Author: Jack
Keywords: .
Summary: A snooty, restaurant-hostess Jenny-lookalike bears the brunt of Ashley's pent-up anger...
It had been one hell of a day, and Ashley was tired and totally fed up.
First thing in the morning, her latest job interview had gone badly. Somehow word was getting around town about some of Ashley’s more embarrassing moments – like the time she had been overcome by the itching powder at the miniature golf course, and when that gang of teens had stripped her nude in the middle of the mall – and it seemed like a lot of people were starting to think she was some kind of flake. Not that any of it was her fault, of course. That bitch Jenny was to blame, every time . . . .
And, of course, she’d no sooner got done with her interview and stopped at the mall for lunch at the food court when who should show up but Jenny herself? All smiles and good cheer, babbling on about what a wonderful day she was having and how great it was to run into her best friend. It had just about put Ashley off her lunch entirely, listening to that inane chatter. How could that silly blonde be so naïve? You’d think that after the incident at the zoo even someone as thick as Jenny would have realized that Ashley wasn’t her friend at all, but instead she just kept right on hanging around! Ashley had spent most of an hour toying with her food and trying to come up with some new scheme to humiliate the blonde, but inspiration just wouldn’t strike. She’d felt a little disappointed with herself when Jenny finally realized the time and left and Ashley still hadn’t come up with a good plan . . . though her spirits had been lifted a little bit when Jenny had promptly bumped against one of those electric wheelchairs the mall provided to elderly shoppers, snagged her dress on something, and had the whole thing ripped off right in the middle of the mall by old Mr. Richter, the retired scoutmaster. The sight of Jenny fleeing in her matching lavender bra and panties had brought a brief smile to Ashley’s face. Still, it had been just another accident, and not a very embarrassing one at that, when compared with Jenny’s usual luck. Ashley had soon lost her smile as she once again began to ponder ways and means of getting at the annoying little blonde for real.
She’d taken the problem home with her, and fired up her computer in hopes of getting some real help on the Jenny front. Not too long ago, she had discovered a web site populated by people every bit as devious as she was, and dedicated to the fine art of stripping people. Two days back Ashley had posted a message asking for suggestions on new ways she could part Jenny from her clothes in public, and she had been expecting to find a bunch of really wicked new ideas. But her hopes were dashed when she reached Byron’s Forum . . . thanks to some damned flamer who had posted a bunch of junk and driven her post right off the board before anybody had even responded to it.
Frustrated, Ashley had shut off the computer and taken off her good "interview clothes" to take a bath. It had helped calm her down some, and when she’d finished she had dressed comfortably in plain panties, shorts and a tee shirt, plus her grubby tennis shoes and a loose pair of socks. Then she’d curled up on the sofa with a book and a drink and spent the afternoon as far away from Jenny as her thoughts could take her.
The doorbell jerked her back to reality a few hours later, and Ashley was muttering to herself as she got up and crossed to the front door. "Probably that bitch again," she said under her breath. "I wonder what the fuck she wants this time . . .?"
But when she yanked the door open it wasn’t Jenny that she turned her frown upon, but her boyfriend. He was dressed to the hilt, in a dress pants, and a blazer over a shirt and tie. "Honey . . . aren’t you ready yet?" he asked, looking Ashley over with a disapproving frown.
That was when it hit her. Their dinner date! They’d had reservations for dinner at Henri’s, one of the most popular restaurants in town, for over a month now. Damn it all, how had she managed to forget?
"Oh, God, I forgot all about it," Ashley said. "Look, I’ve had a terrible day. Maybe it would be better if we gave it a miss tonight. Would that be okay?"
"Well, I suppose . . . but you know how hard it is to get reservations there. I sure hate to waste the effort . . ." He paused for a moment, and then his face brightened suddenly. "I know! If you don’t feel like seeing anybody tonight, we’ll go out another time . . . maybe a picnic in the park on the weekend or something like that."
"Yeah . . . that would be better . . ." Ashley tried not to think about her last trip to the park, when Jenny had left her at the mercy of those scouts and the fresh-painted park bench.
"Great!" her boyfriend enthused. "Maybe Jenny would like to try out Henri’s tonight. Her husband’s still out of town, and I bet she’s getting kind of stir-crazy. Remember she said she was jealous of us when we told her about getting the reservations?"
Ashley took a step back, her fists clenching at her sides. "You’d . . . take . . . JENNY?" she demanded. She knew her boyfriend lusted after the big-titted blonde, the way most men did, but she’d never imagined he would be so open about it. Swallowing, she shook her head. "Forget it. Those reservations were made for us, so we’re going!"
"But . . . do you have time to get ready?" He looked at his watch. "We’ve only got half an hour . . ."
