[Gary53]

Vanessa vs Trudy would be a fantastic story. I know it would be hard to pick a winner.

[sinclairfan]

Sinclair....if you are willing to take the time and put your amazing talent to another fantastic tale such as the one we have all read and enjoyed,and it happened to involve Trudy and myself, well all I can say is I would be in your debt and would be truly grateful.

Yes, Vanessa vs Trudy is on the way.

[Trudy]

It's been a few days since Diane and Darlene Had their fight. Now that they are both home and have had time to think about what happened I wonder what's going through their minds now...

[sinclairfan]

TWO WEEKS LATER:  DARLENE AND I "HAVE A CHAT"

My drive home from my fight with Darlene was uneventful, but let me tell you, the next day, I felt pain every inch of my body.  Was it because I was 52?  Was it because of how vicious the fight had gotten?  Was it because Darlene was a skilled fighter?

Probably all three.

For relief of the pain, I started day-drinking.  For the first time since my biker days.  It fixed the pain.  But, wow, did it make me feisty.

I kept flashing back to the day of the fight.  The nerves leading up to it.  Seeing the back of Darlene's hair, her sitting in the sales office.  Closing the sound proof door, wanting a catfight right then and there with her, with the two young receptionists watching, showing them how experienced women fight.  The bare knuckle boxing match.  And then stripping for the catfight, seeing all the parts of Darlene's body I've been wanting to destroy for 33 years.  And then the final sweaty, bloody (I'm pretty sure one or both of us even peed) catball on the floor.  The rush of the whole day.

Telling the receptionists the next day that I had won.  In my boozy, day-drinking buzz, I needed to tell more people--2 weren't enough.  I go onto Darlene's Facebook profile.  I post, "Attention Class of 1983.  The Lisa-Sandy Catfight is no longer our Class's most vicious event.  Darlene and I topped it last week--for reals, not for fun.  And I won!!!!"  It takes a couple days, but Likes and Shares accumulate.  Our Class now knows about the fight.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.  When my buzz wears off, I consider removing it.  Nah, I'll do that later.  Let a few more people share it first.

Wednesday night, 2 weeks after the fight.  My phone rings.  Caller id says it's Darlene.  Should I answer it?  Hell, yeah.

Me:  Well, well.

Darlene:  Well, well, my ass.  Our fight needed and audience because, why, now?  Some of us have jobs.

Me:  We ALL have jobs, dumbass.  I guarantee half those people don't believe there was any fight.

Darlene:  Takes the post down, bitch.

<<<<<I suddenly realize I still have no idea what Darlene does for a living.  I've clearly hit a nerve.  This will be fun finding out why this is so damn important to her.  We're 2,000 miles from where we grew up--who cares?>>>>

Me:  Why should I?  You can't make me, cxnt.  I thought we clearly esblished that.

Darlene:  You won, Diane.  But you can't seriously want to go through that kind of fight again, do you?

<<<<<<Maybe I do.>>>>>

Me:  If YOU don't want to, why would you call her trying to boss me.

Darlene:  Because I don't want that damn post on Facebook.

Me:  It's staying.

Darlene:  You couldn't quit while you're ahead.  Eight thousand dollars, satisfaction of winning, it wasn't enough.

Me:  Because the whole point all along was bragging rights, bitch.  And I'm exercising them.

Darlene:  I know where you live.

Me:  You knew where I lived in 1983 and didn't do anything.

Darlene:  Well, this time is different.

Darlene hangs up on me. 

Looks like I'll be getting a knock on my door soon.  33 years too late, but that's fine.

It's more than fine.  It's great.

[sinclairfan]

WAITING FOR DARLENE TO KNOCK

Over the course of the next few days, I realized Darlene had a tremendous advantage for our impending round 2.  Since she would be exclusively choosing the timing, she would be prepared when the fight came, but I wouldn't be, necessarily.  In effect, I needed to be prepared for that knock at my door, 24/7.

There was one beneficial outcome from this situation--my day-drinking habit came to an immediate end.  The last thing I needed was an angry, primed Darlene banging down my door and finding a loopy, buzzed Diane, kicking my ass, taking what she wanted out of my house, and posting on Facebook she had gotten revenge on me.

Was that a mistake in Irving to show Darlene my jewelry?  Does she want to come here and take it?  I hide it in a kitchen cabinet till Darlene comes. 

How is Darlene planning on driving home from our next fight?  She must remember that both of us were beat up pretty badly in our first one.  The next one, if anything will be worse.  If she comes at me, she'll probably make arrangements to stay at a nearby hotel.  And in the small town I'm in, the only hotel you'd stay in, at least if you don't want bedbugs, is a Crowne Plaza about 3 miles from my house.

