Nasty Nancy

My full name is Nanette Marten-Story but everybody calls me Nancy. I come from old money and I have the bluest of blue blood running in my veins. My ancestors were Cavalier plantation owners from Virginia, Knickerbocker robber barons from Long Island and Yankee traders from Massachusetts. I think I have inherited my sociopathic tendencies from them.

I graduated from the most exclusive prep school in the United States with high honors. I was a good student because I had no social life. All of my free time was devoted to studying. The other students at school thought I was a cold, arrogant, know it all and I thought they were id driven simpletons that would eventually be destroyed by their own greed. I was the only socialist at my school.

After I had graduated from prep school I decided to spend the summer at my step-grandmother's large Georgian style mansion that was located inside of a gated community out in horse country. That summer I was five foot eight, one hundred and twenty-one pound eighteen-year old virgin with the measurements 34B-24-34. Back then I dyed my hair jet black and I always wore it in a short pixie cut. My uniform back in those days consisted of chuck tailors, jeans and blank t-shirts.

The main reason I stayed over at my step-grandmother's house that summer was because I was quiet the book worm and my late grandfather had left behind a very large library. I also hand very fond memories of that house. I had spent my summers there when I was in elementary school. My grandfather used to take me out fishing, and horse back riding. This would be the first summer that I would spend there since my grandfather died mysteriously in his sleep. Staying at that house for the summer also meant that I would be hundreds of miles away from my parents crumbling marriage.

I spent my first three weeks at step-grandmother's house fly-fishing in a stream that went through the estate, jogging through the town forest, reading books in my grandfather's library, riding horses on a old cow pasture that was part of the mansion's property, swimming laps in the pool and working out with my grandfather's old nineteen seventies era gym equipment. After two weeks went by I started to become bored. I had become restless because my mind had no problems to occupy itself with.

Thankfully I discovered a cure for my boredom while I was watching one of my step-grandmother's garden parties from the balcony of tone of the mansion's guest room.

My step grandmother Annabelle was a shallow, vain southern belle from Savannah, Georgia who was obsessed with keeping up good appearances. Part of keeping up good appearances was hosting fundraising events so it looked like she gave a shit about the environment or the less fortunate. Annabelle belonged to a local woman's charity organization so she was always having cocktail parties in the garden to benefit the latest flavor of the week cause.

These parties were a melting pot of the super rich. You could see new money rubbing elbows with old money and watch the nouveau riche become part of the bourgeoisie. You could see the wives of politicians mix with congresswomen, heiresses, millionaire businesswomen and the trophy wives of rich men. They talked about expensive vacations, over-priced luxury items and stabbed each other in the back to a soundtrack provided by a light jazz piano.

My step-grandmother Annabelle liked playing the part of hostess. She loved the attention that hosting the garden cocktail parties brought here. She would always be parading around the crowd in a pastel colored cocktail dress that showed off her cleavage and she would always be holding a peach daiquiri in her right hand. Annabelle was a real GILF back then too. My step-grandmother was five foot six, a hundred and thirty-six pound and sixty-two years old. She had a deep bronze tan dotted with sunspots, a cute bouncy ass, a pair of fake double Ds and a pair of sky blue serpentine eyes. Annabelle dyed her hair black and always wore it poofy bouffant hairstyle. My step-grandmother bore a little bit of a resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor and used to joke that she was Elizabeth Taylor's younger, prettier, southern sister. She was such a vain and shallow woman.

Anyways something snapped inside of me while I was looking down at the greedy, shallow crowd that was below me. I had always looked down upon them but that night I had started to detest them. I hated the self-absorbed hypocrites who were pretending that they gave a shit about the world when the only thing that they really cared about was themselves. I also hated the sense of security that they felt in their fortresses of wealth and power. I decided that night that I was going to take that sense of security of away from them. I was going to dig the skeletons out of their closets and find out all of their secrets. I was going to turn those bitches into dogs and make them eat their own shit. I would turn them into my little playthings and make them beg for mercy. And when they would ask for mercy I would show them none. Picturing those women cowering in fear and crying out in pain brought a smile to my face.