Well, as promised here's the first part of my new creation, a bit of a departure from the world of Victorian ladies. It seems a bit of a geeky tale (I am a games player I will say here and now) but I was watching one of these fighting videogames and had to admit just how catty many of these female characters looked, if rather over the top. I know there is a lot of art dedicated to these characters, even catfight art, but I have discovered few stories although there were a couple of excellent Resident Evil based tales that disappered with the old boards. So, I thought I would put a new spin on it. I have to tell the reader that enjoys getting straight into a catfight that this is all about build up, anone who has read one of my Victorian stories will know that I like to spend time getting the tensions soaring. And it is a different flavour to my usual bodice ripper but I hope some of you enjoy it and feel free to contribute to my second posting.
Good wishes to all
M
ABIGAIL'S CYBER CATFIGHTS
Part 1
[/b]
‘Well that’s just bloody great,’ Abigail Francis’ slender red nailed fingers balled the final demand into a tight fist and threw it into the bin. Things were tough for the actress, although waitress would be a better job description based on all the ‘resting’ she had been doing recently. She was broke, but that wasn’t the only thing troubling her at the moment, as she was reminded when she turned from the bin and set eyes on herself again in the full length bedroom mirror. God, she loved Mark, even his geeky ways, but never imagined herself being talked into this; and yet here she was in a tight black leather sleeveless top clinging to her not uncomely figure, tight shorts, knee length socks and combat boots, her brunette hair knotted into a plaited pony tail.
‘Oh fuck’ she sighed, raising a finely plucked eyebrow and shook her head. This really had to be a step too far, dressing up as Lara Croft for this computer convention that Mark was so keyed up about and yet she had found herself agreeing enthusiastically without a word of disapproval. Perhaps it was her actress instincts, she had to admit she enjoyed dressing up whether it was as Cordelia or whether it was for something a little more intimate in the bedroom, and though she didn’t wholly agree with the role- Lara Croft was so 90’s, the 28 year old had to agree that she did look hot in her improvised costume. Putting her financial concerns to the back of her mind as she was so adept at doing Abi, as her friends called her, returned to the last minute making up which the arrival of the damned post had interrupted. She reached down to the plum lipstick, her red nailed fingers flashing in the light as she applied it thickly to her full lips- she didn’t know if Lara Croft wore lippy but she damned well wasn’t going out without her warpaint on. Her deep blue eyes focussed intently as she applied a little more blusher, then another coat of plum pouting and then smoothing her top down with a creak of leather, tight over her magnificent 36C breasts and flat stomach. Yes, whatever the circumstances of it all, she looked fucking great.
This was precisely the point that Mark echoed when he returned from his visit to the fancy dress shop. ‘C’m ‘ere you’ he smiles as he grabbed her and pulled her to him feeling her gorgeous body pressing close and leaning into her
‘Hey, careful you’ll ruin my lipstick,’ Abi laughed as she withdrew looking at the plum stains on Mark’s face. She saw that look in his eye, the look that meant he felt like taking her there and then, a look echoed in her own eyes but the lure of GamesCon overpowered even this and it faded as he turned to his bag,’ Hey, feast your eyes on this.’
Disappointed, Abigail smiled weakly, frustrated at how much this effing games thing meant to him but nonetheless reminded herself that she loved this man and moved over to see what the bag held. ‘It’s Leon from Resident Evil’ Abigail winced inside when she heard the name of yet another bloody computer game but on the outside she smiled at the fur collared leather jacket,’ Wow, you’ll look great,’ she had to admire her own deceptive enthusiasm, she was a fine actress.
‘Thanks,’ Mark’s eyes were drawn more to the costume more than her. ‘Shit, we’d better get ready’ and with that he began to bundle the rest of the costume from the bag. With an inward sigh but still smiling she trilled ‘I’ll leave you to it then’ and moved out of the room picking up the waste paper basket as she departed.
________________________________________________
The convention was, as expected, awash with men of a certain age but also contained more than its fair share of attractive women dressed in all manner of costume; here a Zelda, there a Princess Peach, elsewhere an Aeris or a Tifa or a Nina or Seung Mina, although the majority of folk had come in regular attire. Nonetheless Abi felt a sense of excitement as she walked about, acknowledging quietly the eyes flung her way which invariably fuelled that competitive streak that was so much part of her character. Looking around she began comparing herself to other women there, thinking how much more attractive she was. Her attention was caught by another Lara Croft walking through the crowds towards her and Mark. It was quite clear Mark, a big fan of the busty heroine, was staring at her which in turn made Abi stare all the harder at the admittedly attractive brunette coming towards them. Mascarad eyes locked through the glasses that each girl wore as part of her attire and Abi felt that tightening of her stomach that came when she sensed a challenge, real or perceived, from another woman.
