[sinclairfan]

My name is Amanda.  I'm 28 year olds, and like many of you, Covid and Monkeypox have ruined my plans in life.  Not from catching either of the viruses, but from avoiding them.  Avoiding them by needing to call a halt to dating, which was how I was going to meet a husband and start a family.

Until the pandemic arrived at the start of 2020, my life was going swimmingly, just the way I had planned it.  I was an honor roll high school student and got an academic scholarship to Ohio State.  I kept my partying, and Facebook-Instagram time, to a minimum, and learned enough econometrics to get into a management training program at my mom's insurance company in downtown Columbus.  And I started building a solid career there.

On the sex-and-dating front:  I had a rputation, well-earned, of being a good girl who was just casually dating.  I lost my virginity, willingly, after a high school Homecoming dance--a very Ohio way to do it for the first time.  I had a couple hookups at Ohio State, just with "nice guys", and just enough to build a 'Beginner's Foundation', as I thought of it, of what I liked and didn't like about sex, how to tell a guy what to do to me in bed, and to make myself read to go out and land my future husband at around 25 or 26.  (Little did I know that Covid would hit when I was 26; Monkeypox when I was 28.)

And while there were parts of sex I definitely enjoyed, and while I was also decent-to-good at it, and while my girl-next-door looks were more than sufficient to attract flirting (both the welcome and unwelcome kind), there were defintely some warning flags which I was paying attention to.

The first was that, while being a good girl had its obvious advantages (guys knew they needed to approach you respectfully, not like a tramp), it could sometimes give the mis-impression that you weren't interested in sex.  So you'd get a good vibe going with a guy .... and then he'd ask you for advice on another girl.  Ewww--especially if I thought I was WAY sexier than the girl he brought up.

And then, the act itself.  I wasn't good at the wordless give-and-take in bed--cumming together, finding out he was 'done' when I was just getting warmed up--or vice versa.  Did I need to 'practice' more.

I was just starting to do exactly that--practice sex just to get better at it--when the pandemic/s halted all dating for anyone single.

How was I ever going to get better at it?

A co-worker (Elaine) in my exact situation, or almost, was lamenting the dating dilemma with me.

Over drinks, she pitched an idea which seemed out of left field, until we started talking about it.

All pandemics end, but until this one does, maybe she and I could keep our 'game' from getting stale by .... catfighting each other.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

When Elaine so casually and laconically served up the idea of catfighting me, I neither showed nor felt any shock or even surprise.

But not for the reason(s) you're thinking.

It wasn't that I just have everyday conversations about catfighting with friends, colleagues, and peers (or, for that matter, even strangers).  In fact, I doubt I've ever brought up, or had brought up to me, the topic of catfighting.

No.  The reason I was nonplussed by Elaine's 'nugget' was that it came in the context of talking about sexual encounters.

In, in my head, the connection of
catfight <-- equals --> sexuality
had already been established deep into the recesses of my psyche.  And it happened as I made deliberate, timid progress in my dating life.

Because I noticed once I began approaching, then flirting with, the getting intimate with boys, that an irreversible ..... ahem ..... change came over me. 

Once I slept with a boy, I had uncontrollable thoughts of catfighting any girls he was friends with.  Even in the total absence of any evidence, I just assumed every female friend/buddy/online connection of his was a 'friend with benefits', and I war-game'd out where and when to confront her and demand their relationship adjust to the new circumstances of my being in the picture.

And her refusing.

And she and I catfighting over it.

I found myself creeping boys' buudy lists and contacts to see what girls I might be headed on a collision course with.  And masturbating furiously to imaginary catfights with them.  Sometimes even more than I was masturbating to the thought of sex with him.

At times, it was the most erotic part of a new relationship.

Now, had I ever BEEN IN a real catfight?  Close.  Once.  Random and unplanned.

The GIRL wasn't random and unplanned.  In my sophmore year at Ohio State, I was hanging out with another Ohio State student I met at a party.  It was fall, and one weekend a group of us went out to a corn maze.  There was a brunette girl Ashley who was possibly another hookup of his--she could tell she was lower on his totem poll than me at the moment.

