A Cold Dish Ch. 01

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They say revenge is a dish best served cold… And I can’t say I disagree with that sentiment.

Rebecca Richmond was a slim redhead, weighing about 150 pounds soaking wet. She’d been somewhat of an awkward child at school, with several skin conditions and a few mental tics, but she never let these hinder her aggression. I really couldn’t believe that in five years, this arrogant, awkward bitch who had ruined my childhood had become a beautiful young woman, with pale skin and big eyes that would just suck you in. She’d dyed her hair blonde, which suited her, in my opinion. She would always be, to me, an airhead. But hey, that was just my thoughts on the matter.

Rebecca was not a nice person. I knew that there were excuses, but I never really cared for them, because they didn’t make up for what she’d done. I was the active, friendly, ADHD kid that everyone knew. I came with my own set of issues, true, but nothing I did warranted the cruelty she heaped on me. And oh, she did. This young woman had little ambition in her younger years except to rule the small private school we went to, and she did it well. Of course, this meant I had to end up at the bottom. And so I became her personal target, and ended up damaged from her constant abuse. When we all graduated that school, I swore, I would get revenge on her, by going further than she ever did. But, as most of these stories go, I barely went anywhere at all. Crippling social phobias and a complete lack of understanding when it came to societal norms really aren’t your best bets for making new friends and soaring among the stars.

But I wasn’t the only one who screwed up. I stayed in school, stayed clean, and got out with average grades that hardly represented the near-MENSA level of intellect I apparently possessed. She, on the other hand, was forced to drop out during a drinking fiasco before finals during sophomore year, and ended up being tossed into the local private school, full of uniforms and religion, where they’d keep a closer eye on her. Me, I was free to wander the halls of the public high school, enjoying almost every second of my liberation. No longer did I worry about the snide whispers behind my back, or the mockery in the wake of my footsteps. Sure, her cronies were still there, but she was gone, and without her, they were limited to small little jokes that soon got boring, and some meaningless gossip. I, on the other hand, was not so confined.

Whilst Rebecca was away, I’d been barely surviving school, yes, and dealing with a host of mental problems, but one thing I never forgot was my childhood. I never forgot how I came to fear her face and her words… And also came to desire them. See, in my later years of high school, I began to realize I had a crush on Rebecca, the girl who I could single-handedly blame for messing me up so badly. That topic certainly was avoided in therapy. I wasn’t about to admit my thoughts about her, not to anyone! But as I grew, so did these thoughts, blossoming from a bud of an idea into a full-fledged fantasy, becoming so prominent in my mind, I could not shake them. So when I ran into Rebecca again, I wasn’t entirely canlı bahis şirketleri sure what I was going to do.

I never moved away from the town we grew up in, and it was only inevitable that we cross paths sometime. For me, it was at Rose’s, the local (and only) sex shop in town. I’d been there a couple times, being a single pansexual with a healthy sex drive, but never without friends. So when I stepped out of the busy street and into the cool, AC’ed store, I never expected to see a certain long-haired bitch across the store from me. And I certainly never expected to see her at the rack for remote-controlled sex toys, specifically the kind for subtle public play. My first instinct was to leave. Heaven forbid she catch me here! But my second one was to snap a picture of her, which I promptly did. Slipping my phone back into my pocket, and tugging my hat low over my face, I let my hair down and began to browse the wares I knew all too well.

But, before I give you the tantalizing details of what happened next, I should tell you what I look like, no? I’m about 5’5″, of average height and slim build. I weigh no more than 130 pounds on a good day, and have medium-length dark brown hair. My skin is relatively pale, dotted with scars, and I have deep hazel eyes, which can appear to change color, depending on my mood. I’m a bit of a dyke, and prefer boyish clothing. You won’t catch me wearing dresses or skirts, and make-up is pointless to me. I just don’t like such things. I ever wore a suit to prom. I’m almost always found wearing a baseball cap, though, it’s my favorite accessory. I practice martial arts (a habit picked up from the days I knew Rebecca in), walk several miles daily, and exercise. So, I am in relatively good shape. A bit of a change from the slim, gawky kid people knew growing up. No doubt she’d be hard-pressed to recognize me now. But that wasn’t something I was willing to bet on.

As it was, my luck wasn’t strong. She turned as I walked closer to her, heading for the rack of vibrators. It took her a moment, and I saw her do a double-take, before finally, she realized who she was looking at.

“Samantha?”

I grimaced under my hat, and looked up at her, tilting the brim back from my face. “Rebecca. Hey.”

“Wow, what are you doing here? Still can’t get a guy to go for all that psycho?”

“Real mature, Becca. Reaaaaal mature.” I drew out the first word, letting the scorn sink in. She still hadn’t grown up. What a shock.

“So, what is it you do for a living now, Sam? Hrm?” She put a specific emphasis on my name, with that same mocking edge that still made me cringe after all these years. How I hated it.

“If you must know, I’m a freelance writer.”

“Oh, so you’re unemployed, hrm?” That tone. I swear, I was allergic to that tone, it drove me mad. And that little giggle of hers, so frustrating. It made me want to slap her. “I’ve been published a few times. Carrying on my family tradition. I hear you tried to do that. Tell me, did it sting, getting kicked out of college? I bet they hoisted you out by your rear. No one wants trash like you in their halls.”

