[sinclairfan]

My names is Dianne.  I'm a lifelong Southern New England resident and office worker.  I'm only 58 years old, but have found lately that everytime I pick up something to read--the local newspaper, a school alumni newsletter, the Sunday church bulletin--the first section I turn to is the obituaries.  Because more and more, people my parents knew, .... and, increasingly, people I knew .... are in there.  I always assumed I would live to 100, and I've always worked out hard (more on that later) to make that happen.  But I can't comprehend that the amount of family and friends you must watch pass away once you reach that age.

Especially that past few weeks, when my only sibling .... my baby brother .... has been dealing with a health scare.  He's gonna make it thru this one:  he had a routine colonoscopy when he turned 50, the found polyps, and got them out.  But they were cancerous, and the "c-word" is going to be something he .... and I .... will always have on our mind going forward.

I told him I love him.  He told me he knows ... from two catfights I got into for him.  Many years ago.  One quick one in the late 1970s, the other more serious in 1989.  Because in the 1989 one, I was a grown woman.  And it was against Lori, my former best friend .... and his soon-to-be-ex-wife.

And it was a rough fight.  No rules stuff.  Only when he had his health scare did I open up to him just how violent my fight with Lori got.

First, the late 1970s stuff.  It was a scuffle at the morning bus stop.  My little brother was being bullied by a neighborhood boy, and in the 1970s, you didn't go to the School Principal, or even your parents, if you were being bullied.  You either stood up for yourself, directly to the bully, which usually ended the bullying ... but at the cost of a 3-minute beating at the hands of a bully.

Or .... you asked an older sibling, if you were blessed to have one to stand up for you.  I was his only older sibling.  And I was happy to help.  I started waiting for him at his bus stop.  I was a senior in high school at this point, and had my own car.  I'd wait till his bus came, saw him off, then drove to school myself.

One day, the bully came at my baby brother.  I stood between them.  In the scuffle, the bully dropped to the ground, twisting his ankle, and crying like all bullies do when they don't get their way.

> Owwwwww ...... owwwwww .... you better watch out Dianne.  I have an older sister, too.  I'm gonna tell her you hurt me.

> Fine, you big baby. Go tell her.

> I'm gonna.  She's gonna kick your ass tomorrow morning at the bus stop.

> Today's Friday, dumb ass.

> Then Monday.  You better be here.  She's gonna fight you.

I vaguely knew his older sister Larissa.  She was my age and she went to Catholic school--I found it hard to believe she would actually fight me.  The Catholic schoolgirls had this reputation for community service and an Honor Code.  She also must have known what a brat her younger brother was.  Plus, there was a whole 72 hours for cooler heads to prevail.  She would tell him to stop bullying, and that would be the end of it.

Except ..... that Friday night, at my job at Bradlees at the Waterbury Mall .... a bunch of my friends, including some who went to Larissa's Catholic school, came up to the Returns Desk I was working at.

> Hey, what happened between you and Larissa's brother??  You pushed him down???!!!???

> Yea, Larissa says you better not be at his bust stop Monday morning, or she'll push YOU down and see how YOU like it!!!

> Wait, what?  Her brother's a brat, and was picking on my brother.

> Are you two gonna fight?? 

> She can't be serious.  She wants to fight me over THAT??

> What time do you get off work?  Wanna go to her house and fight tonight??

> Not till 11.  I'll be exhausted.  I don't wanna fight tonight.   ..... But I'm going to the bus stop Monday morning.  Larissa can't tell me what to do.

> Yeah .... she's probably all talk.

That night, I had a dream about Larissa and I catfighting at the bus stop.

It was so realistic, it woke me up.  I looked at the clock.  It was 3AM.

I masturbated in bed until it was time to get up at 8.

The weekend seemed like it would never end.

Monday morning came.  My brother got in the car with me.

We drove to the bus stop.  Larissa's car was there.  She was in it.