As I return to my daily routine of managing my investments and buying groceries, I add to my daily list a drive by and walk thru of the Crowne Plaza.  It's a long shot, but maybe one day I'll bust Darlene there.  Anything to neutralize her advantage of surprise.

Plus, it helps pass the time.  Let me tell you, there sure are a lot of hours in the day when you're waiting for someone to drop by.  Should I go out right now?  If I do, what if Darlene comes by when I'm out?  What if she's bluffing and messing with my head?  What if she wants no piece of me after our first fight, but wants me to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder?

I go to Darlene's Facebook page.  She's been posting news stories and non-related conversations so that the posts about our fight will move off the page.  There's still the occasional "WTF! Tell me about it!" inquiry from an old classmate--but the buzz is waning.  I look at the names, wondering is Lisa or Sandy mind if I brought up their fight.  I don't notice any posts with those names.  I wonder where they are these days.

Lisa and Sandy.  They were definitely growing up faster than most of the girls at our high school.  And the boys--the boys our age couldn't handle either of them.  Lisa and Sandy both dated boys who had already graduated.  I would notice them getting picked up in pickup trucks after school, never needing to take the humiliating school bus ride home that the rest of us took.  Lisa would get in a blue Ford truck, Sandy in a red Datsun.  Day after day.  Until one day, Lisa got in the Datsun, and Sandy in the Ford.

How mature, how cosmopolitan, how sophisticated of them, all the girls at school said.  Still in high school and already "swapping partners".  Without any drama. 

Until the day there was drama.  I remember sitting in the cafeteria at lunch one day, and Lisa at the next table telling a couple people, "Are you coming to the fight Friday night?  I'm fighting Sandy."  I remember getting soaked immediately.  Two girls planning a fight?  And telling other people about it?  This was happening at our high school?

I was at the fight.  There were about 10 boys and 35 girls in a circle at a softball field.  Why were there more girls than boys here?  Don't boys love to watch girls fight?  None of the girls are even friends with Lisa or Sandy.  Why is Darlene here?  I could ask her, except she and I don't really talk, remember?  Even though we're neighbors.

Lisa and Sandy have a three-round catfight, to the delight of their audience of 40+.  Does it hurt to get hair pulled like that?  Where did they learn to fight like that?  By watching fights?  By being in them?  After round three, the crowd scatters as a patrol car swings by.  I get home, obsessed with the fight I've just witnessed.  I can see myself fighting, but not in front of that many people.  Not in front of other girls.  So.....humiliating.  So....trashy.  What did Darlene think of the fight, I wonder.  Is that how she and I would fight, pulling hair and kicking?  Is she imaging herself fighting?  Against me? 

The next day at school, everyone talks about the Lisa-Sandy fight.  Some of it true, most of it not, or at least most of it exaggerated.  (No, their tops did not come off.)  People ask if I saw it.  I deny I did.  Why am I denying being at the fight?

I think back to the fight in Irving, the 2 receptionists.  Why did the brunette think I would win?  Why did the blonde think Darlene would win?  Once they knew a fight happened, did they picture in their minds what it was like?  Did they wish they had seen it?

These visits to the Crowne Plaza are a waste, I decide.  I don't even know what kind of car Darlene drives.  "Can I help you ma'am?", the hotel employees ask me.  "Yes, I'm looking for a woman I'm having a rematch catfight with.  Have you seen her?", I'm tempted to answer.

I want to text Darlene, but I can't show her that I'm getting anxious, that I'm on edge.  If anything, that will cause her to drag this out more.  If it's even going to happen.  What if our first fight scared her off?  We did get pretty vicious.  What if she had been assuming I couldn't fight, and was surprised to find I can?

I need to keep this pot boiling.  For whatever reason, the Facebook posts appear to be Darlene's hot-button.  Those don't set well with her.  I decide to post one.

"Class of 1983:  Diane-Darlene might not be over yet.  Unless Darlene wants it to be."

And I sit back and wait.

[sinclairfan]

ROUND 2 IS ARRANGED

The Facebook post does its job.  Later that night my phone rings.  Caller id says it's Darlene.

Me:  Backing out?

Her:  Fuck you, I did all the work setting up the first fight, and I'm doing all the work setting up this one.

Me:  What work are you doing, wise ass?

Her:  I'll be on your turf for this one, and I need someone to watch my back.  I'm bringing Sierra, the blonde girl from the condo sales office.

