"No! Are you out of your mind?"
"Maya, please!"
"You've got to be kidding me, woman." Amaya Petterson looked at her best friend, Mary, and questioned if the demented plan she'd just heard came from her best friend's mouth or if she'd merely imagined the words.
"Please, Maya! Please, please, I need your help!" Mary sighed and looked at her. "You're the only person that I could think of who could achieve this—"
"Achieve my *ss."
"Please."

"Hmm! Wait a minute there," Amaya said, standing up and pacing her friend's huge, feminine bedroom. "It's the night before your wedding to Tyler, and you expect me to go to his bachelor party, invade it—discreetly, of course—and make certain he's not doing it with one of the strippers?"
"Yes."
"You are crazy!"
"I am." Mary nodded, her chin-length chestnut hair gently swaying against her exquisite jaw. "That just about covers it all. What could go wrong?"
"This is madness! But what this actually indicates is that you're thinking about marrying a man you don't trust tomorrow!" Amaya groaned.
"No," Mary answered, settling back on her bed, which was piled high with ruffled, too-bright-green pillows.
"What this means is that I know Tyler is a man."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Amaya groaned and watched her friend bite her lips.
"Amaya, come on. You know that old joke about the brain and the penis sharing the same blood supply, right?"
Amaya couldn't help but chuckle. Yeah, right! "And when the blood goes to the little head—"
"The big head can't think properly. And presto! Tyler’s a goner!"
"Seriously, Mary?"
"I’m serious here. I need your help!"
Amaya approached the window and looked out. This mid-November evening, leafless oak trees decorated the quiet suburban streets of Water St., Lewistown, just north of Montana. The two-story house across the street twinkled with multi-coloured lights. She'd flown in late from Los Angeles, almost missing the rehearsal dinner earlier this evening but arriving in plenty of time for the wedding itself. Tomorrow, at two o'clock in the afternoon, was the big day. She served as maid of honour.

Amaya and Mary had gone to boarding school in France. Her best friend had been as reserved and fearful as Amaya had been bold and daring. They'd handled their years away from home as roommates, becoming good friends in the process. Now, on what should have been one of the best nights of Mary's life, she was scared that her soon-to-be husband would be seduced to cheat on her.

Amaya sat in the window seat and used her fingertips to massage her temples. "God, I'm having a headache already."

"I know, and I owe you one," Mary smiled.

Amaya was getting anxious, which was a terrible sign. She despised violence, and Mary's ideas were no more than sheer war.
"Okay, okay! Run the whole thing to me again," she instructed.
Mary sat up more upright and glowed, saying, "Oh, thank you so much, you are an angel."
"Yeah yeah!"
Amaya beemed, "So okay. Tyler knows you're going to the ceremony tomorrow, but he's never met you in person, so he won't recognise you."
"Are you sure?" Amaya asked, raising her brow.
"I'm sure, and we can also fix you up with some kind of, um, makeup, a hairstyle, or something, you know, maybe a dark wig?"
"And?"
Mary smiled and said, "Well, I managed to find out where the party was tonight. It's just a couple of blocks from here, at Chase's residence. He's Tyler's cousin. You might head over there and come right back as soon as you were certain about—"
"There's no funny business going on." Amaya growled.
Mary took a big breath and said, "Yes. No funny thing happening with my Tyler."
"But I'm not sure if I can pull this off, Mary."
"Maya, you're a dancer, what could go wrong?"
Amaya rolled her eyes.
The bedroom was silent. Amaya was dumbfounded that she was thinking of doing this. Mary, on the other hand, drew out all her cards, even sobbing.
"Really, Mary?" She couldn't bear seeing her best friend weep.
"Please…"
"Okay, you win."
"And," Mary continued, "you told me about that dance performance where your entire troop wore only electric-silver body paint, so it's not as if—"
"I'm excessively modest about that part, and you know that, but I'm not stripping." Amaya concluded as she rolled her eyes again. She was a part-time dancer, and Mary knew that. She stood up and walked over to the bright vanity, where she sat down next to her best friend in the world. "But Mary, you do realise what you're asking me to do, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Mary's pure, dark brown eyes were solemn.

"Do you want me to tell you if I find Tyler having... you know, doing it with one of the girls, and if I tell you, are you going to call off the entire wedding?"

Mary halted, "Um…well—"

The grandiose wedding had been planned with no money spared. It was something that Mary's parents could afford. Amaya was aware that two hundred people were expected at church tomorrow to witness the marriage.
The exquisite flowers, the designer bridal gown, the sit-down dinner thereafter, the lovely cake, the country club celebration—Amaya was astounded by the amount of preparation and expenditure that was put into this wedding.

"Well?" Amaya inquired. "Would you call it off?"
"Yes. Absolutely I would! Well, I would call it quits! Because if I couldn't trust Tyler tonight, how could I build a family on such shaky ground?"
Amaya frowned. "You make a good point."
"Yeah, I guess so," Mary sighed.
"Jesus," Amaya said, feeling herself weak. She took a deep breath and said, "I'm going to regret this tomorrow."
"Of course not."
"Yeah, right. Okay, show me Tyler's picture again."
"Awww!" Mary encircled her with her arms. "I knew I could always count on you!"

"You better not regret this, Mary."

*****

Amaya hurried briskly along the suburban sidewalk late that evening, hoping she wasn't attracting too many glances. She was dressed in thigh-high red boots borrowed from Mary, a navy trench coat, and a red shawl over her head. On that head, however, she donned a black wig, curly and bobbed, courtesy of Mary. Her long, blonde hair was the polar opposite. The last thing Amaya wanted was for Tyler to recognise her when he stood at the altar with his wife tomorrow afternoon.

