Petri's Writings: HOMETOWN GRUDGE, part 2 (Patreon)

Alexandra May took a drag from her cigarette and checked herself out one last time in the hotel room mirror. It was near the end of a holiday visit to her small Midwestern hometown of Buford, she’d endured reunions with relatives and a few friends and was now preparing for a New Year’s Eve out at a familiar local bar.

There was no man in her life to share a New Year’s Eve with, but there was always the possibility there would be one by evening’s end. Alex was a looker, a lean, attractive brunette with a perfect main of wavy, soft brown hair, a pale but even complexion and features that sometimes earned the adjective “complicated.” She had bee-stung lips, a smirky, heart-shaped mouth, a strong jaw and an almost Roman nose, almost like a classical statue—but all those elements fell in service to two large and arresting cerulean blue eyes that people often described as the most beautiful they’d ever seen.

Alex had moved out of Buford a few years after high school to the West Coast and had quickly landed a few small roles in film and on television—a big deal to anyone from a place like Buford. She was a small fish in a big pond but she knew she’d earned status points among her high school friends and in the short term that was good enough for her.

She checked out her figure in the full-length doorway mirror. Alex didn’t have an ounce of fat on her but she had a round, muscular butt, arms as toned as they needed to be to get her acting and modeling work and a firm C-cup bustline. The black halter top she wore showed off a nice hint of cleavage and her bare back, and hiked up enough to display her flat, toned stomach and its creamy complexion. Her sleek hips and legs were attired in black leather pants, an impulse buy that she had never had reason to pull out of the back of her closet until now.

As she put out her cigarette Alex dug her phone out of her back pocket and flipped up the message that had shown up a few days ago:

“If you know what’s good for you, don’t show your face at Banger’s.”

Alex didn’t recognize the number. But she could almost hear the tone of voice issuing that warning. She turned her attention back to the mirror and at the trim brunette staring back at her in her black halter and leather pants and wondered whether she was pulling the look off. Alex had always been a wannabe tough girl. She had started drinking and smoking at an early age and the result was a sultry, gin-soaked voice that was catnip to casting directors. In high school she’d loved dressing like all the bad girls, wearing black lipstick, denim or leather jackets—everything but tattoos, although she had gotten one butterfly-shaped tat on her right shoulder. She had even gotten into a couple of fights, just enough to keep a couple of bullies off her back. But the whole thing was more of a put-on to push herself out of the usual high school social circles. Alex couldn’t wait to leave Buford, and now she returned to the little town rarely and reluctantly.

Her hand drifted down to her pelvis to tug and feel the snug, satin-finish leather pants. They showed off her shapely legs and butt just the way she wanted, but there was one more element she needed to test out. She reached down and let her fingers drift across her crotch, noting how little sensation penetrated the dense leather fabric. She gave her pubic region an experimental squeeze and nodded to herself in something like satisfaction. Yes, the leather deadened the sensation a bit—maybe a bit more than denim. And it sure looked hotter.

She blew out an exasperated breath. It wasn’t like she could wear an athletic cup, she thought to herself. She shrugged into her black leather jacket and headed out into a stiff late December chill. The leather was a lot warmer than the yoga pants she’d worn five years ago—the last time she’d been to Buford’s sleaziest dive bar. She eyed her reflection in some store windows and figured she looked good enough for whatever might be in store for her tonight. Her phone felt warm against her butt, as if it and the blunt text message it carried were still clamoring for her attention.

She could hear the music and noise from Banger’s a block away from the bar, and as the low, run-down edifice loomed in front of her she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the crisp winter air. Was she really ready for this? she asked herself. The warning to stay away was right there in her pocket…but it had come a week ago and she hadn’t heard any rumblings since.

She realized with a sigh that she was almost living out the plot of one of her Lifetime movies—small town girl makes it big in the city, then returns home to all sorts of complications. Of course, in the movies the complications were always romantic and always involved men. But Alex had avoided coming back home for five years because of a woman, and her relationship with Kristin Colt was far from romantic.

The warning to stay away from her favorite Buford dive bar had been a challenge Alex found impossible to ignore. It was more an invitation than anything else as far as she was concerned, and it happened to fit in exactly with her own secret hopes about coming home one more time. The last time she’d seen Kristin had been in the smoky confines of this very tavern, and her encounter with the other brunette had left physical and emotional wounds that had been very long to heal. As she stared at the orange neon sign flashing the name of the bar ahead of her Alex dug up the memory of that ugly night five years ago…