Elizabeth 02: Revenge

Chapter 1

"I say, Elizabeth," Irene huffed through the frigid air as the two best friends stepped down from the streetcar and made their way to the bathhouse, "Does it ever seem to you that the baths aren't worth it in this weather? Every moment in that warm water you know you've got to go back out in the cold later?"

"I prefer to look at that as a reason to enjoy the water while it lasts," Elizabeth replied as the pair hurried their way through the cold, dark streets of Westfordshire City. It was only just past five o'clock, but it was the dead of winter and the sun was always a pleasant memory at that hour. "Besides," Elizabeth added with her usual salacious grin, "Who would miss the opportunity to see and be seen?"

Irene laughed. "Even in the coldest weather, your blood runs as hot as ever. I might've known."

"Your fault, dear," Elizabeth teased. "It's your cousin who keeps the fire burning all the time now, and who brought him into my life?"

"Oh, it's all down to Jonathan now, is it?" Irene teased back. "The hairy ones are the horny ones, aren't they?"

"Guilty as charged," admitted Elizabeth, who sported Westfordshire City's most famously bushy lady-garden. Thanks to her frequenting of the baths, all the city's other trendy young women knew it, and so did the men with whom they compared furtive notes in the city's stylish bars and cafes, to say nothing of the numerous men who had witnessed her charms firsthand. That characteristic had been integral in bringing her together with Irene's cousin Jonathan, after he had let it slip that he was a great admirer of such things and word had come to Irene, who had seen Elizabeth in the bath.

"Tell me again, Elizabeth, did that line ever really work for you when it came to men who found your bush repulsive?" Irene never tired of Elizabeth's many stories of her sordid past, though she steered clear of what her friend was now up to with her cousin.

"It did," Elizabeth confirmed. "If a man was disappointed in my appearance, he was rarely willing to pass up an encounter with a woman who announced she was as randy as he was. But once we were done..."

"You never bothered with him again," Irene finished the story she had heard so many times before. "Why would you when there were so many who appreciated your furry assets?"

"And there were." Elizabeth could often scarcely believe that herself after the horrendous teasing she had endured from the other girls in her younger days -- but it was true. "More than ever now thanks to you, Irene." And she put an affectionate arm around her best friend, to whom she owed the love she and Jonathan had enjoyed for a few months now.

Irene smiled her silent approval, though she knew full well that Elizabeth's sexual appetite had been voracious enough well before Irene had introduced her cousin, Jonathan, to her. It mattered little, of course, for Elizabeth and Jonathan had been very happy together throughout those past few months, and Irene had become Elizabeth's closest confidante as well. In truth she loved Elizabeth's openly lustful outlook on Westfordshire City's baths and the intrigue that so often surrounded them, and she loved being the closest friend of the baths' most honored guest. But she was such fun to tease about it all as well. Among other things, it helped ease Irene's own frustration that romance had eluded her thus far in the long dark winter.

It was for that reason that Irene had more than willingly accepted Elizabeth's invitation to an evening at the baths tonight. The communal baths, though segregated by sex, made for the only intimacy Irene had at her disposal just then. So she had more than willingly come round to Elizabeth's office at the publisher's after she had taught her final class that afternoon to accompany her best friend to their favorite inner sanctum in a liberated city that offered many delights for the young like themselves. With Jonathan working late that night, Elizabeth had assured her that she craved the companionship as well. Irene, for her part, hoped getting out of the house more might lead to her own romance in the near future.

Elizabeth, of course, had many admirers at the bathhouse because of her uniquely beautiful body and her hard-won lack of shame about it. The older woman at the desk that afternoon was not among those admirers, as Elizabeth had explained to Irene somewhere along the line; and she looked mildly annoyed as the two friends bustled in from the cold. They could both see the look of reluctant cordiality on her face as she welcomed the young lady who could not be bothered to groom her overgrown lady-garden appropriately, and the most fervent of her too-many admirers. "Good evening, ladies," she said crisply.

"Lovely to see you," Elizabeth said in her sweetest voice, welcoming the woman's disdain as she had long ago learned such was the best way to cope with other people's opinions of her body. Irene only nodded as she followed Elizabeth in signing in. The woman forced a cordial smile as she handed over their locker keys, and they were off to the locker room.

