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“You are actually daft.”
“No, mate. I’m a genius.”
“This is the dumbest idea I have ever heard.”
“It’s the greatest idea, and I’m going to be swimming in so much dick and pussy by Christmas, you won’t be able to find my body. I’m going to drown,” Archie says, miming swimming. She takes an imaginary cock out of the air and blows it for a second before tossing it aside. Then, holding her nose, she dives deeper, swimming below her barstool.
Her best mate, Lucius, rolls his eyes and kicks her lightly in the side to get her to stop fucking around. “You can’t just go to America and expect people to fall all over you,” he says.
Archie pops up and takes a swig of her beer. “That’s where you’re wrong. Those Americans will hear my sexy New Zealand accent and fall in love with me.”
“You don’t have a sexy New Zealand accent. Literally no one does,” Lucius remarks.
“Nah. Americans like that shit —the good ones like anything that isn’t American, honestly. I’m an Irish Indian from New Zealand; you can’t get less American than me. I can feel it in my clit, and you know my clit is psychic,” Archie says, running a hand through her long black hair.
Lucius looks as if he rolled his eyes any harder; he might strain something. “Regardless of your supposed pussy powers, which are unfounded and still untested, by the way,” Archie starts to interrupt, but Lucius cuts her off before she can, “where will you even go? I’ve never been to America, but I’m pretty sure it’s fairly big.”
Archie rests the lip of her beer bottle against her chin in thought, then takes her phone out of her pocket. “Hey Google, what is the drunkest city in America?”
“Pfft,” Lucius scoffs.
“Shut up. I want to hook up with people who know how to party,” she says, shushing him and trying to listen to her phone over the loud bar background noise.
A monotone voice from her phone responds, “While rankings vary by study, Milwaukee, Wisconsin is frequently cited as the ‘drunkest city’ in America.”
Archie closes the app and slides the phone back into her cargo shorts. “There you have it: Milwaukee!”
Lucius scrunches his face up with disgust. “Where, even, is that?”
Archie shrugs. “Fuck if I know, but it sounds like a good time! Watch out, Milwaukee,” she says, holding her beer up for a toast. Lucius reluctantly returns the toast with his cocktail, knowing full well that nothing will stop Archie once she’s on a mission. “Archie is coming for you,” she says in a sing-song voice, “and she has a psychic clit!”
🎁♥️🎁
Archie manages to get squeezed into an underbooked flight with a layover in Dallas at the last minute. Typically, a flight to America would set her back a couple of grand, but she scoped out last-minute deals for a few days and snatched one up as soon as the number was low enough.
She assumed she’d have to change for the weather, flying over in cargo shorts, a tank top, and jandals, but Dallas is surprisingly hot, so she forgoes it and has a nice dinner for breakfast at some place with authentic American barbeque. She always wanted to try it, and barbequing at Christmastime is a New Zealand tradition. It was pretty decent; she had to give the Americans that. Then she boarded for Milwaukee.
The Milwaukee Mitchell airport, though small, wasn’t much different than any other she had been in. What she was not expecting, upon leaving the lobby to hail a cab, in her cargo shorts, tank top, and thin jacket, was the absolute batshit weather. She checked her phone, and her weather app had the audacity to read out a disturbing -15 degrees Celsius. She looked around at all the other people standing outside, bundled up in so many layers that she couldn’t tell what the actual shape of the person under them was, even if she tried.
She pulled her roller back with her into the lobby and tried to warm up, then waited for a cab to pull up before bracing herself, pulling her pitiful excuse for a jacket closed (it doesn’t even have a working zipper, what was she thinking?!), and running to the cab, waving to get their attention.
They stop rolling down the lane when they spot her and pop out of the car to help put her bag in the trunk.
She jumps inside the heated vehicle. “Jesus fuck, bro, this weather!” she exclaims. “You have got to be taking the piss. You choose to live here?”
The cabbie laughs. “It’s better in other months. Well, that’s not really true. It’s nice from about May to September; otherwise, it’s kind of fucked.”
“The air hurts my face,” Archie says, opening her mouth wide and stretching her face, then rubbing her cheeks to warm them up.
“Where are you from?” he asks, turning the meter on. “And where are you headed?”
Archie hadn’t gotten that far in her research, mostly because she hadn’t done any research. “Eh. First off, New Zealand. Second, somewhere preferably queer friendly, nowhere dodgy?”
The driver, a middle-aged white man with a slight lisp, nods and points to a rainbow flag sticker on his dashboard. “Got it. My friends are at the Cactus Club right now. Queer-owned and operated bar and music venue. Not even that far from here.”