I'm pretty sure she came out to the corn maze that day to get me alone.  Which did happen in a dense corner of the maze.  She grabbed my hair so hard that I could feel her nails in my scalp.  I answered in kind, not because I had any particular plan--I mostly didn't want her to pin me down and have him come around the corner and have my good girl status reinforced in his eyes.

My plan worked, because after thirty seconds of jostling and grunting, a cluster of folks not in our group arrived in that corner of the maze.  Ashley and I broke apart and went separate directions. 

And Ashley got more aggressive about sleeping with the boy, and my relationship with him just sputtered out.

But I masturbated to the thought of fighting Ashley again someday.  They both dropped out that semester, and I never saw them again.

But my initiation into catfighting was as erotic as I could have hoped for.

Because I loved pulling hair with Ashley in the corn maze.  The danger of humiliation, and actual physical injury, if I get taken down.

It was something I hoped to do again.

I was down with Elaine's idea.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Around now you might thinking:  why didn't Elaine and I just give in to our true feelings and start dating? 

Well, the simple answer is:  dating Elaine, or pretty much any woman (with the possible exception of Sarah Michelle Gellar), was NOT in any way a desire of mine, conscious or unconscious.  I had done the sterotypical 'one time in college' thing with a floormate at Ohio State around 2013, and I didn't have any patience for learning girl on girl pleasure.  It's already hard enough finding a boy to be a man and take control in bed--there was no way the politics of bedroom dominance-submission was anything I was going to exhaust energy on (in my Sarah Michelle Gellar fantasies, SMG took charge of me and that was that--problem solved; no mortal female would possibly live up to her impossibly high standard).  But there was also the physical awkwardness.  FonF seemed to require .... toys .... props.  With boys, the only toy was right there, attached to his body.  Easy peazy.

Now, I DID find Elaine to be attractive.  Stereotypical Millennial mixed race--the best of every continent in her ancestry.  I caught myself staring at her jet black straight shiny hair when I met with her, talked to her, went to work Happy Hours with her. 

I wouldn't mind sinking my claws in her hair.

I had found my corn maze attacker, Ashley, attractive too.  That's why I let myself get into a catfight with her.

I wanted to catfight women as, or more, attractive than me.  Just like choosing a sex partner.

Which reminds me....
Will you excuse me for a second?

I need to go masturbate.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

At Ohio State, sometimes if you got a flirtation 'thing' going with a guy, especially one you had been admiring from afar for awhile, if you didn't act on it right away, the moment would pass, and either he wouldn't laugh at your jokes anymore, or he'd start hanging out with the skanky girls he used to hang out with before.....

....or, worst of all....

....he'd just ghost you.  Avoid you, not be at the same parties you were at, study in the library instead of his dorm.

Ghosting was the worst, the most empty form of rejection.  Even worse than out outright 'No'.  Now that I think about it, even at 28, I've stll never gotten at outright 'No' from any guy, in any scenario.  I've never been kicked out of a bed. 

[When I was little, I remember hearing men jokingly say, 'I wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating cookies.' My 28-year old self wants to reply, 'You wouldn't kick her out of bed for anything.  You'd just ghost her.']

So, I didn't want something similar to happen to me an Elaine.  I didn't want her offer to catfight me to linger too long, and have it dissipate into nothingness.  I wanted to actually catfight her.

It was spring 2022, and workers were tentatively returning to offices.  There was an unspoken agreement in our office to at least show up on Tuesday's.

I put on my nicest outfit--I hardly ever wear skirts, but put on my tightest one--and my most pastel-ly, tropical top--and waited for Elaine to show.

What would I say to her?  I tried not to script our conversation in my head too much.  I wanted to talk as naturally as possible. 

Even tho it was show-up-for-work Tuesday, the office was still cavernously empty compared to its pre-pandemic, 2019 glory days.  Would things ever be the same again?  Is this what office life had come to? 

So many corners to have a private conversation with Elaine.

..... but .....