"I’m fine like I am," Ashley snapped. She picked up her handbag from the table by the door. "Let’s go!"
"But they have a dress code there, don’t they?"
"I’ve seen people go out to places like that wearing whatever they damn well wanted plenty of times," she told him. "Now are you coming, or what?" Ashley pushed past him through the door, and he followed meekly. She wasn’t exactly in the mood for a dinner date, but Ashley was damned if she’d let her boyfriend take Jenny out in her place.
They drove to Henri’s in silence, with Ashley fighting an inward battle to calm herself down and start acting as if she was having a good time. It wasn’t an easy fight to win, but by the time they had pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car she was wearing a smile and snuggling up against him as they walked towards the door.
In the lobby, everything was quiet and elegant. They could see that the dining room was full, and there were two other couples waiting to be seated. A hostess came bustling up, smiling, and Ashley took an involuntary step back from her. Jenny?
No, it wasn’t, she realized a moment later, but the woman certainly looked a lot like her nemesis. She had the same blonde hair, the same big blue eyes and insipid smile, and like Jenny she was about 5’6" tall with a voluptuous figure. If anything, this woman’s tits were even bigger than Jenny’s 38CCs, and the tight, strapless, form-fitting gown she wore enhanced the fact as few of Jenny’s outfits ever did.
"Good evening, sir," she began as she approached. "Do you have a reservation?"
Ashley’s boyfriend started to reply when the hostess fixed her eyes on Ashley and frowned. "I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t think we can seat you, ma’am," she said. "We have a very strict dress code here at Henri’s . . ."
"What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?" Ashley demanded, stepping close to the other woman. She looked down at the name tag that was displayed rather prominently over one thrusting breast. ‘Jennifer.’ Hot fury swelled in the pit of Ashley’s stomach as her whole miserable day caught up with her in one moment of rage.
Oblivious to the brunette’s anger, the hostess reached out and plucked at the fabric of Ashley’s bright red tee-shirt. "This is hardly suitable, ma’am . . ."
"Get your hands off of me, you cow!" Something snapped inside of Ashley, and she pulled away violently. Unfortunately, the hostess was still grasping the material of her shirt, and, startled by Ashley’s sudden movement, she didn’t think to let go as she stepped back. A sudden ripping sound filled the quiet lobby of Henri’s, and a moment later Ashley stood glowering at the woman, her shirt now in rags around her waist and her braless 34C breasts in full view of everyone, heaving with Ashley’s pent-up anger. "You BITCH!" she yelled.
Ashley surged forward, grabbing at the name tag that had been the very last straw. Taken by surprise, the hostess didn’t react in time, and in moments Ashley had both hands inside the top of the gown, pulling out and down with all her strength. The dress ripped open and fell away, exposing Jennifer in a strapless half bra that left her large brown nipples visible, a garter belt and stockings, and a pair of matching black thong panties. For a moment everything was still.
Then Jennifer gasped and hurled herself at Ashley, knocking the topless brunette off her feet. They landed on the carpet, clawing at each other and screaming obscenities. The hostess held Ashley down with one arm across her neck as she ripped at the front of her shorts, and after a moment the button and zipper gave way and she was able to pull them halfway to Ashley’s knees, exposing her plain white cotton panties. Then Ashley wriggled free, losing the shorts in the process but gaining a better position from which to launch a counterattack. She landed a punch in Jennifer’s midsection, and the blonde hostess doubled over, helpless for a moment. Ashley took the opportunity to undo the half-bra and fling it aside, to be caught by an appreciative middle-aged stockbroker standing nearby and hoping that, when he decided to have his mid-life crisis, one of these two lovely young things would be available . . .
His wife, a dowdy matron, sniffed disapprovingly and relieved him of the intimate undergarment.
Meanwhile the two combatants continued their struggle. Jennifer recovered long enough to shove Ashley away violently, and the brunette staggered back against a busboy who had just walked into the lobby with a laden tray. The tray went flying, with plates and tableware spinning wildly. The noise of smashing crockery briefly drowned out the screeches from the two women.
The busboy, pleased to find that he had exchanged an armful of dirty dishes for an armful of nearly-naked brunette, grinned like the village idiot as he "helped" Ashley stay on her feet – the assistance somehow requiring one of the teenager’s hands resting on her shapely ass inside the top of her panties while the other sought to steady her by grabbing one firm, rosy-tipped boob. He lost his grin when Ashley spun and raked his face with her nails, but neither of them had reckoned on the fact that his watch had become tangled with the waistband of her underpants, and Ashley’s violent twisting motion in delivering the attack was enough to hopelessly ruin the elastic. The panties slid down her long legs, exposing her trim brown bush to the appreciative eyes of her audience, which by this time included not a few diners who had left their seats to gather by the entrance to the dining room and watch the floor show.