<<<<<My heart races.  I'm thrilled with the idea.>>>>

Me:  I'm fine with that idea.  Your idea, or hers?

Her:  What, do you like her or something?  Diane, truth or dare:  Are you straight, bi, what?  We haven't talked about that yet.

Me:  Truth.  I'll answer, but then I have a question for you.  I've felt attracted to women, dated them.  But, no, once we were in bed, no, there was nothing there on my end, no matter how many different things we tried.  No response from me.  Maybe I never she'd my upbringing hangup, but to answer your question, for whatever reason, I'm straight.  My question for you is different.

Her:  Ask away <<<<sarcastically>>>>....

Me:  Darlene, what did you think of the Lisa-Sandy catfight in high school?  Or, what do uou think of it now?  You weren't friends with either of them.  Why were you there?

Her:  Same reason you were, dumbass.

Me:  That's not an answer.  You don't know why I was there.

Her:  Ok, fine.  I wanted to see how girls fight.  How do you beat a girl in a fight.

Me:  Because there was a girl you thought you would fight.

Her:  If that cop car hadn't come, I was gonna ask the crowd to stay and see if they wanted to see another fight.  One between you and me.

Me:  That's easy to say now.  Lisa and Sandy took breaks between their rounds.  You weren't doing anything to make a move at me.

Her:  Did you want me to?

Me:  I wanted you to get close enough for me to ask you why you never talk to me.  That woulda started an argument, and then a fight.

Her:  God, that fight was hot.  I was so horny, I was scared to get close to you.

Me:  I want to fight you in my house.  Bring Sierra if that will make it happen.

Her:  Sierra can get off work Friday.

Me:  Text me when you're on the way.

Her:  Oh, I will.

[Trudy]

I just love how they work together to make sure the fight happens. Like they are setting up a book club meeting.

[Figaro]

This is some great stuff.

[sinclairfan]

THE NIGHT BEFORE ROUND TWO

I get into bed early Thursday night.  There's a sharper edge to my fight anticipation this time, knowing Sierra will be witnessing my fight with Darlene.  The feelings I had about Lisa and Sandy catfighting in high school in front of a big crowd, their trampiness for being willing to do that--I feel a little bit of that feeling now about myself.  I've been dressing trashy the last couple of days.  I get out my jean cutoff shorts from my biker days.  They still fit.  Good.  I'm wearing these for the catfight tomorrow.

Or, at least, I'll be starting in them.  Darlene and I will be nude before the fight is finished.  What will Sierra think?  Does she already know an all-out grudge fight is in no clothes?  That every part of the body gets scratched and twisted and punched?  Has she ever seen a fight like that?  Or been in one?  Does she have an enemy?  

I log onto Facebook.  I wonder what Darlene is up to.

This is weird.  A message to me.  From a Lisa--"Lisa from high school.  Oh, wow, I apprehensively open her note.  I hope she's not upset I posted about her 1983 fight with Sandy on Facebook.  Phew!  It's a nice note.  "You go girl!  Glad you got back at that bitch Darlene for her beating you in that private fight you two had night after Graduation.  She bragged so much about that, always wanted to see someone take her down a notch.  Glad you didn't let it go."

My heart sinks.

??  WTF ??

I read Lisa's note at least 5 more times, to make sure I'm reading it correctly.

Then I get pissed.  Like, I'm talking, really really pissed.

That bitch Darlene lied 33 years ago to the high school class.  She told them she and I fought.  And that she won.

For 33 years, the whole high school class thought Darlene beat me in a fight.  She took credit for a fight that never happened.  No wonder I never had any real friends in the class after school was done.

And no wonder Darlene doesn't want me posting about our fights now.  She doesn't want her 1983 lie exposed.

Half of me wants to confront Darlene with her lie right now.

But she'll be here tomorrow.

I'll confront her with her lie.  And after our fight, I'll force her to admit on Facebook that her whole life has been a lie.  

I'm the better woman.  I am now.

And I always was.

[sinclairfan]

MY SECOND CATFIGHT WITH DARLENE

I wake up at home the morning of the day Darlene and Sierra are driving here for me to fight Darlene.  The house feels different this morning, in a good way.  Darlene will be in my house -- I want to fight her in my house.  But she better not use my bathroom; Darlene grosses me out.  Sierra better not use it either.  On second thought, Sierra can use it-she's a cutie.

I start to worry:  What if this is a setup?  What if Darlene and Sierra are here to rob me?  Is it not breaking and entering if I'm the one who invited me into the house?  What if Darlene wants her $8,000 back from our first fight?  I hide all my valuables.  And then I decide not to worry--if Darlene wins, she wants me to take down my Facebook posts about us fighting.  She doesn't care about my house.  I hope.

