Lisa’s Revenge
A tale of revenge, love, and pregnancy
Copy Right 2014 Sethp
This is a strange little tale of revenge that turns into love. Most of the characters in this story are wholly unlikable although Bruce comes around at the end and grows a spine. It’s a bit of a farce and I enjoyed writing it. Special thanks go to cessyful for her help in editing, although all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Enjoy and send me your feedback!
XXX
“Fuck that bitch!” Lisa spat out through her tears, as she smashed another trophy against her bedroom wall. “I don’t need any of this!” The eighteen year old girl had torn up everything that had to do with softball or UCLA. Her room was a disaster zone of torn papers, broken trophies, ripped up posters, and other broken memorabilia. When she was finished, she collapsed onto her bed and cried some more. Hours later she laid there quietly in the still night staring up at the ceiling and thinking about her ruined life. It wasn’t ruined by the standards of war or natural disaster or terminal illness, but for a teenager like Lisa it was close enough. She had no future. Her one chance to get out of her house and small town was dashed. She thought back at the events that had led to her ruin.
Mrs. Anderson from across the street had never liked her. Sometimes it was as if Mrs. Anderson and Lisa’s mother conspired against her. She scowled at Lisa for no good reason. Mr. Anderson was another story altogether. He was so kind and friendly and kind of cute for an older guy, Lisa had thought. She had admired him more than once as he worked on his front lawn across the street from her house. He was cute, just a little too nerdy for her taste.
Lisa’s troubles began when Mrs. Anderson had started the neighborhood watch program. It was a watch program that extended from their cozy little street, all the way past the Johnston farm. The copse of trees on the hill past the farm was the local lover’s lane. Lisa and dozens of others from the neighborhood had been busted there drinking and parking by Mrs. Anderson just last year. Lisa had been grounded for a month and her mother still didn’t trust her. The initial enthusiasm of the neighborhood watch had died down after the first year, though, and the kids had begun to flock back to Johnston’s hill, as it was called.
On that crucial night, Lisa and her boyfriend, Ray, were consummating their relationship, at last. Lisa had given her boyfriend blowjobs before, but this was the first time that they were having sex, and it had been well worth the wait. They were in the backseat of Ray’s vintage mustang and he was on top of her thrusting into her furiously. Lisa had already cum once and was building up to another climax. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his body and she was grunting his name with each thrust. Suddenly, there was an urgent pounding on the window.
“Police! Please step out of the car.”
“Oh shit! Ray! Get off!” Lisa had squealed, frantically trying to get Ray’s fat cock out of her pussy, and cover up. “Uh…” Lisa grunted as Ray pulled out of her. “If my father finds out… hurry!”
“Get your clothes on and get out of the car,” commanded a deep voice.
Lisa and Ray pulled their pants on as fast as they could, Ray had already pulled the condom off and tossed it on the floor. Before climbing over the seat to open the door, Ray stuffed a little bag into Lisa’s pocket. “What?” she hissed at him. She reached down to her pocket.
“Shhh… leave it. They won’t search you,” Ray hissed back at her, as he opened the car door.
Lisa hurried after him trying to straighten her blouse. Her bra was still laying on the backseat of the car, and her extremely large, firm breasts wobbled obscenely as she stood up. They threatened to pop the button’s right off her blouse. The cops commanded them to put their hands on the car. They were doing the same thing to the occupants of the other cars parked on the lane.
“No,” Lisa protested. “We didn’t… we’re just…”
“Are you resisting?” One of the cops said menacingly stepping towards her.
Lisa quickly turned and put her hands on Ray’s Mustang. Ray had been wrong. They did search her and within seconds they pulled the little bag out of her front pocket. It was filled with white powder.
“What’s this?” demanded one of the cops.
“It’s not mine!” Lisa shrieked. “Tell him Ray! Tell them!”
Ray shook his head and looked away as the cops put the handcuffs on Lisa.
Lisa was shaking with fright and looked around frantically. This couldn’t be happening. “No!” she yelled twisting away from the cops, and then she saw her neighbor standing by the police car. What was she doing here? Michelle Anderson, the nosy, nasty neighbor and head of the neighborhood watch. Mrs. Anderson was glaring right at her with a condescending look on her face.
“I told you she was trouble. You can’t reach some kids,” Mrs. Anderson said, loud enough for the whole lane to hear.
