Revenge In The Hamptons (Revenge Is Best Served Hot (Powerful Women Series))

by Morian, C. C.

  “No, I caught him staring at you a few times. I’m sure of it. You should go talk to him.”

  “What? Just walk up to the four of them, say, hey, my friend said you were checking me out?”

  “I’m the married one, you should have this down pat, I’m out of practice. We can make this happen.”

  “We’re not in college anymore, Liz. I’m too old for that shit.”

  “Oh, come on.” Liz had had a few drinks too. “Swap places with me.”

  We did a graceful, and I hoped subtle, chance of places, so now it was Liz who was once again looking over my shoulder toward the guys. Suddenly she raised her arm and did a half wave, and pointed at me, like she was calling someone’s attention to me.

  “What are you doing!” I hissed.

  “Don’t worry, the other guys are looking the other way, but he’s still staring. Come one, he smiled and nodded.”

  “No, I don’t want to, I’m—” but Liz had grabbed me by the hand and was practically pulling me across toward the steps.

  I looked everywhere except forward as we walked, pretending to be listening to something Liz was saying. To my great embarrassment, when I lifted my head, all four guys were looking right at us.

  Liz, in her usual confident self, immediately turned the tables, saying, “You guys looked lonely over here, without any women to keep you company.” And with that, the ice was broken, and ten minutes later we were all talking up a storm, doing the usual where are you from who do you know thing that was a staple of East Coast conversation.

  The guy Liz had noticed, Steve, was even cuter up close than he was from across the pool. He was a little shorter than the guys I normally went for, still taller than me but a few inches shy of six feet. But he was built like a rock, his muscles pressing against his shirt, even though it wasn’t at all skin tight. Not a weight lifter physique, but someone who kept in shape, and that had always been a big turn on for me.

  His hair blondish and short, and matched his eyebrows, which had a nice little curl to them. His blue eyes sparkled in the patio lights when he laughed. He was the quietest of the group, not shy by any means, but a guy who followed, rather than led, the conversation.

  And I think Liz was right, he was attentive to me, offering to go to the bar to get me a drink, even though there were waiters everywhere. I said yes, just to be polite. When he asked what I was drinking, I said, “Surprise me,” just to see what he’ come back with. Would he bring back something crass like a Sex on the Beach or a Blow Job, and maybe ask me what it was so I’d have to say it out loud?

  I surreptitiously watched him wend his way to the bar. I liked the way he walked, confident, not too fast, not too slow.

  Steve pleasantly surprised me when he reappeared with a martini. Normally a guy’s drink, but an elegant, traditional choice. Not crass, but not a drink normally associated with women, like a Cosmopolitan. I don’t know how much he had thought about the choice, but it could mean that he took me as not one of the guys, but as an equal. Like a bunch of guys offering a woman a cigar.

  “I hope you like these,” said Steve. “If you don’t I can get you something else, or have mine.”

  So he had thought about it. “What did you get?” I asked.

  “A vodka martini. This place is too nice to do a shot, so this is the next best thing.”

  “You do a lot of shots?”

  “Those days are long gone. How about you?”

  “I think those days are gone for me too.”

  “You’re a lot younger than I am.”

  Steve was probably just a few years older than me. If that. “You’re full of shit,” I said. “But thanks.”

  Steve shrugged. “Just telling it like I see it.”

  “Do those lines work with most women?”

  “You tell me.” He took a sip of his drink. “We were going to head out a bit, check out another party. Want to come?”

  “Why? No one here very interesting?”

  “No, actually right now, I’d rather stay. But John over there,” he indicated one of his friends, who was standing at the top of the stairs, “is kind of interested in this woman, and she’s going to be there, but he doesn’t know who’s hosting the party, and I do, and I said I’d get him in.”

  “Is that what you guys do, go around cruising parties for women?” But I wasn’t angry, I was just giving Steve a hard time, and I think he knew it.’

