Curiosity Got My Cat

By Dawn

I've always been full of confidence and very curious, about everything. Mostly this has been a good combination. At 15 it got me the biggest senior hunk in school and by 18 it got me just about anything and anyone I wanted. By 22, I was sure anything and everything I wanted was mine for the taking, and also mine to dump if I didn't want it any longer.

So when I met Alan at a club one night, he seemed just like what he turned out to be, a wealthy, confident, sexy 40 year old man with money to spend. I drank the drinks he bought, laughed at his jokes, danced with him, sat close to him and wondered how he'd be in bed. Unlike men my age, he asked real questions about me and seemed to pay attention to my answers. He asked about my job, I admitted that it was a dead end deal but I didn't know what else was out there. He took out his business card, wrote a name on the back, handed it to me and told me to call his office, ask for the name on the back and schedule an interview. He kissed me on the cheek, and left. I was a bit dumbfounded, I mean, I was ready for the night to start, not to end. I cursed silently, put the card in my purse and looked around the club for a new target.

The next day I found the card in my purse and put it on my dresser and left it. But about a week later a really crappy day at my dead end retail job made me think of his card. I called, asked for Rita in HR, dropped his name, and scheduled an interview. Long story short, two Mondays later I started my job as an inside sales/customer service rep for his company. In the first week it was mostly training and mostly good people, even a couple of men close to my age that were interesting. Alan dropped by my desk the second or third day to welcome me, but other than that I didn't see him much. I quickly learned that he was married, so I thought at least I had avoided that headache. But I also learned he had been out of town on business much of the time.

But when he was in town, every time we passed in the hallway or in the break room, he always managed to touch my arm or shoulder. One group meeting found us side by side and his leg pressed against mine all meeting, and I didn't resist. His hand found reasons to touch my thigh a time or two, and his touch was electric. He was the boss, he was in control, he was powerful, he was sexy, and he was an incredible tease. Damn him, this was a challenge, and I hate to lose!

I found any reason I could think of to go to his office, took every chance to flirt, and thought I was getting some where. Then the email went around about the company pool party at his house. Hmmm, the possibilities were intoxicating. When I ended up alone with Alan in the elevator the day before the party, I looked him in the eyes and asked, “Is there a dress code for the pool party?” He looked me in the eyes, put a finger under my chin and grinned as he replied, “In your case, damn near undressed I hope.” Our lips were almost touching when the elevator stopped, the doors started to open and he stepped away from me.

So that is how I ended up at his house that Saturday, a cotton cover-up over my red string bikini. The food, drink and conversation were plentiful, everyone was out of their office mood and into party time. I had dropped my bag in the guest room with everyone else's and thought what the hell, and kicked off my sandals and skinned off my cover-up and headed to the pool. I thought I looked great in my red bikini, and so did others apparently. If the crowd of men I seemed to draw wasn't proof enough, the glares and snorts from the wives, girlfriends and female coworkers made my case. I work hard to keep my body in shape, and though I don't have the largest bust in the world, my 34B-25-35 tight body on my 5'6” frame does turn some heads, as do my bright blue eyes under my raven black hair (ok, I'm a natural blonde, but got tired of that in high school and have dyed my hair and eyebrows ever since).

A couple of frozen margaritas out of the machine and I was feeling no pain. I found myself talking to Alan and his eyes were obviously roaming up and down my body, and I loved it. Then I felt a jolt as someone pushed past me and suddenly I was staring into the back of a headful of obviously dyed red hair. I tried to move around her, but the bitch moved with me, staying between Alan and me, until he reached out and gently moved her shoulder, turning her and said, “Dawn, I don't believe you've met my wife Pamela.” The bitch ignored me, talked to him a second, then turned and bumped me again as she walked away. I wanted to slap her, but no need to make a scene.

Screw it, it's a party, so let's party, that was my thought. A couple more quick margs, flirting with any guy worth the effort, a couple of dances to the tunes the dj was spinning and I had almost forgotten about that bitch Pamela. Almost, but I still saw that flaming red hair in my mind, and thought what a better choice I was for Alan. Not that she was ugly, and at around 35, maybe 5'4” and only 125 or so with a very nice chest (did Alan buy that for her?) she was kinda sexy. But what a bitch!

