LJ Idol- it's not tacky if you wear it well
She ignored the whispers behind her as she walked down the stairs. She knew it was about her and she didn't care.
"Omg, is she really going to just walk in here like that!"
"What a whore!"
Ignoring the women who were not really whispering anymore, she continued on. Keeping her head high, she placed her feet, one cherry red six inch fuck me pump down the steps, one step at a time, leg peeping out of the black silk skirt with the split that ended just inches beneath her hip. The skirt tight across her ass. The waist line cut to minimize the muffin top that could happen to any girl if she bought the wrong clothes, but especially to her since she was not as skinny as she used to be.
The top she was wearing was cut tight too. Not a V-neck but the slits in the tight black shirt over her breasts meant it showed more cleavage anyway. The tightness pulled it to her stomach under her breasts making sure the fullness of them was visible from across the room.
She was used to the names, they had been calling her that since the 6th grade and it really no longer phased her. That growth spurt then really didn't help, it wasn't that she got taller, but that she got breasts. Not just the small buds that most everyone got then, no, she came to school having gone from flat chested to a C cup over the summer. And since her parents were without much money for new clothes, almost all of her shirts were too tight. So whore, slut, these were names she had heard before, names she had been called while still a virgin.
And as she got older, she was better at concealing them. Her breasts that caused her so much grief during that awkward puberty stage, the time they added lesbian to the mix because when she was tired of being asked or accused of stuffing her bra and finally offered to prove it to one relentless girl in the bathroom one day. So baggy sweatshirts and poor posture kept them from poking out.
It wasn't until the first time she undressed in front of someone that she understood the beauty in them. That she understood the power in them. It was in that moment, standing there in the bedroom, almost shy the way she hugged herself, almost cringing as she awaited the insult. When nothing but silence came she willed herself to look up, to face the look of horror that surely he must have on his face. But when she looked up, he was just there, smiling, enjoying her body with his eyes, not just in a lustful way, but in a way that showed her body to her all anew. It was suddenly no longer dirty and something to be ashamed of but a thing of beauty.
It was that moment, that look she held in her head as she descended the stairs. That moment that gave her the courage to do what she was about to do.
She got to the bottom of the stairs and every person in the room was staring at her. Which was good, as it let her find who she was looking for. And there he was, across the room, her high school crush. The one who, when she told him she liked him on the bus to school, had told her that no one would want her because she was nothing more than a skanky whore and he wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole. Though he was certainly not planning on keeping it a secret, by lunch that day, everyone knew, though depending on who you asked she had done everything from offer to pull a train with him and his friends to actually sucked him off right there on the bus.
She noticed he had kept it a secret the following summer when he had walked to her house a few weeks before school started back, kissing her, telling her she was pretty. Calling her a frigid bitch when she kept him from putting his hands under her shirt, struggling with him as she try to untangle her arms since her hands were suddenly pinned over her head. His strength allowing him to hold them one handed as the other tore her shirt open anyway. He had nearly torn her bra too when they heard her brother pull in and he ran out the back door.
She had told a friend, one who was getting ready to date him at the time. In exchange she had been called jealous and petty and told that everyone in school knew that if he asked she would spread her legs, even if he made her let others watch because she wanted him that badly. So quit lying, and shut up.
Swallowing, she made her way through the crowd and and over to him. He was sitting alone, nursing a beer, four or five empties on the table beside him. She wondered to herself where his wife was, he had married the head cheerleader, or so she had heard.
He smiled at her as she walked over, and reached out to hug her like an old friend as she got closer. She side stepped the outstretched arms and said hello. She was aware that everyone at the reunion was watching this exchange.
"Hello Amanda, no hug for an old friend?" Chris asked.
"Were we friends, I don't seem to recall that." She said cooly.
"But of course we were, come here and let me hug you for a second!" He said a little bit louder as her took another swig of his drink.
"Oh, but Chris I thought I was a skanky whore, or was that a frigid bitch. I can't remember. You didn't get in trouble for sexually assaulting me then. And you started rumors about me pulling trains and sucking you off. Are you really asking for a hug right now?"
"Bitch, I don't know what you're talking about. You're just the girl I rode the bus with." He said, louder than he had asked for the hug.
"Play it that way if you like, it doesn't matter to me anyway. I came here to let you know that you didn't break me. You didn't get to have me either. And you won't ever. I knew this was my chance to let you know that the whore you secretly wanted enough to try to assault her wasn't broken. I wanted you to see me, wanted everyone to see this raging hard-on I knew I would give you." She reached out and grasped his balls in her hands. "And I wanted you to feel just a bit powerless too." And with that she began to squeeze, and the tighter her hands got, the more he whimpered. And as he fell to his knees in front of her from pain, she bent forward, her breasts pressing against the cloth, close to his face.
And this she whispered, "I am not now, nor have I ever been a whore. I am not now, nor have I ever been a frigid bitch. I liked you and you trampled on that, showing me that you are just a douche bag. Thank you for not letting me stay hung up on you, it allowed me to meet the man that gave me the courage to embrace who I am. To love the man who showed me that I can love the person in the mirror, and to wear outfits like this, an outfit that made you rock hard from the instant you saw me on the steps."
With that she stood up and turned to face the silent crowd, the one that erupted in applause as she walked out underneath the banner on the door welcoming the class of 2003 to their 10th year class reunion.