  “Nothing so crass,” he said. “Us guys are probably just doing what you girls are doing.” He pretended to look befuddled. “Whatever that is.”

  “Right.” I thought about taking him up on his offer, but felt it would seem a bit rude to my host. Or would it? I’d barely seen my host, and there must have been a hundred people mingling around the pool, and maybe more inside. “Let me talk to my friend. Could she come too?”

  “Sure. It will be kind of like this, not quite so big maybe, but the same feel. As long as you come in with someone who is invited everything will be cool.”

  I was still pretty amazed at this kind of secret side of the Hamptons. I left Steve there and went off to find Liz, who had disappeared somewhere. While I was looking for her I caught snippets of conversations as I walked through the crowd. Talk of real estate prices. A few jokes. Recounts of late night comedy shows.

  And then, the strangest thing. I heard Mike’s name.

  I stopped in my tracks. Had I imagined that? I was on one of the terraces, and there was a group of people above me on the terrace above. I could only see a man and a woman who were at the edge of the terrace; they were facing away from me, and appeared to be talking to at least other person out of my sight.

  They were talking about Mike.

  Mortified but insanely curious, I turned away, pretending to be looking out over the crowd at the pool, while sidling as close as I could to the back wall, trying to get as close to them as I could.

  “Are you after him too? You better get in line.” A woman’s voice.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s taken,” said a guy.

  I strained my ears and held my breath. Would I hear my name? Did someone up there know who I was? I hadn’t recognized anyone at the party.

  Something else was said, but it was drowned out by the general party noise. I quickly looked around, there was no better vantage point. When the voices came again they were harder to hear, and when I glanced up I couldn’t see anyone, they were either leaving the terrace or had moved back.

  I quickly hurried along the wall and up the stairs. At the landing I looked over at the group. Three guys and two women. I didn’t recognize anyone. I drifted onto the terrace and casually sipped my drink.

  They seemed to be still talking about Mike. My Mike. Kind of. I felt like an eavesdropper. It was exciting in a way. What did people think about him?

  “I hear he’s kind of a wolf,” said one of the women.

  “That’s what women say when they want a guy but haven’t managed to get their hooks into him,” said one of the guys, laughing. “Just jealousy.”

  “What do you guys call a woman who won’t sleep with you?”

  “A slut!” said the two guys simultaneously, and they all laughed.

  “That doesn’t make any sense!” said the woman, but she was laughing.

  “Actually, I think you are right about Mike,” said one of the other guys. “He’s got a girlfriend out here, one in the city, and now his ex-girlfriend has moved in with him. So you’re probably out of luck. He’s probably running out of days of the week to see someone else.”

  I was staring at them now, my eyes wide, too shocked to move or cry or even shake my head in disbelief. It was true. Mike was screwing around on me. Or screwing around with me. For all I knew, the other two women in his life thought they were his girlfriends. The whole Chrissy being in danger from her boyfriend was probably bullshit.

  One of the women finally noticed me, and she nudged the guy next to her just as he was about to say something else. Their conversation stopped
.

  I finally found my tongue. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. Were you talking about Mike Centroni?”

  “Uh, yeah,” said the woman who had spotted me. “Do you know him?” She was nervous, probably wondering if I was a friend and I’d be mad at what they had been gossiping about.

  “Kind of,” I replied, all the while wondering if I knew him at all. “I hear he fucks like a rabbit.”

  And I tossed the rest of my drink into the hedge, wishing Mike was there for me to drown him in it, and without another word I walked off the terrace.

  I stumbled away from the terrace, not really knowing where I was going. My worst fears had been realized; Mike had been using me. For sex. He had no intentions of getting serious with me, he probably never had. I think if I had found that part out, and the other part hadn’t been true, that he hadn’t been cheating, I would have been depressed. First Ward, and then Mike. Time wasted, getting dragged around by men who thought I was just someone to hang around with, to fuck. Even knowing I wanted something long term.

