[sinclairfan]

My name is Marcia.  I was born in 1970, and my husband and are dabbling our toes in retirement in Florida.  By that I mean that he's still working, but in a consulting role, where he and some other semi-retired colleagues/buddies take on certain projects that seem like they might pay off.  I'm fine with him "dabbling" in stuff like that, even if none of it ever generates a Big Score.  Partly because it keeps him current in his field (engineering--uggh, ssssso boring); but most because it gives me "alone time", away from him.

Absence makes the heart grows fonder; it worked for us when he worked full time, and it's working for us in semi-retirement.  I'm straight; so is he; he's my Life Partner, and our chemistry is very good and healthy..  And .... enough about my marriage now.  This is about me.

And about my life long nemeses:  blondes.

Blondes ruined my:
> grade school years
> middle school years
> high school years
> college years (Temple University; Class of 1992)
> young adulthood
> burgeoning business career.

Over and over and over.  My teachers liked them more than me.  Boys liked them more than me.  Bosses liked them more than me.

I can't explain it.  Every time in life I had a good thing going, a blonde would conjure herself, and muck up the whole scenario.  Sometimes unintentionally.  But frequently just to be a bitch.

She had no intention of keeping the guy after she stole him from me.  She just wanted enough time to ruin the thing I had going.

I know not all blondes are bitches to everyone.  But they're all bitches to me.  We're past talking about it.

Life's too short.

When my husband and I moved to Florida during the pandemic,......  and loved it ......, I just knew some blonde was going to show up to foul it up.

Hello, Jackie.

My height:  5'2"
My weight:  108
My bust size:  36B

It was hate at first sight.  She would talk past me to my husband.  She LOVED engineers.  Or so she claimed.

We kept our distance in 2021 and 2022.

In 2023, she claimed she was moving.  She started altering her town home for a sale.

I saw her out one Sunday morning, walking her dog in church clothes.

> Hey, Jackie.

> Oh , hey Marcia.  I didn't see you.

> [Liar.]  I heard you're moving.

> Soon.  The place isn't ready to be listed yet.  But I already have my eye on a place.  Closer to the beach.

> [Impulsively....] Can I ask you a .... weird .... question.

> Yes, but real quick .... I gotta drive to 9am Mass.

> Before you leave .... do you wanna ... catfight me?

[sinclairfan]

At the exact moment I got to the word "catfight" in my proposition to Jackie, she was bending over with a grocery baggie to pick up after her pooch.

That, and .... well, I admit, ..... I may have swallowed the word 'catfight' just as I said it.  Make no mistake, I had BEEN IN plenty of girlfights, bitchfights, catfights, .... whatever you want to call them.  But they had all just, kinda sorta happened organically.  With no other girl or woman had I ever been out on a Sunday stroll, and said, "Hey, waana catfight?".  Nope, that took until age 53 to actually happen.

And the response I got was ....

> What?  I'm sorry, Marcia, what did you ask?  I got distracted.

And, like asking a work crush if he wants to fuck, well ..... well, the moment was sorta gone.  That's no the sort of question you ask twice.

Oh well, probably just as well.  Two women who don't like each other much can't very well have a sensible catfight, right?  They'd just end up maiming each other, right? 

Now, if an actual affair happened ...  well, THEN the gloves are off, and the two women should definitely fight, no rules.

But my beef with Jackie was nothing like that.  Just some run of the mill tension.  And some Blonde Baggage on my end.  That I was unjustifiably pinning on Jackie.

Not fair to put a lifetime of disappointment on a woman I didn't even meet until Age 51.

Nothing will come of this, right?  Wrong.

At 12:30 Sunday afternoon, I get out of the shower after brunch at home with my husband.  My cellphone rings.

> Hello?

> Hey, Marcia.  It's Jacky.  Is now a good time?

> Yea, sure.  Well, for 2 minutes, I need to get dressed.

> Okay, I'll keep it short then.  I've been thinking about your question this morning.

> Which one.  [The catfight question?  She heard me?]  Oh?  You heard?

> I heard.  Sorry for pretending I didn't.  That was brave of you to ask.  And I have an answer.

> Oh?  And?

> The answer is Yes.  Yes, I'll cafight you before I move.  I think we need to.

> As do I.

> Good.  I'm glad.

Well, well. 

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

If my husband wasn't home that Sunday afternoon, I would have invited Jackie over at that very moment.  Our clothing situation was actually perfect, almost.  I was already nude and could have just thrown on a bra and panties.  Jackie was in Church clothes she was presumably about to get out of anyways, so she could have walked over and gotten down to bra and panties.

We could have had a bra and panties catfight in my bedroom.

