gratitude. “Thank you, darling.” Heather showed appreciation of the deed. Since her newfound helper didn’t seem to mind brushing it, perhaps she could also ask her presumably bashful roommate to tie her hair back as well.

Before anything else, Molly’s involvement stole her attention though. She hadn’t forgotten her little promise from earlier. In the golden age of her career, there had been times where she got tired of signing autographs. Now that the number of people who recognized her was drastically diminished, someone asking for it had become more meaningful. It was a rather sizable drawing what was handed over to her. Surely a large enough paper that would allow a talented artist to add some detail to their work. In this case, said details belonged to her. Heather, of course, easily identified the woman in the image, as it was she herself. “Oh…” Her smile narrowed down a little. She was surprised to be looking at a drawing of her, a thorough representation of her form. After all, it wasn’t common for her to have the honour of meeting someone who had pictured her in such a personal manner. And pretty accurately at that.

Eyes looking more provocatively, cheeks rounder; the artwork depicted a younger reflection of her, nine years younger to be exact. It contained some other round parts of her body as well. A nude drawing, a product of artistic vision. “Fifteen? Is that right?” It sounded to be quite a young age to produce such a thrilling portrait. A quick search on the web would indeed provide the blonde artist the necessary references to the woman's bosom. However, she must have needed to use her imagination, or observation, to complete the rest. Perhaps a little bustier, but overall, a quite accurate depiction of her. “It’s a small word, is it not?” Heather added with a giggle she didn’t try to mask. “Glad to inspire.” Setting her eyes on her own image didn’t make her shy, no matter how revealing it was. She was rather impressed, flattered to say the least.

On the other hand, her apparent fan understandably seemed to be a little bashful about it. Enough to live the bedroom in a steady march to the shower in fact. After the girl, she stepped forward, hopefully without a hairbrush stuck into her hair. Grabbing a pen, probably one of Bloom’s, she laid her nude self across the table, leaving her signature on the back of the paper as she was credited in her films.

'𝒯𝑜 𝑀𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓎- 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓈- 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒞𝓁𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒'

Moving away from the table next, she located the minibar instead. Her eyes searched for Connie in the bedroom as she leaned down to grab a bottle of water. “When do you think the flights will resume? Morning?” Considering her profession, she seemed to be the right person to ask.
 
Connie took a glance out the window towards the patio as she sipped her gin. She assessed the situation outside, which was almost as hellish as it was when it grounded all the planes. "We're at the mercy of the weather here. Assuming things clear up, we should be clear to go by mid-morning tomorrow. But that can change in an instant." She shrugged and smiled. "Life is chaos. We do our best to saddle it with some kind of order." It was interesting to see the dynamic. Heather had largely become queen bee here, with Riley brushing her hair and Molly bringing out her fan art for a signature. "Gotta say, that's some piece. You've got to be a heck of an artist now, Molly."

Then Constance turned back to Riley and Heather. "Since you seem to be something of a star, maybe I should ask you something to sign for me too. I don't have a lot," she fished out a cocktail napkin from her purse amidst a sea of pens and hard candies and bobby pins - "How about this? It's not too elegant, but it's a little something, anyway." Her eyes brightened as a thought crossed her mind. "Why don't all four of us sign it - a little memento of our night here that we can take out the next time we get thrashed about by the weather, though," she added as the wheels kept moving, "I guess we'd need something for each of us to take home, wouldn't we then?" She turned to the college student. "What do you think Riley? A little something to commemorate the bond?" She called back outside. "What about you, Molly?"

At any rate, now that the idea had taken, Connie wasn't about to let go. "You're the star. I think you should go first, right? That'll give us time to scrounge stuff for the rest of us to use. I'm thinking Molly probably doesn't need my autograph on her artwork of you, Heather."
 
"It's hell, high water, ice and brimstone out there," Molly said as she returned form the balcony and threw her arms around herself to get up some body warmth.
Having closed the door behind her she took off her jacket and tossed it on the bed behind Connie and looked at the now much less professional but yet calm woman who had started to let go of her role as airline hostess and slipped into a more private self. She seemed to be none the less positive and optimistic for it though and Molly nodded.
"Three years of art school should have had some effect I suspect but these days my style is much less photo-realistic. It is as they say, once you have the technique to create perfection the definition of perfection becomes something a lot more abstract," She said and like she had with Riley before showering she invited Connie to look as much as she wanted, as long as she kept all beverages and foods at a safe distance.
"Having an eidetic memory doesn't hurt either I suppose," she added and tapped her left index finger to her forehead.
"It's like having a camera in your head only better because a camera can only see what is there it cannot interpret it like the brain can. Of course sometimes the brain doesn't automatically connect the memory with an actual occurrence. Like when I saw Heather earlier I knew her face instantly but not where I had seen it or what name to attach to it."

