If the first scene sounds familiar it's because I stole it from an older story that I deleted last year. The rest of the story moves in an entirely new direction, and should please readers who crave a cheating girlfriend doing her hot, cheating-girlfriend thing.
Montana's glossy red fingernail tapped at the six-dollar vodka collins, which Pierce had just lined up beside two red wines. "This Pink Shirt's order?"
"Hold on, I still need the margarita for his table."
What she did next left him completely slack jawed. She spit directly into the vodka collins, and then spun her finger daintily through the ice until it disappeared amongst the seltzer bubbles.
"Our little secret, K?"
He couldn't believe it, his girlfriend routinely exercised a temper, but spitting in someone's drink was entirely beneath her. While he mixed the margarita to compete the order, she made a quick trip to the lady's room, and almost as soon as she left, Pink Shirt strolled up to his bar.
"Is that Montana Sparks?"
"Knew it! That explains why she hasn't looked at me all night."
He was a good sized cat, six-foot-one and roughly one-ninety, making him about dead even with Pierce. He was an attractive man with a slight resemblance to Ryan Gosling, and looked about twenty-five, the same age as Montana, so Pierce asked if they were possibly classmates.
The guy pointed to the bathroom door. "Cheerleader!" He then turned the finger on himself. "High school quarterback." He glanced at the vodka collins. "This mine?"
As he reached for it, Pierce covered the glass with his palm and dragged it off the bar. "Let me get you a fresh one."
"Why, did she put something in there?"
"Let me just get a fresh one, OK."
"Please do. Un-freaking-believable!" He appeared more amused than mad, and as Pierce poured a fresh drink he began to laugh. "Women never forget, do they?"
Montana returned, but the guy headed back to his table the instant he saw her coming.
"What did he want?"
"Just curious if your name happened to be Montana."
"I'm guessing you two had something?"
"Not a chance!"
"Drinks are up––you'll have to give me the details next order."
"I really don't want to go into it now. Actually, I don't ever intend to go into it. He's getting a special drink, that's as much as you need to know."
She unknowingly took him a fresh Vodka Collins, and if she wasn't his girlfriend, Pierce swore he would've fired the insubordinate hostess. But as he watched her dynamite thighs disappear into the crowd, he realized insubordinate or not, those legs were irreplaceable.
The reception dinner wrapped up around eight and as the caterers cleaned the plates, Montana came up and stood idly at the bar, waiting for Pierce to fill the first tray of stemmed champagne glasses with Martini & Rossi Prosecco. The wedding party required twenty full-size tables and filled the Elroy Ballroom from end to end, and would take the couple quite some time to deliver a full round of champagne.
She picked up the tip jar and gave it a shake. "I think people are holding the groom's selection in wine against us. Look how light this is and we're already serving champagne."
"Might be the wine, but it also wouldn't hurt for you to lighten up some. Move that ass, baby, that always loosens bill clips."
"If you only knew what I'm up against tonight you wouldn't say that."
"Pink Shirt and friends?"
"You have no idea what dicks they are."
He handed her a tequila shot. "This oughta help the mood."
She hesitated a moment before accepting the little glass, mulling over whether he was serious or not. They'd met working at a Cuban bar, the only white people on staff and both pretty heavy drinkers, and it was way too easy for him to pour them free shots all night long, so they found themselves drunk almost every night and fucking like mad back at his place. She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever known and at some point during those foggy nights they fell in love, and that miraculously garnered them the strength to quit drinking. Or at least set a reasonable limit. They'd had each other's back ever since, and by handing her a shot of tequila Dan essentially gave her permission to make a night of it. She smiled, knocked it back, and carried off a tray full of champagne, her ass finally showing life.
That ass of hers wasn't fat, but it was damn juicy––a real voluptuous, gravity-defying, miracle from God. Her waist, on the other hand, was a narrow stretch of gorgeously flat terrain. And then there were her great fat tits with half dollar conical nipples. She told Pierce they were Ds, but he always thought of Ds as gratuitous top-heavy tits, while hers were firm and well proportioned, like your classic pin-up girls. And while the caterers all dressed in black slacks, the cocktail hostess wore a swank, extra-short, black, fluffy skirt with a white, fitted, collared shirt, and man did Montana put the curves in it.