“Sound choice, mate. Cactus Club it is,” Archie says, relieved to find a friend of Dorothy so early in her journey. “You friends with any hotties, by chance, Cuz?”
The cabbie chuckles. He thinks about it for a moment, easing his cab into traffic and away from the airport. He smiles into the rearview mirror and says, "I don't shit where I eat, so I try to stick to dates outside of my friend group. That said, all of my friends are definitely out of my league.”
Archie laughs and sits back, lifting her legs to her chest to rub warmth into her calves. As they almost always are, jandals were a poor choice.
🎁♥️🎁
The drive to Cactus Club takes less than 15 minutes. Archie wonders if Milwaukee is more of a sprawling city or a collection of small villages, or both, and honestly can’t tell from the quick drive. They pass bars, churches, and houses, like any small town, but there’s a massive bridge, lit up in Christmas colors, and city lights in the distance that she can just barely make out through a haze of slowly falling snow.
The cabbie pulls up to the corner of an intersection with a bar that looks more like an old house than a club. There’s white wood paneling on the lower half of the building and gray wood slats on the second floor. A sign above the door swings slightly in the wind, a black and white image of a cow’s skull on a black background, and the words “CACTUS CLUB” underneath.
“Roach should be working the bar tonight. Tell him Pete says hi. He’ll know what that means,” the cabbie, Pete, Archie assumes, says. He pops out of the cab to get her bag from the trunk, and she meets him on the pavement.
“Good and gold, mate,” Archie says, taking her bag.
“You might want to invest in a jacket,” Pete suggests, looking her outfit up and down.
Archie chuckles. “Nah. You know what Saint Cardi B says. ‘A ho never gets cold,’” she jokes. She is, in fact, freezing, and needs to get inside immediately.
Pete juts his hand out for a shake and smiles warmly at her. “Your funeral,” he says, shaking her hand and then giving her a salute goodbye.
She waves back, then runs up the cement steps to the bar as fast as she can without slipping on the fresh snow. How do people live like this? she thinks. She reckons she’ll rifle through her bag once she gets inside and put on every article of clothing she packed.
A wall of heat greets her when she opens the door, and it feels like a hug. She sighs in relief and heads to the bar, thankful for the warmth, not to mention the warm atmosphere of the cozy bar. The walls are painted black, and the ceiling is red, closing the space in, but making it feel all the more cozy and welcoming. There’s weird artwork on the wall, probably local, and cow skulls hung up above the bar. A closed set of doors toward the back of the bar has glass panes showing a crowded hall and a band playing something with a fast, electronic dance beat and an alternative edge. A chalkboard sign with drink specials at the back says the band playing is “Lauryl Sulfate + her Ladies of Leisure.”
The bartender nods to her when she sits down. “How you doing tonight?” he asks. He’s a lanky black man with curly hair pulled back in a floral headband and sporting a scruffy 5 o’clock shadow. He wears a hot pink shirt for some indie band Archie has never heard of.
“I’m sweet, Bro. In town for a bit and want to experience the city. Pete just dropped me off, he says hi, if you’re Roach,” she says.
“I am indeed. Welcome to the city. Want me to keep your bag behind the bar?” he asks, glancing down at her luggage.
“Ta, Bro. You’re a legend,” she says, rolling the case around the side of the bar for safekeeping.
“What can I get you?” Roach says, and a towel appears seemingly out of nowhere for him to wipe down the bar top.
“What’s the go-to drink in Milwaukee?”
“If you really want to experience Wisconsin, then it has to be a brandy Old Fashioned. It’s the staple drink of Milwaukee. Sweet, delicious, and strong,” he suggests.
Archie gives him a thumbs-up. “Choice, Mate,” she says.
Roach slides a tumbler of brown liquid, garnished with an orange slice, across the bar to her.
“Ta,” she says and hands him her card. The drink has bright red, muddled cherries at the bottom. Archie takes a sip, and the warmth of brandy, a zing of orange peel, and the syrupy, saccharin sweetness of maraschino cherries course through her, making her feel warm and cozy. She glances around at the other patrons, and there’s a cute baby-faced man a few barstools away who is trying not to stare at her and failing. She catches his eye, and he turns away quickly. Even though he has darker skin, she can see him blush. She smiles at him, lifting her drink.
He chuckles and lifts his beer. “Sorry,” he says bashfully. “But I overheard you speaking to Roach. Are you from New Zealand?” he asks in a British accent.
Astonished, Archie beams at him. “Yeah, Mate, how’d you guess?”