My panties were so soaked that a stain was showing thru my jeans.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Even when I saw Larissa's car at the school bus stop Monday morning, an actual catfight was still seemingly impossible to me.  In 1979 stuffy New England, girls fighting was still pretty taboo.  It happened, but maybe like once a year, after Homecoming Dance or something like that.  And by senior year, honestly it seemed more trouble that it was worth--you'd need to do your hair all over again, replace your ripped clothes with precious cash set aside for gas money.  All for what?  30 minutes of rolling around with a girl you couldn't stand?

But there was a wild card .... an instigator ... at the bus stop that morning.  A divorced Mom named Mrs Silva.  (Side note:  speaking of taboo--being divorced and living alone with kids was still taboo, or semi-taboo in 1979 New England.  I'm not sure what people expected her to do, but talking to her was sort of shunned, and so I knew ABOUT her but had never really talked TO her during my weeks at the bus stop shielding my brother from his bully. 

The neighborhood grapevine had been busy over the weekend--either that, or Mrs Silva was just really gossipy--because she knew there was drama between Larissa and me.  Larissa was waiting in her car--whether that was because of a threatening rain storm or because of an attempt to defuse the tension, I never knew--but Mrs Silva was an instigator, knocked on her driver's side window, and said "Your 'friend' Dianne is here.  Aren't you going to get out and say hello?".  "I'm sure she'd love to see you."

Well, with the so-called responsible adult egging her on, Larissa couldn't very well just stay in her car seat.  It would have looked like she was ducking me.

Mrs Silva continued her needling.

"Why are you ladies be aloof?  We're all friends here.  Come stand closer .... Dianne .... Larissa."

Mrs Silve achieved the adult equivalent of pushing 2 girls who are in a staredown but are reluctant to fight in the back so they collide.

The tension between Larissa and me was so high that as soon as we were 3 feet apart, and looked each other in the eye, well ..... like magnets, our hands went for each others' long thick brunette hair.

In seconds we were on the leafy damp ground, forcing leaves into each others' faces.

It was a pretty girly fight, truth be told.

But Mrs Silva was standing there like a Cheshire cat, loving every second.  The bus came, and she pulled us apart.

Larissa drove off angrily on her car.

"What's HER problem?", huffed Mrs Silva.  "Hasn't she ever been in a catfight?  .... Dianne, wanna come to my place and clean up?  I'll call your school and tell them you're sick today."

I said yes.  My clothes were a mess and I couldn't go to school in them.

I drove Mrs Silva to her nearby home.  We got out.  She invited me in.

As soon as we were in her front door, we were tongue kissing.

"I loved watching you catfight."

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

My adrenaline had been pumping so hard during my catfight with Larissa that I had assumed she and I had done no actual damage to each other.  But as Mrs Silva helped me take my clothes off, we could both see that was far from the case.

The side of my face and the scalp of my head was convered by at least a dozen serious scratches and abrasions, all obviously from Larissa's nails digging into my and raking me.  I was angry that she was effective in using all 10 fingers every time she reached for my hair to pull it.  My thighs also had deep bruises near my crotch, from Larissa's heels and toes as we were rolling on the ground.  She had apparently been aiming directly for my pussy, and was getting closer and closer as our fight progressed--you could see a trail of bruises moving up my leg.

Under my own nails were twisted knots of Larissa's long brown hair.  I must have been grabbing onto her man with more strength than I realized at the time. 

Mrs Silva also showed me the sleeves of my top--it had red streaks and smudges of what must have been blood from Larissa.  One of the scratches I had put in her scalp must have cut flesh, and gotten onto my sleeve.  I remembered on time playing lacrosse and getting the handle of a stick accidrntally to my scalp, and the warm stream sensation running down my neck.  I wondered if Larissa had felt that and wanted to retreat to neutral ground to inspect her wound.

Or didn't want her brother to see her like that.