In response to Connie's suggestion of signed mementos to take away Molly simply nodded and shrugged. It was of course a nice idea in a way but she felt it was perhaps a bit too early to determine just how close that bond would become. They had after all just met and barely spoken of anything in depth., and while she wouldn't be hard pressed to sleep with either of her three companions she suggested that maybe that could wait until they were to go their separate ways again.
"And I think it should be the same thing for all of us, like something cheap from the souvenir shop, maybe a t-shirt or a postcard or something like that."
 
It wasn’t until Molly pulled out the drawing of Heather and presented it that Riley recognized Heather as a movie star. Riley had never met a movie star before, and here they were just casually brushing her hair. Riley started blushing, and was glad Heather couldn’t see her face. As Riley finished brushing her hair, they realized they had gotten a small boner from either the experience, or being surrounded by so many beautiful women. Riley adjusted themselves to hide the boner, but fortunately, Molly came out and it was her turn to shower.

Riley first responded to Connie’s question. “I think that’s a great idea,” they said with a smile. “I always like having small souvenirs. I’ll think of what to use while I take my shower.” Riley shuffled to the shower nervously, trying to hide their boner. They stepped into the bathroom, stripped their clothing, and let the warm water hit them. A feminine smell filled the bathroom, and Riley was sorely tempted to masturbate to get rid of both the boner and her hornyness. But they knew Connie was waiting for her shower, and Riley didn’t want to make her wait, or worse, leave evidence that she saw. Instead, Riley switched the shower to cold, and that quickly got rid of the problem in a less pleasant way.

Riley dried themselves off, and got dressed, this time without the red sweater or purple leggings, and walked out. “Your turn, Connie, when you are ready?” Riley then went back, and sat in the chair she started in.
 
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No improvement to be seen outside, the steamed windows didn’t hint at a pleasant morning, making it indeed ambiguous when the grounded planes would once again fly like little birds in the clear skies. Uncertainty and chaos, the worst nightmare of orderly women like Heather. “I thought so.” She responded to Connie, couldn’t help but wonder if there were any disclosed articles in the charming flight attendant’s contract that demanded she kept her lips sealed on certain subjects. It was no secret she didn’t like untimely surprises that hindered her plans, even if those plans were just about relaxing at home, uninterrupted. However, it didn’t mean she disliked the short list of companions she was, somewhat, obliged to share a room with. Sporting different characteristics perhaps, but they all seemed to be good-humoured individuals, people who had their heart in the right place. Being an actress herself however, she knew how appearances could be deceiving, how it might mask rather twisted desires in a cheerful shell.

Maybe the natural outcome of working in multifaceted film industry, but she grew to look at things with a suspicion. Her attentive eyes tend to watch her surroundings with a hint of curiosity. She could already spot a little secret under this very roof. A secret to stretch the fabric of a certain student’s little shorts. Maybe an unintentional side effect of staring at Molly’s alluring artworks. Regardless of the reason though, Riley disappeared into the bathroom before Heather could speculate further. To hydrate her vocals, she took a sip from her water bottle. Being called a star, it admittedly rubbed her the right way, even if her star admittedly required a telescope to be seen nowadays. “Oh no, dear.” She faced the flight attendant. “You don’t need to ask for an autograph out of courtesy.” The woman suggested, watching Connie pull out random items from her purse.

Taking a few steps towards the younger woman, she drew herself closer to her. She didn’t mind that everyone in the suite could now make rather precise guesses at how she looked without her clothes, although she couldn’t do the same for others, not yet anyway. “A napkin?” She chuckled at the suggestion, failing to see a piece of cloth as a souvenir of a presumably short-lived friendship. To tell the truth, she was a little short on friends. And the long list of contacts in her phonebook would have been hardly qualified as friends without benefits. Some of the unpleasant incidents from the past had made her a bit pick when it came to her relationships, turned her into a woman who looked upon a constant smile with a jaundiced eye. And her eyes were now on Connie.

“If you happen to have a naked image of yourself, I’d gladly sign it as well.” Heather suggested, obviously a nod to her own. Her gaze swept over the woman. “I see you are still wearing your uniform.” She endorsed the flight attendant’s attire, for a subtle implication. “Is it true that you are not allowed to speak of the details of flight regulations while carrying those colours on you?” The neutral mask she wore made it difficult to comprehend whether she was just joking around or being serious.
 
