by C. C. Morian
REVENGE IS BEST SERVED HOT
Stories of Powerful Women Getting Their Revenge
Blaise Quin
C. C. Morian
Published by YRBS
Copyright © 2015 by Blaise Quin and C. C. Morian
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the authors, except in the case of brief quotations included in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for supporting the rights of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
GIVING HIM WHAT HE DESERVES
THE KISSING GAME
REVERSING ROLES
About the authors
Books by C. C. Morian and Blaise Quin
Books by C. C. Morian
Books by Blaise Quin
Mailing list
Three stories of revenge served hot
Giving Him What He Deserves: A wife gets a sweet revenge on her husband.
The Kissing Game: Tired of always having her men stolen by her so called friend, a woman finally gets her just revenge.
Role Reversal: Two women get wicked revenge on their sexist boss. (Warning, this one is really wild!)
GIVING HIM WHAT HE DESERVES
by
C. C. Morian
Lisa stared at the pile of dishes in the sink. She’d only been gone for two days, and her husband Dave had managed to use every dish and utensil they owned, without bothering to wash a single thing. He couldn’t even push the button on the dishwasher? Sometimes Lisa wondered how Dave managed to survive before they were married. Did he live on take out, or had he just thrown dirty dishes away, and bought new ones every week?
She thought about changing, she was still in her work clothes, having just arrived from the airport after having been out of town for a business meeting. The meeting had ended at four, she had sprinted for the flight, just making it, and had landed in the middle of rush hour. It was raining and it took almost two hours to get home. It had been a long day and she was tired, too tired to even eat. What she needed now was a nice bath, a glass of wine, and then an early bedtime.
But she never could stand the sight of a pile of dishes, it always made her feel there was something undone, sometimes she couldn’t even sleep well knowing a mess was in the kitchen. Foolish, she knew, she was a successful businesswoman, working her way up, she knew how to prioritize, and dishes shouldn’t be important.
Old habits died hard.
Okay, divide and conquer, she thought. Have a glass of wine while doing the dishes, run the bath while changing up, and get a good night’s sleep.
Lisa kicked off her heels and opened the refrigerator, she had left a bottle of Chardonnay for just this kind of situation. But there was no sign of the wine. There was also no sign of milk, orange juice, or eggs. Or much else of anything.
“Shit,” she muttered. That explained why Dave had needed so many dishes and glasses, he was eating everything left in the house. Dave normally didn’t even drink wine. Sure enough, there was no beer either; Dave must have been desperate to open the wine.
She thought about going down to the basement to see if there was another bottle, but was just too tired. She pulled on her plastic gloves and started on the dishes.
She had worked through about half of them when the phone rang. Her first impulse was to let it go to the machine. But it might be Dave, asking her if she needed anything on his way home from his poker night, it would give her a chance to ask him to get some groceries.
Lisa grabbed the phone, bracing it against her shoulder while she continued to see if she could squeeze a few more items in the dishwasher.
“Hello.”
“Hi Lisa, this is Millie.”
“Hi Millie, how are you?” Millie was a nice, but eccentric, older neighbor who lived a few doors down.
“Well, not too good. I’m at the hospital.”
Lisa stopped loading dishes. “Are you okay?”
“I had some pains in my neck, they have to do some tests.”
“Oh, I hope it is nothing serious.” Millie was a total hypochondriac, always rushing to the emergency room at the least little sign of pain.
“You can’t be too careful,” said Millie, who sounded as fit as she always was.
“Is your daughter there with you?” asked Lisa.
“No, she’s busy. That’s why I’m calling. Pinkie needs his walk, and I was wondering if you could be a dear and go take him out?”
Pinkie was Millie’s dog, one of those yappy breeds that Lisa couldn’t remember the name of. She liked dogs well enough, but Pinkie wasn’t the most friendly of animals, and always took forever to do his business.
Lisa stared at all the dishes, and in the silence as Millie listened for her answer could hear the rain intensify. Just what she needed, a walk in the rain with a wet mop of a dog. But she felt sorry for Millie, whose daughter probably had pretended she was busy just to avoid this very situation. Hypochondriac or not, Millie was a good person, and if unwashed dishes made Lisa feel guilty, if she didn’t help Millie she wouldn’t sleep for a week.
“Okay, Millie, sure. Is the key in the usual place?”
“Yes, and can you open a can of food for Pinkie?”
“I will.”
“Thank you dear. Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“No problem, Millie. And let me know if you need me to go again in case you won’t be home until very late.”
“It should be just a few more hours.”
Lisa hung up and pulled off her gloves. First Dave, and now Millie. Everyone seemed to depend on her.