Or didn't want to give me the satisfaction of knowing I had drawn First Blood in our fight.  In the few childhood catfights I had witnessed, that was how the winner was determined.

I don't know if my motivation was fear of fighting her, or anger at her for defending her bullying brother, but I understood now why she left the scene so quickly after the fight--it must have been clear to her that I meant business.

I was glad Mrs Silva was with me to help me clean up.  She threw my top in the laundry--my brother would no doubt blab to my parents after school about the bus stop catfight Larissa and I had.

After I was done bathing, Mrs Silva had me dry off and lay naked on my back on her bed.  She told me to relax and open my legs.  She started kissing my thighs, where i had never been kissed before, and started to finger fuck me.  I was completely turned on from the catfight, and knowing I had hurt Larissa.  I started cumming in waves of orgasms, and Mrs Silva was licking and swallowing everything that was coming out of my pussy. 

After doing that to me for a half hour, she took her own jeans and underwear off, and asked me to do the same to her.  I had neber been woth a woman in that way, and told her I probably wouldn't be very good at it.

She tild me she was so turned on by the fight that even the tiniest stimulation would get her off.

She was right.

After 2 minutes of tentative fingering and kissing, she came on my hand and mouth.

She asked me to swallow it.  I did.

We tongue kissed until lunchtime.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

You might think my catfight with Larissa "opened the floodgates" to months and years of catfights for me.

But I assure you--it was quite the opposite.

First off:  when my Mom and Dad found out about the bus stop catfight, they excoriated me endlessly for it, making me feel ashamed.  They actually called Larissa's parents, and Larissa, to apologize.When Larissa's brat brother was the problem, not me.

Second:  my parents also shamed me for letting Mrs Silva clean me up afterwards (obviously they never heard about our lovemaking afterwards).  They told me to "never associate with that woman ever ever again".

Third:  it kind of scared me how much damage two women in a true catfight can do to each other.  Larissa and I were locked up and tangles for two minutes tops, and yet we were thoroughly scratched and bleeding.  What would two women do to each other given unlimited time?

They would both end up in a hospital bed.

I developed an instinct for DE-escalating conflicts, heading them off before they got physical.

And I also started hitting the gym hard.  So that I'd never get winded, and at the mercy of another woman, if a conflict did erupt.

Oh, and one other change in my personality.

I started masturbating constantly.  To various types of catfights with celebrities from soap opera (early 1980s was the peak of General Hospital; then Dallas; then Dynasty; then Knots Landing).

Or co-workers.

Or Bradlees customers.

I pictured getting an enemy at my mercy and working her over.  Or being at her mercy and getting worked over.  The "consequences" phase of a catfight fantasy turned me on ....

.... because Larissa and I never made it that far in our fight.

I wondered if I would ever be in a fight that made it that far.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

You might be wondering:  whatever happened to my sizzling romance with Mrs Silva?

Well, in my fantasies, it continued.  I'll explain more in a minute.

Why just fantasies?  Because my Mom was on my like a hawk, making sure there was no contact between Mrs Silva and me.  She assumed--not incorrectly--that Mrs Silva had instigated the bus stop catfight between Larissa and me.  So she felt validated in her bias that all divorced women were "nothing but trouble". 

Also, tho.....even they my post-fight sex with Mrs Silva, I didn't feel compelled to have even more with her.

What I DID feel compelled to do ... and masturbated about frequently .... was watching Mrs Silva catfight.

And I knew JUST THE WOMAN.

There was a 30-something single, probably lesbian or bi, woman who lived alone in a tiny house on our block.  Her gay-dar must have been getting signals from me, because she would sneak sideways, come-hither, glances at me everytime she was out doing yardwork.

I would fantasize about letting her and Mrs Silva compete for me and my body.

First, in the bedroom.

Teh, letting them know they were rivals .... and instigating them to fight it out for me, if sharing me made them uncomfortable ... and jealous.

