---The Woman on the Bench---
"Damnit, Mrs. Jones!" I flippantly berated. "You need to get your pretty little ass off that bench and get it back to your party!"
"Fuck you!" I heard in reply. Sparks flew from the eyes that glanced at me then quickly looked away.
Mischievous affection danced in my heart. "Now, now, Mrs. Jones, there is no need for such language," I teased.
"Fuck you, I said and I mean it!" the woman spat. "Besides, I'm not married yet, asshole!"
I knew if I said more it would only inflame the fire of ire, yet I said it anyway, "Mrs. Jones, I would gladly fuck you, but not in the asshole. You, of all women, ought to know I prefer 'cumming' in the front door rather than the rear!"
I guessed an explosion was coming, and it did. "Fuck...you bastard, it's all your fault I'm in this predicament!" it began. "If you didn't meddle in my business so much, if you didn't make me love you, if you didn't screw me like crazy anytime I wanted you, and if you weren't making me marry another man! Damn you, you will never 'cum' in any of my doors again!"
The unbelievably sexy female turned away and ignored me. "Well Honey, we will have to see about that!" I teased. "Speaking of cumming, why don't you come on back to your bachelorette party in the club? Your friends wouldn't have called me if they weren't worried about you. You ran out without your coat and I'm sure that Little Black Dress is giving you scant protection here in the barely-heated walkway leading to the parking garage. Besides, you're a bit too drunk to be driving."
Once again, I was ignored. The gorgeous woman stared off into the distance as if she really cared about the people she saw walking there. From experience, I knew this particular female was moody and often just needed time to cool off. Well, with her ass sitting on a cold bench, she might cool down very soon.
This woman wasn't the only one staring. My eyes were examining her body from head to toe. Her silky, long, dark hair was tied up in a high-flip ponytail with a shower of wayward strands hanging behind each ear. Those exposed ears were adorned with simple, modestly-bejeweled gemstones I had given to her myself. Small, but very well-developed breasts were providing ample cleavage to stimulate a man's lustful imaginations. To say that the hem of the Little Black Dress was 'short' would be understating the facts. Why, the entire length of this woman's slender legs was exposed from the top of her shoes to nearly the underside of her ass! I can't say I cared all that much for the thickness of her shoe-tips, but I've always adored this lady in stiletto heels!
To say that my cock was hard and wanting, would also be understating facts. God, I needed a warm, wet vaginal cavity in which to house it for an evening's recreation! If orgasmic pleasure happens to occur, then so much the better for me. Maybe, just for old time's sake, this beautiful woman will give me a final fuck before her marriage to my best friend tomorrow. I've pissed her off, I know, but I've gotten plenty of pussy from her when she's been pissed before.
---Earlier At the Club---
"God Emily, you sure can dance!" Brittany exclaimed. "Shit, if you put your mind to it, I betcha you could dance professionally!"
Some of the other young women on the dance floor agreed. "Damn right, Em," Megan affirmed. "I bet you could roll in the dough at a strip club!
Emily took a drink, then another and another. Between drinks, she continued dancing without missing a step, but at each and every compliment her body jerked as if stabbed by a dagger. Her heart missed beats, she cried inside, and she bled tears at memories of mistakes made not long past. They didn't know, her friends didn't know about her past, about her gyrations in dim-lit barrooms, about the pawing hands, about the bills the $1s, $5s, $10s, $20s, $50s, and $100's which had put food in her belly and a roof over her head.
They didn't know, her friends, so she forgave them. Isn't that in the bible? Aren't you supposed to 'forgive them for what they do'? If the bible is so full of forgiveness, why can't she forgive herself? Emily took another drink, asked for still others, and downed them, too.
This was supposed to be a celebration of her last night before marriage. As a single mother of a very young child, she knew it was time for her to settle down with a good man. Brad Jones was a good man. Oh, the man was a saint! Taking on the responsibilities for another man's child was one of those defining moments in time called 'above and beyond the call of duty'.
But, Brad didn't know about her past, either. Could he forgive? Could he forget? What if he didn't? Would she care? She probably would not. And, why would she not? Because he wasn't the father of her baby might be a possible reason. But, the real reason would be because he was not the actual man she loves! The man she actually loves and the baby's father were in fact one and the same man!
Emily drank a few more shots. She had enough conscious brain cells left to realize she was teetering on the tip of intoxication. Who cares? I can't have the man I love! And, pray tell, why not? He 'is' divorced now! Emily, aren't you asking yourself a whole damn lot of questions? See, you just did it again!
Of all Emily's friends, Rebecca was the one most often referred to as 'Miss Goody Two Shoes'. As the party progressed, it was she who paid most attention to the bachelorette's spiral into uninhibited inebriation. Perhaps demons were driving Emily, but when she climbed up on a table and began a seductive striptease, Rebecca could stand no more. "God Meg, Brit, we have to stop her!" she implored. "She will be so ashamed when she sobers up!"
It took the combined effort of all three young women, but the inebriant was finally pulled from the tabletop and deposited in a booth. Still, they could not tame Emily's rebellion against conformity. "We should call someone," Rebecca suggested.
"Who?" Megan asked. "Her sister is keeping little Nickie. Don't you all think the child favors Nick quite a bit? I mean, more than a nephew should favor an uncle. Does anyone have Nick's number?"
"I do," chimed Brittany with a red-faced Rebecca unintentionally echoing her answer.
"I do, too," admitted Megan. At this, the three giggled and laughed as if each had discovered a hilarious secret about the others.
Uncharacteristically, Rebecca was the one to let the cat out of the bag. "Isn't he 'yummy'?" she gushed. "I guess our sisterhood or friendship hasn't kept him from making the rounds among us!"