Pink Shirt marveled at the same thing Pierce did as he again approached his bar.
"Hard to believe she was a little prissy once. Still every bit the bitch, though. You two together? Heh, I probably should've asked that before opening my big mouth."
"As a matter of fact, she's my girlfriend."
"Aw shit! Sorry man. I mean it, sorry." He held out his hand, "Dan Clemens."
"Pierce. And don't sweat it––she's a handful, I know."
"I bet she is a handful," Dan kidded, sexing up its meaning.
As Montana braced the tray steadily on her arm, she suddenly felt uneasy about bending over to pass out the glasses in such a short skirt, and instead dipped her knees until she could reach the table. She'd worn the sexy, black skirt with the Lolita-style petticoat to make her boyfriend a little jealous of her flaunting an excessive amount of tone thigh to the wedding party. It was a little cruel, sure, but it never failed to turn him into an animal, and it had been awhile since they'd been intimate. What she hadn't anticipated was Dan being there, zeroing in on her thighs with a hungry smile, and that really pissed her off. And then, as she stooped to set another glass of champagne down at a table, she noticed Dan talking to her boyfriend at the bar again, and it almost looked as if they were having a good time. Fuck! She thought about confessing the whole embarrassing truth about Dan, but that would probably send Pierce into a rage. Also, in telling the story, she'd actually have to admit there was a time she'd had a crush on that jerk, and that was more than she could manage.
As she worked her way towards the next gentleman, forcing a smile as she placed a glass of champagne in front of him, her mind sunk back into the past. She'd tried so hard to forget it all, but the painful memories began unraveling the instant she saw Dan's face. Most girls had had a crush on the handsome quarterback––there was no shame in that. He'd shown off in front of the cheerleaders during practice, and then ran close enough to give Montana the once over and a wink. It wasn't surprising, considering she had the best boobs in school. They were far better than Dan's girlfriend, who happened to be on the cheerleading squad alongside Montana. All Montana did was wave at him, but that was enough to set off his girlfriend.
She remembered Dan's eyes bugging out and then a fiery pain as she was grabbed by her hair. Next thing she knew, she sat on top of the bitch as they pushed at each other's faces. A pair of hands quickly came around her and pulled her off. It was Dan, and he was lifting her and pulling her backwards by her boobs. She had no idea if he meant to grab her tits or if they were the only reachable part of her, but when the teachers finally noticed the commotion, they looked over to see Dan dragging a screaming cheerleader across the field by her tits. As a result, Dan was booted from the team. It was so stupid and embarrassing. Everyone blamed her for it, making school absolutely miserable. And it didn't end there.
A couple of weeks later she decided to brave a house party. The football team showed up towards the end of the night, and although she tried to avoid them, one of them actually came up to her and offered her a beer. She couldn't believe they were finally forgiving her, and thanked the guy with a big smile. But then, when she was about halfway through the beer, she began to notice Dan and the team watching her out of the corner of their eyes and laughing. And when she finished it, a girl came up beside Montana and whispered Dan had come in the beer. She'd drank Dan's come! The guy next to Dan began pointing at Dan's dick, then at his beer, then towards Montana, and finally towards his stomach. Her fists tighten and she stormed across the room. Someone grabbed her before she could get to him, which is just as well, because she probably would have killed him. His come had made its way into her stomach, and she'd never live it down, nor would she ever get over it. She really wouldn't––she'd drank his come in front of half the senior class––how could she get over it?
All the smiles being exchanged at the reception felt mocking, like those at the party, and she found it increasingly hard to look people in the eyes. She headed back to the bar, where her boyfriend finished pouring another tray of champagne. Dan was still there, and this time he didn't flee as she approached.
She glanced at her boyfriend questioningly, wondering why he'd conversed with the enemy.
"It's been what, five years? You look better than ever!"
"Thanks, and it's been seven."
"You're right, seven years we've been out of high school––Jesus time flies!"
"I don't know about that, tonight seems to be dragging on forever."
"Ha! Hey, I know you're working, but real quick––I want to apologize for being a complete jack-ass our senior year. You think you could forgive me?"