It never happened.  My Copper Jones Mom made it too difficult to pull off.

But, shit, did I spend a lot of my college years masturbating about it.

It would have been a damn good catfight.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

And then.....

I got busy with college for four and a half years.  Nine semesters commuting to Western Connecticut State College, getting a bachelors, and still working at Bradlees.  It was a hard life, and I felt at times I was wasting my youth.  I did lose my friends--they lost patience with me never having free time.

I got an office job eventually, once I finally finished school.  My paycheck felt huge--I bought my first new car.  I finally got to socialize with people, fellow office workers.  Maybe I would meet my future husband here--or thru a co-worker here.  Some much older, a few younger.

A younger worker started one day.  Lori.  She was really cute--from the first time I saw her, I couldn't take my eyes off her thick black Italian hair.  Some weeks she had it in curls, some weeks straight.  I wanted to tell her it looked much better straight, so to keep it that way.  Would she find it creepy if I told her that?

She was Catholic and had younger sisters.  Her parents were pressuring her to move out of the house--preferably by getting married, but most definitely out of the house.  They set her up with a family friend, but she dumped him--she said he sucked in bed.

Shit.  How does she know what good sex is at her age?  I don't even know what it is at my age yet.  Where did she find so much sex already?

My 2-room apartment had an extra bedroom, so she moved in with me on weekends in return for paying a small amount of the rent.  One night, there wete creepy noises in the apartment hallway.  She asked if she could sleep in my bed.  She slept with pajama bottoms but no top--totally topless.  She climbed in my bed with asking if she should put a top on.  Was that rude of her?  Or was it sexy?  Was she making a move on me?

After 10 minutes of us both staring at the ceiling and the noises stopping, she rolled away from me, ginlving me her bare back.  I spooned her, wrapping my rilight arm around her to cup her tits.  Her tits were rock hard.  Was she aroused?

I put my pussy up against her firm butt.  Lori had such a nice ass.  She bent her hips to make her ass press up against me pussy.  I leaned my head so it was in the back of her straight hair.

> You have such shiny hair.

> I know you likrle it.  I always see you staring at it.

> Is that ok?

> Yes, it's fine.  I'm used to it.  Girls always grab it when I catfight them.

> How many catfights have you had.

> Not many.  You?

> Less than you, I bet.  [I don't dare confess, 'Just one.']

> When I'm married, I hope I catfight a lot.  And you're hurting my breasts.

> [Lori talking about fighting has made me inadvertantly clutch her breasts.]  Sorry.  Thinking about my last catfight, I guess.

> I think about mine all the time, too.

> [I don't dare confess that I'm falling in love with her.  I fall asleep with my nose in her hair.]  Your hair snells so good.

To be continued.....

[Miah Baker]

Another good series..

[sinclairfan]

After the sexy night of spooning in bed with Lori, I kept waiting for us to start having actual sex....

.....and kept waiting.....

....and waiting......

.....and waiting.

Lori was worse than cold or aloof with me.  She would be receptive to massages and dirty talk from me.  But we wouldn't really make out for very long.

AND SHE NEVER INITIATED!!!!!  Shit, it was frustrating.  And humiliating.  And confusing.

Lori never complemented me.  She would climb into my bed, but only if it was windy outside.  And she would let me grind on her .... but almost always with her back turned to me.  And as soon as I would get excited and passionate, she'd saw, "Ow!  You're hurting me there."

Mrs Silva had me go down on her after my high school bus stop catfight.  But SHE had gone down on ME first.  And quite enthusiastically.  And skillfully.

Lori was a total dead fish to my advances.  I suppose I could have ASKED her for kisses.  For massages.  For sex.  And, truthfully, after 4-6 weeks of her crap, I was about to do so.

When Lori ASKED me for something.  My younger brother's phone number.  To date him.

