Sure enough, Father William and Sister Julia were fussing with more crepe paper and balloons behind the table and carefully ignoring them. Bridget tugged the jacket closed over her gaping white blouse and grabbed Vic’s hand. Time to get the evening’s ostracism underway. “Hi Betty!” she chirped when they stopped in front of the table. “You look great.” She grinned down at her least favorite former classmate and nearly collapsed laughing when she saw the look on her face.
“Hi Bridget. You look… umm… healthy. Let me introduce you to my husband.” Betty grabbed for the bored-looking man lurking by the bulletin boards. He looked Bridget over and leered, but only a little, which was better than she expected of any guy who’d marry Betty.
Vic stepped between the two of them, making it clear that she wasn’t going to put up with much crap. Bridget watched Betty’s uptight mouth tense as Vic reached out to shake her hand. She wondered if the reunion chair was wiping her hand off on her skirt under the table. At least the husband was polite about it.
A few other classmates came up behind them, and they were able to move on before Bridget gave Betty a piece of her mind. Maybe, she thought, as Vic towed her away, tonight would be a good night to tell Father William who had tried to out a third of the class with anonymous notes their senior year. She’d always suspected it was Betty, partially because a lot of the accusations had been wrong.
But once they walked inside, she forgot about her former foe. There was Monica waving at them from a side table, black hair cut short and spiky, black leather jacket draped on the back of her chair. There was another woman with her who looked familiar too. It took Bridget a full minute to recognize Mary Eileen. Who else would wear an outfit that looked suspiciously like an updated version of a field hockey uniform? Bridget was giggling when they sat down next to them. A few more friends from the old days and their girlfriends straggled in after that so it made for a full table.
In the end, there were eight of them, including almost every girl that Bridget ever wondered about when they were in schooclass="underline" Monica, Mary Eileen, Sharon, Elena, Kate, plus Vic and Kate’s girlfriend Pam. She wondered what Sister Agnes would make of them now, but she thought she knew the answer to that one. Dinner was better than she expected, and everyone at the table was being nice to Vic. Especially since it turned out that Vic seemed to know Monica and Elena from some email list, which was news to Bridget.
But apart from that, Bridget was still waiting to be surprised. Sure, Vic’s hand was resting on her thigh under the table, but it wasn’t working its way up like she expected. She wondered if anyone would notice if she ducked under the table and went down on her girlfriend. She wriggled impatiently.
Vic leaned over to whisper, “Meet me in the girl’s locker room in ten minutes.” Then she took off with Monica.
Bridget watched them walk away like a lost puppy. A wet, empty puppy whose thong was working its way up into places that wanted to be full of other things. Ten minutes had never taken so long, but she wanted to stay on Vic’s good side so she didn’t get up until nine and one half minutes after Vic and Monica left.
She caught Mary Eileen’s knowing smile from the corner of her eye and pulled her friend’s hair lightly as she walked past, for old times’ sake. Then she made herself walk across the gym at a slow, ladylike pace toward the locker rooms, occasionally waving to an old schoolmate who wasn’t too appalled to acknowledge her.
Eventually, she made it to the locker room door. She stopped in front of it, letting her fantasies run wild. She slipped the blazer off her shoulders and unbuttoned her blouse an extra button. Then she walked in, pussy muscles clenched with anticipation.
The second she walked in, someone dropped a bag over her head. Her arms were held behind her back, and she was marched over to what felt like a post. She could feel her hands being securely fastened behind her around the post while someone gave her nipple a wicked pinch.
Bridget whimpered happily and spread her legs, the cheerful grin on her face hidden by the black bag. A sharp slap with something—a ruler?—on her bare thigh made the grin go away. Rough hands tugged off the bag leaving her face-to-face with Monica. Who kissed her, hard.
Uh-oh. Hope Vic doesn’t see this. Monica’s hand was squeezing her tit now too, with enough pressure to make her yelp around Monica’s tongue in her mouth. Then Monica let go of her boob and stuck her hand between Bridget’s legs, driving her fingers up around the thong until Bridget was gasping for air. “You were always such a little slut, Bridge. Now lick my fingers off.” Monica added that last command right after she pulled her fingers out of Bridget’s soaking pussy.
“I remember,” Monica purred as she watched Bridget carefully suck off each finger on her right hand, “how you were always hanging out here after field hockey practice. What were you hoping for back then, Bridge?”
Bridget responded with an incoherent gurgle. How had Monica known? Monica wasn’t telling, but she was pulling a largish knife out of her back pocket. She ran the blade down Bridget’s ample cleavage and smiled as she squirmed. Bridget was wild eyed; where was Vic? Surely she hadn’t left her alone with this crazy woman?
“Well, don’t carve her up before I’ve had any,” Mary Eileen said as she swept into the locker room, giving Bridget an evil grin. She leaned over and bit Bridget’s nipple through the lace of her bra. Bridget yelped. Mary Eileen glanced at Monica. “You bring the ruler? Excellent. I’ve got my old field hockey stick too.”
Bridget’s eyes bulged. There was no way that Mary Eileen was going to follow through on that unspoken threat. Mary Eileen pulled a condom out of a bag and opened the package. Then she stretched it over the handle of the stick. She looked up and met Bridget’s wide-eyed stare. “Oh, don’t tell us you didn’t dream about this back in the day, sweetie. I remember you practically humping Monica in her uniform when you had a few beers.”
So could Bridget. Who could help it? Monica had been so hot. Come to think of it, so had Mary Eileen. And now she was going to get some of her favorite fantasies fulfilled. At least she hoped they were still favorites. She hadn’t thought about the field hockey team in quite a few years, not since Vic came along. She closed her eyes and pictured Vic as the team goalie and a thin line of wetness ran down her thigh.
“I’d put that on her now,” Mary Eileen murmured to Monica as she ran a hand up Bridget’s thigh and stuck two of her fingers inside her, then pulled them out. “I’m guessing our little Bridget’s a shrieker, aren’t you, sweetie?”
Bridget nodded like her head was on strings. Monica reached into a bag and came back with a thick, silky scarf in her hands. She covered Bridget’s mouth and tied the scarf behind her head with deft precision. Then she pulled up Bridget’s skirt and cut the thong off her. Bridget moaned, hoping that might be enough to get one of them to take her. She had never felt so empty.
Instead, Monica chuckled in Bridget’s ear before running her tongue all the way down to her cleavage. She unfastened the bra and pulled it down so Bridget’s breasts were exposed. Bridget started breathing faster. This was just like her field hockey fantasy. Vic had to be somewhere nearby, planning this whole thing. She was the only one Bridget had ever told about this. She squirmed happily. This was going to be the best belated birthday ever.