She had to admit it but though with her boyfriend she was a model of demureness, with other women she was a powder keg with a very short fuse. The acting world was a bitchy one and she had found herself in countless arguments with other women over casting, direction, interpretation, characterisation and indeed on four occasions this had spilled over into a full on catfight, three spontaneous which were all relatively quickly quelled and one arranged after the initial altercation had taken place. She had to admit she loved the thrill of them all but there was something about the arranged battle that really excited her, made the butterflies leap in her stomach and her breasts rise and fall more rapidly- it was the anticipation, the build up, the preparation almost like a duel and then the long uninterrupted fight after which really thrilled her. Of course Mark knew nothing about this, nor had her two former partners found out; they would have been delighted no doubt to see this hellcat side of her but this was something she felt hers and so kept it quiet.
And that was why she held back from saying or doing anything to this other Lara as they passed one another, merely kept her eyes locked and thrust out her breasts all the more, a move echoed by the other girl who clearly had an antagonism all of her own but with not a word said they walked by. Mark’s attention was already elsewhere but Abi looked behind her and saw this other Croft looking back at her a reciprocated loathing obvious to see. And then the crowd swallowed her up.
________________________________________________
Mark was in hog heaven moving from booth to stall as Abi tagged along with as much patience as she could muster which she had to admit was somewhat rattled from her encounter with this other nameless Lara bitch. She barely took on board his gleeful shouts as he rushed over to a crowded games pod with some new fighting game being demoed, ‘Come on Abi look at this,’ but she felt she might as well as not been there.
With minimal interest she watched a selection of martial artists and burly warriors face off on screen and beat digital daylights out of one another in front of the largely male crowd. In fact her attention was only vaguely drawn when instead of the testosterone charged hunks that had been fighting previously two late teenage boys faced off with a pair of scantily clad, busty warrior women. This evoked cheers and boyish yells from the crowd, ‘Catfight’ ‘Bitchfight’ accompanied by chortled urges to ‘pull her hair’ or ‘scratch her eyes out’!
Abigail had to sigh, whatever Mark enjoyed, this bunch were idiots. This wasn’t a catfight, just a couple of computer generated bimbo punching and kicking. Where was the slapping, where the hairpulling or the name calling, biting or leg locked rolling. The puerile display from the men present was all too much for her and with that ‘Lara Croft’ leant into Mark and excused herself, ‘I’m just going to get a coffee, do you mind?’
‘Not at all’ Mark replied distractedly, the red haired big eyes minx on screen had just thrown the blonde out of the ring.
‘I’ll see you soon’ Abi toyed with unzipping to reveal a little more cleavage but saw Marks’ face and realising it was a lost battle turned and went in search of a drink.
________________________________________________
The coffee was sour but warm and, sitting outside with a cigarette, Abigail felt a little less tetchy. She was still haunted by the pressures of this credit card issue but was more perturbed at the look that ponytailed bitch had given her as she had walked by. Oh if only Mark hadn’t been there- she began to feel her stress rising again and threw the half finished cigarette onto the floor, stamping it out with a twist of her heel. She turned to move back into the convention but was stopped in her tracks by a heavily accented voice, ‘Excuse me.’
‘Yes?’ without thinking she turned to the figure who had spoken, an impeccably dressed, dark haired man in the most expensive suit Abi had ever seen, himself languidly drawing on a filterless cigarette.
‘Forgive me for interrupting you Ms Croft’ he smiled, his English impeccable although his accent richly Gallic, as he delicately dropped his cigarette and crushed it out with a mirror polished shoe.
‘No, not at all’ Abigail giggled nervously, girlishly, she didn’t know why, there was something about his voice, his grey eyes or just his calm demeanour that made her want to open up, ‘And the name is Abigail, Abigail Francis’
‘Of course Abigail’ the man smiled, ‘And I am Henri Lachatte. Would you mind joining me for a coffee?’