My parents and my brother had visited my apartment one weekend.  Lori was there with me, and altho she spoke at great length with my Mom, Lori had my brother had barely interacted at all.  They barely looked at each other, as best as I could tell.  My experience with my brother to date was that he hardly ever looked at ANY girl.  He was at the stage of life where he was still afraid of girls.  And, too inexperienced to know what to say, even with one's he wasn't afraid of.

When I asked Lori why she wanted his number, she insisted I had him, and them, all wrong.

Lori insisted there had been "sizzling" sexual tension between him and her the entire visit.

She insisted my brother was the loner James Dean type, and that women loved that.  Including her.

She insisted he had a sexy smile.

She asked me if her gut was right and had a huge cock.  (He did....Living in the same house, I had accidentally seen it a couple times....but I was going to admit that.  And anyways, I had never seen it erect--isn't that what mattered??)

Lori, here's his stupid number .... but I'm not going to talk with you about my brother's cock.

But Lori had different ideas. 

That Wednesday night, after one freaking phone call, Lori went out with my brother.

And they fucked in his bedroom .... in my parents' house .... on the freaking first date.

And Lori wanted to talk about it with me.  And how good he was with his cock.

I shpuld have cut Lori off right here, and told her ot was gross to here about my brother "that way".

And it was.  Totally grossed me out.

But don't forget....I was totally crushing on Lori.  Probably in love.  She was talking about her own srx life.

I listened to every word.  What she liked.  How she felt.  Where the relationship was headed.  What she wanted out of it.

Then I went to my bedroom, alone.  And masturbated my brains out.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

One weekend at my Mom's, I lodged a protest with her that Lori and my brother were "sharing a bed" (fucking) under her roof, with her apparent permission.  I asked if she found that to be appropriate.  Wasn't my brother kind of young (19) for such adult behavior.

> Dianne, I appreciate you bringing up the topic.  Under normal circumstances, I would actually agree with you.  If your brother was dating a girl, I would be teiing him, 'Great, take her out, buy her a meal, see a movie.  Get frisky in the car, whatever.  But home alone with her in our house?  No way.'

> So???  Why are you letting them do ... the things they're doing??  In his bed?  Mom?

> Dianne, we can get to your brother in a minute.  But are you .... JEALOUS .... of Lori?  That she has a boy, and you don't??

> [A low blow?  From my own Mom?  I date plenty of men]  Mom?  I date plenty of men.  I feel plenty .... appreciated.  Thank you for your interest.  Back to the topic at hand, please.

> Ok, ok.  Just checking.   Dianne ...  the thing about your brother and Lori is .... Dianne, they're engaged.  Lori has a ring.

> [WTF?!?!?!?!?!?]  Mom???  What The Fuck???  Engaged??

> Dianne, watch your language, please!!

> Sorry.  ..... But Mom???  A ring? How did he afford a damn ring?

> I, ummm .... Dianne, I helped him.  I loaned him the money for a ring.

> [WTF ?!?!?!?]  Mom?!?!?  I worked my ass of zo pay for 5 years at Western Connecticut??? [Ok, fine:  4 and a half years.]  And you lend him money?  For an engagement ring?!?

> Dianne?!?  Don't you want what's best gor your brother??

> [WTF??]  Lori is best?!?  Lori?!?!?

> Holy crap, Dianne!!!!  She's your fucking friend!!!!!!

> [I had never heard my Mom cuss before.  Well, not in front of me.]  Mom, Lori is ok.  But this is way too fast.  Something is up.

> I think your jealous.

> Of Lori?

> Of both of them.  For finding each other.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

In spite of their youth and immaturity .... in fact, in many ways, because of it ...... Lori's wedding to my brother proceeded at a breakneck pace.

I didn't have any sisters, but I can confirm that the only thing worse than having a younger sister get married before you is having a younger brother get married before you .... to a friend who is younger than you.

And to be asked to stand in the bridal party ... then unasked.  Because I'm "so much older than the other 4 bridesmaids.".