So much empty space for that conversation to echo thru.  What if someone heard us talking about catfighting each other?  What if I heard 2 women having a conversation like that?  I'd probably ignore it.  Or, maybe if they were attractive, I'd offer my place as a neutral fight venue.  Hopefully anoyone who overheard us would ignore it.

I wanted to fight Elaine alone somewhere.

There she is--skirt and a white shirt.  Dressed more formal than I am.

She looks nice.  How does she get her hair so shiny?  Does she color it?

Now or never, Amanda.  I strut up to her:

> Hey, Elaine.  Wanna catfight after work?

> Sure.  Good thinking--it'll give us a full week till we're back in the office next Tuesday if we give each other black eyes.

> Oh?  We're fistfighting?  I can see two friends catfighting, but not fistfighting.

> Who said we're friends.

> [My nipples stand at attention thru my top.  My mouth is too dry to speak.]

> Come get me at 4:30.  We can go somewhere.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

I spent the entire afternoon at work wondering what Elaine meant by her comment of she and I not being friends.  I had ever done anything to cause a beef between her and me?  Nothing came to mind.  Outside of work, I really didn't know anything about her at all.

Or, was she just trying to get herself psyched up for the fight?  Like when you're hooking up with a near-total stranger, so you make the small talk overly sexy to get youself wet .... or to get him hard.  She DID say we were fighting each other to make up for the sex the 2020-22 twin pandemics were taking from us, right?

Or .... maybe she was trying to intimidate me.  Maybe my 'nice girl' image preceded me in the office grapevine.  But ..... if that bitch thought I wouldn't give her a hard fight  ..... wouldn't try to kick her ass, she was about to find out how wrong she was.

Had she been in fights before?  Did she have an Ashley in her past?  Maybe I should have asked her the night we were talking more casually about fighting.  Because it was to late to ask her that now.

I was counting the hours .... then the minutes .... till 4:30.  The office was so empty and boring, even tho it was a Tuesday.

At 4:07, Elaine stood at my cubicle with her briefcase/purse.

> Ready, bitch?

> [It's only 4:07.  And I haven't peed yet.  I was afraid of 'bumping into' Elaine in the restroom.]  Yes.  Where are we fistfighting, sweetie?

> Oh, we're FISTfiighting now?  I thought it was catfighting, but I'm game if you are, hun.

> [Wait.  Elaine DID say 'fists' earlier, this morning, right?]  Well, is it a fight or not, ...... Elaine??

> Oh, it's a fight, Amanda.  Anything goes.

> [I get up and get my purse ready.  I have a clumsy bag for my laptop, and my heels are totally awkward and impractical.  I'm out of the habit of coming in to the office, and forgot my walking shoes.]  You in the [parking] garage?

> Yes.  That's where we're fighting.  In the elevator there. 

> [We're fighting in the parking garage elevator??]  You first.  Bitch.

> Slut.  Imma fuck you up.

> [ I doubt it .... but how much do I really know about this bitch?]

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

As Elaine and I walk thru an underground tunnel to the parking garage, I'm trailing behind her because I'm in heels.  (If I wasn't, I'd be half-tempted to jump her before we get to her pre-selected venue for our fight; I'm SO f-ing frisky to fight right now.)

My heels make a clacking sound on the tile floor and echo off the walls and ceilings, reinforcing our aloneness in the empty office.  No one will interfere with our fight. 

Pre-pandemic, this section of the office was a madhouse pre-rush hour, with office workers and vendors rushing out to their cars to beat the worst of the Columbus rush-hour traffic.  Will that world ever come back.  Even if we're virus-free again, no one has the patience for rush hour anymore.  Everyone is used to 4:00 Happy Hour at home, 5-days-a-week.  Not worth it driving into the office.

All I got done today was arranging a fight with Elaine.

A catfight?  A fistfight?  Both?  Neither?  Each seems impossible in an outdoor elevator.  You can't throw hands--if you miss, you'll bust a knuckle on the elevator wall.  You can't roll in a catball--the floor area is too small, and the floor is disgusting.

Are we just gonna grab hair and slam each others' heads into the wall?

