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?"
"Yep,"
"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."
"Shit!"
"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.
"Hello Monty."
She glanced at her boyfriend questioningly, wondering why he'd conversed with the enemy.
"Hello
Dan
."
"It's been what, five years? You look better than ever!"
