Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 01byStardog Champion©
Any Father worth his salt would have been utterly distraught seeing all his Daughter had worked for, go for not. Sadly, 44 year old Curt Craft could remember that day three years earlier like it was only yesterday. Sitting in the town's quaint convention center along with his Wife and two other girls, Curt watched as his oldest Daughter, Kirsten, finished second in the town's local teen pageant.
While winning it would have came with a tiara along with the Title, not to mention a little bit of money for college, the main prize of finishing first would have been a trip to the state pageant, with a chance to represent Colorado at the National Miss Teen USA Pageant.
Finishing second among more than two dozen other girls was certainly an accomplishment for Kirstin, but to someone with as unhealthy of an obsession as his Wife, Darlene, it felt like a wake around the family's house for the next few weeks. While there was a certain level of disappointment in 'losing', what really stuck a knife in Darlene Craft's craw was that Kirstin had lost the local pageant to one of her biggest 'rivals', a girl named Angie Burton, who'd then went on to finish a respectable third in the State pageant.
Calling Angie "Kirstin's rival" may have perhaps been too strong of a term. While the girls had been in the same class since 6th grade, and often times found themselves in competition for attention, accolades and boys, there was enough to go around to keep both happy as they progressed through high school. The real rivalry was between Darlene Craft and Angie's Mom, Patrice. Much like 'little league fathers', 'pageant moms' brought their own peculiar mental defect to each and every interaction with their children as they tried, in vain, to live vicariously through them.
Curt had met Darlene while the two were going to college at the University of Texas. She'd been the product of a wealthy Louisiana family, and several generations of women had competed in the pageant hotbed of the deep south. When Curt accepted a job in Colorado Springs a few years after they married, Darlene saw a golden opportunity to put all her training, experience and good genes to work in a new town. Unfortunatly for her, the gene pool where they moved was significantly deeper than she expected.
Curt frankly never really became enamored with the whole 'pageant scene', but it gave Darlene and their three Daughters enough of a distraction that allowed him to pursue his hobbies like golfing, fishing and to be truthful, fooling around on Darlene whenever the opportunity presented itself on his increasingly frequent business trips. Certainly feeling bad for Kirstin that night when she found herself runner-up to Angie Burton, it wasn't like Curt didn't try to warn his Wife and Daughter that the results may be as much about who the girl's family knew as what happened on stage. He tried telling Darlene that the Burton's several generations long connections in Colorado Springs would play a role in the judging, and even though he'd never be able to prove it, he was sure it did in the end.
Politics aside, seeing Angie walk across a stage in a swimsuit, there was no way a man could begrudge anyone for giving the girl the nod to move on, even if his own Daughter was also in the running. While Angie's years worth of gymnastic training and cheerleading probably trumped Kirstin's piano lessons since age 7 in the talent portion of the program, there was an undeniable stage presence Angie possessed that most of the other girls, including Kirstin, did not.
Of course, while all of that made complete, rational sense, none of that mattered to Darlene. She had two other younger Daughters in the pageant pipeline, and with Kirstin coming so close, the pressure would now be on both of them to do what their older sister couldn't.
At her core, Angela Burton could be a real bitch. Having grown up in the cocoon of wealth and privilege, Angie discovered she could basically get what she wanted from most people before she learned to walk. Prettier than 99% of the girls she encountered, she also had been graced with a good head on her shoulders, not to mention more than her fair share of charisma. Add to that a Mother that was tantamount to a social bully, and a Father that was one of the most respected businessmen in the area and it was easy to see why Angie walked around with a silver spoon shoved up her ass.
While there was the occasional girl that created a 'threatening blip' on Angie's radar, she'd developed such a following over the years that most anyone influential in her clique would side with her because they inherently knew where their bread was buttered. Kirsten Craft would have certainly qualified as someone that could have thrown a good scare into Angie's Alpha Queen status, but it just wasn't in Kirsten's nature, besides even at her young age she was certain she didn't want the drama that would inevitably come with it.