Our catfight, whenever it did happen, would have to be indoors.  To stsrt with, we were in Florida, where after 8am it's way too hot and humid to do anything requiring exertion.  Second, none of us had private yards in our development.

I thought back to growing up in Philly, and then my college years at Temple.  Both of those phases of my life had private, fenced-in backyards which almost begged for catfights to occur--only your housemates would know what was happening.  I learned how to catfight there in middle school and high school.  On Wednesday afternoons we'd have Early Release so the teachers could have professional development, and the neighborhood parents would still be at work until dinner time.  Wednesday were Latch Key Kids on Steroids days, and any girls who had grudges would settle them in the private fenced in backyards.

You'd learn to fight, because no one was breaking up those fight, no was coming to your rescue, if you started losing.

The fights were pretty much no rules--hairpulling, punching, kicking.  Round after round, until both girls knew who was the better woman.

That's how I wanted to fight Jackie.  And it was pretty sure it was how she wanted to fight me.

Sunday afternoon would have been perfect.  I went straight from the shower to my bed, and rubbed a couple out of my clit after getting off the phone with her. 

I was thinking about how I would have invited her over if my husband wasn't home.

After I finished, I texted her.

> I'm gonna win our fight, bitch.

> I am, you stuck up cxnt.

I get dressed and watch TV the rest of the afternoon.  I wonder when the fight will happen.  Back in Philly, we never had to wait longer than next Wednesday.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

On Monday morning, an empty dumpster is dropped off on Jackie's driveway.  She apparently doing some cleaning out in anticipation of her move.

At 4pm, there's a ringing at my doorbell.  My husband opens the door (without checking who it is first--it drives me crazy when he does that.)

> Jackie!!!!  [Why the fuck is SHE here?]

> Hello Hello!  [I hear them hugging and giving each other kisses on the cheek--keep your dirty mouth off my husband, you skank!]

> Marcia!!!!  Look who's here!!!!  It's Jackie!!!!  With a bottle, and shot glasses!!!!

> Hi Marcia, sweetie!!!!  I was cleaning out, and there's enough Anisette in here for three!!!  Wanna do a quick mini-Happy Hour with me?

> [Not really.  I just want to catfight you, bitch.]  Happy Hour on Monday?

> Loosen up, honey.  Jackie's moving soon, let's be nice to her.

> Ya, c'mon Marcia.  It'll loosen you up.  Then we can do 2 minutes of girl talk.

> I think you and I need more than 2 minutes of girl talk.

> Oh we will, sweetie, but not today.  Just a 2-minute "preview" today.

The three of us finish the Anisette bottle.  Then Jackie says, "I'm gonna borrow your wife for 2 minutes.  Garage ok, Marcia?".

She drags me by my wrist out to the garage, and we close the door to the house.

> You finally have me alone, Jackie.  What are you gonna do with me?  [I expect some pre-fight Trash Talk.  Instead I get.....]

> [.....SMACK!!!! Jackie backhand slaps me in the face.]  THAT!  you fucking bitch.

> [Without hesitating, I slap her right back, but twice as hard.]  You wanna fight me, you fucking bitch???  C'mon, let's get this over with.

> Not today, sweetie.  I'm tired from cleaning.  I just wanted to experience the pleasure of hitting you.

> I hope it was worth it, bitch.

> Oh, it was.  Tell your husband good night.

> Fuck off.

I let Jackie out the garage.  I go back in the house.

> What did you ladies talk about in the garage?

> Girl Talk.  Stay away from her, or I'm divorcing you.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

The next day, Marcia was home alone sunning herself in her backyard lanai swimming pool.  Her eyes were closed when she heard, "Mind if I join you?.".  She looked up and saw Jackie in a bikini, carrying a towel.

As quickly as she could, she said, "YES, I WOULD mind," but Jackie heard only the "YES" and was helping herself in via the lanai screen door.  "How the fuck did  THAT get unlocked?," wondered Marcia to herself?  "Did my husband leave it open?".

Jackie sauntered in, lay down her stuff on a chaise lounge, and hopped right in the pool.

> How good of a swimmer are you, Marcia?

> [What a nosey, insolent bitch.]  All-state swimmer in high school, so don't think about messing with me.

> Oh, that's cute.  I was All-America in college.  And I'm thinking about messing you right now.  Come join me.   That is ..... if you're woman enough.

> [There's no was this twerpy bitch was All-America in college.  D3 maybe.]  Oh, so our big catfight is gonna be in the water, slut?

> I didn't come over to fight .... unless that's what YOU wanted.

> What did you want then?  Some synchronized swimming?

> I just like being around you, Marcia.  That's all.  But you go so .... UPTIGHT ..... around me.  [Jackie gets out and towels off.]