Connie gave the matter some thought. She was more open than the others, thus her enthusiasm for the common souvenir idea. One does not become an airline attendant if one does not enjoy meeting new people. Besides, she had a certain belief about fate, and couldn't attribute her ending up in the same room tonight with three such fascinating and alluring people to something as mundane as simple coincidence. "Yes, something cheap of course. I don't want to put you all out. Besides, I don't think we're going to make it to Versace tonight, so choices are relatively limited. And don't think of it as courtesy; this is just the kind of thing that I'd like to remember, no matter what happens after tonight." The stewardess maintained her trademark smile through all of this but it wasn't hard. She was finally relaxing after a hard day. She deserved it.

She also smiled back at Molly as Riley showered. If she had noticed Riley's little problem, she was discreet enough not to show it. "An eidetic memory. That must come in handy. At least with the things you want to remember. There are some flights I'd rather forget, all things considered." And that brought her back to Heather's questions. "There are certain issues that I'm not free to speak about, honey, but you probably knew that already. However, it shouldn't come as a big surprise that one rule is if the runway is covered in ice, you're not going anywhere. So, it's not up to us." Us was a very loose term. It wasn't as if management asked Connie whether they should go up.

Then Riley emerged from the shower. Connie smiled at her and noted, "Ah, that looks like it did you wonders, Sweetie." She rose and started heading the bathroom herself. But not before turning back to Heather, her smile twisting into something a bit more playful and mischievous. "I'm afraid I don't know of any images on hand, though I've done a few poses for the smartphones of nighttime companions that I may learn I have reason to regret at some point. As far as I know though, you're going to have to rely on your imagination to figure out how I look out of uniform. Try not to think about it too much while I'm in the shower. Or picture away. It's not like I'm going to know either way, right?" She gave a wink as she disappeared behind the door and turn on the water. "Why don't you all find something we can all sign while I'm washing up?"
 
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No matter how charming of a smile it was, a tender pair of lips stretched in a hopeful manner wouldn’t make Heather pull in her horns. And she could be quite horny sometimes, so to speak. The rather cheerful flight attendant of the group surely seemed to share her newfound companions’ immediate trouble. However, dealing with inconveniences of aviation being part of her job, Heather doubted the young woman never encountered a wide cancellation of flights before, which, in turn, made her less relatable to her eyes in comparison to the others in the room. For all she knew, finding a so-called souvenir of sorts could have been a smart business move to almost subliminally made her respected employer look more sympathetic through the cute illusion of making new friends as a happy consequence.

Keeping her sharp gaze on Connie still, the woman narrowed her lips in a slight feeling of frustration. Clearly, an icy runway would prevent metal birds from flying, keep them from climbing up in the sky with paying passengers. That wasn’t the part of the stewardess’ statement Heather emphasized, however. Instead, she questioned the last bits of the woman’s suggestion. “Us? You airport people and us unknowing passengers? I didn’t know there was such a separation among us here… honey.” Having nothing else to ask, she walked back to rest her coy hips on the edge of the bed behind her, an empty water bottle still in her hand. “If that’s the case, that you can’t leave the regulations of your job behind the door…” Heather started again. “Then maybe you should start addressing people properly as well. Ma’am…” For a moment, her gaze shifted over to Riley. “And Sir.”

To fully embrace the comfort of the bed, the prominent advantage of staying in a hotel instead of remaining at the airport in fact, the woman lifted her feet off the floor as she lay back on the bed. “Sadly, I have a rather lacking imagination…” She talked to herself upon the vanishing of Connie. Just below her protruding bust, the empty water container lay on her belly. “Compensations, refunds, replacements.” Idly lazing about as she didn’t have much else to do, Heather span the bottle in place to accompany her mumbling. “Oh no… Don’t worry about those.” Looking grumpy, she raised her brows. “Here’s a cheap souvenir. Sign away.” Instead of meeting others’, her eyes remained on the unassuming bottle.

“Spin the bottle.” Breaking her little trance, her head turned towards the youngest member of the group. “We had a game like that back then.” Picking it up at last, she put the bottle on the nightstand to stop its annoying twirling. “I guess you are too young to know it.” Although she didn’t like admitting she belonged to an older generation, it escaped her mouth still.
 