While most of Angie's teenage cohorts eventually fell in line with the primal hierarchy of social relationships, the same could not be said for many of the Mothers of those same girls. Whether it was snide jealousy, bitchy gossip or outright accusations over Angie and her family's air of superiority, the young girl did walk around like she was made of Gucci Teflon.
One of the many things she did take a special and sick amount of joy in was seeing the reaction many of those same women's Husbands would give her when she was jogging through the neighborhood, laying out getting some Sun, or cheerleading at a basketball or football games back in high school. Naturally, many of those women hated Angie because she was prettier than they were, smarter as well, and frankly, younger.
Angie knew that little dose of cruel reality hit most of those aging women 'where it hurt'. Women just like Darlene Craft.
It all took place in the blink of an eye the night Angela Burton won the Colorado Springs' teen pageant. Standing on stage, surrounded by all her competitors congratulating her, Angie held the bouquet of flowers like a newborn baby in her arms as they placed the tiara on her head. Through the muddled array of other girls crossing back and forth through her field of vision, Angie stole the quickest of glances out to the crowd, desperate to commit to memory the looks on the faces of the Mothers of some of her more strident rivals.
Flashing her beauty queen smile as she waved to the applauding audience, an internal glow of warmth and vindication filled Angie all the way up to her high, rouge covered cheekbones seeing the look of veiled disgust in the eyes of Darlene Craft, among a handful of others.
While she fully expected to move on to the state pageant and win, Angie had to settle for a third place finish, but even with that, it was clear she'd become a rather large fish in a pretty small pond back home. Accepting a scholarship to the University of Colorado, Angie moved to Boulder and started college the following Fall.
Deciding to major in International Studies with a minor in Hospitality & Hotel Management, Angie planned on traveling the world, enjoying all the fruits and benefits a girl of her obvious wares could before eventually settling down. Every once in awhile, Angie did make a point of coming home and visiting her family, and when she did, there was a tangible 'rock star' like buzz that spread through the neighborhood.
Home over Labor Day weekend three full years after that glorious night when she won the local teen pageant, Angie was now 21 and just getting ready to start her Senior year of college. Tagging along with her Mom and Dad that beautiful Saturday afternoon to a barbeque at one of their friend's house, Angie planned on mingling with a few old friends, maybe taking a dip in the family's posh swimming pool and wallowing attention she always seemed to garner when she was back home. When she arrived, there were easily more than 300 people spread out across the sprawling property, most were faces she recognized including Curt and Darlene Craft.
Angie didn't exactly come to the barbeque with the intentions of causing a stir. Except for the crowd that happened to mingle around the volleyball court while she was out there running and jumping with the guys, or the way the pool suddenly seemed to fill up when she took a quick dip to cool off, she stayed as under the radar as a girl of her ilk could. About the only outward flirting she took part in was when she crossed paths with a young man she'd had a crush on since way back in high school.
Quinn Conners had been a couple of grades ahead of Angie, but she spent the better part of her Freshman and Sophomore years trying to get him to notice her. She'd come close a couple of times but was never able to seal the deal with him. Now Quinn was at the gathering with his fiancé, and Angie took a naughty bit of pleasure casting him a seductive wink or pouty nod each time Quinn's soon to be Wife wasn't looking.
Then there were the Husbands. Angie's radar was keenly tuned to whenever she thought someone might be admiring her from afar. As the afternoon progressed, it was clear most of the men from the neighborhood hadn't forgot her. Most were way too cautious, given the environment and the presence of their wives, to brazenly walk and initiate a conversation, but the silent weight of their glares was ever-present.
Mingling with as many people as she could, Angie thought the afternoon was going to go off without a hitch until she found herself standing in line at the bar beside Curt Craft as they both waited to get a cold beer. Engaging in a round of friendly, good natured banter, Angie asked about Kirsten and Curt told her that Kirsten had just completed an internship with an insurance company in Denver, and planned on getting her degree in accounting before possibly going for her Masters in business administration.
The two continued their innocuous conversation for a few more turns until, like a tornado twisting down from a crystal blue sky, Darlene Craft swooped in out of nowhere.