The fifth (or was it the sixth) margarita was done and I needed to pee badly. I headed into the house, but the downstairs guest half bath was occupied, so I just sorta wandered into the kitchen, then into the den and then a hall, and there was the stairs. I looked around, no one was in the house, so I decided it was time to snoop (remember my curiosity). Up the stairs and down a hall and I was obviously in the master bedroom. I glanced around, opened a drawer or two in the nightstands (his had books and a pistol, hers books, medicines and a vibrator) and then finally went into the master bath to do what I came inside to do. When I sauntered out of the bath into the bedroom, there was Pamela standing by the foot of the bed along with two other women her age or older who I had been introduced to as other company exec's wives, but whose names I didn't remember. “Oh, hi,” was all I could think of to say.

Pamela's response was, “What are you doin' up here slut?”

“Slut?! Where do you get off with that bitch?” was my immediate response. Well, it went from you think you are such hot shit, stay away from my husband, to husband's only wander when they don't get anything good at home, to fuck you, no fuck you! I stomped right up to her face-to-face and told her it was a good thing she had her two friends to protect her fat ass. Pamela's response was to turn and tell them not to do anything other than guard the door, then she turned and slapped me across my cheek hard.

I stumbled back, grabbed my face, and hesitated a sec – and then launched the hardest right hand slap to her left cheek I could. It rocked her back, then she lunged forward and was on me, hands to my hair, her left knee slamming into my thigh. My thigh was on fire, but my fingers clasped the neckline of her black one piece and I jerked left and slung her as hard as I could, which jerked my head that way from her grip, but her hands quickly left my hair and she half rolled over the edge of the bed and hit the floor. I moved around the edge of the bed and kicked her in the ribs as she tried to stand, knocking her back against a night stand (his). I growled, “Don't get up old bitch, or I'll hurt you bad!”

She kicked out at my knee. I saw it coming and jumped back, but her foot knocked my knee back a bit and I came down on the other leg hard, jamming it. I hobbled back, and that gave her time to get up and charge. I swung at her as she came in, hitting the side of her head but her shoulder drove into me below my breasts and I flew back and hit the floor hard, with her coming down on top of me. I was out of breath and stunned a bit as she punched at my face and head and tried to get her knees on both sides of me for a pin. I slammed my right knee up, hitting her in the ass and throwing her higher up my body, the followed with a punch to her ribs, the one to her belly and another knee and she was off of me and rolling away. I rolled over and grabbed at her ankle as she rolled away, jerking back and making her fall face down into the carpet. “Where you goin' bitch?” I yelled as I lunged at her, bringing a double fist down into the small of her back. “Ughhh” was the response I loved hearing. I reached forward up her back grabbing for her hair, planning on giving her a taste of her own carpet when her right elbow came up and back and caught me right on the chin. I saw a few stars, and thought it was my time to roll away and recover, which I did.

I got up, rubbing my chin and recovering and saw her pulling herself up by the corner of the bed. We both lunged forward with apparently the same thought -- end this now. Slaps, hair tugs, knees, cussing and panting and grabbing until with one wild grab and hank and sling I was flying towards the wall, Pamela was holding my red bikini top in her hands, and red claw marks were obvious across the top of my left breast. “You bitch!” I spit out as I glanced down to inspect the damage. “Our husbands really wanted to see those little tits? Shit!” she said then laughed, tossing my top to one of her friends.