"An eidetic memory can be a blessing sometimes, I suppose, for remembering faces and places should you want to draw, paint or sculpt them later. It was certainly a blessing in school to only have to read a text once, or hear the teacher talk, and it was forever etched into your memory. It is certainly quite enjoyable to be able to recall every last detail of your first kiss, from the taste of the other's lips and saliva, salty and sweet with a fatty texture from her indigo lipstick, how I initiated it, how her hands ran down my back and how my left hand sought out her right breast and my right hand rested firmly on the back of her beck, and how long it lasted to the weather on the day, one of those overcast days when the rain won't come down but hangs in the air, what clothes you wore, baggy grey cargo pants, a dark purple button down shirt, white cotton boxers and no bra, she wore a deep red t-shirt and cut off dark blue jeans shorts I never found out the colour of her underwear that day, the scent of the candles flickering on the table, rose petals and sandalwood with just a hint of artificial vanilla, and of course paraffin vax, the colour and fabric of the bedspread, a burning Gibson ES 330 on black 200 thread Egyptian cotton ... but it can also be a curse because you remember the moments you want to forget with the same clarity and the same level of detail," Molly replied to Connie and then busied herself with sorting through her artwork while listening to Heather debate airline policy regarding information and the separation of airline staff and passengers.
It did seem to Molly a bit like the actress was intent on starting some sort of quarrel with Connie in her role of the only airline representative which while it was perhaps quite understandable wasn't exactly fair. It wasn't Connie who had closed the runways and thus grounded every airplane at DFW. Molly also doubted that the airline hostess knew very much about when they would resume flights. She also felt it was a bit unfair of Heather to refer to Riley as Sir since it was clear that the awkward teen clearly would prefer a more gender neutral title like Mx.

A few moments passed as Molly heard Heather talking about compensations and refunds, mostly to herself but also to anyone in the room who wanted to listen. At the mention of spin the bottle Molly did look up from a self portrait she had made her senior year of high school where she had drawn herself with a small beard and moustache holding a glass of cognac out towards the observer.
"That's kind of like ToD right but ... like you spin a bottle to choose the one to carry out the dare or tell the truth instead, right?"
It was not an entirely unfamiliar party game to her. She had played it at several parties in her teens, along with other similar games like Never Have I Ever.
"It might perhaps be a fun way of spending the evening, killing the time before the skies clear and we can go on our merry ways again."
She then began to pack up her artwork again, carefully sorting it exactly the way it had been before except she placed the autographed drawing of Heather on the top of the pile before closing her portfolio.
 
Riley felt happy after the comment Connie made, but that happiness quickly gave way to embarrassment and annoyance after Heather’s Sir comment. She must have noticed Riley’s bulge, earlier, but Riley hates it being pointed out. Riley felt themselves blushing, and refused to look Heather in the eye, and instead focused on Molly.

“I’ve heard of Spin the Bottle, even if I’ve never played it. It’s in enough movies, that it’d be hard to not hear about. At my parties, we usually played card games or never have I ever.” Riley’s tone was more curt than usual, and they stayed focused on Molly, despite answering Riley’s question. Riley started drinking more, hoping to drown out her embarrassment. “A party game does sound like fun. I’m not sure which one would be best?”
 
Constance entered the shower troubled. She was hoping that the four of them would get along like peas in a pod - she genuinely like each and every one of them. But Heather was proving just a touch... difficult? The ultimatum was there - reveal the secrets of the guild, or be held forever at a distance. It wasn't quite fair - she wasn't in control of the weather, and she still had obligations even when she was out of uniform. She was sure Heather had signed an NDA or two in her career. And that little crack at Riley was the mother of all cheap shots.

But showers have a way of washing away one's cares, especially when one has been flying from sunup to late night. And over her career, Connie had developed the ability to let these things roll off her - if they didn't, she'd have died a nervous wreck years ago. So when she came back out of the shower, she was refreshed and her smile was firmly back in place. She hastily threw on her underthings, blouse and skirt, and sat with the others, between Molly and Riley and across from Heather, completing the circle even as she rescued yet another bottle of something brown and sharp from the confines of the mini-bar. The hotel was going to be regretting that concession in the morning. Or not - the markup they put on the stuff in the fridge was highway robbery, so they'd make their money back soon enough anyway.

"So we're talking about games, are we? I was always partial to Seven Minutes in Heaven back in the day. Though..." Her eyebrow lifted just a little as she gave a pointed smirk at Heather. "There's a little diversion I learned on a night with my colleagues in Bangkok that you all might find fun. It's a bit of a trade secret, but I think I'd be willing to risk my wings over it... if you all are interested." Her voice raised up a bit, issuing a challenge along with the invitation.
 