  But right now I felt little sadness, only anger. Maybe the sadness would come later. I stomped up the stairs, blinded by rage. I didn’t exactly know what I was going to do, but I’d get back at Mike. The idea of revenge was stupid, I knew that, but I couldn’t think straight; all I wanted to do was find a way to put him in his place. I wasn’t going to just ignore his entreaties, or send him a text that I knew. He’d probably just shrug and move on. Maybe he already had, with Chrissy.

  Fuck her too.

  I turned back to see if the people who had spilled the beans on Mike were watching, but I couldn’t see down onto that terrace. I wasn’t watching where I was going and as I came up to the top of the stairs I ran right into someone.

  “Aren’t we in a hurry!”

  I looked up, ready to say something about why don’t you watch where you are going, but was mollified when I saw it was Steve. His arms were half around me, to keep me from falling.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “My fault,” said Steve. “I should have seen you there.”

  He hadn’t taken his arms off me, and I pulled away; I wasn’t feeling very good about men right that minute.

  “Something happen?” asked Steve, looking over my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  I didn’t want to talk about it. To Liz, after, but not now. “I thought you were heading off to another party?”

  “We were. But I decided I liked the people here. One of them, anyway. I’ll get John introduced later. Or tomorrow.”

  I frowned up at him. “Who?” I wasn’t thinking straight.

  “Well, if you have to ask, maybe I made a mistake.”

  He meant me. “Thanks for the nice comment, but I’m not the best company right now.”

  “I’m a good listener,” said Steve.

  I looked up at him. He was staring at me intently, but without any sense of control, confident yet not dominant. I certainly hadn’t felt that spark when he first touched me, that electric chemistry I shared with Mike. Yet Steve was rather charming, polite, and good looking.

  It gave me an idea. A sinful idea, a revengeful idea. An idea I might never have ever considered, if it hadn’t been for the confluence of factors, and Mike’s deceit.

  “Do you do anything besides listen?” I asked. The most forward thing I had ever said to a stranger.

  A gleam came into Steve’s eye. “Whatever you need.”

  I took him by the hand. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

  I led him into the house, grabbing a champagne off a tray as I walked, and downing it in three gulps. A little liquid courage. Although my built up anger was probably all I needed.

  Steve followed me up the stairs, not docile, but I felt very much in charge. I led him in my room and closed the door and locked it. I pushed Steve up against the door and surprised even myself as I pinned him and kissed him, pushing hard against his lips, my tongue attacking, all my anger finally having a release.

  Steve hesitated only the briefest second, then kissed me back, his arms reaching for me, but my adrenaline was flowing, I held his shoulders against the door, exhibiting a strength I didn’t know I had. Steve relaxed, he let me have my way, we both knew he could overcome me, he was so much taller and bigger.

  I finally broke the kiss. “You are a good listener.”

  “What if someone comes in?” he asked, sounding more intrigued than worried.

  “It’s my room,” I said. “Well, I’m sharing it with Liz.”

  “What if she comes in?”

  “We were college roommates. She’s come in on me before. She’ll turn around and leave. Would you be embarrassed?”

  “Not if you’re not.” Mike grew serious. “You’re not drunk, are you? I don’t want to do anything if you are really drunk.”

  “Wow, I’ve heard about guys like you. I didn’t think they existed.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I’m not drunk. I have a little buzz, but that’s it. Besides, who was the one bringing me the martini?”

  “I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.”

  I kissed him again, still harder than I usually did, my energy not in the least bit dissipated. Part of me wondered why I didn’t feel the least bit bad about being alone with Steve, not even a tinge of regret. Maybe my anger was covering it up, but right now, this is what I wanted, this is what I needed.

  “What else can you do besides listen?” I asked.

  Steve reached down and slid his hand under my knees, effortlessly picking me up. He carried me to one of the beds and carefully set me down.

  I pulled Steve down on the bed with me. “How about you? Are you drunk?”

  “I’ve had a few more than usual. I was using any excuse to hang around and watch you. But I’m not drunk. Would that stop you?”

