Jules 4.0 Juneteenth

 

It was Juneteenth, June 19th, and the mall buzzed with energy as you took Claire and Jules to Victoria’s Secret to buy swimsuits for the upcoming Fourth of July barbecue at your house. Claire and Jules had kicked off the day with brunch, where they’d each had a couple of mimosas, leaving them barely tipsy as you entered the store—their laughter a little too loud, their steps slightly off-kilter.

Claire wore a new outfit: a flowy, off-shoulder sundress in a soft lavender shade, the hem fluttering just above her knees, cinched at the waist with a thin belt. Her gray lace bralette peeked out when she moved, and she’d paired the dress with white sandals, her dark hair loose in waves, her cheeks faintly flushed from the mimosas. Her green eyes sparkled with a mild buzz from the two drinks she’d sipped over brunch. She felt relaxed, her limbs light and her thoughts pleasantly fuzzy, like the edges of the world had softened just enough to make everything funnier.

Jules had chosen a new skirt—a high-waisted, black denim mini that hugged her hips and ended mid-thigh—paired with a white crop top, no bra as usual. Her red curls were in a high ponytail, swinging as she walked in chunky black sneakers. She was giddy, her body tingling with early tipsy warmth, her mind racing with playful ideas but not yet sloppy.

Both women were sipping from tumblers of spiked lemonade.

Inside Victoria’s Secret, Tessa greeted them from behind the counter, her blonde bob neat, her navy pleated skirt and black crop top crisp. She was sober, her movements steady as she waved. “Red! Claire! You’re back!” she called, nodding to you. “And the hot stepdad. What’s up?”

“We’re getting swimsuits for the Fourth,” Jules said, her words softened by the mimosas, twirling her tumbler before setting it on the counter. “Gotta look fire for the barbecue. You’re helping, right?”

Tessa raised an eyebrow, glancing at the tumbler. “You two started already, huh? I’m dry as a bone—store was on my ass this morning. But I’m game to help.” She grinned. “Let’s find some sexy suits.” She led them to a rack of swimsuits but first pulled a bottle of tequila from under the counter. “I’m off soon. Let’s make this fun.” She poured shots into plastic cups, handing one to each. “To freedom and hot summers!”

Claire hesitated, her lavender dress swishing as she took the cup. “We’ve already had mimosas,” she said, trying to sound responsible but clearly tempted. Jules nudged her. “C’mon, Mom, it’s a holiday!” Jules downed her shot, wincing, her black skirt riding up as she bounced. Claire followed, coughing, and Tessa took hers with ease, her navy skirt flaring.

They started browsing, the tequila loosening them up. Claire’s steps swayed slightly, her sundress brushing her thighs as she browsed, her fingers lingering on a rack of bikinis. She felt a gentle hum in her veins, the drinks warming her skin and easing her laughter, though her head stayed clear enough to judge a good fit. Jules grabbed a neon green bikini with thin straps and a cheeky bottom. “This screams me,” she said, her speech slurring after her second shot. The drinks had her buzzing, her chest light and her thoughts fizzy, like she could float if she tried. She swayed, her sneakers scuffing the floor, giggling as she leaned against a rack, her limbs tingly and light.

Tessa, still sober, smirked as she pulled a red one-piece with a plunging neckline for Claire. “This screams you,” she said, handing it over. “Sexy mom vibes.” Claire took it, giggling softly, the mimosa glow making her bold enough to try it. Tessa’s sobriety kept her sharp at first, her hands steady as she rifled through racks, but that didn’t last.

Tessa, on her large second shot, felt the buzz creeping in. She decided to join the fun, picking a red bikini with gold trim—halter-style top with a tie-back, high-cut bottoms with gold rings at the hips. “I’m coming to your barbecue,” she slurred, her neat demeanor unraveling—her bob messy, strands sticking to her forehead, her navy skirt riding up. “Jules, invite me. I’m… wobbly. Legs feel like jelly.”

“You’re in!” Jules cheered, her third shot hitting hard. “Barbecue at our place! You’ll look hot in that.” She stumbled into the changing room to try her green bikini, emerging with it on over her clothes, the straps askew. She spun, nearly falling, her body heavy and uncoordinated, her black skirt crumpled on the floor.