Having put away her portfolio Molly grabbed another drink from the surprisingly large and well-stocked minibar, another bottle of wine and just for the hell of it, now that she had showered changed clothes and was fairly comfortable she grabbed a glass and poured most of the bottle into it as she sat back down next to Connie.
"Two truths and a lie was, and still is in a way, my favourite. It can be quite revealing," she said and took a moderate sip of the wine.
"And quite embarrassing if you let it."
She leaned back and placed her right arm along the back of the couch which placed her hand about level with Connie's right shoulder.
"There's a variation on it that I think is called Bull or Bare, kind of like a combination between two truths and a lie and strop poker. Everyone tells a story in turn and the other have to guess if it is true or not, the loser lose an item of clothing."
She took another sip of wine and looked around the group, from Heather to Riley and lastly at Connie, taking in not only their facial expression and reactions but also their forms and body language. There was a certain amount of tension hanging between them.
"I mean personally I'm a big fan of sleeping but I think we need to find something to do to kill time until whatever the fuck that is outside stops and we can all go our merry ways and a party game of some sort could be a good way. But first though ... I at least am curious about what Connie learned playing seven minutes in heaven with her colleagues in Bangkok."
 
Reading minds, piercing through the invisible fog of thoughts that surrounded one’s head; although Heather possessed no such mystical gift, it wasn’t exactly difficult to guess that her newfound companions’ impressions of her were rather negative, even if no one had really vocally expressed such a concern. However, just because she was an actress, no one should have expected her to play the role of the friendly and carefree roommate as she wouldn’t shy away from performing her understanding of freedom of speech. As long as the others respected her though, which they had so far, she didn’t really need random strangers’ love.

Erecting herself up on the bed, the woman assumed a sitting position over the edge of the soft furniture. It appeared to be that the mention of a dated party game didn’t fail to trigger a small discussion across the hotel room. While the young student didn’t seem to have the courtesy to look at her while responding to her, Heather did the opposite. Her sharp gaze stabbed Riley as she talked to the girl without uttered words, like a witch casting a silent spell. And if the situation demanded of it, she could be quite wicked indeed.

“They are not really about playing a game though, are they?” Heather expressed her point of view on such party games. “Picking on the new girl, nudging new relationships, matchmaking. Even an excuse for naughtiness.” A few items regarding what she thought these games were really about. Certainly quite different from a game one would play with a deck of cards.

As some of the others had pointed out, such games were depicted in films frequently as well, something she could say a thing or two about, in fact. “They are mostly used in films as a rather cheap device to move the plot.” Heather explained. “Like that dreadful flick I made back in the day.” With the return of the jolly air attendant, she glanced across the small group of people against her. “I reckon you would love that one.” The woman claimed. Not necessarily because she had appeared topless in that one, but since her character suffered a most horrible death a little after the midpoint of the film.

Hardly familiar with the closet game Constance mentioned, she couldn’t guess much about that puzzling revelation the stewardess seemed to have made in Bangkok. Considering the meaningful smirk the woman had flashed at her though, she doubt it was something very innocent. If it was indeed sex related, and her partner had lasted only seven minutes, she herself couldn’t have considered it a very heavenly discovery, so to speak. It would surely make a funny tale though.

While she solely got to enjoy the softness of one of the two beds in the room, the others shared the same couch in front of her. And while she didn’t mind having her own corner in the room, she couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable to have them grouped against her like that. “Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda…” Heather called out as she got to her feet. “I’m all ears.” Claiming she would be listening to them still, she walked towards her luggage to collect a bag from it, and to find herself a new spot at the dressing table.
 
Riley felt a bit unnerved by the stare of Heather. The stare felt familiar and unpleasant, similar to the way many strangers looked at them when they were trying to figure out what was Riley’s deal. Riley hoped to escape these stares in California, but they could put up with them for another night.

Riley continued drinking, and responded. “I have played two truths and a lie, but that was mostly as an icebreaker. I have definitely never played bull or bare, but it sounds interesting.” Riley had a tendency to avoid strip games. Drunk high schoolers tended to make rude comments about their body, especially the boys. But Riley was open to trying new things, especially drunk and with beautiful people.

Riley looked at Connie curiously, “so what is your game, Connie?” Riley still avoided eye contact with Heather, and chose not to respond to her comment on ulterior motives of party games. Riley thought to themselves, some people just want to have fun and get to know each other better. There is no need to see the worst in people.
 