  “I don’t want you falling asleep on me.” Shamelessly, almost as if it were someone else, I took Steve’s hand and guided it under my dress, then upward, dragging the fabric along until his hand was poised over my pussy. “You do me first, just in case.”

  Steve slipped his hand underneath my thin panties and slid his finger along my slit. He gently rubbed up and down, but I wanted more, I wanted it faster, I arched my hips upward, my body calling out, and Steve responded by slipping his finger inside me, grazing my clit as it passed, and I shuddered.

  “Are you always this wet?” Steve asked.

  Only with Mike, I thought. Why now? “You do it to me,” I replied.

  “You’re a lousy liar,” said Steve, and he put his mouth back to mine, all the while sliding his finger in me, deep, then back out, circling my clit. I squirmed in pleasure, my short dress riding up, twisting around my breasts. I lay back for a minute, reveling in the feeling, going with it, not thinking about the consequences, not caring. For once, just enjoying the sensation. No relationship, no commitment, no complications.

  I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down on the bed, and to his credit he kept his finger on me. My hands went to his crotch, and I smiled as I felt his hard cock through his pants. I was turning him on, and that made me feel good.

  I wanted to feel his flesh. I pulled his shirt out from his slacks, slipping my hand onto his hard stomach, and around to the side, running my fingers across his hips. I wanted more. I straddled him, pulling his shirt off, revealing his toned chest. I could feel his cock against my pussy, even though it was hemmed in by all our clothing. I reached back and unzipped my dress, pulling it over my head, oddly excited by how Steve watched me undress. I’d never done it quite like this before.

  Steve reached up to touch my breasts, my nipples poking through the bra, and I couldn’t get it off fast enough, I wanted his hands on me. I threw back my head as he caressed them, his fingers expertly squeezing my nipples, just the right amount of pressure.

  “Take off your shirt,” I said, and as he complied I slid down the bed, working at his belt, dragging his p
ants and underwear off in one motion. As I pulled them all the way off, my head dropped down, and without hesitating I took his cock in my mouth as I worked his pants off, and then his shoes. No easing into it, no gentle kisses, no hesitation, I just took as much of him in as I could.

  His cock was wonderful, thick, much longer than Mike’s, and when I came up for air it bent forward, toward his stomach, reaching almost to his belly button. I stared at it, one hand holding it, the other pulling off my underwear, feeling my increasing wetness.

  In the back of my mind I was waiting for some comment, some cocky observation from Steve about how big his cock was. If Mike had a cock this big he would have wanted to be in a science experiment, or a porn video. But Steve said nothing, maybe not realizing, or not that kind of guy, I don’t know, and I tried to wait another minute, just to be sure, but he didn’t do anything, just gently put his fingers in my hair, not forceful, just to make a connection. I couldn’t wait any longer, I took his beautiful cock in my mouth again, the taste of it and it’s hardness driving away all thoughts of Mike, and though I was on my knees, sucking on a virtual stranger, I felt oddly free and in charge.

  “I thought you wanted to go first,” said Steve.

  I kept stroking him as I asked, “Don’t you like this?”

  “It’s incredible. But you said—”

  “Maybe I changed my mind.”

  “We could do it at the same time.”

  That sounded pretty incredible too. I quickly crawled back on the bed, naked now, and positioned myself over his face. I liked this position, but almost every time I had ever done it I had been on the bottom, taking it. Almost subservient. The few times I had been on top I had quickly got to work, laying down, feeling somewhat hesitant to hover with my pussy so close to a man’s face.

  Tonight something had come over me, something I’d never felt before. I saw a handsome man, laying prone before me, almost as if he were at my mercy, his cock pointing toward me, wanting me, his face looking up at me, at my face, by breasts, my pussy. My anger had transformed into power, I’d never felt so powerful, a strong man beneath me. I wasn’t dominant, but I was at least an equal this time, maybe more than equal.