Bridget turned red and tried to come up with a good explanation. Then she gave up and went on the attack instead. “You forgot my birthday! Some girlfriend you are.” She crossed her arms to hide the nipples showing through her shirt. Sister Agnes’s hands had been pretty amazing in that last fantasy.
“I knew you were going to say that,” Vic said with a triumphant grin as she dropped onto the couch. She ran one hand down Bridget’s thigh with a possessive pressure that never failed to make her pay attention. “I’ve got a little surprise for you, babe. Kind of appropriate too, given your new ghoulish hobby. We’re going to your tenth high school reunion. My treat.”
Bridget’s jaw dropped. No way! Sister Julia and Father Williams would run them out of Sacred Heart Parish at the head of a torch-wielding mob. Vic didn’t understand how things worked at a parochial school. But before Bridget could say a word, Vic had her in a lip-lock that soon turned to other things. Once Vic was holding Bridget down and pounding a fist into Bridget’s wet, desperate pussy, going home for the reunion sounded just fine. Besides, it was two months away; she had plenty of time to change Vic’s mind.
But somehow, they never got around to talking about it. Every time she tried, Vic was too busy or was all over her, so she gave up, resigning herself to the trip from hell. It would be worse if they ended up staying with her parents. She hoped her mother wouldn’t say the rosary over them when she thought they were sleeping (again).
Despite her worries, she began to wonder if some of her old friends would be there. Monica had come out after graduation. That was inevitable. If James Dean had ever been reincarnated as a Catholic high school girl, Monica was it. Then there was Mary Eileen. Bridget had never forgotten that sleepover where they all decided to practice kissing. From what she could remember, Mary Eileen wanted to practice a few other things too, but they’d been too scared. As for the rest of the girls who ran around with them, well, if Bridget knew her budding Dykes on Bikes, they were the local chapter by now.
By the time they got ready to leave, Bridget was resigned to the trip. It made things easier that Vic was so obviously up to something. Bridget even resisted taking a peek in the toy bag when they loaded it in the car. No point in spoiling the surprise. At least they were staying at a hotel.
Vic wasn’t letting anything slip. She was too tired for sex that night, which was weird. She didn’t talk much during the drive the next day, which was weirder.
Bridget was getting antsy and it brought out the pushy bottom in her. She wheedled, she whined, she sulked; anything to get Vic to do something with or to her. Anything at all. She squirmed against the fabric of the car seat imagining a few of those things. But for the first time in years, Vic wasn’t going for it. She smiled when Bridget pouted, and stonewalled when she whined, until Bridget thought she’d go nuts before they got there.
Finally, they pulled into the hotel parking lot a few blocks from St. Mary’s. Vic slammed her door and headed over to check them in without a backward glance.
Bridget took this as a good sign. It meant she was well and truly annoyed and in full top mode. Maybe Vic would spank her. She loved that, especially if she had to confess her sins beforehand. Good Catholic girls never forget their early training, as Sister Agnes used to say.
Bridget grinned, her spirits lifting as she unpacked the car.
She hauled the bags into the lobby in time for Vic to get the key, then trailed after her up the stairs to the third floor. Evidently she hadn’t earned the right to use the elevator. She grinned as she gasped for breath. This would be good.
But when they got upstairs and she got the bags lined up the way Vic liked them, her girlfriend disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower, leaving her to squirm on the bed. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she got up and checked the bathroom door. Vic had locked it. Bridget stared at it in disbelief and tried to think of what she’d done that was so awful.
By the time Vic came out, Bridget was feeling well and truly contrite and aching to atone for her sins. Especially since Vic was wearing her favorite suit, the black one that made her look hotter than… well, any other butch Bridget could think of. Vic grinned at her and grabbed one of the bags. Then she gestured at the bathroom, “Go hop in the shower, then put these on when you get out. Don’t put on anything else. The dance is tonight and I’ve got a surprise or two for you.”
Bridget took the bag, wondering if things would be better if she groveled. But Vic didn’t seem interested, so she gave up and sulked her way into the bathroom. Even a halfhearted attempt at masturbating didn’t help. Finally, she gave up and decided that she’d get seriously dolled up for the dance. Then maybe Vic would forgive her.
She was a little more optimistic when she stepped out of the shower. A few moments’ work with a hair dryer, and she was feeling even better. That was when she opened the bag Vic had given her. A puddle of plaid in green and black stared back at her, and she almost shut the bag. No way. She reached into the bag and pulled out a Catholic school uniform. An old St. Mary’s uniform, to be exact.
Under the jumper and white blouse that looked way too small, she found a bra with lace cups and a thong. And a pair of saddle shoes. These made her giggle. This was going to be some surprise after all. She pulled on the underwear, then the blouse. It barely buttoned across her breasts and the cloth gaped every time she took a deep breath, exposing the white lace bra. She pulled on the skirt and realized that it would just about cover her ass. Bridget grinned at her reflection in the mirror and grabbed her makeup.
A few moments later, a vision that would have made Sister Agnes turn over in her grave sauntered out of the bathroom to Vic’s appreciative whistle. Bridget had made up her lips in a crimson that clashed violently with her red hair, then applied glowing blue eyeshadow from her lashes to her eyebrows. Her hair was done up in multiple little ponytails, just the sort of thing she might have tried in high school if she’d had the nerve.
Vic came over for an appreciative, giggly kiss. She ran one hand under the skirt and groped Bridget’s ass in the thong just enough to get her attention before she pulled away. Then she grabbed a small bag from the bed. “C’mon let’s go. Some folks are waiting for us. Oh wait, wear this.” She handed Bridget a St. Mary’s blazer.
Bridget gaped at it. “Where did you find all this stuff? Some kind of Sacred Heart garage sale or something?”
“I had help. Now, c’mon babe. We want to get there early. I hear they’re doing dinner first.”
“Oh yum, church suppers. I can’t wait.” Bridget rolled her eyes and tugged on the blazer. Vic was already holding the door open and ushering her out. Well, maybe the surprise would come afterward. Bridget got just a bit wetter thinking about all the possibilities.
By the time they pulled up in front of St. Mary’s, the car seat was getting damp under her. Not that Vic seemed to notice. She just looked as cool as could be as she pulled into the lot and came around to open Bridget’s door. Bridget got out carefully, trying to hold the minuscule plaid skirt down so it sort of covered her butt. Vic watched her with a dangerous smile and leaned in close to whisper, “I’m planning on seeing a lot more of your ass and pussy tonight than that. But it’s a start.”
Bridget met her eyes and shivered. She’d been aching to be touched ever since her shower and that only made it worse. She wondered what it would take to get Vic to take her in the bathroom or maybe the girls’ locker room. She’d always had a fantasy about that, one that involved the entire girls’ field hockey team.
They passed under a big banner and some streamers welcoming them to the reunion. Bridget forced herself not to groan. Crepe paper. Did it get any cheesier than that? There was Betty Crane, waving at her from a registration table crowded with name tags. Bridget didn’t recognize the woman next to her, or the guy hovering nearby, but she suspected she’d hear all about it when they got a bit closer. And she was willing to bet that no one would ask a thing about Vic.