I get into my cutoff shorts.  Shame these will get destroyed in our fight.  I put my hair down and straight.  I look even better than last time.  I drink less water than last time--I don't want to pee on my floor during the fight, like I think I did at the condo.  My damn 52 year old bladder--getting old sucks. 

Darlene texts that they're 30 minutes away.  My jean shorts soak thru.  I think I sort of just came.

A new, white Acura SUV pulls into my driveway.  Sierra is driving.  Is that Sierra's car or Darlene's?  If it's Sierra, she is one spoiled rich bitch.  Hot.

Sierra and Darlene ring.  I answer, and ask them to come in.  They're both in miniskirts, Darlene wearing one she clearly doesn't mind having shredded.  Sierra's is nicer.  They both smell damn good--I smell like I just came; I wish I had freshened up.  The tension between Darlene and me is so taut, we'd probably be fighting already if Sierra wasn't here.  But I'm glad we're not (yet);  I have 2 questions.

Me:  I have 2 questions, one for each of you.

Sierra:  Oh goodie, me first.

Me:  Sierra, why did you think Darlene would win our first fight?

Sierra:  Well, in fairness, I thought it would be close.  But I thought Darlene has a lower center of gravity and could bull-rush and take you down.  But I'm guessing it wasn't that kind of fight.

Me:  Well, it did start that way.  And Darlene did pin me.  Except she never pinned my hands, so her tits were nice and available for me.  Is that the kind of fight you came to watch?

<<<<<Sierra clearly is not a fight rookie like I was at her age.  Hot.>>>>>

Sierra:  Hellz, yeah.  You guys are really gonna do that?

Me:  Keep your pants on, babe.  I still haven't asked Darlene her question.

Darlene:  This oughtta be good.

Me:  Darlene, why did you lie to the girls in our class, way back, and tell them we fought the night after Graduation.

Darlene:  Ok, whoa, time out.  I totally got egged into doing that, and was obviously kidding.  I never brought it up again.

Me:  Obvious to who?  The people who heard it believed it all this time.  And still believe it today.  Is that the real reason we never fought?  Because you built a lie that we already had, and you couldn't muck up your story??

Darlene:  Or maybe I assumed it would get back to you, and that would finally start something.  Did you ever think of THAT?!?

Me:  Well, it got back to me now.  Sierra, I'm opening my Facebook account now.  I want you to make sure the loser of this fight posts what REALLY happens here today.  And what REALLY happened in 1983.

<<<<Darlene ostentatiously straps completely nude.>>>>>

Sierra:  Yee-haa.  Go for it, ladies.

I strip completely nude.  Darlene and I approach each other standing, double-fisting each others hair.  We pull down as hard as we can, and kick and knee each other multiple times.  We each move our right hand lower to each others backs, and scratch as hard as we can, digging our nails deep into flesh.  We pull in, our equally sized tits lining up, and rub furiously.

I'm conscious of Sierra's presence, and try hard not to let the fight fall to the ground.  I want to look like I'm winning the fight, even if I'm not, so I'm hyper-conscious of maintaining my footing.  Darlene and my clits find each other and rub together; the half-cumming sensation I had while waiting washes over me, and I groan uncontrollably, unable to resist rocking rhythmically of Darlene's full front side.  Darlene is slightly shorter than me, and I feel her tongue on my neck.  My half-cumming waves now become all-out orgasms, rolling over me in waves. 

Darlene and I sink to our knees, and our hands find each others pussies.  We alternately pull pussy hair and scratch.  My waves of pleasure switch to excruciating pain.  Darlene's tongue is still firmly on my neck, and I can feel her mouth sucking it.  I feel her teeth on my neck--is she going to bite me?  My pussy is gushing fluid--I feel like I peed again. 

Darlene and I release our grips, and dig our nails into each others breasts.  I remember that this is what Sierra wanted to see.  I look over at her.  She's masturbating rhythmically, trying to watch us but periodically looking up at the ceiling, apparently involuntarily.  I can't let her see me lose.

I grab Darlene by the hair, and knee her repeatedly on the crotch.  I remember what Sierra said about pinning, and go for the pin, remembering to pin Darlene's hands too.  My knees are on her shoulders now.  I put my right hand behind me and mercilessly torture Darlene's pussy.  I curse taunts into her face.  She tries to knee my back, but I lean forward, my tits now smothering her face.  I rip out pussy hair from the roots.

Darlene literally starts crying.  And gives.

