“I thought you said this was a surprise party? I came dressed as a surprise, baby.”
Penny grinned while Irv stood blinking in the doorway, similarly underdressed in naught but an apron, which read SERVICE CHEF, NO PETTING in very official-looking capital letters. He started giggling uncontrollably as his stoned brain caught up.
“Oh my God,” he gasped. “Don’t tell me you came all the way over here like that!”
She grabbed the handles of a pair of paper shopping bags, one of which contained a hastily folded raincoat, as she slipped inside. She set them both gently on the kitchen table before giving the host a clammy hug. Irv made a noise halfway between a yelp and whimper that made Penny snort with laughter.
The party was already in full swing, with most of the other guests congregated in the bedroom with the birthday girl. The gentle, wordless beat of downtempo permeated the apartment, along with the alluring aroma of gumbo simmering on the stovetop. A peal of laughter escaped from the back, along with what sounded like a particularly spirited orgasm. Penny nodded approvingly.
Arlo was reclined on the couch, clad in nothing but an unbuttoned pair of boxer shorts. He had a lit joint in one hand, and a bottle of beer in the other, which he nearly spilled all over himself upon noticing who’d arrived.
“Oh, damn,” he exclaimed as he jumped to his feet. “I hope it’s my birthday next!”
“Wait your turn,” Penny scolded playfully, cupping his cheeks while they exchanged a brief squeeze. “You can’t have two birthdays in one year, playboy, this ass isn’t built for that.”
“Won’t know unless I try,” shrugged Arlo as he offered her the jay, which she gladly accepted. “You bring the good stuff, Penny?”
“Of course I did,” she scoffed, lifting a glass tray from the other bag while she took a drag. Inside, rows of glistening black and brown gems sat nestled in tiny paper cups, with a single white piece enthroned at the center of them. Each was slightly different, marked with green and blue fondant on the top. She suddenly had their full attention.
“Two hundred milligrams each,” she exhaled. “The milk ones are nougat and the dark ones are buttercream.”
“Whoah,” said Irv reverently, admiring the craftsmanship. “So what’s the white one?”
“The white one is the real gift, so no touchies. That’s a double-dose apple pie truffle for the currently celebrated.”
“You’d better go feed that to Gemma before she fills up,” Arlo smirked. “She’s been getting stuffed back there.”
“What, she can’t do it herself?” Penny asked, raising an eyebrow. Irv chuckled, shaking his head.
“Gemma’s being waited on hand and foot tonight,” he said. “She hasn’t left the bed, mostly on account of being strapped to it.”
“Well,” considered Penny, “That’s slightly different.”
“Is that Penny?!” shouted Gemma from the bedroom. “Tell her to come back here so I can have some birthday cake!”
They exchanged a silent glance before cracking up.
“You heard the lady,” snickered Arlo, making a grand sweep of his arm towards the open door. “Don’t worry, we kept the seat warm for you.”
Gemma’s medicated birthday present is the spitting image.
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