> Oh, do I? 

> You do.  And p.s. I peed in your pool just now.  Bitch.

> Get out, whore.  Fuck you.

> Have a nice day.  Marcia.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Jackie peeing in my pool was, believe it or not, only the second dumbest peeing-in-a-pool incident with another girl which had happened in my entire life.

The dumbest, by far, had happened in my last summer in my old neighborhood Philly, right after graduating high school.  Everyone's routine was all jumbled up--some of us were waiting to go to college or junior college, some of us had started working full-time or multiple part-time jobs, and others were looking for boyfriends, feeling the pressure from our parents to move out of our cramped childhood bedrooms.

So, a bunch of girls who didn't really like each other were hanging out together.  And getting on each others' nerves.

There was one girl in our circle whose parents had put a new in-ground pool into their tiny backyard.  Her best friend didn't like me and wanted to make things as awkward and uncomfortable for me when I was over, in a (futile) atrempt to get me to stop showing my face (and body) in the pool or at poolside.

Anytime I stopped moving inside to pool, she would yell out, "Ewwwww! Marcia's peeing again!  Marcia .... stop peeing in the pool!  If you need to pee, use the bathroom inside!".  I hsd no idea what she was talking about, so I told her, "I'm not peeing!", which would make me blush, at which point she would pounce and say, "Look at Marcia!  She's blushing like a virgin because I called her out for peeing.".

One day, before anyone was in the pool, I took her aside and said, "Ellen--if you accuse me of peeing today, you and I are gonna have a problem."  I figured confronting a bully up front was the beat approach.  But instead, she got right back in my face, and growled, "Don't you dare threaten me, you incontinent pussy," to which I said, "Or what?," bringing our faces even closer.

By this time, the girls at poolside noticed our beef, and started chanting, "Fight!  Fight!  Marcia and Ellen are gonna fight!".  I doubt we were, but of course and 2 instigator girls pushed each of us in the back, and Ellen and I were in the tiny grassed area outside the fenced, concreted pooled area, ripping each others' hair and desperately mounting each other.

Ellen was a typical bully and eventually crumbled at being hit, but as soon as the group could see I was the winner, we were separated before I could lay some serious hurt on Ellen.  She went home kinda/sorta crying, and pretended I didn't exist the rest of the summer.

I was disappointed she never asked for a rematch.

I woulda given her one.

Just like Jackie and I are gonna give each other a catfight.  Before she moves.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

A couple of days later, I'm sunning by my pool, trying to think of anything in the world but Jackie.  But she has other ideas.  She jiggles at my lanai screen door, trying to let herself in.  But I've had the foresight to make sure it's locked.

> Let me in, Marcia, ...., neighbor, .... , I wanna take a dip in your pool.

> No incontinent old hags are allowed in this pool, Jackie.  Sorry, pool rules.

Jackie pouts outside the door and looks around at the ground outside.  The possibility that I wouldn't let her in apparently hadn't crossed her mind.

She starts kicking at my mulch, trying to get my attention, I guess.  Then I realize what she doing.  She's kicking the hose that feeds the dripline around the bedding of my house, a necessity in all well-kept Florida yards. 

What ... the .... fuck.

> Stop it, bitch!  You'll break something. [I stand up challengingly.]

> Whoops [sarcastically] ... I zhink maybe I already did.  [She bends over and shows me two disconnected hose segments.]

>  [I hustle over to the screen door, unlatch it, and study the broken hose joint.  I bend over and reconnect them.] No permanent damage, bitch.  WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?

> I was thinking this.  [Jackie steps back and backhand slaps me in the face.  Twice.] I was thinking that when you and I have our fight, the damage I do to you won't be repaired so easily.  [Apopectibly angry, I slap Jackie in the face twice, both backhands as well.  She rubs her jaw and smiles.]

> Well, that was an .... exciting .... morning.  Have a good rest of your day, Marcia.

I go back inside, latching my lanai door shut.

I go into my bedroom.

I masturbate for 3 hours to the thought of catfighting Jackie.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Two days later, after a pedestrian, desultory masturbation session in which  I fail to climax, I get dressed in a nice mini-skirt and a cleanly-folded top.  I practically douse myself in my most expensive scent, and undo the three bobbie pins in my hair.  I look in the mirror, and decide a touch more makeup will do.  I put some color on my eyebrows.  This will have to do.  Pretty good for 53 years old.

I strut to Jackie's house.  The landscapers stare at me.  They like what they see-they're tempted to cat call me.

I look to see if Jackie is on her lanai.  Good, she is, in a bikini.

I walk up to the screen door and pull.  It's latched.  Fucking coward.

> Let me in, bitch.

> You're not wearing swimwear, Marcia.