The man picks up his beer and moves the two barstools over to sit next to her. “I recognized your accent straight away,” he says. “My partner loves New Zealand accents,” he adds, drawing the “o” in “loves” out playfully.
Archie’s shoulders drop a fraction. Damn it, all the cute ones are taken. Of course, he wouldn’t be single. And she clocked the “partner” instead of girlfriend, maybe gay too. She might be barking up all sorts of wrong trees.
“They’ll actually be here in a bit. Just enjoying the show with our girlfriend. I can’t deal with how loud it is back there. Oh, and hey, I’m Olu,” he says, reaching his hand out for a shake.
Archie tries to do the mental math of “partner” plus “girlfriend” plus “our” plus “Olu.”
“Hey, man. I’m Archie,” she responds, taking his hand in a shake.
He turns her wrist to the side and pulls her a bit closer to examine the sleeve of tattoos that travel up her bare arm and around her bicep. “Wicked tattoos, bet those have a story,” he says, eyes lighting up with curiosity.
Archie licks her lips, the sweet brandy lingering there, ready for someone, maybe even this teddy bear of a guy, to taste.
🎁♥️🎁
Archie and Olu get on like a house on fire. They’re so engrossed in their conversation that Archie doesn’t notice the gorgeous Asian woman sliding up next to Olu to order a drink until her slim arm drapes over his back. She’s decked out in a stunning, red leather jacket and a black mini dress, and her hair is up in two long pigtails with strategically placed slut strands pulled free to frame her face.
Olu turns to her. “Babe! Meet my new friend. Archie, this is my partner Zheng. Zheng, this is Archie. She’s from New Zealand,” he says, pulling the woman to his side so he can properly introduce them.
Archie has to take a drink of her beer because her mouth is entirely too dry. “Hey,” she manages to croak out once she’s swallowed a gulp of beer. “Just spinning a good yarn with your man. How was the show?”
Zheng tosses one of her pigtails off her shoulder and gives Archie a long once-over. Her sharp-as-fuck winged eyeliner and ruby red lips are so perfect, Archie feels like a dumpster fire in comparison. “Show was great. New Zealand, huh? You know who loves New Zealand accents?” she says, and she and Olu exchange a playful glance.
“I was just sayin. Is Jim coming?” Olu asks.
“Yeah, I thought they were right behind me,” Zheng says, and all three of them turn to see the person coming into the bar from the back room.
Time slows down. A slim person with sun-touched bronze skin, short, dark, curly hair, a fishnet top, a leather chest harness, black cross pasties covering their nipples, and black leather pants strolls into the room. Archie’s breath catches once again, and she has to stop herself from drooling.
“Hey Jim, come meet our friend Archie. They’re from New Zealand,” Zheng calls to them.
This deity incarnate strides right up to the three of them and makes a beeline right for Archie. “Step aside, mis amores. This round is on me,” Jim says, sporting a Spanish accent and stepping so close to Archie that she wonders if Jim is just going to go straight in for a kiss. They don’t, but it’s a near thing. Jim rolls their r’s in such a way that Archie wants to know if their tongue does that when they kiss, too. “What brings you to the Cream City?” they ask.
Archie is perplexed for a moment, wondering if “cream city” is an innuendo or actually what they call Milwaukee.
Olu catches the furrow in her brow and explains. “They call it that because of all the cream-colored brick buildings downtown.”
“Oh!” Archie says, finishing the last swig of her beer. “I thought you meant, like, cream, like, uh, it doesn’t matter. I’m here on vacation. Thought it’d be fun to visit the drunkest city in America, and this seems to be the place to be. My cabbie, Pete, dropped me off here.”
“Black Pete?” Jim asks.
“Nah, he was white,” Archie clarifies.
The trio laughs. “He just calls himself that. I think he’s sensitive about being the token white guy in our group of friends,” Olu says.
Archie remembers Lucius calling himself her token white friend once, and it makes her smile. She should call him, let him know she landed safely, and is hopefully about to get railed by the three hottest people on the planet. He should know.
“Don’t even have a place to stay yet,” Archie adds, fishing for an invitation. “Figured I’d find a motel or something.”
All three light up at the new information. “Motel?” Zheng and Olu speak at the same time. Jim looks back and forth between the two of them, and there’s obviously an indecipherable wordless exchange that happens before Archie’s eyes.
“There aren’t many motels nearby, and the ones near the airport are dodgy as fuck,” Olu says.
“You should totally stay with us,” Zheng says, beaming gloriously at Archie. Her perfect white teeth hypnotize Archie for a moment before she understands what Zheng said.