And to bring a date to the wedding.  Whose divorce isn't 100% finalized yet.  And whose not-quite-his-ex-yet, Kim, sees his picture in the society page of the New York Post, close dancing in pretty much the only slow dance of the reception with me, and pulls up in her black Mercedes the next Monday after work in the office parking lot.  To ask if he and I had sex.

In fact, we had.  Leading up to his divorce from Krazy Kim, my wedding date hadn't had sex for over two years.  So after dancing with me for over two hours, and touching each others' hands and sides, he and I went back to my apartment, empty now that Lori had vacated it (but not moved her stuff out--more on that later) to live with my brother, and had rough, uninhibited sex with each other. 

The kind of sex you have with someone who you don't plan on pursuing a long-term relationship with.  Raw, animalistic sex.

So, when Kim pulled up in her Mercedes and demanded I get in, when she asked if her officially-still-her-husband and I fucked after the wedding, I was still pretty damn proud of myself.  And cocky.  And in a bragging mood.

> Rather than give you a yes or no, Kim. ...... [I open my blouse and wiggle my bra down] .... since, I know you're a bitch and will use my answer in your divorce settlement ..... [I show her my breasts, which still have scratches and hickeys and bite marks from her husband's weekend excitement on them] ..... we don't you behold these beauties.  Kim.

> Put your slut fun bags away, bitch.

> You made me take them out, honey.  Or .... is it too hard seeing tits nicer than yours?

> Oh, they're not nicer, sweetie.  [Kim proceeds to pop her out over her halter top--she has no bra on.  And to push her right breast into my left breast.  Her challenge to me is visceral .... personal.  The Mercedes windows are tinted, and no one outside can see us ..... but even if they could, I'd behave exactly as I am now.  If this bitch wants a war with me, I'll give it to her.]

> You fucking bitch.  I'm GLAD I fucked your husband.  i only wish you had been in the apartment to see us going at it.  [We continue mashing our tits together.] And I mean .... THE WHOLE FUCKING APARTMENT .... Kimmie ..... the bedrooms, the living room, the kitchen.  The fucking laundry room.  With the washing machine on.

> [Kim is getting angrier and angrier with me, since she knows that even if I'm exaggeratibg by 50%, the wedding sex I had with her husband has made him a happy, satisfied 'customer'.  She slaps my face.  I slap her back.] Get out of my fucking car.

> You know you'd lose if we fought right now, honey.

> I know I'd fucking strangle you, Dianne.  And you .... and HIM .... aren't worth it.  Get out!

> [I'm curious if she's right.  Who WOULD win a car fight between her and me right now?  We stare daggers at each other.  She's tucking her tits back into her top.]  MAKE ME get out, bitch.

> Don't tempt me, Dianne.  Get .... out.

> [I sense I can get a free face slap in.  I seize the chance, and slap her face.  I tuck my tits back in, and exit Kim's car.  I climb back into mine, alone and shaking.]  Shit that last face slap felt good.  So .... worth  .... it.   

I put my hands down my skirt and masturbate myself to orgasm.

And do it three more times .... at stop lights .... on the way home.

I climb in bed .... and half-sleep and half-masturbate .... till morning.

I wonder what would have happened had Kim and I truly fought in her car.

If just one .... or both .... of us ..... would have gone to the ER.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

Lori never did completely clear her things out of the apartment we were sharing.  I had told her I was anxious for her to do so as soon as possible so that I could rent out the spare bedroom to another roomate and collect some spare cash.  But I was starting to realize that every time Lori knew that I wanted something, she would block me just to frustrate me.

Is that why she would climb into my bed when she and I were roomates, allow me to feel her hard body, and then not answer my kisses and caresses?

Is that why she would bring up her supposed frequent catfights, but then not have any details at the ready?

Both of these frustrations came up in an argument with her one Saturday at my Mom's, when we had all gathered there for my Mom's birthday.

