She didn't have a lot of time. Fight with the bouncer at the Coronado Grill had given her a red welt under the left eye and delayed her for fifteen precious minutes. Marci would be home soon. In her mind Gwen could see her. Marci wearing her little business suit, tapping her fingers on the side of the car like she always did waiting for the traffic to open up on the 405 freeway. Spoiled little rich girl, always wanted her own way. She needed to be taught a lesson.
Gwen pulled on her panties, the silky material rubbing against her chocolate brown ass cheeks. Looking in the mirror she considered covering up the bruise with some makeup. Fuck that. Grabbed the bustier off the bed and zipped it up. Felt a little warm stirring as her tits mashed together. The restriction was nice, and the tighter it was the sweeter the release would be later.
Looked at her watch. Running out of time.
This was the hard part. She looked down and grabbed the thick rubber dildo that hung from her crotch. The veins were so realistic. The material was pliable, and warmed up realistically to her touch. She worked the head between her fingers, moved her hand down and grabbed the shaft with her fist. Looked up to the mirror as she held her cock. For a fleeting moment she considered staying in and having her own fun. But Marci would be upset. She pushed the dildo into her panties, the bulge made her pussy lips throb in anticipation.
She bent over to pull back on the heels, and felt the tip of the plastic cock rub against her skin. Her lips twitched.
--
When she walked in it was easy for Gwen to find Marci. There she sat, at the bar, her lips pouting, her long blonde hair flipping from side to side as she checked her watch. Gwen walked along the shadows, keeping herself hidden in a corner of the establishment. Let her wait. She was a spoiled brat who needed to learn the world didn't revolve around her.
As the gin raced its way down her throat, Marci finally saw her. Gwen smiled. She left a couple dollars for a tip on the table and pulled herself up. Marci turned away. She pulled up on the end of her business suit and showed off those creamy thighs, her shoes precariously hanging from a single toe that swung in time to the piped-in jazz.
Gwen sat down on the stool next to Marci. Ordered another gin and tonic from the bartender.
"How many of those have you had?" asked Marci, still looking straight ahead at nothing in particular.
"Enough"
Marci turned.
"Enough for what?"
She saw the bruise on Gwen's eye. She wanted to touch it, to ask her if she was okay, but Gwen would be pissed if she deviated from the plan. And Marci needed to get fucked, so she held her tongue.
"You always ask strangers in the bar about their drinking habits?"