Clad in a snugly fitting, tan bikini top and matching sarong wrapped loosely around her waist, Angie Burton would have difficult to ignore in pretty much any crowd. Her tanned skin glowing like a beacon under the marvelous, early September Sun, Angie's wet auburn hair glistened and sparkled from the dip she'd just taken in the pool. As radiant as the 21 year old goddess looked however, Darlene cut in between Angie and her Husband as if the younger woman hadn't even been there.
Darlene's ploy was painfully obvious to most everyone standing around, but her dander had been raised to the point that none of the surrounding glares even registered. The only thing on her plate at the moment was digging the claws of her agitated stare into the sockets of her Husband's eyes.
Nudging herself even deeper between Angie and Curt, Darlene eased her right hand down to her Husband's waist and unsuccessfully tried steering him in the direction in which she came.
"There's a couple over there by the fire pit that we haven't seen in a few years Curt..I wanted you to come over and say 'hi'," Darlene tried making up an excuse to tear her Husband away on the fly.
For her part, Angie just backed away slightly then stood her ground, allowing every bit of embarrassment for the situation to fall on the 45 year old woman blabbering less than three feet in front of her.
Refusing to be led away like a wayward hen, Curt at least stood his ground long enough to buy his beer before slinking off with his Wife. Anyone within 50 feet who could read lips could tell Darlene was asking her Husband "Why in the Hell he was talking to that girl?" as she walked him back to the BBQ pit. Curt simply sipped at his cold beer and ignored his visibly shaken Wife.
"He ought to throw that crazy bitch into the fire," half the people milling around were thinking if anyone there who could have read minds.
Stalking around the property for a little while longer, Angie found herself getting increasingly pissed at the immature and petty treatment she'd gotten from the woman who was more than twice her age. Just 'letting it go' sadly wasn't one of Angie's strong suits, and between the internal agitation and the beer she was drinking, an all too familiar feeling began to stir inside her. The combination of being a little pissed and a little buzzed always seemed, in the end, to create a sizeable amount of arousal inside her perky, young body.
Her first inclination was to try and find Quinn, to possibly consummate her long time feelings for him before he went and got hitched. After looking in vain for him for several minutes, it appeared his fiancé had wisely whisked him away.
Scanning the landscape for another guy that might serve as a suitable, and available, second choice, Angie didn't see anything that really appealed to her. Then, like someone with an itch they couldn't quite reach, Angela Burton latched on to the perfect elixir for the complex mixture of emotions swirling inside her.
Seeing her Mom and Dad were occupied with several other couples on the far side of the property, Angie knew her whereabouts wouldn't be an issue for awhile. Tilting her gaze in the opposite direction, she eventually zeroed in on the Crafts through the maze of sundrenched bodies. Even from a distance, she could clearly see the look of strain and aggravation on Darlene's face as she burned through one cigarette after another. Curt stood like a statue with his arms folded several feet away from her, sipping at his beer periodically, looking as if a root canal at that moment would been preferable.
Gossip travels quick through a neighborhood like Angie's, and there had been quite a bit of down low chatter about several affairs Mr. Craft may have had on his Wife over the years. Between the maids, personal trainers and litany of other service providers that frequented many of the inhabitants of the surrounding homes, tidbits of everyone's personal lives became public knowledge, even if the actual truth may have been stretched a little to make a better story.
If Curt had cheated once, or twice or a dozen times on Darlene, he was most likely susceptible to it again. Among the many things Angie had learned about men over the years, one was they delighted in doing things they weren't supposed to, especially if they thought they could get away with it. The other was, they had a hard time turning down a quality piece of ass. In Angie's mind, she knew she had both to offer.
"You can see he wants you," she told herself.
"He probably has for a long, long time. And you can see he hates her right now. Might as well strike while the iron's hot," the devious little gnome in Angie's head added as she started to walk, more like stalk, in the Craft's direction.
What she was actually going to do when she got there, Angie had no clue. Weaving through the party patrons as if she were nothing more than a wisp of ethereal smoke, Angie got the break she needed when she saw Curt finish off his bottle of Miller Lite then start walking to the recycling bin about 20 feet away. Apparently liking the air the further he got away from his brooding Wife, Curt kept walking towards the bank of Porta-potties the property owner had rented for the afternoon.
