Revenge

Then unbelieving, turning into sad. Finally plain mad. The cheek of it all. Staying out all night, coming home in the morning with what was feeble excuses, before owning up to having spent the night at some tart’s place. Not his words, that. He had slowly gotten to the point, which was that he intended to stay with this slut, and would she please pack her things and be gone, like, tomorrow?A year and a half of living together, and then, poof. All right. A year and a half of staying at his place, bringing mostly clothes and glass animals. He had resented the animals, but until now he had loved her clothes, especially the short and tight ones. Apparently what fit in the clothes could be exchanged at times. Fuck him. Melinda drew a deep breath and took stock of the situation. She was twenty–three, dark blonde, with smallish breasts and a modern slim body. He was twenty–eight, boyishly charming, and a total asshole. Which she hadn’t realized before now. Well, maybe at times. That time when… Melinda suddenly knew that this bitch was not the first. Woman’s instinct, way too late. But wishful thinking was a very strong force. Brian, you prick. All right. What to do? Tomorrow, he had said. No haste. She’d get some boxes when the shops opened, and Liz or somebody could drive her somewhere. Today she would enjoy the rage and fury. Like a woman scorned, she remembered some quote from school. You bet. She decided to get drunk, on his favorite wine. In blue sweater and jeans she sat on the sofa, put her bare feet on the table (which he disliked), opened a bottle and switched on the TV. She didn’t know what she was watching, but hearing voices was OK. She went through several options. Gun? Too quick, and she couldn’t get hold of one. Knife? She didn’t like to see blood. Sabotage his car? She couldn’t even open the bonnet. Strangle him slowly? She didn’t want to touch him again, ever. Sell his furniture? He probably was insured against such things, just in case, you know. Melinda fetched a mug of water as well. Drunk was OK– slobbering was not. Fill up, girl. She enjoyed a rerun of the gun fantasy, reveling in the pleading eyes and the regret, which came way too late. Boom. She wondered if she could cancel his insurance from tomorrow, and smash the whole apartment. But the neighbors might notice. She laughed softly at the thought. Excuse me, Melinda? What are you doing? Oh, nothing. Just rearranging. Oh dear. Is this really to Mr. Martin’s liking? Oh well, good thing she could still laugh about it. He had told her she didn’t know the other tart. Well, she could spy on them, and maybe strangle her slowly, making him watch. Bet she was a dumb blonde with sexy stockings and a plastic skirt, big boobs and too much lipstick. Serve her right. No, him. Melinda giggled. She had to pee. She remembered some guy on TV, when asked about plans for Saturday: Watch a stupid film, drink beer, piss my pants, and fall asleep on the couch. She giggled again. Good idea. She drank another glass of water, spread her legs a bit, and concentrated. Christ, this was difficult. Too proper of an upbringing. She tried to relax, spreading her legs even more, looking down at her crotch. Running water. Fountains. She poured more water, and suddenly the sound set the flow coming. It ran from her pussy, soaking the seat of the sofa, dripping on the floor. The flow stopped. She felt her wet crotch, surprised by a sudden arousal. –There, Brian, she said out loud, –I just pissed myself on your sofa. She moved aside so as not to sit in the puddle. She drank more wine, opening the second bottle, but going hard on the water as well. Soon she needed to go again. Okay, Mel, she told herself, there are other places. She left the bottle uncorked and went into the bedroom, feeling the wet on her butt. She took off her jeans and sweater, throwing them on the floor. She looked at herself in the mirror: The narrow waist, the slim hips, the white panties with the pee stain just visible. Brian was such a prissy. After a year and a half he still locked the door when he went to the loo. Oops, sorry, the bathroom. Once they had disclosed their most embarrassing moments. Melinda had been caught by her father smoking a joint in her room. Brian’s worst experience was wetting himself at six. Christ, at six! Melinda slipped under the blankets on his side. Was he ever going to be angry! She lay on her back, legs slightly apart, stroking her belly. The warmth and the touch made it easier to let the pee flow freely. She lifted her legs, pressing the blankets to her pussy, soaking them. Afterwards the plan formed in her mind. She showered, shaved her legs and armpits, and after some thought, her pussy as well. Brian had wanted her to for a long time, but she thought of it as being too sluttish. OK, now’s the time to be a slut. He wouldn’t get a chance to enjoy it, but she could tease him. She put on her shortest skirt and a tight halter–top. Nothing under. She drank some more water before she left for the restaurant area. She found him in the third place she looked. In his best suit he was sitting in a booth at the back, away from the eating area. The girl was actually quite beautiful, and far from the tart Melanie had pictured. She had brown hair to her shoulders, wore black stretch pants and dark red blouse, and looked a bit rounder than Melinda; maybe a year or two older. Melinda found a place behind his back, where she could watch the girl. Melinda had never seen her before, and counted on the girl not knowing her either. The girl patted his hand and rose. It was time for plan A. Melinda went over to him, smiling. –Brian dear! Astonished, he didn’t say a word. Quickly Melinda straddled his lap, feeling his crotch against her naked sex. –Darling, she smiled, lifting her skirt slightly, –look what I have done! His eyes darted from her face to her naked pussy and back. He was still unable able to speak. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, all emotion gone from her voice. –Brian, you prick, I think you are wetting your panties. At that she opened her sluices, soaking his crotch area completely. Before he could react she jumped off, shouting: –Brian Martin, what the hell are you doing? He looked down, turned white, and scrambled for the door. Melinda smiled at the astonished onlookers, smoothed her skirt (which was completely dry), and sat down. Here comes plan B. The girl returned, looking bewildered at Brian’s empty seat, noticing that jacket and wallet was gone. –I’m sorry, Melinda said, –but I thought this table was free. –But – Brian – –The guy in the suit? Oh, he just paid his bill and left. I think he went with some girl. –Shit. –Sorry? –Nothing. Oh yes, quite a lot, actually. Oh well. Might as well drink up. Feel free to join me. –Thank you, Melinda said, putting a little sadness in her voice. She signaled for a waiter. –I’m Melinda, by the way. –Tracy, the girl said, extending a hand. Melinda received her drink, sniffed, and looked bravely at Tracy. –Sorry, she said, –I’m a little bit upset. Be OK in a minute. –Like to talk? Seems I’ve got nothing else to do but listen. –Oh no, I couldn’t – –Come on. Girl talk. Melinda sniffed again, kept an eye on the clock, and told her story: The guy she’d been living with had ditched her, just like that. Then Tracy told her story, about the man who had pestered her for a date for three weeks, before she had given in yesterday, and even taken him home. And now, he had deserted her right here! He, who had been single for two years, couldn’t get enough, obviously! Single! The deceitful prick! Melinda’s plan was somehow to make a fool of the floozy, as well, but it seemed they actually were in the same situation, both been thoroughly lied to, and so: Plan C was forming itself. Melinda had put her hand on Tracy’s while she talked, giving sympathetic pressure when needed. Actually, tears came easily, but more from anger than from loss. Her life with Brian was finished. But there was one more thing she could do, and it wouldn’t even be pretending. She wiped her cheek, and smiled at the nice girl who was resenting her date more and more as she recalled manners and behavior she had reacted to, but tried to overlook. –Got to pee, Melinda said. –Want to come? Tracy squeezed her hand. –Been bursting for some time, too. Melinda rose, legs together, conscious of the fact that there was a mere inch of cloth covering her naked fanny. She cast a glance at Tracy’s rounded butt and the obvious signs of needing to go, feeling a short tingle in her own sex. Like many girls, she had had experiences with girlfriends. The line between friendly hugs and touches, and the more erotic contact, was easily moved. At times Melinda had felt quite attracted to other girls, and some of these moments were among her best memories. Given the circumstances the bond to Tracy was strengthening, and frankly, she really had lovely buttocks. They slid the bolt on the cubicle. Tracy went first, revealing white lace panties and a well–trimmed bush, sighing with relief as she sat down. She looked up at Melinda, face only inches from her hemline in the narrow space. Melinda had to hold herself from excitement and need. Tracy reached up and touched her thigh at the hemline, making Melinda shiver. –Have to go? Melinda nodded. –A bit excited, as well? She nodded again. –Me too. It feels good, peeing in front of you. You have nice legs. –Thanks, Tracy. You have a lovely slim waist and really cute breasts. –Not as slim as yours. Melinda stroked her sides. –But I don’t have real hips, like you. Tracy smiled. –I guess we’re both envious, right? She tore off a strip of paper and wiped herself. –Your turn. Want to go somewhere, where we could be alone? She played straight into Melinda’s hands. Melinda gave her a hug before sitting down, barely getting her butt onto the seat before the flow began. She lifted her skirt: –Look, no panties! –Smart girl! Then you can pee anywhere! –Exactly, Melinda giggled. And was she going to! She looked at her watch. Brian would probably be back in a few minutes, if he acted according to his nature: Never one to give up the chance to be with a woman. They’d better leave now. –Let’s go to my place, she said. –The prick will be staying out tonight, so we could drink up his wine and leave our used panties on the floor. She stood up; feeling warm drops on the inside of her thighs, smoothed her skirt and gave Tracy a quick kiss on the cheek. –Let’s take a taxi. They held hands during the ride. Arriving at her – his – apartment she wondered if he had stayed home after all, but true to type, he was out, probably looking all over for his date. But his date was sitting in his sofa, drinking a 1987 Bourgogne, with her feet on the table and her hand on Melinda’s thigh. –What’s that? She said, pointing to a stain on the cushion beside her. –Spilt something? Giggling, Melinda shook her head. –Pissed my pants, just to be naughty. Tracy burst into laughter. –Serves him right! Hey, do you have a picture of this bastard? As a warning, like? Melinda had anticipated this moment. –Over on the back wall. She held her breath while Tracy rose out of view. She heard the unbelieving voice: –The total fucker – do you know who this is? –I know, Melinda said, suddenly afraid she had gone too far. –Sorry for deceiving you. I didn’t intend to – –Bullshit. Melinda felt Tracy’s arms around her. –This is a great story. I have to admit I was a little bit scared of this guy of yours, in case he came home and made a scene. I wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of something that was none of my business. But now it certainly is my business. Mel dear let him come. He’s in for a surprise. –Thanks, Tracy. She lifted her face and received a kiss. –I have to pee again, Tracy said. –Let me see. She looked around, then went over to a Persian rug, dropped pants and panties, and squatted. Melinda watched as she rose and dressed, aroused by the sight of Tracy’s shapely body in the stretch pants. Her hand slipped under her skirt. Tracy reached out for her. –Where’s the bedroom? Melinda rose on unsteady legs. –In there. –I want you, Tracy said. –Come on. Melinda followed, one hand between her legs to keep the pee from flowing. She was saving herself for bed. At 2.30 am she woke from a small sound. She nudged Tracy awake, and they sat up in bed, arms around each other, hearing cursing from the living room. A head appeared in the doorway. –Hello, Brian, she said as she felt Tracy’s warm flood soak the bed.
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