Pamela turned back just in time to see me lunging for her, my claws out, going for her chest. “Better than these saggy cow tits!” I spit as my nails sank in hard. “OWWWW” she screamed and backed away, me with her every step. “Can't take it bitch? And it isn't just my tits Alan wants, and you know it!” I taunted as I drove her back, squeezing and clawing. She slapped at my arms wildly, one right hand bouncing off my forearms and catching me square in the face. I let go of her tits, shook my head, then sent a fist right at her nose. She moved her head just enough to avoid a direct hit, but my fist still glanced her cheek and rocked her. I started throwing punch after punch as I screamed “Now I'm gonna fuck you up before I ever fuck your husband!” She was backing up around the bed, trying to cover her face and I was on the attack. A vicious right cross missed her face by less than an inch, but the force of my swing swung me around a bit. Pamela lunged forward and both her hands slammed into my chest knocking me back. It wasn't that hard of a shove, but in my fury I'd lost track of where I was. I stumbled back a little, hit the edge of the bed right behind my knees and fell back. It was at just the right height and angle, I fell back but I remember thinking that was okay, I'd just sit down on the bed. But I was across the corner of the bed, my ass just a bit too far back, and suddenly all off balance and out of control, over the side I went, my legs flying skyward and my head towards the carpet. WHAP. My head hit the carpet hard, stunning me and knocking me silly. My right hand slid down the mattress where I'd tried to grab to stop my fall, but that had only turned me a bit, forcing me to land with my left arm under me. Before I knew what was happening Pamela was on me, shoving me towards the bed, forcing my right shoulder and arm under the edge of the bed, my left arm still pinned under me. Her right knee was firm against my left side, her left knee on my belly, her left hand on my throat and her right hand in my hair.

“Well, well, looks like the little slut bit off more than she can chew, doesn't it!” Pamela said as she grinned down at me evilly. “Fuck you bitch!” was all I could think to say. “If anyone's getting fucked right now, I'd say it's you, Dawn. That's what you hoped would happen when you showed up in slut red, isn't it?”

I thrashed and bucked all I could, but I was trapped. As her knees against my body and her right hand in my hair held me, she started to cup and caress my tits with her left hand, then pinched and pulled on my nipples. “Well, I do understand a bit of what the boys wanted, these are fun to play with” she said as she giggled. I was horrified, trying anything, squirming but… AHHHHHHH. “Oh my, you are a slut, you like this don't you?” I heard Dawn say, but before I could scream the “NO” I intended the realization hit me of what she meant, my nipples were stiffening and my chest was flushing. Damnit! Her left knee wasn't on my belly anymore, it had pushed down and between my legs, her knee pressing into my crotch, rubbing and pressing. I looked up into her eyes and she smiled as she said, “Know what they say Dawn dear, if it's inevitable, might as well lie back and enjoy it!”

She called to her friends (I'd almost forgotten them) and one of them came over and untied the knots at my hips, pulling my bottoms away. She kept up her half torture/half stimulation of my nipples and her knee and thigh pressed harder and faster between my legs. I don't really know how long this went on, but then her right hand left my hair and her knee pulled away from my crotch, but just long enough for her right hand to grab my throat and her left hand do drive between my legs. I felt her finger push into me as she grinned down at me and told me “You are soooo wet and ready for this slut. Time to take your fucking, not the one you hoped for in this room, but I promise you Alan wouldn't have fucked you as well as I'm going to. And they do say orgasm is so much better with a little oxygen depravation!” She squeezed my neck and drove her finger in and out, her palm pressing and rubbing against my clit just so …. damn her!

I fought it as best I could, but she knew what she was doing, and I … well, I have been known to have my body control my brain before. As my orgasm built and then wracked my body, legs alternately tensing and quivering, the question of how this would end flashed into my brain. I barely had time to form the question before Pamela released my throat and drove two right fist punches straight into my chin. Then she grabbed my hair, shouted “Slut, never look at my fucking husband again!” and yanked my head up then slammed it into the floor, again, again, again. I was dazed, still on fire from my orgasm and stunned when she stood up and stomped her foot straight into my belly. OOOFFFF. And then she was gone, not far away but I couldn't see far, I pulled my left arm from under me and pushed away from the bed to get my right free, then rolled to my side and into a fetal position. Something soft landed on my head and I heard Pamela say, “Wear that home if you don't have anything else, but don't dare show your sorry slut ass back outside or anywhere near my husband again.”

They left giggling together, and as I recovered I found it was a man's t-shirt she had thrown me. I put it on, slowly worked my way downstairs, found my bag and headed out the front to my car. I later heard that Pamela went back outside, walked by Alan sitting around a table with several people from the office and dropped my red bikini onto the table right in front of him. I think he got the point, I know I did … but revenge might just ….