Claire found a patriotic bikini. “Gotta try this too,” she slurred, her voice softening. Jules, on her fourth drink counting the lemonade, swayed and also picked a patriotic bikini, the alcohol making her head spin and her body vibrate with energy. “Changing room! Now!” she demanded, dragging Claire and Tessa toward the back.

In the larger group changing room, the three women stripped, the tequila bottle passed between them. Tessa, now three large shots in, shed her skirt and top, standing in her black panties as she grabbed the red bikini with gold trim. “I’m modeling too,” she said, her words blurring as the alcohol hit harder. Her skin prickled with heat, her movements clumsy but carefree, the tequila washing away her restraint.

Claire took her third shot and slipped into the changing room, shedding her lavender dress to try the one-piece, its deep neckline plunging past her navel, her gray bralette discarded on the bench. Three drinks deep, she felt loose and giddy, her body swaying like she was on a boat, the room tilting as she twirled. “Look at me,” she laughed, her hair spilling over her shoulders. “I’m a mess, but a hot mess.” She stepped out, barefoot, the one-piece hugging her curves. “I can’t… feel my hands,” she slurred, her balance gone as she leaned against the wall, eyes unfocused, laughing too loud. The front shifted, a nipple popping out, her movements slow and sloppy as she tried to adjust it.

Jules stripped and wriggled into the patriotic bikini, its cut-outs exposing her hips and sides. Four-plus drinks in, she was a whirlwind—her head foggy, her limbs heavy yet restless, the alcohol making her feel invincible but unsteady. She spun, nearly crashing into Tessa, and grabbed the tequila for another swig straight from the bottle. “Fuck, this is fun,” she slurred, her freckles glowing against flushed skin.

Tessa, on her fourth shot, was the messiest. She stripped fully in the changing area, slipping into the red bikini with gold trim. “Look at me!” she giggled, tying the halter top with shaky hands, the high-cut bottoms showing off her hips—her tongue thick, her thoughts jumbled, her body buzzing with sloppy, happy energy. “I look… fuckin’ amazing,” she mumbled, giggling as she leaned against the mirror, smudging it. She tried to pose but buckled, sprawling on the floor, laughing uncontrollably, her head lolling. “I’m… wasted. Best… customers ever.”

You knocked on the door, hearing the chaos. “You three alive in there?”

“Barely!” Jules hollered, flinging the door open. She swayed in her patriotic bikini, Claire wobbled behind her, topless in just her bottoms, and Tessa staggered out in the red bikini, the tequila bottle dangling from her hand. “Daddy, we’re wasted. And Tessa’s coming to our Fourth of July barbecue! Right, Tessa?”

Tessa nodded, nearly dropping the bottle. “Hell yeah. Barbecue me up. I’m… so drunk. It’s great. We’ll get so drunk.” Her legs buckled, but she caught herself, laughing.

Claire leaned against you, her sundress crumpled inside. “They’re a bad influence,” she slurred, grinning. “But we got swimsuits. Mission… accomplished.”

You squeezed your wife’s bare boob. “You know you love it, and I love you,” you said, leading them back into the changing room to fuck before changing and paying for the suits.

After you’d fucked all three, you said, “Alright, drunk squad, let’s pay and get out before security hauls you off.” You helped Claire back into her dress, steadying Jules as she tugged on her crop top, and pulled Tessa to her feet, her red bikini still on under her hastily thrown-on skirt and top. “Tessa, you’re in for the Fourth—bring that energy.”

They stumbled to the register, Tessa ringing them up with shaky hands. The tequila had turned their shopping trip into a sloppy, joyous mess—Claire’s warm, floaty haze, Jules’ wild, spinning rush, and Tessa’s late-arriving, carefree stagger setting the stage for a Fourth of July barbecue none of you would forget. Well, truth be told, the girls’ memories would be a bit spotty.

You carried the bags as Claire and Jules stumbled to the car, swimsuits bought, Tessa invited to the barbecue. Claire and Jules collapsed into the backseat, their dresses and skirts askew, while Tessa took the front, clutching her tequila bottle. All three were wasted, their laughter fading into sleepy mumbles—a Juneteenth shopping trip turned drunken bonding session, priming a wild Fourth of July.