Even the drafty lobby was warmer than the outside, and as they made their way down the hall to the steamy locker room it grew downright hot. Elizabeth and Irene began peeling off their outer clothing as soon as they were signed in; when they reached the locker room hats, gloves, coats and scarves were all removed and stuffed hastily under their arms. Only then did Elizabeth note that Irene was wearing trousers, a fairly new trend among the women of Westfordshire City and not something Elizabeth herself had ever yet considered. "Heavens, Irene, don't you feel boxed in wearing those?" she asked in surprise.

"A bit at first," Irene admitted. "But they're certainly warmer than a dress in that chill out there! You ought to try a pair."

"Someday I may," Elizabeth agreed, hanging her outerwear in her locker and eager to see her friend's reaction to her own newest wardrobe change. "But not just yet." She was much too fond of her very feminine clothing styles, after all those years of being made to feel like less than a woman in the bad old days. Why would one want to dress like a man after that? But she would say no such thing to her dearest friend. Nor did Irene need any explanation; she knew Elizabeth's stories of her past struggles with her natural beauty. Indeed, Irene had heard of Elizabeth's hairy pussy and her hard-won pride in it even before she had met her. Having since become friends there in the baths after a rather embarrassing introduction, they had gone on to share most or all of their intimate secrets over tea or wine, befitting a relationship that had begun in such intensely intimate circumstances.

Casually as always, for they were perfectly accustomed to being nude together, Irene and Elizabeth set about undressing. Well-attuned to the sheer naughtiness of it all, they did so facing one another, enjoying the attention they knew they were getting. There were half a dozen other women in the room, some just joining the baths, others leaving; most of them knew Elizabeth and enjoyed the titillation of a look at her unique body. Only one, a woman of about their age who was dressing to leave in the corner, was unfamiliar to Elizabeth and Irene. Neither of them paid her much mind, as they were already fully aware that they were subject to the usual furtive glances as they undressed. Elizabeth welcomed those glances, and Irene was learning to appreciate them vicariously, knowing they weren't really aimed at her lovely but ordinary body.

Elizabeth was nevertheless tickled by the anticipation of Irene's reaction to her new undergarment. Having finally given in to her distaste for the bulky underpants that were still the mainstream option for the women of Westfordshire City, she had at long last allowed Jonathan to buy her a few pairs of high-cut panties (as they were so adorably billed at the lingerie shop). That day marked Elizabeth's first occasion wearing them to the baths, which meant the first time anyone save Jonathan would see them. Though they felt far more comfortable and feminine and grown-up than the silly pants she was used to, the panties had one major drawback: her abundant pubic hair peeked out from behind the thin fabric at every edge, on both legs and above the waistline. That effect had always dissuaded Elizabeth from buying or wearing them before, as she felt her feminine charms were best left entirely hidden until they were fully displayed. Many reassurances from Jonathan that he loved the look had allowed her to overcome her reservations as far as he was concerned; but she still was unsure how she felt about appearing in her panties in public.

Forcing a smile and remembering how confident she normally was in that room, Elizabeth pulled her skirt off and revealed her new garment. Although most of the women in the room were polite enough to pretend not to notice, Elizabeth did receive two very different reactions. The first was from Irene: "Oh, heavens, dear, you finally bought them!"

"Jonathan did, actually," Elizabeth said, undoing her brassiere. "I finally agreed to try them. I like the way they feel but I don't know how I feel about how they look. What do you think?"

"I think they're adorable," said Irene, who had worn the ordinary old fashioned underpants under her trousers; she removed them now and stood nude waiting for her friend. "But why not the one-piece, leotard underwear? That's the one you have always lusted after, haven't you?"

"I'm too fond of tea and wine," Elizabeth giggled, as she slid the panties down to reveal her legendary huge triangle to the delight of her furtive admirers. "You would be the first to tell me that, you know. As it is, Jonathan was the first: 'Think of how long it will take to remove that every time you go to the water closet!'"

"Yes, I guess I would have told you that," Irene admitted with a grin. Elizabeth loved her tea in the daytime and wine in the evening, and as a result she needed to make water perhaps twice as frequently as Irene did. Irene had also noticed Jonathan coming to follow her lead in excusing himself quite often when visiting the family; he had no doubt been joining in on her drinking habits. Irene had teased the both of them gently on the matter, in response to which Jonathan had taken to calling her 'Iron Bladder Irene'. She rather liked the name, but privately she had to admit that their having one more thing in common was another reminder of her own loneliness this winter. Seeing Elizabeth was not hurt by the teasing on this occasion, in any case, she joined in with her friend's laughter.