Connie sat and sipped, a bit consumed by her own thoughts as the others put in their two cents. "Yes, games are more than just about the playing, I suppose." Heather did have a point. "Still I think we can trust that our intentions are... well, pure's probably not the word to use here... but good. Mostly good. Four new friends having fun." She shrugged, moving onto the next question. "Much of what I learned from Seven Minutes was... Well mostly I guess I learned what I like. And there's quite a bit of variety there. And volume. I hope you all don't think the less of me for it." Her eyes followed Heather around the room as she pondered the question heavy in the air. How could she convince the woman that it wasn't three and one, but just four. Everything she had tried so far had largely failed.

It came as a surprise that her own promised secret was already out. "You've played it? How unfair, Molly! That was exactly what I had up my sleeve." She fake pouted a bit. "Oh well, maybe having someone else know the basics will make this easier. So... Bull or Bare - basically the idea is that one of us bares themself psychologically while the other three return the favor by baring themselves physically. That's the Bare part. The Bull... well that's the other half of the fun."

Connie paused for just a moment to let it all sink in. She'd never be half the actress that Heather was, any more than she'd be half the artist Molly was or half the genius Riley was. She didn't mind. Being the cross between Camp Counselor and Not-Head Cheerleader that she was suited Constance just fine. But she could go for a little drama - enough to work for Southwest, anyway.

"OK, so here's the rules. We've got stories, I'm sure of it. I've got 'em. I can't imagine Heather doesn't have a few tales to tell. Riley's got a few of their own, no doubt, and Molly's got hers too. So we start sharing - the more outlandish, the better. We relish in them - we share like we've never shared before. Nothing's off the table. But here's the trick - maybe your story didn't really happen. That's for the other three to decide. After one of us tells, the rest of us each get to decide if it's true or not. If it is, we take something off as tribute to the storyteller. Thus Bare. If we don't, the one who smells something fishy calls Bull. "

The stewardess stretched out a bit more, making herself comfortable as she leaned against the bed. "Now if the story is a lie, then the Challenger gets to take something off the Pretty Little Liar, and as extra reward for taking the risk, gets to take an additional item off the person of their choice. If the story's true, however, then it's the Storyteller who gets to strip something off the Challenger and the second party of their choice. Now we'll have to play by the honor system as to whether a story is true or not, but I think we're all trustworthy. We'll just have to swear it now. So if you're game, put your hand in the middle and repeat after me," she started, extending her arm towards the circle which she hoped now Heather would join. "I hereby promise to answer any challenge truthfully by my honor and that of the Sisterhood of the DFW Airport Sheraton Suite, so help me the God who got me stuck here in the first place."

Her smile was bright and yet a little mischievous. After all, one hour ago the four of them were perfect strangers. But the night was young, and promised to be interesting no matter what happened next.
 
Because of the small amount of short-sightedness she happened to have, Heather perhaps didn’t have the best vision, especially when she didn’t wear her glasses-which she rarely did-but she heard well enough. Albeit a bit selective, she had a good memory as well, her mind taking a note of things spoken in the hotel room as they were lines of a play that needed to be memorized. Admiring herself in the mirror was hardly a challenging task, so she had no trouble following the flight attendant’s words. Words that briefly explained the rules of a game, which she didn’t hear before. She had to give it to Connie. The charming stewardess’ explanation of the game had been made quite clearly, easy to understand. It shouldn’t be a surprise, however, a stewardess being a well-spoken lady, that is. Heather supposed they went through some training for that, similar to how she thought Connie must have been trained to almost always carry a happy smile on her face, if that didn’t come naturally with her upbeat personality.

“Have never heard of it…” The fact that Molly already knew about the party game in question meant it wasn’t an original idea that was invented by the flight attendant and her friends in Bangkok. Unzipping the small cosmetics bag she had with her, the woman pulled out a lipstick from the pouch. “I thought you did want to keep your little skirt.” Her claim was aimed at the stewardess as she could recall what Connie had said about using her imagination before she hit the shower not too long ago. Her lips slightly parted as the woman flashed a cheerful smile, not out of amusement however. The lipstick slowly ran across her lips as she swiped it gently, giving her lips some volume and a coral hue. Sharing little stories, unfolding small slices of one’s life, it didn’t sound to be a bad pastime. It could put her in a confusing situation though, since no matter how unbelievable, some of her so-called stories were in fact true. Only, they happened in front of camera and for an audience.