“Huh?” Archie asks.
“Great idea, babe,” Olu adds. “We all live together. You should come back to ours. Save some money, and, bonus, you won’t get robbed,” he jokes.
“I don’t know, I’m loving this top you have on,” Jim says, running a hand down Archie’s side. The top is a simple black tank with an abstract screen-printed design. Something Lucius had made for her when he was taking a screen-printing class. “Might steal it if you’re not careful,” Jim adds, smiling wickedly and leaving their hand on Archie’s waist.
Archie lets out a bi-panic nervous chuckle. “No worries, Mate. It’s yours if you want it,” she says, breathlessly.
“Then it’s settled!” Zheng announces. “You’ll come back with us?”
Dazed, Archie turns back to her. “Uh, yeah, ta. That’d be amazing.”
“Oh, but you’re forgetting,” Jim begins. Archie thinks they see Jim wink at Olu and Zheng. “We only have one bed.”
Zheng squeezes between Archie and Olu and extends a hand up to Roach, ordering another round. When her hand comes back down, it falls to Archie’s bicep and stays there. “We have a California king, she’ll fit,” she says nonchalantly.
“And you know,” Olu adds, “Our radiators have been on the fritz. Overheating the apartment.”
Jim’s arm travels behind Archie’s back and settles around her waist. “That’s right. It gets so hot, we can’t sleep with clothes on.”
“No?” Archie asks, looking up at Jim from their place on the barstool. Her heart is beating so hard it feels like it might pop free like a little alien chestburster.
Jim shakes their head, a faux expression of sadness on their face.
Zheng sighs dramatically. “We have to alternate who the middle spoon is, so no one overheats,” she says. Roach places their drinks on the bar, and Zheng distributes them.
Jim leans down to whisper in Archie’s ear, “Though someone always ends up on the top or bottom.”
Archie misses her mouth when she tries to take another drink, then wipes the drops of beer off her tank. “Uh…” she stammers. “That's not a problem.”
All three brighten and grin at her. “Great!” they all seem to say at once.
🎁♥️🎁
The bed shifts and Archie’s body sways just enough to rouse her from an exhausted, deep sleep. She cracks one eye open and surveys her surroundings.
There’s a cream-colored brick wall, covered in art, high ceilings, a tall window with at least ten plants on the windowsill, and more plants in pots on the floor nearby. Lying on her stomach, Archie’s field of vision only goes so far, so she rolls to her side and looks around. There’s an ornate lamp with a carved wooden lampshade on the side of the bed, and a red lace bra dangles off one side of it, having been recklessly tossed aside the night before. She recalls in brain-searingly beautiful detail how Zheng had shimmied out of her leather jacket and lifted the mini dress over her head, dropping it to show off a matching set of red lace bra and panties.
On the table to the side of the bed rests a black leather harness, a pretty, curved, orange dildo still in the front o-ring. Archie remembers that vividly as well.
“Anyone fancy a cuppa?” Olu’s voice calls from outside the room.
“Mmm,” a moan sounds from behind Archie. “¡Sí, por favor!” A slim arm snakes its way around Archie to pull her body little-spoon-style up against theirs. “Buenos días, mi amor,” they whisper in Archie’s ear, and her whole body shivers at the contact.
“Morning,” Archie whispers, shifting to look at Jim.
Olu’s head pops in through the bedroom door. “You too, Arch?”
“Yes, please. I'd bloody love a cuppa,” she responds, lifting her head to see Olu in a teal, embroidered silk kimono.
He winks at her before heading back into the kitchen. Beyond Jim, Zheng is still sound asleep, lying naked on her back, sheet falling to her waist, and gorgeous tits glowing under the light of a stray sunbeam. Her hair is piled atop her head in a messy bun, and she has one arm draped over her face, shielding her eyes.
Jim is looking down at Archie with a content smile on their lips. Archie’s mind strays to the look they had the night before, as their mouth traveled down Archie’s body. The look when Jim took a box of toys out and let Archie pick her favorite. The look Olu and Jim exchanged whenever Archie would say a particularly New Zealand-specific slang word. The look of bliss on Zheng’s face as Jim held a strong vibrator to her clit until she screamed. The look of satisfaction on Jim’s face when they took a water break, watching from the doorway, as Archie rode Olu’s cock and made out with Zheng as she sat backward on his face.
“Very buenos dia,” Archie says, knowing very little Spanish.
Jim chuckles.