"Indeed, I need to visit the water closet now," Elizabeth confessed, shutting her locker door. "I shall see you in the pool?"

"Of course," Irene said. As Elizabeth strode proudly nude to the water closet, she and Irene both took notice of the second reaction to her state of undress. The woman in the corner whom neither of them knew, though now fully dressed and ready to leave, was still standing with her locker open. She was doing a poor job of pretending to be searching for a missing trinket of some sort, but anyone who looked upon her could see she was examining Elizabeth and was annoyed -- if not outright disgusted -- at what she saw. Irene saw the other woman out of the corner of her eye, but could not be certain if Elizabeth had noticed. She knew, of course, that Elizabeth was accustomed to coping with disapproval of her body; but the openly contemptuous look from the stranger was difficult for anyone -- or at least for Irene -- to ignore. Particularly in the baths, where public opinion was overwhelmingly on Elizabeth's side.

Once Elizabeth had closed the water closet door, the mystery woman shut her locker and left. Irene, curious about the nasty reaction, took up her towel and walked out to the pool. Braving the usual sense of delicious embarrassment that most of the women felt when entering the bath, she pushed open the heavy door and emerged into the steamy room. As it was quite early in the evening, the pool was not as crowded as it often was when Irene and Elizabeth attended; but Irene did see a number of familiar faces and bodies as she entered the sanctum. Though she was accustomed to the intimacies they shared in the pool, as usual she smiled shyly as she lowered herself into the pool.

Shy or not, Irene received the usual warm welcome from friend and newcomer alike. Amidst the many friendly greetings, she nodded and smiled as she settled herself into an empty corner where there would be room for Elizabeth as well. Eunice, perhaps the baths' most frequent attendee, was as usual Irene's most boisterous greeter. Sliding her big body along the bench to greet the new arrival, she clutched Irene gently on the arm. "Irene! Welcome. No Elizabeth today?"

"She will be joining us shortly," Irene reassured her.

"Good! Good!" Eunice was pleased, and Irene rather suspected she'd had a drink or two earlier in the afternoon.

"Isn't really the baths at all without Elizabeth, is it?" asked another of the ladies, whose name Irene couldn't recall.

"Oh, I don't know," Irene said through her impatience. "I think we all bring something special here."

"Yes, of course," Eunice replied. "Oh, but it is a shame you and Elizabeth weren't here a bit earlier. We had a first time visitor who knew her. A school chum, actually."

"A school chum, you say?" Irene thought of the stranger in the locker room and her rude stare. "I wonder, was she really a friend of Elizabeth? Did she say?"

Before Eunice or anyone else could answer, the door made its characteristic loud report and Elizabeth blossomed forth into the chamber, majestic as usual in her knowing entry. Jealousy and envy aside, Irene could not deny the unique natural beauty of the lush forest of curls that reached out in every direction from the most intimate part of her dear friend's body. Little wonder, she knew, that the other women so enjoyed the company of one with such a delightfully naughty secret. And certainly Elizabeth was entitled to finding joy in her own body after all the misery she had endured in her youth. Still and all, the celebrity her friend enjoyed was coming to be a bother to her all the same.

Elizabeth smiled her usual warm greeting at everyone, and slid joyfully into the warm water. "Ohhhh, that was worth the walk over here, now wasn't it, Irene?"

"And how!" Irene agreed. She was right, the warm water and warmer company were worth the chilly walk. "I'm happy we braved it after all."

"Elizabeth," Eunice announced, "We were just talking about you, dear."

"Aren't you always, though?" Elizabeth rejoined. "Yes, I'm still with Jonathan and, yes, he's still happy with you know what." She patted her huge bush under the water, drawing hoots of approval from several of the other ladies.

"Not that, dear, though I am happy to hear it of course," Eunice said. "No, I was just telling Irene, there was a lady in here earlier who knew you from your school days. You missed her by only a few minutes."

Elizabeth's sense of contentment vanished -- Irene could see it in her eyes. "Oh heavens, no. Not Tamara?"

"Why, yes, that was her name." Eunice now looked concerned. "What's wrong, dear?"

"Is that the nasty looking woman we saw in the locker room, Elizabeth?" Irene asked.

"I had desperately hoped it was but an unfortunate resemblance," Elizabeth told her friend. "But yes, evidently that was Tamara."

