As I literally dance around Erin’s apartment, still chewing my gum and pouring red wine all over her carpet, I’m reminded of a favorite song of mine—*Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.* I love this song for two reasons: firstly, my second name is Lucy; and secondly, in terms of my musical tastes, I’m definitely a child of the '60s, '70s, and '80s. Oh, and thirdly, I love the free-spirited nature of this song. Yes, I know I said two reasons, but newsflash…I’m a bitch! And I lie! Not all the time, of course, but a well-placed lie here and a whisper in the right ear there are powerful tools when used wisely. They are tools every bitch should master, in my humble opinion—especially if she plans to rise to the top of her chosen social circle. But now for some free advice: never forget that friends are like rungs on the ladder of success for any real bitch…never hesitate to step on them! *Giggle* That goes doubly so if you’re wearing heels! However, I digress…
With the sound of Erin’s TV screen breaking, I look deeply into the bitch's eyes and chew my gum playfully. I smirk as the sound of my slap fills the room, and my legs almost go weak from the thrill of finally slapping your bitch-ass face. I begin to chew my gum more excitedly than ever as you stagger to the right. However, your instincts serve you well as you use your hands to steady yourself against the wall, then push off and throw yourself at me. Our bodies slap together, and without the slightest hesitation, your arms wrap around my body. Your bear hug-style hold crushes us together, and as expected, our breasts absorb the worst of the pain. Yet, it’s also true to say that our chests were not unhappy at the thought of fighting each other, as I feel my nipples and yours begin to stiffen even further.
"Argh, you fucking bitch! Let me the fuck go!" I snarl into your hate-filled face, and wow, you do hate me. Looking into your eyes, I see an eruption of hatred on a scale I’ve never seen before in my life. I would say you’ve gone Krakatoa on me, and I love it and hate it in equal measure. For me, a good catfight needs risk, jeopardy, and venomous hatred, and wow, do we have all three. Honestly, this experience is actually rather sexy…hmm, I digress again.
What I can’t ignore, however, is the fact that when you wrapped your arms around my upper body, you also managed to ensnare my arms with your own. I desperately begin to struggle and try to slip them out of your tight embrace, but I just can’t free them. While I can’t punch or slap you as I crave to do, there are other avenues of attack open to this bitch. In the end, I select a dirty one. My arms bend at the elbows, and my hands thrust in the direction of your thong. I grab hold of it, and without hesitation, I begin to pull it up and into your kitty. As I look coldly into your eyes, still chewing my gum, I pause and say:
"Let the fuck go of me, you bitch!"
Yet as I confidently make my demands of you; you also see the pain etched in my face. Once again this fight you’re crushing my body with your own. While this experience is not as painful as your scissors from earlier; the pain is once again targeting the same region of my body and my legs begin to show signs of wobbling. Uncertainty hangs above us both at this moment; the outcome is unclear. Yet one fact is undeniable - neither of us is in an enviable position!
Yt