"Things can't be this easy, can they?" Angie chuckled, keeping one eye on Curt as he disappeared into the bathroom, and the other on Darlene, who'd started talking to someone else as if she couldn't stand having to chew her cud alone.
Slipping inside the green door once she checked to make sure no one was looking, Angie immediately heard the word "OCCUPIED" raise gruffly from Curt's throat. Without taking the time to turn around, he continued to pee until he realized the person who'd walked in was still behind him after the door closed.
For the briefest instant, a tremor of dread rolled through Curt's belly thinking it may actually be Grahame Colvin, the Husband of Renee Colvin, a neighbor he'd had a brief affair with a few months earlier.
"I'm sorry Mr. Craft..I didn't realize someone was in here," Angela Burton offered with seductive sarcasm.
"...Angie?" Curt shuddered with his back still turned, his urine stream now becoming much spottier.
"This is about the only place to talk to you without your Wife swooping in," she answered.
"I'm gonna make this quick," Angie continued, stepping close enough to actually see the hair on the back of Curt's neck stand up. "I've wanted you for a very long time, Mr. Craft...probably ever since I was a little girl when I use to ride my bike past your house when you were out working in the yard."
It was a lie of course. If there was any neighbor that truly turned her crank, it was probably the guy who lived four doors down from her parents who looked like a dead ringer for Michael Douglas in his prime. That said, given Angie's well trained and convincing tone, Curt Craft absorbed every word as truth, having no clue he was just a means to a spoiled girl's selfish end.
"I've got to get back to Boulder for an afternoon class tomorrow. Is there anywhere we could meet right now..I forgot how much I wanted you Mr. Craft until I saw you a few minutes ago." Angie prodded, her warm breath now teasingly sweeping across his right cheek.
"Did my Wife see you walk this way?" Curt managed to mumble.
Angie simply snickered.
"As soon as you walked away, she just walked over to another group of people and started bitching to them....she's a real piece of work Mr. Craft..you deserve so much better," Angie continued to twist her emotional knife.
Taking a final step forward, Angie snaked her right hand around Curt's waist and took his dangling cock between her fingers.
"You sure there's no place we can go?" she asked again, this time resting her chin on his right shoulder as she shook the remaining drops of pee from his inflating appendage before gently depositing the straining girth back inside his shorts.
"Don't forget to zip up?" she told him as she grazed her angelic hand across the bulge in his pants.
"I'd love to dip my hand back inside there and pull it out again in a few minutes if you're game, Mr. Craft. There didn't seem to be a anybody over near Mr. Carter's garage..it does have a lock..meet me over there in 15 minutes maybe?" she added, clearly feeling his shoulder quiver beneath her chin before exiting the bathroom with just as much stealth as she'd entered.
Thankfully Curt remembered to zip his fly, but the rest of him was disheveled as could be. What Angie had suggested was the miracle offer to years worth of libidinal thought, but it couldn't really just be 'that easy' could it?
Scanning the landscape to make sure no one noticed both he and Angie emerged from the same porta-john, Curt cast one eye towards Mr. Carter's garage and could see Angie traipsing lazily in that direction, chatting amiably with a few people as she made her way there. With the other eye he could see his Wife's chatting up a few of their friends as well, her face seemingly cleansed somewhat of the bitterness of a few minutes ago.
Even though Curt's mind was still struggling over what to do, other parts of his anatomy had made the decision. From the direction his feet started walking, it was clear they were tuned to the latter. Walking with the gait of a zombie, Curt absently brushed off several people he knew as he focused on Angie making her way to the garage.
"She's really serious about this," Curt kept telling himself as years worth of collected memories about the girl flooded back.
"She's half you age Curt..she's your oldest Daughter's biggest rival..your Wife loathes her..and we're here at a party with hundreds of other people who're just strolling around," the last vestiges of his conscience tried reminding, but frankly all that seemed to egg him on that much more.