I go to Sierra.  We tongue each other furiously.  We finger fuck each other repeatedly.

After we clean up, Darlene posts on Facebook:  "This is Darlene.  Diane and I never fought in 1983.  We fought twice in 2016.  She beat me both times."

The End.

 

[sinclairfan]

WE BOTH KNOW THIS ISN'T OVER

My second catfight with my old high school neighbor, and enemy, Darlene, and Darlene's Facebook posting setting the record straight about what did, and didn't, really happen in 1983, generated some buzz back in New England.  High school classmates came out of the woodwork, both female and male, who wanted to reconnect on Facebook.  And SnapChat.  Did you know SnapChat is used for nude selfies?  Honestly, I didn't know that.  53 years old, and still naive in some things, apparently.  A few guys claimed they had crushes on me.  But I'm in Texas, and they're not.  Gosh, still in New England 34 years later, dudes?  Grow up and move on.  I mean, I admit I'm sorta broke.  But, gheezh, and least I lived somewhere else during my life.

So, no, none of the Facebook posts ever went beyond SnapChat "sex".  Kinda pathetic.  Guess my prince is never coming.  Is this what it's like to feel old?

I'll tell you what makes me feel the opposite of old.  The two fights with Darlene.  I replay that whole 2 month episode back in my mind.  Me using Google and finding her on the Internet.  Finding out she and I both lived in Texas.  Contacting her on Facebook, and the night I called her.  Telling her I wanted to fight her.  Her saying yes.  Driving to a condo development, and meeting in a conference room to set up rules.  Rules to a catfight.  Seeing her for the first time in 33 years.  Still hating each other like we did all those years ago.  Meeting in a condo being remodelled.  Fighting her.  Beating her.  Then a rematch at my place.

Any one of those things would have made me feel young again.  And I did all of them.  With her.

Late at night my mind starts thinking.  One fight with Darlene was exhilarating.  Two was, I don't know, dangerous.  What would a third be like?  I'm not getting any younger.

I wonder if Darlene has a SnapChat account.

She does.  My heart races.

I wonder if she's online now.

Shit.  She's not.

I feel sad.  Empty.

Do I still have her cell number?  I do.  I call.

Shit.  Voice mail.

She's probably asleep.  Maybe I should text.

Me:  U there?

Shit.  What if she doesn't remember it's me at this number.

Me:  It's Diane.

I wait.

Nothing.

I feel empty again.  53 years old.  This is what my life has come to. 

I go to sleep.
***********************************
At 6am, my cellphone rings.  It's Darlene's number.  My heart races.

Darlene:  Somebody was drunk texting last night, Hmmmm?

Me:  <<<half with attitude>>>>   I wasn't drunk.  You must be projecting.

Darlene:  Attitude.  Always a bitch.

Me:  Now who's projecting?

Darlene:  I don't get a good morning?

Me:  Not from me.

Darlene:  You enjoying this?

Me:  <<<<touching myself>>>  I hate you.

Darlene:  Back at you.  What are you going to do about it?

Me:  So it's not over?

Darlene:  Bitch, we both know this isn't over.

<<<<Silence.  I'm rubbing myself furiously.  I can't decide if I want her to know or not.>>>

Darlene:  Bitch, you shoulda quit when you were ahead.

Me:  Slut, I'm up 2 oh.  You'd hafta win 3 in a row to be ahead.

Darlene:  Or put you in a body cast.  Maybe fuck up that pretty face.

<<<<<Silence.  Rubbing>>>>>

Me:  I hosted last time.  Your turn now.  When?

Darlene:  When can you be here?

Me:  You're not serious.

Darlene:  It's 6:30 now.  Shall we say, 10:30?

Me:   <<<<<What have I gotten myself into?>>>>>  Fine.

Darlene:  Fine.

Me:  Fine.

Darlene:  Get in the car, whore.

Me:  Don't you want my face pretty?  You know, to fuck it up?

Darlene:  I'd rather start sooner.

Me:  Fine.

Darlene:  Fine.

Me:  Fuck you.

Darlene:  Fuck you.

I hang up and finish before she can hear me cum in my hand.

Shit, that was intense.

And the morning's just started.

I have a catfight to drive to.

[sinclairfan]

A DRIVE TO DALLAS (or, DIANE DOES DALLAS)

In the dark of my lonely house, the decision to accept Darlene's offer of an immediate fight seemed like the right one, the only one.  Back in my biker chick days, I'd have to weigh and balance how close I was to having my period (Excuse my French.  Gross, I know; but, hey, it was a real concern.).  One of the nice things about, ahem, mature, is that now I'm free of all that lady parts stuff.  I had my hysterectomy at 48, and now I don't care what time of the month it is.

