Thank you to everyone who's sent me feedback on my stories so far. As I've said, I really appreciate it as I've never been brave enough to let anyone read my writing until now. I very much enjoy creating these stories but they are just fantasies and not to be taken too seriously!
* * * * *
Joanna stumbled up to the front door, barely able to see through a watery veil of tears that refused to stop flowing. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying. But she didn't want to stop weeping; she didn't want to stop hating. It was the only strength she had left, to get her through this nightmare.
The elegant door-knocker made a sharp, tapping sound as Joanna raised it and let it fall against the varnished, wooden panel. She repeated the action; once, twice, a third time, rapidly losing what was left of her patience and rationality.
"Come on!" she sobbed. "Open the door, you bitch! Why won't you open the BLOODY DOOR?"
A few neighbouring curtains twitched. Joanna didn't stop to consider the consequences of her actions - gossiping tongues, the police arriving to haul her away for disturbing the peace. She didn't really care anyway; it would all be worth it if only she could get her hands on her cheating, so-called best friend, Ellen.
Joanna hammered a few more times, then put her mouth to the letter box and yelled through it.
"I know you're in there! Open this fucking door right now!"
The door remained closed, its wooden face blank. Joanna felt it was taunting her. A fresh helping of rage surged through her and she lifted her foot to kick at the aggravating barrier.
Just then, there came the sound of a key turning in a lock. Joanna stepped back, panting and readying herself for a full-scale attack on the woman she hated.
The door opened cautiously; a crack of light from within cast itself across the driveway. Then a face peered out. It wasn't Ellen; it was her eighteen-year-old son, Callum.
"What the fuck's going on?" he said in a low voice. "Are you mad or something?"
Joanna stared at the boy. She hadn't really been expecting this. It was Ellen she'd come to shout at, not her son. None of this was his fault, and, somehow, his being there diluted Joannna's anger a little.
"Where's your mother?" She tried to keep her voice quiet and steady now. "I need to see her, where is she?"
"Out." Callum made as if to shut the door.
Joanna flared up again. "You're lying! Let me in!"
Heaving the door open with her shoulder, Joanna forced her way past the surprised teenager, and found herself in the hall.
"Ellen!" She yelled up the stairs and then took a step towards the lounge. "Ellen!"
Callum stood with his arms folded, watching her.
"I told you, she's not here. Mum and dad have gone out for dinner - it's their anniversary or something."
"Oh!" Joanna sagged against the banister at the bottom of the stairs. Once again, she felt deflated; there was nowhere to direct her anger if Ellen wasn't here.
"So it's their wedding anniversary, is it? How nice for them." Joanna wondered if it would still be as nice if Ellen's husband knew that Ellen had been fucking another man just twenty-four hours before. Her lover being no less than Joanna's own spouse.
The memory of discovering the cheating pair 'in flagrante delicto' brought a grimace to Joanna's face. It was ironic really; Peter and Ellen had actually looked good together. Maybe they should have married each other in the first place.
Callum was staring hard at Joanna now. She realised she must look a sorry sight; after hiding out all day at her sister's, her anger had got the better of her and she'd stormed over here without bothering to change clothes, apply make-up or even brush her hair. All she could think of was getting revenge. She hadn't stopped to think about how that would be achieved. If Ellen had been here, would Joanna have punched her? If George, Ellen's husband, had been here alone, would Joanna have fucked him, to get her own back? Well, maybe. But, as neither were around, what was she to do now?
"I don't believe this," Joanna mumbled. "This really takes the bloody biscuit!"
Callum inclined his head towards the still-open front door. "Well, as I said, mum's out..."
"I know, I know!" Joanna snapped. "I think I'll wait here for her, if you don't mind. It's important that I see her."
"Please yourself." Callum shrugged, closed the door and wandered down the hallway towards the lounge, shaking his head. "Silly cow!" he mumbled, under his breath.
But Joanna's sharp ears half-caught the words.
"What did you say?" she spat, her anger flashing over again.
The only answer from Callum was the banging-closed of the lounge door. Once again, Joanna found herself staring at a blank, wooden face. It was too much.
Callum's apparent lack of interest in Joanna's plight enraged her even more. Men! They were all the same, whatever age they were! Didn't they give a fuck about feelings?
