"No!" Peter screamed. "I won't let you touch it!"

"Don't tell me what I can't do!" Vanda yelled. "Where are my scissors?"

Peter squealed. Like a girl. Which he might be soon.

Phil threw the door open and charged inside. "Vanda, stop! You can't cut off a man's—" He halted, stunned to see Vanda standing behind her desk with her scissors poised on a sparkling red sheath.

It wasn't a dong. It was a thong. With a long sheath stuffed like a sausage.

Vanda's mouth fell open. "Phil, what are you doing here?"

He glanced around the office, noting that the three slender young men were fully clothed and regarding him curiously. "What are you doing, Vanda?"

Her cheeks grew pink as she lowered the thong to the desk. "I was conducting a business meeting."

"Vanda," one of the male dancers whispered. "Won't you introduce us to your handsome young friend?"

"Sure, Terrance." Vanda spoke through gritted teeth. "This is Phil Jones." She gestured to the other male dancers. "Terrance the Turgid, Freddie the Fireman, and Peter the Great."

"I remember you from the coven meeting," Peter said. "You thaid you would help Vanda with her anger problem."

"I don't have an anger problem!" Vanda pointed the scissors at Peter, then at Phil. "And I don't need your help."

Phil arched a brow at her. "As your sponsor, I suggest you put the scissors down."

She slammed them onto the desk. "You are not my sponsor."

Terrance smiled at him. "You can be my sponsor."

Vanda groaned. "Phil, we're trying to have a costume meeting here." She handed Freddie a thong that looked like a fire hose, and Terrance a thong covered with ivy.

Terrance dangled his costume in front of Phil's face. "Isn't it fabulous? I'm doing an ode to Tarzan."

"That's nice," Phil mumbled.

Peter made a grab for the red sparkly thong.