From the looks of things, regardless of if one had told a lie, or spoken the truth, someone would end up with less clothes. It was a strip game alright, embellished with storytelling. According to the rules narrated by the flight attendant, Heather failed to see the advantage of not just telling the truth however. Of course, the sheer success of fooling an audience would have been enough to satisfy any actress, but she doubted the others had this same ulterior motive. Despite what puzzled her mind though, she didn’t voice her concern to allow Connie to finish. “You are forming a little cult over there, I see.” The woman mocked the ceremony Connie tried to establish, unsurprisingly not rising up from her seat to put her hand. Instead, her fingers worked on her eyes. Dark eyeliner gave them thin wings, black mascara improved the thickness and length of her lashes to make her eyes pop more, as if wearing her warpaint for an upcoming conflict.

Finally turning on her seat, Heather eyed the other three. Despite her almost contemptuous demeanour, she didn’t really doubt anyone’s honesty. Not being a bashful woman, she wouldn’t be afraid to involve in a game of Bull and Bare. “Good. I can’t help but wonder though…” She started. “Shouldn’t there be an additional perk to encourage lying.” And lying in question here was in quotes. As it was now, she didn’t see anything that would reward the risk of fabricating a faux story. “Like a task to impose upon a certain believer.” If the opportunity knocked, she would have adored instructing others. “Someone of raconteur’s choice.” Heather’s now-more-enchanting eyes gazed upon the members of the sisterhood before her. Searching for a hint of concern on their cute faces. If she had found one, to make a note of it, for later.
 
Molly smiled apologetically at Connie for having in a way ruined her story of the presumably rather debauched trade secret shared byt a group of Airline hostesses in Bangkok. It was funny though how most party games almost always seems to have been invented by someone else and yet for each of them there must have been a first time, a first time a group of high school friends spun a bottle at a sleepover or a party and used it to have their first kisses and gropes, a first time when someone chose truth and answered a presumably embarrassing question or took a leap of courage and chose dare, possibly in the hope of getting a bit of first or second base action out of it, a first time for someone to have spoken the words Never Have I Ever in the context of getting their friends to drink and reveal an embarrassing truth about themselves. She wondered if the inventors of either of these party games could be actually be determined. It was probably as impossible a task as finding the origin of a certain joke or any number of urban myths. Or even which of them had come first.

The one time she had played the mentioned game had been at a house party at university when someone had first suggested a strip version of Two Truths and a Lie and someone else had started explaining the rules of Bull or Bare to the group of highly inebriated students gathered around the dorm's common area. It had been decided to give the game a try and some hours later when all clothes had been removed a game of Truth or Dare had been added to it, instead of just stripping the loser of each round had been given the choice and Molly knew that at least one virginity had been lost that night, not her own though, that was long gone by that time.

Despite already starting to feel the effects of the drinks she had had that evening she got up and raided the fridge again while letting Connie lay out the rules of the game the way she and her colleagues had played it. She also watched Heather, seemingly disinterested apply a bit more make up than a night in a hotel room with three strangers might call for but she supposed that being a semi-famous actress she was naturally concerned with her image and how she presented herself. Although, Molly had a feeling that as the night progressed Heather would let her guard down and reveal herself to them in a way she might not have revealed herself to anyone in quite some time.

She nodded at Connie and mentioned that even among friends a game like this would have to be based on the honour system, if a story was untrue then the one who told it must admit as much and also that the other players must accept the veracity of that reveal, just as they must accept it as true if the storyteller claimed it was. She then squatted down close enough to Connie to put her hand in but before she began repeating the oath she gave Heather a chance to voice her concern regarding the fact that a true story would have the same effect on the other three as a false one and it was a concern she agreed with. She then looked up at Heather who still remained on her bed and smiled.
"I assume there will have to be rules and limitations as to what these imposed tasks can or should consist of," she said and looked from Heather to Connie and then to Riley.
To ask someone to perform an embarrassing task was one thing but there was a line between embarrassment and humiliation that she didn't want to see being crossed. And as she was sure the other three already knew, every person had their own limits for how far they would go in such a situation.
"Perhaps a rule of veto, where the one asked to do a task they feel would be humiliating to them, or result in a humiliating reaction from the others, can refuse and ask for another task to perform?"
 
Riley was feeling fairly tipsy at this point in the night, and had no desire to be a wet blanket that refused participate. Bull and Bare sounded like an interesting game, and at its core it was just exchanging stories, which Riley always enjoyed. And Riley had to admit, they enjoyed the thought of watching the others strip. The commands were a little much, but fortunately Molly added a veto rule.