For a long moment Ashley wasn’t even aware of what had happened to her panties, and after delivering her opinion of the busboy’s helpful attitude she turned back to finish her earlier discussion with the hostess. But as she took a step toward Jennifer the panties dropped all the way to the floor, and Ashley tripped, falling forward. Both her hands grabbed at the closest possible support, which happened to be Jennifer herself, but she wasn’t able to catch herself well enough to keep from landing on the carpet again.
Ashley did, however, manage to hook her fingers into the blonde’s thong underwear. These ripped clean away in her hand, leaving the hostess in garter belt, stockings, and high heels. From her position on the ground, Ashley was grimly satisfied to see that her opponent wasn’t a natural blonde. Her bush was thick and luxuriant, and darker than Ashley’s own.
She kicked the ruined panties from her feet and started to rise again to reenter the fray, but at the moment a short, chubby, balding man stormed into the lobby from a private office behind the cash register. "What the devil is going on out here?" he said, wheezing a little. "What is all this noise . . . ?" He trailed off as his eyes took in the spectacle of his hostess, in her garter belt and hose, facing an enraged blonde wearing nothing but tennis shoes and a red rag around her waist. "Miss Ludlow! What are you doing . . . like that?" The anger in his voice was heavily tinged by other emotions, of which his wife would almost certainly not approved.
Jennifer Ludlow had hardly been aware of anything except the need to defend herself since Ashley had first grabbed her dress. Now, suddenly, she realized where she was and, more importantly, what she was wearing . . . or rather what she wasn’t wearing. She looked down and blushed furiously, coloring all the way to the tops of her prominent nipples, and gave a tiny little squeak of shame. In an unconscious imitation of a woman she had never met but now shared a common bond of experience with, she said, "Ohmigod" and tried her best to cover her exposed breasts and pussy. She turned to flee for the safety of the ladies’ room, but found her progress awkward at best in her high heels. The view of her trim ass wiggling as she half-walked, half-ran from the lobby sent a thrill through the hearts – among other places – of every man watching.
Ashley wasn’t quite so delicate. She wasn’t exactly pleased to be on display at one of the fanciest restaurants in town, but being naked in public was something she was beginning to get used to. Instead of blushing, covering up, and running away she advanced belligerently on the overweight manager. "That . . . that bitch ATTACKED me!" she said, seething. "Tore my shirt off!"
The manager, who was not a tall man, started sweating profusely at this point despite the chilly blast from the restaurant’s air conditioner . . . or perhaps because of the cool air, which had the effect of hardening the lovely red nipples that were just inches from his eyes. "Er, ah, young lady . . ." he stammered.
Ashley’s boyfriend stepped forward, shrugging out of his blazer and wrapping it over the brunette’s naked shoulders. "Here, honey, put this on," he said.
"And where the hell were you when that bitch was attacking me?" Ashley snarled. Still, she slipped her arms into the sleeves and held the jacket shut in front with one hand. It was long enough on her to cover all the strategic places, but still exposed a long expanse of well-turned leg. No one thought it wise to point out that it also gaped enough in back to leave Ashley’s ass on view for all.
"Honey, it all happened so fast . . ."
Ashley looked back down at the manager, who seemed to be gathering his wits now that he was no longer face-to-face – or whatever – to the brunette’s bare breasts. "I’m going to call my lawyer first thing tomorrow," she vowed. "I’m going to sue your pants off for letting that cow do this to me!"
Her boyfriend intervened again. "Ashley, honey, let me handle this," he said soothingly. "Why don’t you go out to the car. You’ve been through too much tonight to be objective."
Reluctantly, Ashley finally gave in and left the restaurant, giving her audience a final treat as she walked away with hips swaying and ass cheeks jiggling under the inadequate cover of the blazer. When she was gone the men in the room let out a collective sigh, much to the disgust of their female companions.
"Sir, what can we do to avoid any further . . . unpleasantness?" the manager asked. He looked close to a panic attack.
Ashley’s boyfriend gave him a winning smile. "Perhaps dinner . . . on the house?"
"Yes." He nodded eagerly.
"Next week?"
"Yes. Yes, we can arrange that . . ."
"On Miss Ludlow’s night off?"
"That . . . would be a good idea. Yes."
"Great. I’m sure I can calm Ashley down." He fished out his wallet, and drew out a crisp hundred dollar bill and pressed it into the manager’s hands. "And would you see that Miss Ludlow gets this . . . as a special tip? I haven’t enjoyed myself this much since my last ski trip."
He left with a broad smile on his face, knowing it was money well spent.