Free to fight or fuck, 24/7/365.  And the fucking has been few and far between, and what little there has been, quite disappointing--may as well fight.

But as I pack a quick overnight bag, chug a protein shake, wash my face, comb my hair, roll on some antiperspirant, lock up, and head out onto the freeway, well, as the sun comes up, I start to doubt my decision.

First, if we fight again, Darlene and I are at a crossroads.  Darlene seems to have come to terms with me being the better fighter.  Now it's just about maiming me, or the opportunity to do so.  How do I respond?  Do I try and "mess up" Darlene?  Do I want to?

Why was I masturbating our entire phone conversation?  Am I attracted to her?  Have I always been?  Sierra, the spectator at our second fight, totally got me off when fucked after the rematch fight.  She was the first woman to ever get me off.  Am I finally over whatever girl on girl hang up I had?  Will I be cumming when Darlene and I fight?  Will she?

When we were setting up our second fight, why did Darlene ask if I was bi?  Is she?  Was she propositioning me? 

Or is this is setup?  Is Darlene going to have someone over?  Will the two of them jump me?

There's no way I'm going straight to Diane's.  I don't want my car there.  I'm driving to Dallas, checking into a cheap motel, then Uber-ing it out to Darlene's place in Irving.

If that delays the fight a half hour, too bad.  Darlene can cool her heels.

If I win the fight, I weigh what I can take from her house and not end up in jail.  Our first fight was for $8,000.  Our second ended up being for that 25 year old blonde number, Sierra.  We planned the 3rd so fast, we didn't establish stakes.  Does she have rings from her 2 divorces.  Shit, that would be sweet to steal.  Anything that fits in my purse is coming home with me, I decide.

It'll feel good being in the bitch's place.  Not my problem if anything is damaged.  Totally worth the drive.

Yes, it's come to this.  All because we didn't settle things in high school.

So be it.  Fine by me.

What am I not thinking of?   Think, think, think Diane.

I'll be in a strange city with no backup.  Darlene brought Sierra when we fought at my place.  What if I lose a tooth?  What if I need stitches?  What if I break a bone?

Is this insane?

Or is it brilliant?  This feels right.  The first two fights were intense, without us killing each other.  But were we trying to?  Will we try today?  What kind of revenge has been festering in Darlene's cold heart?

Or in mine?  Why did I reach out to her?  I wanted this--do I know why? 

A trunk honks at me.  The driver likes how my straight brown hair looks, blowing around in the car.  I ignore him, but it feels good to get hooted at at 53.

And he's right--I do look good.  Sexy.  My skin has a glow when I have a fight lined up.  My hair has a sheen.  It did in my biker chick fighting days.  And it does again since my feud with Darlene started.  Restarted.

Shit, I didn't even shower this morning, and I look totally fuckable.  With no makeup.

Darlene looks younger than in her Facebook picks.  I hate to admit it, but she's still fuckable, too. 

Us fighting has been the fucking Fountain of Youth for both of us.

I get to the Dallas suburbs.  I see a Comfort Inn.  This will do.

I check in.  3 nights.  No maid service, please.

I go to the room and pee.  I chug a Mountain Dew with a Smirnoff shooter.  The vodka hits me right away.  Back to day drinking. 

10:00.  Right on time.  I set up the Uber pickup.  I text Darlene.

Me:  30 minutes away.  45 minutes tops.

Darlene:  Let's get right down to business.  Morning kindergarten kids come back home at 12:30.

Me:  60-90 minute fight then?

Darlene:  Unless you have a better idea.

Me:  I don't.

Darlene:  Fine.

Me:  Fine.

Darlene:  Fuck you.

Me:  Fuck you more.

I wonder why Darlene never had kids.  I wonder why she lives in a neighborhood with them.

No, I don't.  I hate that bitch.  Everything about her.

One of us is getting fucked up.  The vibe is nastier than our last two fights. 

My Uber driver arrives.

I get in.

Here we go.

To be continued.....

[Lil Tina]

Wow...impressive stuff.  Thank ya for sharing

[sinclairfan]

WOMEN'S INTUITION

Women's intuition.  Greatest thing in the world.  It's never failed me.  And it definitely didn't fail me the morning of my third fight with Darlene.

Now, I knew the cattiness between us was amped up eight notches or so on the dial.  Before our first two fights, the conversation between Darlene and me was, I don't know, strained, unnatural.  But I sensed it was from genuine apprehension about the physical conflict which was imminent.  Not so this morning.  Darlene was up to something--she had a plan, a scheme.  I needed to be alert to what it was.

