Marilyn Stone was a bitch. She knew she was and she wanted to be a bitch. She went out of her way to be a bitch every day, all day long, to everybody. Everybody said so. Everybody said she was also hot, and she knew she was that too, though it was in a sagging big tits, wide ass, menopausal sort of way. Being hot was what turned her into a bitch in the first place, or so everybody said.
The story everybody told any employee new to Crofton Industries was Marilyn had been married and had been caught fucking another guy who was not her husband. Then they say, well, it isn't right to say she got caught. What they say happened is she and the guy were in bed at the Holiday Inn one night and Marilyn was riding the guy's cock. He was an older guy -- Marilyn apparently liked fucking old guys for some reason nobody knew -- and right after he came, he had a heart attack. That's what everybody said -- Marilyn fucked him so hard when he came he had a heart attack.
Marilyn called 911 even though she knew what would happen if she did. People gave her credit for that, well, the men who told the story did. They said it wasn't her fault she was such a great fuck she caused the guy to have a heart attack, and she deserved a little sympathy because she did try to help him. When women told the story, they said Marilyn got what she deserved for spreading her legs for some old guy she wasn't married to.
They say what she got that night was two EMT's in the hotel room trying to bring the guy back to life while Marilyn stood there and answered questions from the two city police officers who responded. When men told the story, Marilyn was naked and her pussy was leaking the guy's cum all over the floor. When women told the story, Marilyn had put on her clothes before the EMTs and police got there and there was nothing leaking out of her that anybody could see because it was soaked up by her panties.
Nobody really knew which because Marilyn never told anybody anything about what happened. All people knew for certain was what they read in the newspaper and it didn't say, but they knew that was what had to have happened.
The version of the story where Marilyn was dressed came from Jackie's second cousin on her mother's side who worked as a waitress in a donut shop downtown. She had overheard the story from an officer who knew one of the officer's involved when he told another officer Marilyn was dressed when they got there. The version of the story where she was naked and dripping cum on the carpet came from Harold who knew a guy who new a guy who knew one of the EMTs involved.
A few people at Crofton said the version about her dripping the guy's cum on the floor probably wasn't true because she'd been giving the guy CPR when the EMT's got there. That's what the newspaper said, though it didn't say if Marilyn was naked or dressed at the time. If she'd been leaking cum anywhere, it would have been on the bed.
They say the EMTs gave up shocking the guy after ten minutes and pronounced him dead. The police officers had figured out Marilyn hadn't killed him, well, except for fucking him to death, and wrote in their reports that pending the coroner's report, it didn't seem any crime had been committed. The city coroner confirmed the guy had a heart attack, probably his second or possibly even third, and Marilyn wasn't charged with anything.
The State didn't charge Marilyn, but she was charged, tried, and convicted in the court at Crofton Industries before she came back to work a week later. The crime was murder by sex and it took the jury only seconds to reach a guilty verdict once the report made the newspaper and explained why Marilyn hadn't been at work.
The men nodded and then grinned that Marilyn was one of those "killer pussies" that you didn't want to fuck if you wanted to stay alive even if she did have big tits and a hot ass. Then they grinned and said that must be one hell of a way to go -- having Marilyn ride your cock so good when you came she made you cum so hard your heart couldn't take it. You'd be dead, but you'd have a smile on your face it would take the mortician at least an hour to get back to normal.
The women shook their heads and whispered to each other that Marilyn must be a nymphomaniac because she was married and her husband should have been giving her all the sex she needed at home. As Lois put it, "I have to keep telling my husband I'm too tired because he'd do it every night if I let him. If he's gone on a business trip, I do need to sometimes, but I don't go out and find another man. I just use the handle of my hairbrush. She should be ashamed of herself for letting her sexual desires make her do something like that".
Marilyn had two choices when she came back to the job of secretary to the engineering department. She could try to hide in her work and feel constantly embarrassed, or she could hold up her head, stick out her tits and let people think what they goddamned well pleased. Marilyn chose the last alternative, and that's why she became a bitch.
Marilyn had to talk to people to do her job, so she did, but in a bitch sort of way. The other women she tolerated and spoke to them in a calm but cold manner that left no question about if she wanted to be friends or not. The men, men she knew were looking at her and wondering if she was really that great a fuck, she'd talk to as well, but she never looked at their faces and anything she said came out as cynical or condescending or otherwise just plain bitchy.
"I'll get your report typed just as soon as I can figure out how to read your damned handwriting and can read what the hell you wrote."
"No, I don't know where the hell Harold is. It's not my job to watch him."
"No, it's not done yet and I don't care if it has to be done today. You only gave it to me ten minutes ago. You'll get it when I get it done. Now go the hell away and let me work."
At first, it had been hard for Marilyn to be a bitch because in reality, she wasn't a bitch. She was just a woman with any woman's likes and dislikes, wants and needs, and the need to love and to be loved. She liked to smile and she liked people, well, except for the guys who leered at her all the time, but even that made her feel good inside. She would smile to herself when she saw them staring at her big breasts and sensuous hips and knew what they were thinking. They were thinking they'd like to have sex with her.
Marilyn smiled when she saw them doing that because she liked sex and she liked believing men thought she'd be good in bed. Before that night at the Holiday Inn, seeing them look at her that way would make her tingle inside, and if the right man did it long enough, sometimes she'd feel herself becoming aroused. Marilyn didn't know why that was, but it was fun.
Her marriage wasn't so much fun. Jerry liked having sex with her, or so he told her. He just didn't like doing it very often, and Marilyn needed to have sex more often than once on Saturday night. That was why she hadn't done anything to stop Matt, the older guy who worked at the shoe store downtown. Matt looked really sexy, she thought, sort of like the older movie stars she liked watching.
At first, all it had been was seeing the way he grinned when he put a pair of shoes on her feet. His hands had been gentle and sent tingles up her legs until he moved her foot just right. He'd grin then and Marilyn knew why. He'd caused her to open her legs and let him see up her skirt. That made the tingles get stronger.
Marilyn liked shoes and because she could afford to, she went shopping for shoes about twice a month. After that first time, she'd always just look around until Matt had finished with another customer and walked up to her and ask if he could help her with something. She'd tell him she'd like to try on this pair and that pair so she could decide how they looked and then wait until Matt went back into the storeroom and brought out the boxes. He always did that thing that let him look up her skirt and he always grinned and that grin made Marilyn feel good inside.