‘Well I….’ Abigail paused, there was something about this man, not a romantic or a sex thing but her actress instinct suggested it would be in her best interest to sit, Mark could wait. ‘I…well, yes...I would like that’ and she pulled up a battered wooden chair and sat.
A pair of raised fingers ordered the drinks as Lachatte sat and took out another cigarette offering one to her which she took, drawing on the tobacco as Henri lit it up.
‘I must say, you are not the kind of girl I would imagine around these sort of places, although I have been pleasantly surprised by just how many attractive women seem to be around today. Are you interested in games?’
‘Well you’ve got me there,’ Abi smiled through a haze of cigarette smoke. ‘I must be honest it’s my boyfriend, I’ve not really got much…er…aptitiude for them.’
‘Yes,’ the Frenchman smiled, ‘I know that feeling. Ah thank you,’ he broke off acknowledging the arrival of the coffee. ‘But,’ his fingers peeled back the plastic lid, ‘you like games of a more realistic nature yes?’
‘Er?’ Abi hesitated as she blew on the hot liquid, did this fellow know she was an actress, was he talent scout of some sort, ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I saw you earlier looking at that other Ms Croft Abigail. Tell me, what was going through your mind then?’
A little surprised by the unexpected direction of the conversation Abi found herself stuttering, ‘What do you...I mean...er...’
‘What did you think?’ Henri continued calmly. ‘You certainly looked like you might hit the girl.’
‘Well,’ Abi lied, ‘I wouldn’t put it like that. I can be competitive that’s all,’ she laughed unconvincingly.
‘Well there’s competitive and there’s wanting to scratch a girl’s eyes out my dear. I bet you’ve got quite the catty streak inside you Abigail.’
Abi was feeling disorientated as Henri looked directly at her, ‘Well sometimes people wind me up the wrong way and she did just that.
‘Yes,’ Lachatte blew out a sizeable cloud of smoke, ‘she said the same about you?’
‘What?!’ This completely threw Abigail, what was he getting at?
‘She said you goaded her and wound HER up…and called you a bitch my dear Abigail.’
‘What?!’
‘She called you a bitch…a fucking bitch.’ His accented voice emphasised the swear word delivering it in a style as caustic as Abigail might have done herself. She felt her stomach tighten and breasts swell pressing against the leather that so tightly held them. Then the anger and rage began to well up, ‘How do you know?’ she could feel herself talking between gritted teeth.
‘Because I asked her.’ Henri retorted matter of factly blowing on his coffee as anger possessed the brunette.
Oh...I knew she was a bloody slut, I just knew it!’
‘Ah, you see,’ a look of triumph filled those grey eyes, ‘I knew it. I bet you ‘d love to have it out with her wouldn’t you. You’d love to tell her what you thought of her and show her you are the better woman despite the fact your only relationship has been a shared contemptuous glance.
‘Too right,’ Abi snorted, usually she would restrain herself but there was something hypnotically suggestive about the way this fellow spoke and addressed her.
‘Well, maybe I can help.’ Henri smiled as he set about his devilish deal which the young woman felt her irrational feelings dragging herself towards. ‘You see I enjoy games too, although like you not of the computer variety. I think there is nothing better than a good competition, particularly I must say between women, they demonstrate it so much more passionately than men.’ He smiled knowingly, Abi wanted to speak but could not as he went on, ‘I am what one would call a catfight fan my dear, a connoisseur of hairpulling and clothes ripping. But I must admit my tastes are a little more exotic. Not for me just two women in t-shirts and shorts brawling in a gym on mats, I prefer something a little more visually interesting.’
Abi couldn’t believe the way this conversation was going but sat rapt as the Frenchman continued. ‘Each year I invite a group of suitably minded ladies who, shall we say are not shy of using tooth and nail, and arrange a, shall we say, tournament where, as much for their own desire as mine, they might battle it out for a given period to see who is the better woman as well as for a substantial amount of cash.’ Henri flicked the significant haze of ash that had grown on his cigarette onto the floor as he leant back, letting the impact sink in, reading Abigail’s face.
‘How much?’ she eventually asked but it was not the finance that propelled her forwards despite all her current issues, there was something more that made her stay for this bizarre conversation.