She chuckled in disbelief, tapped the empty shot glass for a refill of tequila, killed it as fast as her boyfriend could pour it, and marched off with the tray of champagne.
Pierce watched his girlfriend balance the tray and dip her knees to set it down. She'd worn that skirt that bordered on unacceptably short and looked like it belonged to a French maid's outfit. He had a love-hate relationship with that skirt. He hated that it drew the attention of every guy in the room, but loved how worked up it got Montana. He pictured her on all fours with her skimpy skirt flipped up as he worked though his jealousy. Pierce then noticed Dan watching his girlfriend while he leaned against the bar, and he couldn't help but smile. It would just be one more thing he'd have to work through with Montana later.
"You're girlfriend found herself a great look, man. Nothing like her old preppy self!"
Again Pierce only smiled. Dan was right––his girlfriend was serious eye-candy. He'd seen pictures of her from high school, and if it wasn't for the cigarette dangling from her mouth, they could've been from a shoot for The Gap or J. Crew. Always with her dark hair in a ponytail—usually tied back with a ribbon or bow—always in a printless sweater. Dan wasn't exaggerating about the preppy bit.
Ever since he'd known her, though, she'd bleached her dark hair into platinum vibrance, deliberately keeping her dark roots—more a style statement than lack of upkeep. She'd experimented with different lengths, but right now it was his favorite: cascading waves that bounced on her shoulders and frequently escaped across her pouty, heart-shaped face. Tonight, she wore the usual heavy eyeliner, rose-red lipstick, and wore a loosened black tie around the unbuttoned collar of her white shirt. Thinking about those J. Crew days that Dan associated her with, Pierce laughed. She now looked stylish and oh-so-fuckable!
A short while later, she came by for another tray of champagne and wrinkled her baby doll nose in annoyance as Dan turned to face her.
"Monty, while you're here, there's very little in my life I need to apologize for, but—"
"Seriously Dan, save your breath."
"Hold on. There's something I gotta say––Beth was really jealous of you, and you really put me in an awkward spot with her."
"You're telling me little-miss-prom-queen was jealous of me?"
"Extremely jealous! But that's not the point. See, when I got kicked off the team they might as well have cut off my legs––because I lost everything that mattered. It's like, there I was, captain of the football team and everybody's hero, and then, poof, I'm just a regular guy showing up for after parties. It was difficult, you understand?"
"If you're looking for pity, Dan, try sobbing to one of the girls you didn't..." She looked at Pierce before continuing: "You didn't humiliate in front of the few friends she had left."
"Look, I am sorry. I was eighteen and stupid, I wanted to stay tight with my team. I didn't have their respect on the field anymore, not after you got me sacked."
"Wait a minute, I got you sacked? I never asked you to..." Again she looked at Pierce. He began to tap his finger nervously, wondering what she held back.
"You're right, and I always knew that, but the team blamed you even if I didn't. And at the party—" Dan cut himself off.
Pierce tapped his finger harder. It didn't sound like his girlfriend had ever dated this guy, but they were certainly hiding something.
"Pierce, didn't I just say my biggest regret in high school was not getting to know Montana better? And what a lucky guy you are to have her?"
"He did," Pierce answered, and noticing his girlfriend's hand in a trembling fist, he poured another shot to ease her nerves. Montana might've come off as a friendly flirt, but she had a temper when crossed, a bad one. He smiled as he handed her the tequila, and she killed it before carrying off the tray of champagne.
The tequila sat warm in Montana's stomach as she set down the last tray of champagne. She felt it in her cheeks, too, and it was such a welcomed feeling. Her hand didn't shake once as she lifted the thin stemmed glass, even when a gentleman placed his hand on the small of her back and thanked her close to her ear. Her nerves and tension were going comfortably numb. The Pink Floyd song pleasantly drifted into her head. Pink Floyd was one of Pierce's bands that she actually enjoyed.