Lisa’s life unraveled soon after. That bag that Ray had stuffed in her pocket contained an ounce of Meth. Her parents had bailed her out of jail, had taken every electronic device Lisa owned from her and thoroughly searched her room, for signs of more drugs. The next day they told her that she could either move out or enter an outpatient rehab program. Despite Lisa’s protestations that she had never taken a drug in her life, her parent’s had stood firm. Not knowing what else to do and having no where to go, she agreed to the program. UCLA had found out about her arrest and canceled her scholarships. Her parents hired a really good attorney, got her a plea bargain with only house arrest, community service and probation. Ray had left town soon after the ordeal, and nobody had heard from him since. Lisa was alone and angry and at the mercy of her overbearing parents.
Really, it was Ray that was the root of all of her problems, but Lisa couldn’t get the image of that condescending bitch, Michelle Anderson out of her head. She had stolen her dreams and given her a record, taken Ray from her, and caused her to be a pariah in their small community. She reached over and picked up her copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. It made her smile and it empowered her with a terrible purpose. Lisa laid there, staring up at the ceiling and wiping the tears from her face, vowing to enact her revenge. She vowed to take everything from that bitch, including her husband. Michelle Anderson had ruined her life and she was going to pay. Lisa had nothing else to live for.
Nothing quite so tumultuous had happened at the Anderson house since Lisa had been arrested. The Anderson’s were oblivious to Lisa’s troubles. Michelle Anderson was an office manager at a credit card processing plant and in her spare time she devoted herself to their HOA and neighborhood watch program. Bruce Anderson was an accountant, and couldn’t care less about the attempt to quell the non existent crime in their neighborhood. They had no children. Bruce had brought up the possibility that he might like a child some day, but that idea had been vehemently crushed by Michelle. No way, were they ever having kids; end of story. Bruce knew better than to argue with his wife.
A few months later, it was a quiet evening at the Anderson’s house. Michelle was bitching on the phone about several teenagers that had been hanging out in the park all evening and was getting frustrated that nobody else cared. Bruce was sitting at the dining room table reading the newspaper, checking some stocks on his tablet, and drinking a Martini.
The door bell rang. “Bruce, will you get that. I’m on the phone,” Michelle cried out from the kitchen.
Bruce got up and went to the door, opened it and paused for a second when he saw Lisa, from across the street standing there. It took him a second to recognize her. She was wearing skin tight, stretchy jeans and a white t-shirt that was so tight and thin that he could see every detail of the industrial strength, lacy, black bra she was wearing underneath. His eyes lingered on her large, jutting breasts a little too long. Embarrassed, he caught himself and jerked his head up to look her in the eyes.
“Can I come in Mr. Anderson?” She said. Seeming not to notice where his eyes had wandered.
“Sure, Lisa,” Bruce said, standing aside so that his nubile young neighbor could come in. “What can I do for you?” He thought he smelled alcohol on her breath, but wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to accuse her of something she hadn’t done. The poor girl had been through a lot, if he remembered correctly.
“I came to talk to your wife,” she said, slightly slurring the words.
“Michelle’s on the phone,” Bruce said, “Why don’t you have a seat in the dinning room with me and she’ll be in when she’s done.” He noticed that her eyes were a little glassy. He was sure, now, that he could smell alcohol on her breath.
“Okay,” Lisa said, following him into the dinning room and sitting down at the end of the table. They sat there quietly, Lisa not saying a word and not even looking at him. It became increasingly uncomfortable, sitting there listening to Michelle Anderson drone on from the Kitchen about this youth and that youth.
Bruce couldn’t take it and broke the silence first. “Hey, Lisa,” he said, recalling a recent conversation outside with her parents. “You know that uh…we heard about UCLA and we’re sorry about that, right? Michelle wasn’t after you, personally, or anything. She just doesn’t want the youth of this town going down the wrong road.”
“Sure Mr. Anderson,” Lisa said, sitting up straighter, making her big boobies jiggle as she did. “Look, I know it wasn’t you. It was your wife and she does have it in for me.”
Bruce shook his head. “When you’re older, you’ll understand these things. I’m glad you finally came over. I told your parents, that you should come over. You really need to have a conversation with my wife and straighten things out.”
“It’s not going to be a nice conversation, Mr. Anderson. I didn’t come over to make nice or to ask for forgiveness or anything like that, and I’m old enough to understand how life works. I’m not a little kid.” Her face blushed and her eyes widened as she glared at him.