She canlı kaçak iddaa reared up at that. She didn’t like having the tables turned, not one bit. For Rebecca, it was about complete control. If she didn’t have it, you did not want to be in her way. She could make a class five hurricane look like a puff of air. Normally, I would have backed down, but I wasn’t that shy little kid anymore. I had changed, and running was no longer something I did. Watching her drag herself back to the shores of her control was a satisfying experience, I must say. She certainly was having a hard time. Not enough anger management classes, I supposed. There was a reason I kept up with mine, after all.

“Actually, I left because I didn’t feel like I wanted to pursue that career path. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? You flunked out of community college. That must have been humiliating.” Ouch. Well, she sure knew how to hit the right buttons, but I wasn’t the sort to let that get to me, not anymore. I wasn’t her easy target nowadays.

“Mrm, I did. I made a mistake and went into it for a degree I was fairly uneasy about. Now I simply freelance, do what makes me happy. I may not be rich-” I put a mocking emphasis on that word “-but I know how to be happy. And it doesn’t involve sex and booze.”

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Like you even know what sex is! I bet you’ve never even had a boyfriend, let alone fucked anyone!”

“Actually, I’ve had two boyfriends-“

“And both were scrawny geeks, I remember them! Victor the retard and Matt the chicken farmer! Was he even a boy? Hard to tell with his long hair!”

I cleared my throat softly, looking at her. “As I was saying, I’ve had two boyfriends, and a grand total of seven girlfriends. I’ve slept with a few girls in my time, and retained my hymen to this day. Unlike you, who drinks and fucks like there’s no tomorrow.”

There was dead silence in the store for a moment. I could clearly hear a mother scolding a child outside, as the little boy wanted to go in and “See the cool toys!”. In this time, Rebecca’s face went from rage to shock, to mild surprise, to disgust, then finally made it’s way up to glee. I calmly waited for those triumphant words to make their way free from her throat. It was like watching a volcano explode, to be honest.

“I KNEW IT! I knew you were a lesbian! I was right! Always checking us out, staring at us while we changed… You’re such a perv! Oh Em Gee. I cannot wait to tell everyone. What a huge fucking dyke!” It was amusing to listen to her spout this homophobic crap in a town that was so liberal, no one gave two shits. Still, in her long-winded rant, she crossed a line, and at that point, something had to be done.

“I bet you have to rape girls just to get them to sleep with you!”

My eyes flew open when she said that. I had begun to close them, bored with her incessant talking. But when she decided to throw that one out there, she triggered something I didn’t even realize I had been burying. Something so powerful, so out of my control, I barely even realized what I was saying before I said it.

“I’d canlı kaçak bahis sleep with you, if you weren’t such a trashy whore.”

A moment of silence, then all hell broke loose. She spewed out a torrent of names, calling me everything in the book. Homo, gaytard, pervert, sex addict, hooker, anything and everything to get my dander up. I hardly gave two shits. High school and a year clubbing down in the South had hardened me to comments about my sexual preferences. As I watched her lips form the frenzied words, I felt something in me click. Suddenly, I was stepping forward. I’m quite certain she asked me what I was doing, but I didn’t care at that point. Gripping both her wrists, I slammed us into the wall, and shut her mouth with my own, pressing my lips to hers. She fought like a hellion. I swear, in those few seconds, I tasted semen on her lips, that salty tinge making me want to laugh. To avoid attracting attention, I let her go, sated for the time being. Looking her over, she stood there, flushed red with rage. She was shaking, and her blond hair, what she was so damn proud of, was disheveled, making her look like she’d just finished sucking a cock. And her eyes… Beneath the anger, I saw a twinge of something, something I hadn’t seen in a while. It caught me off guard for a moment. Before I could react, she reared up, and slapped me clear across the jaw.

“Fucking PERVERT! What the HELL is your issue! I should call the cops on you! My parents are lawyers, you know, you’ll be out on the streets befo-“

“I know what your parents are, Rebecca, it’s why they never gave two shits about you and always left you on your own. It’s why you have so many Mommy and Daddy issues.”

That earned me another slap. By now, I was surprised that the owner hadn’t come out. But Rosa knew me well enough, I suppose, and knew I could handle my own shit. I’d never made trouble for her before, after all. Listening to Rebecca rant on again about how I knew nothing, how much trouble I was in, etc, I sighed.

“Look. Either you can shut up, or I’ll show everyone this lovely little picture I have of you looking at a rather kinky sex toy. I bet Mommy and Daddy would LOVE to know what you want to do with a vibrator for public play, specifically marked “For the kinky little girl in you!”. I’ll be sure to e-mail them a copy.”

She spluttered with fury. “How DARE you! I’ll sue for stalking! Delete that photo!”

“Why? As you can clearly see, I’m just taking a picture of a sex toy. It’s unfortunate you were in the frame, Becca dear.”

“BITCH!” She was about to slap me again, but this time, I caught her hand, and pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers before letting them go. Just to add to the mockery. I did like taunting her far too much. She pulled her hand back like it was on fire, then turned and stalked out of the store, looking furious. She knew there was nothing she could do.

Me? I just laughed. Shrugging to myself, I went and strolled back out onto the street. Already, she was nowhere to be found. Funny how fast she could move when she wanted to. Whistling a tune to myself, I tucked my hat low over my eyes once more, and strolled down the street into a brisk New England evening.

I’d see her again. I knew that look in her eyes, sure enough. It was curiosity, and it was lust, a combination that always kept them coming back for more.

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