“It’s a shame I’ll only be here until New Year’s. I can’t get more time off from work than that,” Archie says, her voice trailing off as Jim fixates on one of her nipples, bringing their mouth down to it and licking it lightly with the sharp end of their tongue. Archie’s breath catches. “Careful now, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Archie challenges.
Jim rolls her onto her back, pins her arms down above her head, and straddles her hips. “Oh, I can finish. We can both finish,” Jim says, alight with devious joy.
“Oi!” Archie yelps, struggling beneath Jim’s strong thighs.
Zheng groans next to them. “It’s too early,” she grumbles. “Play on the floor,” she says before rolling to her side and falling back to sleep.
Jim and Archie smile at the sleeping beauty, then fix their gazes on one another.
“Come back with me,” Archie says, without thinking.
Jim’s brows raise in surprise, their smile wavering slightly.
Fuck, Archie thinks, too much, too soon. “Uh, I mean, or like, all of you? But since you love New Zealand so much. And I could be, like, your guide, or whatever. And I could show you around. No worries if that’s fuckin’ stupid, just thought I’d offer, but really–” Archie rambles until she’s interrupted by a mouth covering hers.
Jim kisses her sweetly, more gently than the urgent, heated kisses from the night before. They sit back up, releasing Archie’s arms. “I’d love to come back home with you,” they say, like it’s simple. Like it’s obvious.
Archie’s next thought is interrupted by Olu entering the room, balancing three steaming mugs of tea in his hands and setting them on the opposite, dildo-free, bedside table.
“You two are a sight,” he remarks, checking Jim’s body out with an affectionate smile.
“I’m going to go back to New Zealand with the Kiwi for a while. That cool?” Jim says more than asks.
Olu hands them a mug. “All good, Mate. Sounds like it’ll be fun!”
Jim sits back on their heels, still resting on Archie’s hips, and sips their tea.
“You two are also welcome, of course,” Archie adds.
Olu dismisses them with a wave. “Nah, we’re saving up to visit Zheng’s auntie in China. Show Jim a good time though, yeah?”
Jim grins down at Archie behind their mug and grinds their hips down into her flesh.
“No doubt, Mate,” Archie says, lifting her hips a fraction to grind up into Jim’s body. Jim pushes their leather harness aside and sets their mug on the side table.
“Where were we?” Jim asks, leaning down to nuzzle into Archie’s neck.
🎁♥️🎁
Lucius waits at baggage claim for his chaos gremlin of a friend. He’s received a few texts and selfies of Archie partying, kissing strangers, and generally having what looks like the best time of her life. And he’s happy for her, he really is, if not a bit jealous that her insane plan actually worked out.
A dark head of hair pops up above the crowd of people headed his way: Archie, jumping up and down to get his attention. He waves to let her know he’s spotted her. She’s dragging her luggage behind her with one hand and holding hands with a gorgeous person of indeterminate gender with the other. This must be the Jim that Lucius has heard so much about.
Tailing the two of them is a bald man wearing an oversized camo backpack and a flannel button-down with the sleeves cut off. He’s got big, beefy arms and a leather arm band on one bicep. Please let that be a flag for being gay, Lucius thinks. Please, please, please.
Archie tackles Lucius with a bear hug, and he spins her around. “Luci!” Archie yells. “Meet my new mates. This is Jim,” Archie introduces, motioning to the incredibly hot person to her side.
Lucius takes Jim’s hand in a shake and is surprised at how firm their grip is. “Nice to meet you,” Lucius says.
Jim smiles, but looks slightly disappointed. “Not a Kiwi?”
Lucius scoffs. No one had ever complained about his British heritage before. “No, sorry, born on the wrong continent.”
“That’s a shame,” Jim says with a shrug, then steps aside. “This is my friend Pete. He’s never been out of America and wanted to tag along.”
Pete steps forward and embraces Lucius in a tight hug. “Jim doesn’t know what they’re talking about. I love your accent,” Pete says, picking Lucius off his feet for a moment with the strength of the hug. He pulls back, kisses Lucius on both cheeks, then puts him down. “That’s how you Brits say hello, right?”
“Uh,” Archie begins, looking between the two men quizzically.
“Yep, every time,” Lucius interjects. “We even kiss on the lips to say hello sometimes, if we’re feeling particularly friendly.”
Pete shrugs with his whole body, then surges forward and kisses Lucius on the mouth, cradling his face between his two meaty palms.
Lucius makes a surprised squeaking noise but is otherwise stunned silent.
Archie leans into Lucius’s side and whispers, “Pete is very friendly.”
The End.
🎁♥️🎁