It didn't take long.

As my Uber ride pulled up to Darlene's two-story, 5,000-plus square foot cookie cutter McMansion (shit, she sure took some guy for a ride during one of her divorces; I hope he was an asshole to her the entire marriage), even the Uber driver could tell something was wrong.  It was a typical oppressive Texas morning, with worse forecasted for the afternoon, but every upstairs window was wide open.  (First thought:  is Darlene planning on pushing me out a window?)  I half-consider asking the driver to stick around.  But fuck it--I can handle this bitch alone; just stay alert, Diane, stay alert.

I go to the front door and ring the bell.  And wait.  Darlene is either purposely being a jerk  (what else is new?  I thought she wanted us finished before the neighborhood school kids started coming home from school), or something is up.  As i sense the time window to get our fight over with, I flash back to 1983--if I had knocked on Darlene's door back then, we would have been trying to get a fight in before our parents came home.  Why was I so self-conscious back then about fighting the neighbor girl and telling my parents?  Once I told them about how Darlene was freezing me out of high school parties, wouldn't they have been proud of me sticking up for myself?  Was it because I knew a fight between Darlene and me wouldn't be a schoolyard fist fight or even a streetfight, but even back then would have been a catfight?  Was I afraid to let my parents in on the sexual tension between Darlene and me, even in 1983?  Did I not want to have a birds-and-bees conversation that involved be being anything other than plain vanilla straight heterosexual?  Darlene and I had a whole grassy yard between our houses--why didn't we just fight right there?  Lisa and Sandy's fight had been outside on grass.  Why were we looking for an opportunity to fight inside?  Did we both want a naked brawl back then?  Is that why it never happened? 

Shit, I've been waiting a long time.  Some thing's up.  Stay on guard.


Darlene comes to the door.  She's hiding something--women's intuition.  And she's trying too hard to act natural.  "You made it!!  Come on in!!"  Like I'm here for a fucking wedding shower.  Bitch.

The stench of Lysol is overwhelming.  "Do you fucking have cats?", I inadvertently blurt out.  "No pets, why," says Darlene, way too casually.  I keep my distance from her.  She's fixing to jump me, I can feel it.  Not that I'm opposed to the idea--that's what i drove 3 hours for, after all--just not till I can figure out this bitch's angle this morning.  Then it hits me--what the Lysol is meant to cover up.  It's pepper spray.

Back in my Nevada biker chick days in the 1990s, I had been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time when the cops raided a biker bar, the bikers were none to happy about it, and the cops came at us full force with batons and pepper spray.  If that was today, tasers would have been in the mix too, but pepper spray was their go-to weapon that day.  I was young and inexperienced, and I got some to the face--I'll never forget the distinctive smell and sting, and I could tell it was coming from upstairs, which explained the open windows.

I got angry, rushed Darlene, pinned her left hand behind her back, and jammed her face into the kitchen island granite.

--Explain what's going on, you no-good lying slut, I hiss at her.

--What?  Diane, let me go. 

Darlene's mouth is partially covered by the countertop, so I wiggle her head sideways, but just barely, so she can talk.  We are both shaking.

--Diane, let me go.

--As soon as you tell me what's up.  Darlene, that's fucking pepper spray coming from upstairs.

--What?!?!?!?

I cram her face back into the granite.

--Don't lie to me, bitch, or I.  Will.  Fucking.  Hurt.  You.

I'm serious too.  I almost walked into an ambush this morning.  I'm as mad at myself as I am at Darlene.  But I'm not telling her that.

Minutes pass.  Probably seconds, but it seems like minutes.  If we don't start soon, our fight window is going to close.  At least at this location.  Damn, and I was primed for a brawl, too.  But not an unfair one.  Stay on guard.

I can tell Darlene has cracked--she whimpering like after the end of our second fight.  Like when a girl gives to you in an arranged fight, even though Darlene hasn't officially said the words.

Darlene's resistance lets up.  I relax my hold.

--Fine, you wanna know what happened?  Let me go.

--Tell me first.  And one lie and this island will have your face permanently imprinted in it, you got that?

Lame, I know.  But I'm pissed.

--Diane, I swear this is true.  But long story short--remember when we fought before?  That blonde receptionist Sierra?  I brought her with me to our second fight?

Umm, ya.  I remember everything about her, dumb ass.  She and I finger fucked after the fight, remember?  Or maybe you were more out of it than I remember.  Sweet.