<> Lori, that bedding of yours in my spare bedroom--can you come pick it up .... or can I drop it off tomorrow?  End of the month is coming up, and I have a new roomate in mind.  The shams are really .... girly .... and the new roomate is ... a boy.

<> Giving ip pussy, Dianne?? ....

<> Sh!!!!!! [I lower my voice]  Shush, Lori, my Mom will hear. 

<> You don't want her to hear that you like pussy?

<> Not really ..... and not in the language ..... [I'm leaning close to Lori so my Mom can't hear us bickering.  I notice scratches on Lori's shoulders.  Deep, parallel scratches.]  .... Lori, what the fuck?  Why are you scratched there?

<> Oh, you know .... another catfight.

<> She didn't go for your hair?  I thought you said girls always go for your hair.

<> Fine, call me a liar again, bitch.

<> Well, it's just .... I've never SEEN you catfight.

<> I've never seen you fuck a man, what's your point?

<> Lori?!?!? ..... Your wedding ?!?!? .... That guy that was all over me on the dance floor?!?!? .... You didn't notice that?!?!?
 
<> I must have been distracted .... It was my wedding day after all .... and where IS he then??? .... you didn't bring him here today.

<> He's .... ummm .... still married.

<> Yes, I'm sure.

<> What the fuck does that mean???

Lori is being oppositional with me.  Is she jealous that she knows I'm right and had mindblowing sex after her wedding?

I wish I could hear more about her catfight.  And tell her about mine.

<> It's true.  His wife confronted me in the parking lot after work.  I got in her car and had a titfight with her.  [I lift my top and show Lori my still-bruised boobs.]

<> Holy crap, Dianne.  That's impressive.

<> Wanna talk about it? .... in bed??  [I can't believe I'm propositioning my sister in law.]  Can I see your battle scars?

<> I have to think about at.

At 9pm that night, Lori climbed into my bed at home.  She finally kissed me back.

On the mouth.

And my breasts.

And my pussy.

She ate me out and gave me a screaming orgasm, then said it was a mistake and get back dressed and went home.  I never saw her scratches or heard about her catfight.

I felt fulfilled .... empty .... confused.  Did she just do that on purpose?

To be continued...

[sinclairfan]

The next Monday morning, I was in the copy room at work getting some double-sided presentations printed and stapled.  1980s Xerox machines could be very loud, and so I didn't hear that I was no longer alone in the room.

Instead, I felt my long brunette hair being pulled so hard from behind that my eyes were producing tears anx my ears were ringing and felt like they were about to start bleeding.

> What the fuck?? [I half hope I'm being heard on the office floor, but half afraid I'll get fired for cussing.]

> I don't think you've ever been in a catfight, bitch.  [From the challenge more than the sound of her voice, I recognize it's Lori.]

> Why not, bitch?

> Because you're soft, bitch.  Soft.

> Then why are you jumping me in the copy room, slut?

> Because, ..... I can ....  bitch.  [Lori gives a final tug, and releases my mane.  I turn and we face each other.]

> You wanna go right here at work, dumb ass.  You trying to get us fired??

> I knew you wete too pussy to retaliate.

> Lori, ..... what the fuck got into you??  We were just kissing Saturday night ...... [I'm shaking and breathing hard]..... I'm just confused is all.

> If you were any kind of woman, we'd be in a catball on the floor right now.  [Lori storms and turns out of the room.  I can't tell if anyone on the office floor has any idea what just happened.]

Lori and I avoid each other all day long.

At the end of the day, a list of promotions comes around.

Lori's name is on it.

I go home and start masturbating.  I continue so long that I forget to eat dinner.

I wish I had a roomate to talk to.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

For the next week, I was consumed with desire for revenge on Lori for her sucker-punch hairpull on me.  I kept trying to corner at different private places in the office--an elevator, the copy-room, the gross restroom--but she seemed to have a sixth sense on how to avoid me.  One day, when we were let out of work early for winning a big account, I decided I'd get Lori back at her and my brother's place--yank her hair from behind as she was in the kitchen, or something juvenile like that.  See how she liked the feeling.  And show her I could stand up for myself.