“Sure, sounds like fun,” said Riley while extending their hand into the center with Connie. “Sounds like a great way to get to know each other. I like Molly’s option for a Veto. I also think we should also promise not to repeat anything that we hear today. That will let us be more free with our stories, and I’m sure everyone can appreciate the privacy.” When Riley said that, she looked back at Heather with a soft smile, since she probably had the most reason to want her privacy. But even Riley didn’t Want any of her past stories to get out at their new school. Riley needed a clean break.

Riley looked back at Connie, “since this was your idea Connie, do you mind starting?” Riley definitely didn’t want to tell the first story. The first story would set the tone for the night, and the first person would probably be at a disadvantage in the long run. It was better to hear what kind of stories others told, before Riley tells their own.
 
Connie sat for a moment and considered. Each of her three new roommates had come up with a request that required attention. Heather first. "Hmm, you have a point there. There needs to be some incentive to lie, other than the thrill of it all. And it would also give more incentive to challenge in the first place." Another few seconds was followed by a nod. "All right. The reward for slipping a lie past all three other players is a dare of the storyteller's choice to the person of their choice. Subject," she added with a nod to Molly, who had been the first to see the danger inherent in the clause, "to the veto of the person receiving said dare. I think if we all commit to go outside of our comfort zones, there's no harm in ensuring we don't venture farther than we feel we can in good conscience."

And that left Riley's ask. Which Connie figured was only fair and right. She was the one that propose the game in the first place; so she should be the first to tell a story. "I can go first honey. I think I'd like that truth be told." First she held her hand in the middle, waited for the others to join her, and then intoned, "I Constance Jeanette Meadows, hereby promise to answer any challenge truthfully by my honor and that of the Sisterhood of the DFW Airport Sheraton Suite, so help me the God who got me stuck here in the first place."
 
After a short moment spent glancing across the gathered group of fun-seeking gals, Heather turned back around to face her true love, her own reflection in the mirror. Spoiled by fame at a young age, vanity was a sin she was guilty of committing frequently. No one could have really blamed her though. While some enjoyed emptying the little bottles in the fridge, some could very well kill some time preening herself a little.

“No one would jump off a cliff because someone told so, dear.” Despite her apparent mockery, the opposition to the idea proposed by her was understandable. “All right. No tasks then.” Heather pulled her offer back. After all, if people were already thinking about the possibility of being ordered to perform a task that would greatly disturb their comfort zone, instead of trusting the others players’ judgement about what would be too much, then it wouldn’t be a good idea to implement a dare into the game. Similar to how a game of Truth or Dare didn’t have such a concern. But again, those were played among friends who knew each other to a degree, and in that case, it was the player who chose to be dared by another anyway.

“The fooler, if I may say so, can just wear an article of clothing back.” Heather presented a safer option instead, since she thought having an official right of veto would diminish the effect, for her anyway. Other than that, people seemed to be interested in participating the flight assistant’s game, and willing to take the oath of honesty, when they were expected to be honest, of course.

“Yeah, yeah. Help me god. Forgive me, for my arm is not that long.” Heather leaned in closer to the mirror, not taking the steps necessary to place her hand on top of others. “I can promise though.” Using one finger, she did some adjustments to her lipstick, although it looked quite even anyway. “I wouldn’t shy away from undressing myself.” It had been quite a while since she conquered stage fright. “Or you for that matter.” She suggested.

Being the one who suggested the game in the first place, it made sense, for the jolly airhostess to start the game off. Heather didn’t really mind who told the first story of the night. If asked, she wouldn’t have minded doing it herself as well. “Well. Go on, sister.” Heather turned on her bum, ready to listen to Jeanette Meadows’ diary.
 
"I Molly Solveig Bloom hereby swear, by my honour, to answer truthfully any challenge against the tales I tell in this hotel suite so help me Freija goddess of love, fertility and beauty as well as the biggest slut of the Norse gods and Tor as well I suppose since it is thunder bad weather that has got me stuck in this hotel."
She had been about to say something about Heather's retraction of her suggestion of tasks when a rule of veto was suggested in response but in the end she realised that perhaps she had gone a bit too far in her caution and come across as distrusting of her temporary roommates. She did actually think Heather's suggestion was a good idea. Keeping a piece of clothing on as an incentive to actually tell an untrue tale didn't seem quite as intriguing, especially since the purpose of the game was to get everyone else naked. So with a smile in the direction of the self-absorbed actress she added to her plea: "I swear to not consciously ask for any task that would make any person present in this suite uncomfortable and will trust all co-sworn participants to do the same."
With that she gave a nod for the air-hostess to start the game off.
 
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