What Happens At A Yacht Party... (A vanillathunder Short Story)

The perils of pretty girl privilege...

 

I stirred awake as I felt sunlight streaming onto my face. Aw jeez, my head is killing me… And the room feels like it’s moving? What did I drink last night? And am I… outside? I quickly sat up and realized I was on the roof of a boat. Or more likely the top floor of a yacht. I scrunched my face as I tried to remember why I had the word ‘yacht’ in my head. Suddenly, I felt someone standing in front of me and I opened my eyes to see a young man, around my own age, wearing the stereotypical rich kid outfit of khaki shorts, and a button-down shirt with a sweater tied around his neck. He also seemed to be hungover too, since he was clutching his head and wearing sunglasses.

 

“Hey… uh, Miss, but the party’s over, so you’re gonna have to go.”

“Party? What part-... Wait, did you call me ‘Miss’?”

I looked up into his sunglasses and saw what was being reflected in them, namely a pretty girl in skimpy clothes, but even behind the makeup I could tell it was undeniably my own face! Suddenly a rush of memories hit me like a tidal wave and I remembered walking along the beach with my sister when this guy had handed her an invitation to his yacht party. She accepted it, but as soon as he walked away, she started to crumple it up. I tried to convince her to go, but she wasn’t interested, she wasn’t really a party girl. I, on the other hand, was always looking to find a good party, especially a party with money and rich girls interested in finding guys to date to piss off their dads, so I was very interested. But I knew I wouldn’t be allowed on the boat without my sister, after all, she got the invite because the rich kid thought she was cute, and he barely acknowledged my presence, so I pestered her all day to try to convince her to go.

 “He invited me cause he thinks I’m hot, that doesn’t mean I want to be around a bunch of sleazy rich douchebags! Besides, guys like that always think they’re owed something, and I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Come on, it won’t be that bad. If you’re worried about them wanting something, just flutter your eyelashes a bit and tease them, I’ve seen you do it before when it was something you wanted! I’ve been striking out this whole trip! We’re leaving tomorrow and I haven’t picked up a single girl, but you can just use your pretty girl privilege to have every guy falling head over heels for you when you don’t even want it! I just need you to open the door for me! You don’t even have to stay, just get me on the boat and you can probably duck out before it undocks!”

“Just get you on the boat? I think that can be arranged…”

After that, my much more amenable sister and I went to dinner and I’m pretty sure she slipped something in my drink because I definitely don’t remember sitting still for her to shave my whole body, straighten my hair, paint my nails, do my makeup or stuff me into one of her sluttiest outfits. I had vague recollections of stumbling onto the boat, unused to the heels, my sister smacking my ass as she wished me ‘Bon Voyage’ and then it was blank until I woke up a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, you looked like you’d pre-gamed pretty hard before you got here. You were the life of the party, in case you can’t remember. Very popular, too.”

He chuckled and I suddenly tasted something foul in my mouth and had a pretty good idea what he’d meant by ‘life of the party’ and ‘popular’. I suppose it made sense, I’d teased my sister about her “pretty girl privilege” for years, but what really bothered me was that I was what I’d heard a lot of girls refer to as “cute” or “pretty”, being praised for my eyelashes or other decidedly unmasculine features, which is why I had such bad luck picking a girl up on the beach. I couldn’t compete with the muscular beefcakes, I was just some gawky, gangly swimmer. Hence why I had to rely on parties just to get hot chicks to give me the time of day. I’d always feared I’d make a good girl and now here was the verification.

“But my parents don’t know that I took the yacht out last night, and they got back this morning, so I need you to clear out. ”

“Right…”

I did my best falsetto and stumbled down the stairs as he led me off of the boat. As I reached the dock I heard a whistle from afar and spotted my sister grinning at me. She lowered her sunglasses as I trudged towards her, my thong riding up my ass something fierce with every step.

“Hey, sis! How did the party go?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it…”

“That’s fine, I think I have a pretty good idea based on these pictures I found on Instagram.”

“What?!”

I grabbed the phone with my manicured fingers and started scrolling through the pictures. Thankfully, I didn’t have any memory of the debauchery I’d gotten up to, but the pictures told the whole story.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like anyone tagged you in them, and that one’s probably going to be taken down for violating the community guidelines soon…”

“This is the worst day of my life. I can’t wait to get back to our room, get out of this and… wait, this isn’t the way back to our hotel…”

“It’s not, Mom and Dad are meeting us for breakfast! I bet they can’t wait to find out what we’ve been up to, but maybe I wouldn’t mention everything. What happens at a yacht party stays at a yacht party, you know!”



So, this one was supposed to be a caption, but it got away from me and I couldn't figure out how to format it as a caption with this length, nor did I want to cut anything, so I decided to take a page out of Caitlyn Masked's book and do it as an Obscura! Or at least my version of that, see I even made my own header image and everything! And usually I'd have tried to find another image, but unfortunately, this was the only one in it's set that fit the story or that I felt comfortable using, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.