When Lisa got back from the dog walk she was soaked. The rain had intensified, even her raincoat and boots had been useless, Pinkie taking so long and pulling on the leash so often that Lisa couldn’t hold an umbrella. But now the dog was somewhat mollified, it’s business attended to, and safely back in a snug and dry bed. Which is exactly where Lisa wanted to be.
She was dripping, so before stepping foot out of the foyer she pulled off her skirt, which was now muddy in spots, she should have changed it before going out, and now it would have to go to the cleaners. Her pantyhose felt clammy and those came off as well.
She had left the light on in the kitchen, and it pulled her like a beacon, the half washed dishes a cruel reminder of what was left unfinished. Quickly she loaded the last of what could be crammed into the dishwasher, turned it on, and went to work on what was left in the sink.
“Wow, you should always do the di
shes that way!”
Lisa was so startled she dropped a pan in the sink and spun around. Dave was in the kitchen, leering at her.
“Jesus, Dave, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Lisa hadn’t heard him come in over the sound of the running water.
“Sorry, babe.” He gave her an appraising glance and kissed her on the neck. “I’ve never seen you wash dishes in your underwear. It’s pretty hot.”
Hot was the last thing Lisa felt right now, other than in the sense of being overheated from rushing around. “I got wet walking Millie’s dog. She’s in the hospital, nothing serious I don’t think. Hey, did you happen to pick up juice for breakfast?”
“Uh, no, I forgot.” Dave didn’t sound very contrite. “Are we out?”
“Juice, milk, even wine.” Lisa tried not to sound accusing.
“Oh, yeah, about that. Mike called before I went to poker, his wife needed a bottle for some kind of spritzers she was making for the ladies, I said I could bring some.”
The ’ladies’ were the wives of the guys who played poker, they did their own thing when the boys were in the basement with their cards and cigars. Lisa had gone once or twice but it wasn’t her thing, a bunch of married women gossiping, mostly about men and sex. “I think that was our last bottle.”
“Sorry, I’ll get some more. I could go right now if you want.” Dave didn’t sound like he meant it.
Lisa shook her head. “That’s okay. I’ll get some tomorrow. I just want to finish these and get to bed.”
Dave wagged his eyes. “That sounds good, I’ve missed you.”
Lisa was back at the dishes. “I’ve had a long day, I think I’ll be asleep as soon as I touch the pillow.” Dave was plenty handsome, still looking good after almost five years of marriage, but right now, hungry, tired, and still a little wet, sex was the last thing on Lisa’s mind.
“Well, maybe we could kill two birds with one stone,” said Dave, rubbing his hand on her ass and giving it a little squeeze. He nuzzled in next to her neck, nibbling at her ear. “I bet you’ve never done it bent over the sink.”
Lisa cringed a little, pulling away. It wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy having sex with Dave, but this wasn’t the time or the place, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood. “Dave, please.”
“Come on, honey, it’s been a whole week.” Dave still had his hand on her butt.
“You’re always so horny,” said Lisa, sticking her hands back in the sink, hoping that would get Dave to get his mind out of the gutter.
“Sheesh, Lisa, once a week isn’t too much to ask, is it? We should be having sex more than we do.”
Lisa didn’t turn to look at him, she just kept at the dishes. “Is there some rule? Married couples have to have sex such and such times a week?”
“You know what I mean.” Dave finally took his hands off her, but he didn’t move away.
“No, I don’t. Is this what you and your friends talk about at your poker nights? How many times they do it?”
“I don’t need anyone to tell me how often I should be having sex.”
Lisa turned her head to look at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Dave shrugged. “It’s come up before.” He quickly added, “Not by me, I swear. A few of the other guys said some stuff. I bet the women talk about it too.”
Lisa bit off a retort, because she knew he was right. Often, though, the wives were complaining about not getting enough sex, not too much. She turned back to the dishes.
Dave put his arms around her hips, his crotch brushing her rear. “Come on, Lisa, let’s not fight. I bet a lot of women would be happy to have their husbands think they look good washing the dishes.”
Well, that’s true enough, thought Lisa. Of course, Dave was so horny all the time, he might think a blow up doll in front of a sink would look sexy. She shut off the water and turned to him. “I do like that you appreciate how I look. Thank you.”
Dave grinned like a teenager. “That’s better. Now come on, how about a little quickie? You’re already half naked. I could just. . .” He slid his fingers under the elastic of her panties and started to pull them down.
Lisa shied away. “Dave, I just can’t. Not in the kitchen. It’s just so weird.”
“You really need to expand your horizons a little. I bet a lot of women have sex in the kitchen.”
“I’m not most women.”
Dave turned away. “You can say that again,” he muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, forget I said anything.”