"How strange," Eunice said. "She seemed so happy to hear you were a regular visitor here."

"Yes, Elizabeth, she said she wished she could have seen you in here!" piped up one of the other ladies.

"I'm sure she did wish that," Elizabeth said shortly. "Well, on to other topics. How was everyone's day at work?" She forced a smile and welcomed no further questions about Tamara.

"I take it Tamara was one of your tormentors back at school?" Irene asked Elizabeth over wine an hour and a half later, as they awaited their dinner at their favorite café.

"She wasn't just one of my tormentors," Elizabeth said, "She was the worst of the lot. Every time I had to undress for the gymnasium or for bedtime, if there was a clutch of girls calling me Junglepussy or worse, Tamara was always there at the center of it all. Every time I tried anything new to hide my 'problem,' she always picked up on it first and she always made sure everyone knew. 'Oh look, Elizabeth tried shaving! Is that your period or did you cut yourself in there?' Or, 'Look, everyone, Elizabeth is wearing her short pants in the bath! Wonder what she's trying to hide -- oh, wait, we know! Tee hee hee!'" Despite the harassment being years in the past and long since replaced by many admirers including Irene, Elizabeth felt tears welling up and dabbled at her eyes with her napkin. Then she picked up her wine glass and took a long sip. "We may need a lot of this tonight, I'm afraid."

Irene, her earlier resentments of her friend having long since melted, reached over the table and caressed Elizabeth's hand. "I'm so sorry you had to see her again, Elizabeth. But you know you're stronger than this now. I've seen how you carry yourself in the baths, remember! And you know how fond Jonathan is of you -- and why." She couldn't help smiling.

Elizabeth smiled, too. "Yes, yes you're quite right. It's just...what an unpleasant reminder of the worst time of my life!"

"Look around, Elizabeth," Irene continued gently. The restaurant was crowded with diners, many of whom knew Elizabeth and admired her, whether it was for her professional abilities or her friendship or -- in not a few cases among the men -- her sexual appeal, or some combination of all three. "See how many people here admire you? That there is one person in town who mistreated you years ago, do you really want to let that depress you, my dear?"

Elizabeth straightened up in her seat and took another sip of wine. "Quite right, Irene, thank you. No. I don't want to let that depress me."

"Good for you!" Irene said. Seeing a mischievous glint in Elizabeth's eyes, she asked, "Is there something you do want from Tamara?"

"Revenge," Elizabeth said with a sly smile.

"Elizabeth, dear, that is hardly the mature response." But Irene said it with a twinkle in her own eye, for she could still sense the lingering wounds her dear friend had had to suffer through and she could hardly blame her for her answer.

"Wouldn't you say the same, though, if you were in my position?" Elizabeth asked.

"Naturally!" Irene laughed and they clinked glasses.

The two friends spent the remainder of dinner discussing how revenge might be had upon Tamara; and a number of possibilities were floated. By the time it was over, Elizabeth had her confidence back, and with it her usual sexual hunger. Jonathan would be home and probably through with dinner by the time she went round to his flat -- she often stayed there after any day with business in the town as it was much more conveniently located than her own home out on the outskirts of the city -- and by the time she and Irene had polished off the last of the wine she was crossing her legs tightly in anticipation. All she needed to complete her recovery was a strong roll in the sheets with Jonathan.

Irene, as if on cue, said, "I suppose you wish to hurry home to Jonathan's arms, now, dear?"

"And how," Elizabeth said with no effort to hide her anticipation. "How I need that after today!"

"I understand," Irene said, hiding her once again budding envy as she anticipated another night in her lonely bedsit. No jealousy, she reminded herself; her friend and her cousin were entitled to their happiness. They split the bill, and parted on the sidewalk with kisses on the cheek where Irene waited for the streetcar while Elizabeth set off on the two block walk to Jonathan's building. It wouldn't be a moment too soon. Confident though she was, Elizabeth nevertheless had her moments when all she needed was to allow herself a bit of vulnerability with lovely Jonathan. And this entire evening had been one of those moments. Elizabeth pulled her cloak tightly around her as she made her way through the darkened side streets, thinking how right it was that such a nasty surprise should come in the darkest days of winter. And how right she would feel in Jonathan's arms shortly! No more tears, she willed herself, focusing on the pleasant anticipation of what lay ahead for the end of the evening.