Please note: This is based in truth. I was poor and plain and very, very smart. I did have a horrid tormentor named Jason; there were a few others, but he stood out. Years later, after I grew into myself, he saw me out at a club and was overly surprised by how I looked. I did blow him off, but not the way I did here!
Revenge IS a dish best served cold.
Growing up, she wasn't pretty. She was plain, and a bit overweight. Definitely not 'look at the fat girl' material, but at an age where every flaw was amplified, every difference from the norm was considered major, and conformity was king, she stood out in a bad way, though she didn't stand out at all. Plain, mousy brown hair, average height, and on the poor side of middle class, you wouldn't notice her if she was on fire. It didn't help that her brother was a total asshole. People didn't like him, so she never had a shot. His reputation preceded her. The only things she had going for her were pretty blue eyes, a load of brains, and a positive attitude.
She was picked on mercilessly, cruelly even, by one boy in particular, Jason. He wasn't the only one, but he was the ringleader, and when he wasn't around she found that she was actually tolerated by others. She wished his bouts of general childhood malaise would last forever, but no, he'd show up after a few days off or after school let back in for holidays, and start all over again. Made fun of for her cheap clothes, her lack of friends, her brains, and her pudge, she still managed to keep a positive outlook. He made up horrid nicknames for her, threw stuff at her when the teachers weren't looking, hid her stuff, and whatever else he could think of to torment her. It wasn't because he liked her, either. He was just a jerk. She didn't even know what was so great about him. He wasn't rich, good looking, smart, or charismatic. He didn't have a huge circle of friends, but the ones he did have followed his every move. He always pointed out her shortcomings, at one point telling her she should either join a convent or kill herself because no one would ever want her.
She was a reader and had read many books along the Ugly Duckling storyline. She knew life had something better planned for her and she kept that in her heart. It carried her through the ebb and flow of life, through growing up and moving out. It kept her through shitty, demeaning jobs, bad relationships, and life in general.
She finally landed her dream job in her late 20s and things began to get better. Having a well-paying job allowed her to have the nice clothes, coiffed hair, now a warm brown with blonde streaks, makeup and perfume and lotions she never could afford. It allowed her the freedom to go where she wanted and do what she wanted. She grew out of her awkward looks, and while not supermodel material, she was definitely one of the more attractive women most people met in their day. Her pretty blue eyes were accentuated with sultry brown shadows, her long lashes mascaraed to unbelievable heights. Full lips, the lower lush and pouty, covered straight, white teeth. She never lost all of her curves, but the pudge was gone, and her hourglass figure was lovely.
One night, while finishing up at work, she overheard some customers talking about a new band playing that night. It was a band from out of town, but nearby, and sounded like it might be a good show. She had nothing better to do, being off the next day, and hadn't been out in a while out of sheer busyness, so she decided to see what it was about. Being that she had grown up alone, she was good company for herself. She was also secure enough to go places by herself. She knew way too many people who would never sit in a restaurant alone, or go see a movie by themselves. She took it as an opportunity to perhaps meet someone who otherwise may not approach her if she were with someone.
She went home, took a good long relaxing shower, washed her hair, exfoliated and lotioned her waxed legs. She dressed semi-casual; just a nice pair of well fitting, flattering jeans, cute, comfy shoes (because she couldn't stand to have her feet hurting by night's end) and a dressy blouse in a Pucci-esque print, not too low cut but flirty. She changed from her plain gold hoops to some sparkly, dangly earrings and a matching necklace, and grabbed a small purse for her wallet, lipstick and keys.
She intended to have a few drinks early in the night, giving her time to sober up and drive home. She never, ever drove drunk. The club was not far from her house, so worst case, she'd get a cab and hitch a ride to get her car the next day. Arriving well before the show, the club was about half-full. She wandered around, checking out the interior, finding her way to the restroom before it got too crowded with women fixing makeup, talking trash, and planning their conquests.
The club eventually filled up, the opening band played a few songs, and then the headliner show began. She had her few drinks in her, but wanted one more to tide her over, so she made her way to the bar. While she was walking, she was bumped into by a guy. Average looking, nice features, nothing special about him, but he caught her eye. She knew him, just couldn't figure out where from. She stared for a moment, trying to place him and then it came to her. Jason. He had no clue who she was from the way he looked at her. There was no recognition in his eyes, and the deferential way he apologized repeatedly assured her that he didn't know she was the pudgy, mousy girl he picked on. He offered to buy her next drink, which she knew was just an opening. It was no big deal that he bumped into her, so why all the apologies and a drink? There was no ring on his finger, and from his looks, he hadn't made the big time. She decided to at least get a drink for all the bullying.
He bought her the drink and she blew him off politely. He followed her for a while, then she lost him. Then he found her. When she realized he wasn't going to leave her alone, she decided she was going to make the most of it. She was going to get drunk on his dime and then make him give her a ride home, lead him on, and then dump him at the door. Let him go home suffering; she'd block his number from her cell phone that he'd entered into his own phone after taking hers and calling himself. He was still a loser, and he still had no idea who she was.
On the way to a nearby hotel because she was not bringing him home, he tried to make his move, thinking she was drunker than she was. It took more than a few, spaced out over several hours, to do her in and she was still in control, albeit more willing now to tell him off in a way that she never would were she sober. When they got to the room, he practically begged her for a kiss. As badly as she had treated him through the night, it was obviously the only female attention he'd had in a long time. In a way, she felt sorry for him because she knew what that rejection and disdain felt like.
She made him pay for a room for her then invited him in after getting to the room. She would give him attention but not the kind he expected. She was going to make him do what she wanted him to do. He would have to take care of himself later but she was going to get something else out of the night. Inside the living room, she made him wait while she changed. She took off her jewelry and her jeans and blouse, kicked off her shoes but left on her bra and panties. The panties were low slung on her hips but high cut in the back, leaving the bottoms of her cheeks visible. The crotch was just a little strip of fabric, barely more than enough to cover her waxed pussy. The bra was edged in thick lace which left her nipples visible while still covering them. Pulling the cups down, she tweaked and twisted her nipples until they stood hard, little bullets under the lace.