Are we gonna knee each other in the crotch?  When Ashley and I fought in the corn maze, she was starting to try and pull my head down to knee me in the face, so I upper-cut her face and tried it again and got her crotch. 

It was the only time I hurt her the whole fight.  I loved it.

I wanted to hurt Elaine now.

> Slow down, bitch.  I'm wearing heels.

> Priss.  And don't call me a bitch.

> Don't call me a priss.  How much does that stupid haircut of yours cost?

> You can find out yourself when I have my girlfriend do it for you when I rip all yours out in 5 minutes.

> [Girfriend? ..... as in partner/girlfriend?  Is Elaine LGBTQ?  i've never seen her with, or talk about, a boy, even though she's attractive.]  My hair is fine how it is, sweetie.  Nicer than yours.

> Oh, you think so, hun?

> I do.  Bitch.

> Shut up.

> Make me.

> I will.

This fight is gonna be good.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Elaine and I finally reached the parking garage elevator.  It was empty, we walked in, and Elaine informed me she was taking it down to the second basement level and would stop it there.

How did she know how to stop the elevator at a certain level?  Why the lower basement?  Had she done this (whatever she and I were about to do) with other women before?

The elevator stopped, and I wriggled out of my heels--I had no confidence in my ability to remain standing in them if Elaine and I wete about to tangle, and I was aggravated at how awkward the heels had made my trek from my desk to the fight location.  Starting a fight in cramping calves is never a good idea--or, at least didn't seem like a good idea to even me, an inexperienced catfighter.

My heels weren't cooperating in coming compeletely off, so I instinctively made a kicking motion with my right foot, sending that shoe riccocheting and tumbling off of the elevator wall to the right of me to the wall behind Elaine, and then striking and bouncing off of her left butt-cheek.  My first reaction was to release an awkward snort-laugh--my shoe had succeeded in literally kicking Elaine's ass.  But her instinctive reaction was quite different--she presumed I had intentionally hurled an article at her, and her eyes betrayed a burning desire to relataliate.  Elaine dropped the carrying case holding her work laptop, took her clutch purse, and chucked it directly at my face.  Fortunately for me, clutch handbags evidentally don't travel in a straight line when thrown in anger, so it veered down and to my left before striking my left breast and falling to the floor.  It must have had car keys and a couple other heavy objects in it, as it stung, even thru my top and my bra.

Now BOTH of us were pissed.

> You fucking bitch--are we gonna throw stuff at each other or fight??

> You started it, Amanda.

> I did NOT--my shoe came off by accident.

> Just like this was an accident.

In a surprisingly fluid motion, Elaine unfasteneded the leather belt holding up her skirt, pulled it thru all of it beltloops, curled in into her hand into a half-loop, and started swinging the belt at my face, striking me painfully at least 3 times in 10 seconds. 

In desperation to cut off her offensive and not leave her room to swing her makeshift weapon, I stepped forward and sank my claws into her scalp.  Elaine freed her hands by dropping her belt, and grabbed onto my hair and started tugging my head from side to side.

> You fucking bitch.

> I'll destroy you, Amanda.

The sensation of holding someone, even in the current strange circumstances, was something I had missed so much in the pandemic.  My decision to not live with anyone while searching for the (elusive?) perfect spouse was a decision I was already questioning pre-pandemic, and one which really kicked me in the face during the loneliness of the pandemic lockdowns.  I would wake up, alone, in bed every morning, craving a quick fuck or getting licked off.  Was it really a good idea to wait for perfect husband material to enjoy relief?  Was there no other solution.

I released my left arm and hand from Elaine's hair and let it sink down to her right bicep.  I wrapped my arm around her back and pulled my body close to hers.  Our beasts were pressed together.

It felt so good.  So erotic.

I wanted to close my eyes and take in the sensation.  When I opened them, our face were pressed together, and she was looking at my face.

> You're a good fighter.

> You didn't think I would be?

> I didn't know.

> Now you do.

> Then fight me.

To be continued.....

[Vengeance]

Unique commencement of hostilities…I like it.