The Anarchist (Bimbo Note)

 18/25

This is a continuation of my Bimbo Note story. The rest of the captions are in order on my index page

Dull, dull, dull... Even the drinks are boring, Azalea thought as she slugged on another glass of house wine from her spot next to the cloakroom. The wedding reception should have been in full by now – an orgy of drunken karaoke, slurred speeches and future regrets, yet the scene before her was as sterile as a 90-year-old's dick – polite toasts, rehearsed dances, sincere messages in a guest book, and worst of all, one of those gimmicky photo booths. Not even the gaudy pinks of the room's drapes and velvet carpets could add colour to the event.

She couldn't remember how she came to be invited to the union of the newly minted Mr and Mrs Frost – some cousin of a cousin maybe – but her plan to drag home a drunken wealthy grooms-man or two was fading by the second. She had incorrectly assumed that the inclusion of distant relations such as herself meant a big budget and similarly rich suitors, however, the vibe from the department store suits and sweaty 20-somethings was poor...poor and dull.

Grabbing two more glasses of wine from the tray of a nearby waiter, she surveyed the cloakroom for a coat she could sell to at least make her coming worthwhile. An impossibly grey middle-aged woman caught her eye – she was standing near the guest book and waving frantically for some kind of help. Apparently, the pen provided had ran dry. Couldn't be any dryer than this party, Azalea muttered under her breath, even as an idea started to form in her mind. A fiendish, terrible majestic idea.

Azalea found her own trenchcoat from the rack and pulled the leather tome from the inside pocket along with the pen that always accompanied it. “I have a pen,” she strode over to the woman with it held out like a sabre before letting it slip from her grasp at the crucial moment. As the woman bent to retrieve it, Azalea quickly scooped up the guest book and replaced it with the Bimbo Note open to a clean white page. “Enjoy!” she smiled sweetly and melted back into the crowd of people.

Azalea knocked back another six glasses of wine as she watched the chaos slowly to simmer into outright anarchy. The stiff suits and off-the-rail dresses started to fade into a posse of large breasted young women dressed in stockings and platform heels. Thinking someone had ordered strippers, the more uptight guests headed for the exit, signing the guestbook before they left, further feeding the scene until the dance floor looked like something from the Playboy Mansion rather than a wedding reception.

“Wait for me!” Azalea plucked another wine glass from the tray of an open-mouthed waiter and danced her way over to where three of the former guests were getting increasingly handsy with one another. She kissed one on the mouth before pouring a little wine between two plump glossy lips, letting a little of the red liquid spill onto the massive breasts below. “Let me help you clear that up!” She said, pushing one of the other bimbo's face towards the soaked pair of tits.