Lisa was angrily pulling off her gloves. “No, really. Tell me.” She knew she must have looked foolish, standing there defiantly, but dressed only in a blouse and some not so sexy underwear.
Dave’s eyes met hers, a glimmer of anger, but it quickly shifted to something else, maybe sadness. “I didn’t think being married would be like this. The sex, I mean. We have pretty good sex, don’t you think? But we only do it a few times a month, and only at night, and only in the bedroom, and almost always in one position.”
“Marriage isn’t all about sex.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Besides, that’s what I’m most comfortable with. You know I wasn’t with that many men before you. And all those relationships were based on friendship, we didn’t have much sex.”
“I know that, but it’s hard for me to accept. Maybe it’s a guy thing. I just had other experiences.”
They had had variations of this argument before. Lisa didn’t want to rehash it again. But she was tired and angry, and so couldn’t help but add, “Just because you dated wild slutty women before doesn’t mean I need to be one. If you wanted one of them you should have married them instead of me.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. They weren’t slutty.”
“So now you are taking their side?”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side. You’ve got no right to call my ex girlfriends sluts.”
“And you’ve got no right to throw it up to my face that they were better than me for having more sex and kinky sex.”
“I didn’t say a word about that.”
“Not tonight, but you have before.”
“This sucks.” Dave strode out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “And there’s nothing kinky about oral sex!”
Lisa let him go. She was a little angry at herself for getting so worked up, he was a guy, she knew guys wanted to have sex all the time. But it was his fault too. Dave just expected her to want to have sex as often as he did. It wasn’t like he had a romantic dinner waiting for her after her long trip. He hadn’t shown up with flowers, or even done something as simple as stocking the refrigerator and doing the dishes. Just a few small gestures on his part might have changed her attitude completely. That’s what a woman thought of as romantic, not all this ass grabbing and talk about quickies in the kitchen.
She shuddered. Besides, oral sex was kind of kinky. Yuk.
The next day Lisa was up and out the door before Dave was even awake. The night before she had been asleep when he had come to bed, otherwise he might have wanted to have makeup sex, and she wasn’t ready for that. These fights had been getting worse, always the same thing, sex, sex, sex.
Lisa actually enjoyed sex, but only when she was feeling good, when the mood was romantic. At night, with the lights low, maybe a few candles burning, after a glass of wine or two. They didn’t have kids, not yet, she wanted kids but thought Dave needed to mature a little. He still seemed to be the same guy she had met senior year in college, funny, in great shape, just a blast to be around. But that was college, this was the real world, with careers, bills to pay, the house to maintain. Lisa hadn’t exactly been wild in college, far from it, but even she had to give up some of the things she did back then, staying out late, drinking. She had grown up. Now it was Dave’s turn.
But Dave seemed stuck in the past, he seemed to think married life was just another version of teenage and college years. He worke
d, and did pretty well as a salesman, his boyish charm and friendly attitude winning over customers. But he didn’t have much drive to get ahead, unlike her. Lisa wanted to be an executive, and wished Dave had interest in more than sex, the gym, sports, and nights out with his friends.
Lisa was a smart women, she had seen all these traits back when she had met him. But she had assumed Dave would accept the responsibility of marriage more seriously, that, like her, he would grow up. She had, he hadn’t. It was like they had become two different people, starting from the same place, but ending up more different than their ages would suggest.
Still, Dave was good to look at, the time in the gym keeping him especially fit. Her parents liked him well enough. He could still make her laugh. But lately she had come to realize that there were some things they didn’t have in common, and as time went on, these differences seemed more important rather than less.
The sex, for instance. Lisa had seen two college girlfriends marry men they were having hot relationships with, only to get divorced just a few years later. Their relationships seemed to have been based on nothing but a physical connection, and Lisa swore she’d never let that happen to her. So she took it very slow with men, even with Dave, who she had reconnected with a few years after graduation. They started dating then, but didn’t have sex for almost six months. Now that she thought about it, Lisa wondered if Dave had been seeing someone else during that time, since he had been so understanding and patient. Maybe he had been getting it somewhere else.
Lisa had had two other serious relationships, one in college, one right after college. The first one had lasted a year, the second one almost two. Both men, boys really, had been kind, and, like her, pretty inexperienced in the bedroom. Their sex had been okay, she thought it was a natural progression of their relationships, but it hadn’t rocked her world. One of her boyfriends had tried giving her oral sex, and she had recoiled from that, it seemed so—dirty. It wasn’t like she didn’t know about it, she was no prude, she had girlfriends who talked about oral sex, and Lisa had looked at porn, although what she had seen had done nothing for her. And she did masturbate now and then. She didn’t have many orgasms, but did enjoy the feeling of intercourse, and feeling the excitement of a man who was coming into her. Into a condom, anyway.