It's not every day that your maid of honour doubles as a spy. "D*mn it! I'm going to regret this," she murmured to herself.
She'd applied a bit more makeup than usual, including sexy dark mascara and gleaming bloody red lipstick. "I'm going for that L*dy G*ga thing and hoping I don't end up looking like the mummy," she'd informed Mary. Her best friend, however, had assisted her in getting dressed before sneaking out onto the balcony and down the fence on the side of the home, which she and Mary’s brothers had done several times as children because it was impossible to just go out the front gate.

The massive home was packed with friends and family from out of the city who were talking, laughing, and toasting the upcoming event the next day.
But as Amaya walked out of the beautifully illuminated house, lights blazing from every window, laughter in every direction, she questioned whether what she was about to do would put an end to this celebration for good.
Nonetheless, she recognised Mary's point. Why marry a man who was going to cheat on you the night before the big day? Why marry a man who doesn't have affection for you enough to be pleased by you alone?
These were difficult questions. She was about to give her best friend some difficult answers. Hopefully not.

Amaya took a slip of paper from her trench coat pocket and inspected the hurriedly sketched chart Mary had created for her. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and began walking north towards Tyler's cousin home. "Good, it wasn't difficult to locate Chase's residence," she murmured to herself.

The first red flag was the number of car parked in the round drive.
The seductive music wafting out into the night with a powerful, passionate beat was the second indicator. That, and a chorus of men laughing.
However, the tiny group of ladies crowded to the side of the house, passionately fighting. Amaya made the decision to go straight in.
"Hey, are you guys here for the party?"
The three women turned to face her. They were unsure, even terrified.
"Yes," said the brunette.
"What's wrong? Any problem?" Amaya said as she approached.

"Yes, big time. One of our girls couldn't make it. She got diarrhoea from a hamburger. Damn it! I told Daisy not to eat; she had to have that stupid burger."
"With more hot sauce," another brunette female said. "Silly really."
A redhead spoke up. "Yeah, and we don't think the guy who hired us will mind, but he insisted on four girls."
"Exactly what do you need to do anyway?" Amaya asked, believing she should be informed of what she was getting herself into. She was curious as to how far these ladies were prepared to go.

"Well, it's simple really. I mean, we strip down to our knickers, keep it as tame as possible. All fantasy stuff, you know? But classy and well, a little kinky. Then we wiggle and tease the groom quite a bit, but absolutely nothing too sexy, just a few kisses and all."
Amaya raised her brow. "Really? That's all?"
"Yes," said the brunette. "The man who hired us wished some really sexy twirling around, and I guess you could call it a striptease."
Amaya smirked, "The traditional kind?"
"Yes."
"Hmmmm," Amaya reflected. "Nothing kinky, like two girls going at it?"
"No, Chase made it very clear that the groom adores his bride, and as he said, nothing too nasty and too kinky. Just a little tease."
"Hmmm." For a brief time, Amaya pondered simply walking home. But she knew Mary would be confused.
"I will help you guys out," she eventually declared.
"What?" inquired the redhead. She had silky golden locks and a lovely face.
Amaya said, "What was your buddy's name again? The one who couldn't make it?"
"Daisy," the blonde answered.
Amaya extended her hand. "My name is Amaya, but everyone calls me Daisy."
"What?" said the third girl, who had dark red hair and intense eye makeup. "What exactly are you talking about?"
Amaya rolled her eyes. "Hey, you're missing a fourth girl, Daisy, and I need to get in there and play with those gentlemen."
"Why?" the blonde said, curiously. "What in the hell are you up to?"

Amaya briefly described her relationship with the bride as well as what Mary had requested she accomplish.
"Really?" waved the blonde, introducing herself as Helena. "Do you think Tyler thinks we're going to do that sort of stuff? We're from Montana Fancy Performers, and we have an image to maintain!"
"I don't think Tyler does," Amaya answered, opting to leave out the point that she'd not seen the groom. "To be honest, I think my friend, the bride, is a little nervous. Her first fiancé turned on her right after he proposed, and she found him in bed with an old lover at his home."
"Really? What an ass," whispered Helena.
"I know." Amaya groaned.
"Jerk," the redhead Pamela added.
"She's better off without him," stated Nancy, the brunette who introduced herself.
"My thoughts exactly," Amaya remarked. "I'm really just doing this to amuse Mary, but I need to get inside."
"Do you dance?" Helena inquired.
"I do it all — conventional, dance, tap — I have a dance troupe called Silver Moon France in the Bay Area, and we've even danced in just body paint."
"Artsy kind?" Pamela inquired, evidently sceptical.
"And sexy?" Helena said, hoping.
"Yes." Amaya pulled her trench coat off, snapped her fingers, and began to dance to the rhythm coming from Chase's residence behind them. "Is this good enough?"
"Oh my god, those are some great moves," Nancy said. She cast a peek towards Helena. "Come on, Helena, you know this would save our bums. We don't have a choice. Amaya could help."
"I propose we let her join us," Pamela said. "Our boss never has to know."
"Okay. Whatever, fine with me," Helena claimed. She gave Amaya one final look. "Just stay next to me and let me know in case any of those men do anything nasty."
"Sure." Amaya murmured.
"I'll kick their *ss. Tell me if you aren't comfortable, okay?"
"Thanks," Amaya smiled. She liked them already.