> I'm not here to swim, cxnt.

> What are you here for, slut?

> Let me in, and I'll show you.

Jackie leisurely gets up and struts over.  She lloks like a catwalk model.  Did she used to model.

The screendoor is barely open when I raise my right hand to slap here face.  She's ready and grabs my wrist.

> Too slow, honey.

Jackie grabs me by my hair and pulls me to the pool.  I manage to grab her by her neck such that when she throws me into the water, I pull her in too.  We both surface, gasping for air.  We stare at each other in pure hate.

> You ruined by clothes, bitch!

> Do something about it, bitch.  But I have the advantage, dressed in a swimsuit.  And I won't hestitate to fucking dtown you, Marcia.

I know she's telling the truth from the hate in her eyes.

I decide to live to fight another day.

I go home and strip.

I masturbate until bedtime.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Since Marcia was barely able to hold her sanity together .... and keep her fingers out of her panties ..... during the weeks of building sexual tension between herself and her enemy Jackie, she was curious as to how Jackie .... ahem, "blew off steam" .... afterca physical confrontation with her neighbor.

Marcia's women's intuition gave her a hunch.

She noticed that contractors were spending a lot of time in Jackie's house, preparing it to be on the market once Jackie moved.  One of the contractors was a 20-something sad sack-ish brute, who had a hang-dog look everytime Jackie walked by.  She suspected he had a crush on her .... which Jacie used to dole out to him mini-doses of sex .... possibly as payment-in-kind, possibly simply to ensure priority time availability to Jackie's property (in light of the continuing Southwest Florida labor shortages after the ravages of Hurricane Ian), possibly a combination of those and other reasons.

Jackie seemed the scatter-brained type of bitch that Marcia had always hated.  She always did things with multiple, ever-shifting motives.

Marcia saw the sad-sack contractor pulling into their development in his truck one morning.  She caught his eye, and motioned for him to roll down his window.

> Hey, I'm Jackie's neighbor.  Marcia.

> Yeah. I recognize ya.

> Oh, good.  Like what you see?
 [Marcia couldn't believe the slut words coming out of her mouth, the slut energy coming from her body.  She hadn't behaved this way in years.]

> Yeah. [Blushing] I like it.

> Like me better than Jackie?

> [Hesitating.  Looking around.]  Ma'am .... I don't wanna cause no trouble between you 'yer friend.

> Jackie and I ain't friends.  We hate each other.  ..... Passionately.

> [Thinking.....having difficulty sustaining eye contact with Marcia.]

> Who sucks cock better?  Me or her?

> Ma'am .... you've never sucked my cock.

> Let me in rhe truck ... and we can change that.

**********************

At 5pm that night, when the contractor's truck, pulled away from Jackie's house, Marcia marched over to Jackie's.

Jackie answered the door.  Marcia slapped her in the face.  Jackie slapped her back.

> I sucked your contractor's dick this morning.  He says I do it better than you.  Bitch.

> Slut.

Marcia slaps Jackie once more and marches home.

And masturbates till 10pm. Non-stop.

She checks her texts.  One is from Jackie.

> What a fucking slut you are, Marcia.

> No worse than you are, Jackie.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Deferring a fight with Jackie is actually turning out to be more self-destructive than just walking up to her and starting to wail on each other.  Sucking her contractor's cock in his truck has got to be my sexual low point.

I don't like sucking cock--not even my husband's.  I don't like keeping my teeth out of the way--there's nothing natural about that .... or sexy.  Licking it is sorta ok, except even that--gross, they pee out of that thing too.  What if they just peed 10 minutes ago?  How am I not licking pee?

And compound that with it being a stranger ..... and a not-very-smart one .... not sexy.  I would never date that man.  How could I do what I did yesterday?  It wasn't fair to him .... for me to pretend to enjoy it.  And it wasn't fair to myself ..... to do something I didn't want to do.

What I DID want to do was to fight Jackie.  Win or lose, at this point .... even a loss would be better than living the lie I was living.

And to never stop masturbating.  In the shower, in bed, on the couch, in the car.  Touching myself at every stoplight.  Hoping for traffic so that I could finish myself in the car.

I text Jackie.

> Jackie, I can't take this anymore.  I need to get our fight over with.

> [The bitch makes me wait 90 minutes.  I can see she's home.]  Then just jump me, bitch.  Anywhere, anytime.  You'll get a fight.

> Ok.  But same applies to you.  Jump me.  Anywhere anytime.

> anyWHERE?  anyTIME?

> Yes.  Do it, Jackie.  If ur woman enough.  [Why did she ask me that?  Whst does she have planned?]

Shit.  I need to masturbate again.

To be continued.....