I knocked on my brother's front door at 5:30.  Lori and I had been out from work since 3:30--she should have been home by then.  But she wasn't.  My brother invited me in.

> Lori's not home.

> She's never home at this time, Di.

> Agreed, but we got out of work early.  Does she have an appointment?  errands?

> Errands??  She makes me do the shopping .... and cooking .... and cleaning.

> And you're ok with that?

> Errands, yes.  Cooking, yes.  Cleaning .... not really .... I could use some help.

> Have you told her that??

> She tells me to fuck myself ...  then says no.

> [WTF??  what a bitch!]  Want me to talk to her?

> Can you? 

> Yes!!! [I'm gonna talk to her anyways.  This is bullshit.]

The next day at work, I confront Lori in her new office.  I close the door.

> I was at your place yesterday at 5:30.  Where the fuck were you??

> You were alone with my husband???

> What the fuck does that mean??  He's my damn brother.

> But my house.

> That he cleans, bitch!!!!

> Cuz I work, slut!!!!  [Even tho the office door is closed, people outside can hear us bickering.]  Get the fuck out, Dianne.

> Or what??

> I'll throw you out.

She doesn't get to.  Her admin comes in and tells her her next meeting is about to start.

Fucking bitch.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

As Lori's "disappearing act" from my brother's home (and bed) progressed and became chronic, and as it became obvious even to her co-workers that she was having an affair, I remained relectant to break the news to my oblivious brother.

He would be HEARTBROKEN to learn that Lori was cheating on him.  Especially so early in their marriage.

And he would have to divorce her.  And he was too young and immature to handle divorce.  Or living alone.  So he would have to move in with me.

Which I didn't want.  Because I wanted to have my privacy, and my place to myself.

Because I was involved in an affair of my own.  With a married man.  Married to an acquaintance of mine.

When I found out Lori was have affair sex, I got irresistably jealous of her.  I wanted affair sex of my own.

So I "went for it" with a friend's husband, Bob.  I lied to the two of them and said I needed help with my taxes.  And setting up my home wifi.  Both of which he was good at.  So I got her to let him come over, by himself, one Saturday morning.

And I told him that the taxes and the wi-fi were a lie--that I was all set on both counts.  And I told him what I really wanted was to get fucked by him.  Turns out, he had been crushing on me for over a year. 

Who knew?

He and I started fucking most Saturday mornings.  I doubt his wife, my supposed friend .... she was officially my frenemy now, right?? .... suspected anything.  I mean, he was honest with her WHERE he was, just not WHY he was there.  Wives only get suspicious when men lie about the WHERE.  And he never did.

Remember that one, guys.

What does this have to do with me and Lori, you're wondering.

Well .... waiting for "the other shoe to drop" ..... for Bob to slip up and get caught by his wife .... and for her to turn her wrath on me ..... made my "Spidey Sense" get a hunch that a catfight might be imminent.  So I was always ready to get THAT PHONE CALL from my friend any day .... the "We need to talk, you bitch" phone call.

And so my catfight hormones were flowing thru my veins.

And since THAT CALL wasn't coming from Bob's wife, all that 'excess energy' sought release.

By challenging Lori.

I started telling her .... at work, since I rarely saw her at my brother's anymore .... that she was being a bitch to him.  She didn't take the bait at first.  But finally she told me to not worry about HER marriage.

Then, that if I had a problem with her that didn't involve her brother, to let me know and 'we could chat .... woman to woman'.

No way was I turning down that offer.

I told her to meet me after work at Happy Hour at a dive bar that Friday.  She agreed.

I masturbated my brains out the whole rest of that week.  Thinking about my fucking from Bob.

And catfighting Lori.

To be continued.....