‘Oh, let us say it goes to tens of thousands, and I assure you that all participants are suitably rewarded for their participation.’ Another brief pause and then he went on, ‘Each year I employ a theme, three years ago it was superheroines, two film starlets, last year was the French revolution and this year in a bid to be that little bit more adventurous I have turned to videogames. Absurd I know but I am not shy to the somewhat comely nature of many of these digital maidens and their attires and have spared no expense in appropriating costumes for all manners of choices. And so, seeing that look in your eyes and how wonderful you look in your costume I would like to invite you Ms Francis to this year’s competition.’
Abigail could barely speak as the Frenchman sat back, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, of the other Lara bitch, of the Frenchman and his honeyed words, of the money, of Mark, of the thought and thrill of another catfight. It was all too much. ‘I don’t know what to say...I am interested but...well…Mark…I…’
‘Of course,’ Henri interrupted her stuttered words, ‘you have no doubt many quandaries to resolve and this is the last thing you would expect here. Let me give you time to think. Here’s my card and number. The event does not begin until the end of the week but, without exerting undue pressure, I must tell you that this is only for sixteen women, you were…are…to be my number fourteen so it would be in your best interest not to hesitate.’
As he stood Abi looked at the laminate card with suitably Gothic design. ‘I wish you well…and don’t be backwards in coming forwards my dear’
‘I won’t.’ she looked up but she was already talking to the back of the enigmatic Frenchman.
________________________________________________
Mark had had a whale of a time and though Abi gave another striking performance of feigned interest she could not put the thought of M. Lachatte’s proposition out of her mind.
It still preyed on her as she sat at the end of the bed later that evening. Looking at her secreted pile of bills the Frenchman’s proposal seemed altogether tempting. However it wasn’t this pile of paperwork which stirred her most and as she stared in the mirror, still in her Lara Croft finery she knew it was the overwhelming and irrational desire to sink her claws into that nameless bitch who had so challenged her.
Mark discovered her glaring viciously at her reflection as he emerged from the shower, ‘Abi, are you alright honey?’
Abi sprang round like a cat in a hot tin roof, blustering instantly, ‘No, I’m fine...just…’ she tried to feign a loving smile, ‘just thinking about the day. Look, I’ve got to make a call.’ She turned and hurriedly bundled the papers into the shoebox she kept them in, she was getting reckless examining them with Mark so close by.
‘A call? Who to? It’s nearly eleven Abi.’
‘One of my girlfriends honey. Look, I won’t be long,’ she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and bustled out of the room, leather creaking with her movement. Mark called behind but she was already reaching for her mobile phone and the lacquered card.
________________________________________________
‘Monsieur Lachatte?’
‘Ah Abigail.’ The Frenchman’s voice was as alluring, cool and hypnotic as ever it was and Abi instantly felt her nerves allayed as she stood at the end of the garden in the shadows, desperate for a cigarette but not wanting to draw attention to herself.
‘I’ve been thinking about your offer and…’ she gulped, feeling her breasts tight against her top and stomach churning, ‘I accept.’
‘Excellent. I am so glad. You make number sixteen my dear, I had quite the bounteous day at the convention.’
‘Just as long,’ she blurted in, ‘as long as I get chance to meet that other fucking Lara Croft bitch’
‘Oh, I can assure you that Miss Kendall, the other so called ‘Lara Croft bitch’ is of exactly the same mind Miss Francis. However the rules of the game are that the first fights will be drawn at random. Now if you and she want to arrange something between yourselves that is entirely your business. Now, all you need do is excuse yourself for the weekend and join me at my estate around six on Saturday. The address is on the card, and there you will have chance to meet the other women who will be fighting. I will explain the rules and the first round will be contested. There are ample spaces for catfights to be fought and I will provide any necessary attire. You still care for Ms. Croft I assume?’
‘Yes,’ Abi was a little quieter, somewhat awed by what she was doing but then resolved, she was going to fight this bitch and who knows, maybe get some money in the bargain. ‘Yes’, her voice firmer, ‘I’ll be fucking Lara Croft.’
‘Excellent. Then I look forward to seeing you on Saturday. I assure you it will be discrete. There will be no one else present at the fight besides the combatants and myself. Come ready to catfight my dear.’ And with those words he hung up.
Abi’s heart was in her mouth, she was doing it, really doing it, and by God she was coming to catfight...catfight whatever bitch came at her and one way or another she’d get that tart and show her exactly who the better woman was……
(to be continued)