Looking back towards the bar, she saw Dan had finally grown bored of her boyfriend and left, which calmed her nerves even more than the tequila. It would be stupid for Dan to tell Pierce she'd drank his come at a party, but Dan was reckless. There was no telling what he would or wouldn't do. It was a big relief to have them apart. And as she glided through the crowd with pronounced agile moves, again thanks to the alcohol, she wondered if her boyfriend would even care. Dan had called it a stupid mistake, which could describe ninety-percent of high school. Pierce would understand––yes, she drank Dan's come, but that was just stupid ole high school stuff. Still, a sickening feeling came over her just thinking about it. What kind of girl was she when the entire football team could get behind a prank like that? Even if Pierce did dismiss it as high school bullshit, she couldn't. It needed to disappear from her life, along with Dan, for good!
The tequila had relaxed her so much she suddenly realized she was bending over instead of crouching. As she set the drink down she scanned the room quickly, and sure enough, Dan stared at her ass from across the room. The tension returned tenfold, with her almost dropping the tray of champagne on a silver haired woman. God damn it, her boyfriend had better have another tequila shot waiting at the bar or she'd lose it for sure.
When she got there and set the empty tray flat on the bar, she tapped the empty shot glass with a pleasant smile on her face. Pierce shook his head no, and her smile slowly faded.
"Just a last one."
"You're already a little drunk. Finish off the night and you can have one afterwards if you still really need it."
Annoyance crept over her but she managed to bring the corners of her mouth back up. "Please."
He shook his head again. Pierce was protecting her from old habits, she got that, but this was just about tonight. Dan was too much to bear. It would only be the one night, why couldn't he understand. She had to look away she was so annoyed, and felt her brow furrow unpleasantly.
"I'll give you one more if you tell me everything you're not telling me about this Dan guy."
"That's not fair."
"For real?" Her annoyance turned to anger. He was actually trying to control her! He silently stood and she rocked her jaw, until she just gritted out, "Fine," and turned away.
"Hey, looks like that tables ready to order." Pierce pointed towards a table of mostly guys, half of which raised empty beer bottles trying to get her attention. It was Dan's table, and he sat with four more guys from his old high school football team. "Don't keep them waiting." Distain burned in her boyfriend's voice. He was jealous. He was being stupid. But she was beyond furious. Montana refused to look back at him as she marched towards the table of ex-jocks.
She'd gotten drinks for the table earlier, but the two wives in attendance were elsewhere, and all five guys sat huddled together. Dan waved her close, a big smug smile on his face. Her anger at Pierce mixed with her disgust for Dan in a way that made her feel crushed between emotions. She breathed in and her breath hitched, which meant tears were only seconds away. Shoving her feelings down as best she could, she approached the table. They were all a little drunk and sang her name as she neared. She so did not want to give them the pleasure of seeing her cry, but it was coming. She couldn't stop it.
"The guys have something to say, Monty."
To her amazement, one by one, they said they were sorry. The guy who'd handed her the beer with Dan's come so long ago took her hand and told her he'd felt bad about it ever since. Since the time she'd last seen him his eyes had sunk in deeper, and they were the same shade of blue used on sympathy cards. He was a huge man, his hand dwarfing hers, but his eyes were so unbelievably gentle and sincere. She dumbly stared for a minute, the tense furrow in her forehead gradually working itself out. A simple apology had never fixed much in her life, but the look on his face had a tremendous affect. Tears did come then, and she quietly weeped, "Excuse me," and rushed out of the ballroom.
Pierce had just inserted a spout into a fresh bottle of Tanqueray, when he saw Montana rushing out the grand doors along the side of the ballroom. Fuck! He narrowed his amber-brown eyes at the empty shot glass she'd tapped only a few minutes ago. Damn could his girlfriend's temper make his life hell––he'd now have to solo at the bar. There were nights at the Cuban bar when she was so far gone he'd have to help her make change. She'd eventually remember how it was and realize he was only trying to help, but until then he was screwed. To curb his own temper, he thought ahead to tonight, when he'd flip that skimpy little skirt up onto her back and tear down her black panties. God was his girlfriend fucking hot! He'd put up with anything as long as he got to slip his dick in between her gorgeous ass cheeks.
In lieu of a waitress, people began approaching the bar. Dan was one of them, two twenties scissored in his fingers. He ordered for his whole group, and as Pierce prepared the drinks, Dan looked over the grand doors where Montana had exited.
"I had the guys apologize, and it must have caught her off guard."
"OK, I've got to know, what is all this apologizing about? And why does she utterly hate you?"