Letting out a huge, roaring sob, Joanna got to her feet and charged towards the lounge door like a bull to a red cape. The door crashed open and Joanna burst through it, screaming. Her foot caught the edge of a luxurious rug and she went flying against a bookcase, which wobbled ominously.
The shock of her fall jolted Joanna out of her hysteria for long enough to take in the scene. The lounge was lit dimly, by a standard lamp and the glow of the TV screen; the sound of the TV was turned down. An empty pizza box, beer bottles and a car magazine lay strewn over the hearth rug.
It seemed that Joanna had disturbed a teenager's cosy night in, sans parents, and Callum was presumably none too pleased about it. Tough shit, thought Joanna. She wasn't exactly radiant with happiness herself this evening.
Callum slumped down on the couch and took a swig of beer. "See? I told you no-one was here," he said, wiping his hand across his mouth. For a second, he took his eyes away from the TV and rested his intense gaze on Joanna's red, tearstained face. "Got any cigarettes on you?"
Joanna let out a long, shaky breath. "No, I haven't, you insolent little shit. What do you think your mum would say if she knew you smoked in her house?"
"I don't care. I'm a big boy now - I can do what I like." Callum's attention returned to the TV, where, on-screen, a voluptuous woman was stripping on some low-budget dirty video.
Joanna clenched her fists, biting back rage. If she didn't let it loose on someone or something soon, she was going to explode. Sweat soaked her tight, v-necked top at the armpits. God, why hadn't she showered? She could even feel sweat forming between her thighs and wondered if it would show through the thin fabric of her trousers.
Slowly she moved round to the rear of the couch, staring at the back of Callum's head and neck. She hadn't seen him for a long time, had always thought of him as rather an obnoxious little brat. But now he was a well-grown young man; in fact, he was ridiculously good-looking and Joanna couldn't help but wonder what his body looked like under the t-shirt and baggy army pants he was wearing. Of course, she could see that he was tall and lean; not gangly and awkward like some youths were. He carried himself confidently and with an arrogance that impressed Joanna as well as enraged her. His short, black hair was messily spiked, his light-blue eyes were piercing. He looked very much like his father, George.
Joanna took a step forward, trying to control her breathing.
George. She'd always had a thing about him, right from the moment Ellen had first introduced her husband. Joanna harboured the odd fantasy involving him, but she had never dreamt of acting on these fantasies. Messing with your best friend's husband was just not something a decent person should do...
Callum sniffed loudly and drank more beer. Joanna was so close now that she could inhale his youthful, musky aroma and see clearly the dark stubble on his strong jaw. Closing her eyes for a moment, she wondered what revenge would taste and feel like.
"Callum," she said, in as controlled a manner as she could manage. "Callum, listen to me."
There was no response. On the TV screen, the woman was now being ravished by a bulky, bald man. Despite the muted sound, it was obvious she was screaming with pleasure, her big breasts bouncing wildly.
Callum shifted a little on the couch and quickly put the beer bottle to his lips once more. His long legs were sprawled wide apart and Joanna found her eyes drawn to his crotch. There was the slightest hint of an aroused bulge beneath the fabric of his pants. Joanna licked her lips and felt her heart begin to pound even faster.
Suddenly she could restrain herself no longer. Rushing at Callum from behind, she grabbed him around the throat and forced his head back, giving the boy no choice but to look at her.
"Don't ignore me!" Joanna spat, viciously. "Don't you - EVER- ignore me! Understand?"
She had given Callum a shock, there was no doubt about it. Panic was visible in his eyes as he gazed up at her, and his teeth were clenched. Joanna's hand stayed around his neck, applying pressure.
"Understand?" she hissed again.
Callum nodded quickly. Joanna was satisfied with this and let go. But immediately, she swept round the couch and sat herself down beside the perturbed young man.
Callum rubbed his throat, wincing. "You're mad!" he croaked. "What the hell do you want?"
Joanna looked at his face and smiled for the first time that day.
"I want you to get your cock out so I can screw you senseless," she told him calmly.
There was a pause. Callum's mouth fell open. Then, slowly, he sat up and reached for the remote control. The TV went off.
