The beginning of this story can be found here:
http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,39988.0.htmlShortly after they'd left F realized that the two of them had been so caught up in raising their hackles and coming to the first blows, that she'd forgotten all about getting O's contact details. How were they gonna set this up? She dicided that as she knew that O would almost certainly show up at the bar, on her usual Friday. So for once she asked for the day off. She wanted freedom of movement, without the risk of being tied down by work at crucial moments in the first full exchanges with her enemy.
Dressing took longer than usual, normally she would just have to find the best combination of the work uniform, and whatever individuality that allowed for – now was different, and she was consciously dressing for war, a clash of beauty . The first of a few – unless she could so thoroughly trounce that upstart, O, her, whatever her name was – so that ugly skank would throw up her hands immediately.
As she saw F arrive at the bar at a distance from the other direction, she spotted her in an instant even far away, O. Smirked, yes, she had expected that F would take the night off. Good. She had waited a week, and now hostilities would finally begin. Up till now it had all been window dressing, now they would really lock horns and the first real battlefield would be their shared hometurf. But even though F was the challenger, was not nearly as confident as she let on – especially when she saw what was facing her. *Collect yourself*, she thought *No one comes close – this bitch is just the closest yet.*
"Get well soon." O said, when they finally stood eye to eye in front of the entrance, while trying to look like they were doing anything but, "What's that supposed to mean?", "Well, you're obviously not here to work. You look like you're sick and just came to pick something you'd forgotten up."
"Right, I see by the looks of you, you clearly did not expect me."
They both lied.
After a seconds pause they both mouthed "So it begins, bitch!" as if on cue, and walked in together, with only the slightest of jostling.
"So what do you want to do, the barman?" O asked, as they got in, "Or maybe you want to volunteer a secret crush, I can take home with me.", "You're deluding yourself, sweetie." was the answer, "But not the barman. I know his girlfriend, and she's nice. Although we could probably easy unseat her, we don't want to turn it into a threeway. This duel is between you and me.", "Oh.", O teased "So you admit that I am a looker.", "There'd be no reason for my consciously defeating you if you were not. Otherwise, I wouldn't even notice you as I took all your boyfriends. Which I would anyway." F quipped, "Let's just sit down. We know what's going to happen."
And so they sat at the bar. After the first hour of wafting away a swarm of losers, as they were both easily accustomed to, and had they been friends they might have even compared techniques for that particular discipline – a guy finally came over. Eyes caught, a silent nod, Yes! This was what they had both eagerly been waiting for.
They both turned with what they were trying their best to be their best smile. Doing their utmost to overcome each other already at first impressions.
It was on!
The guy introduced himself as S. and soon they were all three involved in a lively conversation.
F. and O. Tried their best to appear friendly with each other, so that WS. Would not suss out what was realy happening, though he probably did anyway, as they constantly tried to score points over each other and twisted and turned in their seats to appear in the best angle. Their friendliness was getting increasingly strained, as this was even the first time each were engaged in a competition over a guy – at least that she was aware. It was usually just so easy to get what they wanted, that rivals barely registered. But this one did, oh yes, she did.
Even though they had spent weeks building up to this, only now did they truly feel that they were up against an opponent that was at the very least their equal in beauty. But the determination to win or rather make her rival lose grew inside both of them. So much did they feel that they were neck-and- neck over this guy, that did not even dare go to the bathroom.
S. however did appear to enjoy the spectacle before him, and which guy wouldn't? They also quickly offered up their numbers to him, yet, he did excuse himself to go the men's room, and the two combatans quickly turned on each other, eyes locked as if a fire was smouldering between them, hands burning to get into the hair they had already been in once."You better give up, skank", O. hissed, "You're just embarassing yourself trying to compete with me.", "You're just lucky we're at the bar, or your eyes would be running down your cheeks, bitch", "You want to stop this and go rumble, you just need to say the word, honey.","And let you escape this losing position? We agreed on the rules, we compete over guys, and you're losing. He likes me.", "You keep telling yourself that and hope you fall for it."
Just then S. could be seen returning, and they quickly flashed each other a fake smile, but then F. Suddenly seized the iniative, "I love this song," she said and pulled S. out on the dance floor, and immediately turned to her most sexy floor moves, with S. responding enthusiastically.
When they kissed, it was difficult to tell wherefrom the ecstasy in her arose. The guy was nice and cute, no problem there, but the main thing was that, she had won.
SHE HAD WON! SHE HAD REALLY WON! She had proven herself, against the best and had defeated that black-curled biths. Yes.
But she had counted her chickens way before they were hatched. As soon as F. Had pulled S. out to the dance floor O. had moved to a position where she could see them, watching them like a hawk. Yes, she would have to admit that it was the 12th round, and F. was leading on points, but there was still time to get the knock out punch in, and that's what she had to go for.
F. felt secure enough to offer S. to go and pick up drinks, and that was her mistake. O. immediately pounced, catching S. on the dancefloor, pulling him a bit to a side, and started dancing with him herself. After just a few minutes she reached up and kissed him asking, "How was that?"
"What is it between you two girls? Some sort of competition?", S asked. "Well", O. answered, "As a matter of fact it is. So if you want me to rock your world tonight, we may as well go and get started. Otherwise, you can wait for little Miss Sunshine and her drinks." "If you put it like that...", said S., "I do put it like that", O responded.
The knock-out punch was thrown ... "OK", S agreed ...and had hit home.
As F returned with her drinks she did so just in time to see O drag S away by the hand, and O turning around blowing her a kiss and then flipping her the bird, as they walked away.
F's underlip started to quiver, she thought that she had won, yet for the first time in her life she had not. She had lost.
She felt cheated, but it did not matter – The defeat was clear and it was painful. O had drawn first blood, and getting a text a couple of hours later from S's phone saying:
"You better give up, tramp. O", did not help.
But they agreed on a war, not a one-time battle. Precisely to ensure a final and decisive defeat for the loser – and not a one-time event, dependent on one guy. F. was determined to fight on.