--Vaguely.  What about her?

--Diane, I'm bi, ok?  And I had been trying to date her for months.  But she was hesitant because of our age difference.  But when I told her you and I fought, she was interested.  She likes watching catfights.  But she only likes being with the winner.  Well, you told her you won the first fight, but she told me if a second fight happened and I won, I could have my way with her.  So I brought her with me to your house, and I thought I could beat you with her watching.  But you beat me, and nothing happened between her and me the whole ride home.  Or since.

Damn, I think.  Hot.

--What the fuck does this have to do with pepper spray upstairs? 

--Diane, I had this dumb idea that if you came here this morning, I could put you down with pepper spray, take a picture, text it to Sierra, and tell her you and I had fought and I had won.  And then she would want me.  But when I was getting the spray out this morning, I forgot how to use it, and the cannister exploded.  I threw open all the windows before I passed out.  Stupid.

I release my grip.

I back off.  Darlene is whimpering.

Minutes pass in silence.

She's right about one thing.  Sierra would have definitely wanted her.  Shit, the blonde went crazy on me after she watched me beat Darlene at my place.

--Darlene, are you crying because you fucked up your plan.  Or because you miss Sierra?

--Both.

--Because, if you miss Sierra, maybe I can help you.

Darlene looks me in the eye for the first time all morning.  Shit's finally getting real.

--If she likes catfights, let's give her a show.  Let's catfight in front of her.  Winner gets to fuck her.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

FIGHTING FOR SIERRA

Darlene did not hesitate in texting Sierra.  Something along the lines of:  "SOS.  Diane is here--with me.  We want to fight today--you can watch.  Call me."  Sierra called back quicker than i expected, and said she could be at Darlene's at 6, and for us not to start without her.  She said she was "sort of in a relationship, with a new guy", and that by attending tonight she was "definitely risking messing that up", but that it was "totally worth it for you two bitches".  I pretended not to hear that remark, so that Darlene would not notice my cheeks turning warm.

Darlene showed me the room we would fight in--a ground floor unfurnished dining room with wood flooring.  The entire house was way underfurnished--Darlene either didn't have the cash to furnish it, was getting ready to downsize someday, or was staying flexible for a future partner someday.  I think of the comments she had made to me--telling she was bi, asking if I was "done with guys for good", her wanting to date Sierra.  Was she hoping Sierra would move in someday?  As someone who had lived 6 years of subprime hell in Nevada, ground zero of the real estate crash, the house screamed out "faking it financially" to me.  But maybe I was projecting again.  Or maybe it was wishful thinking.

Let's test my hunch, i think to myself as Darlene shows me the fight room.  Maybe Darlene has her check register out, or brokerage statements.  I'm in full-blown kleptomaniac mode, and I don't feel guilty at all--this psycho was planning on pepperspraying me.  I see real estate agent business cards and slip one in my pocket--so the bitch is working as a realtor:  I kind of already deduced that from the visit to the condo complex for our first fight.  I notice she's doing business under one of her prior married names--something for me to research at a later time.  If I still give a shit after I kick her ass tonight, and fuck her girlcrush.  With her watching.

Just in the nick of time, as my aggression hormones are reawakening, Darlene offers for me to stay until 6 ("I can't go anywhere anyways with the upstairs windows open"), and I say thanks-but-no-thanks, flag Uber, tell Darlene I'll be back at 6:15 tonight (if I arrive before Sierra does at 6, and Darlene and I are alone, I can already tell we'll get into it), and go out to the sidewalk to wait for my ride.  The morning kindergarten busses are just rolling thru the neighborhood, moms and grandmoms and nannies  picking up the 5 year olds.  If this morning had gone differently, right now I would have been walking out after a vicious catfight, hopefully victorious, but likely wounded.  What would the moms and nannies have thought as they saw me standing there, I wonder.  Have any of them ever gone to the house of a romantic rival while school was going on and had a catfight?  Did they love it as much as I do?

I look at the grandmother's picking up the kids at the bus stops.  Some can't be more than 5 or 10 years older than me.  If my life had gone differently, that would have been me this time of day, every school day.  Would that have been a happier life for me?  Would I have been less broke?  I would definitely be less lonely.  And less scared about the future.

Why am I in my shoes today, instead of theirs?  Why are they picking up kids at a bus stop, and I'm waiting for an Uber ride in a strange city to catfight for sex with a kinky blonde half my age I barely know?  Why did I never get pregnant?  Am I bi like Darlene?  Did some part of me know it all these years?  Am I facing now what I should have faced when I was 20?  Would my life have been happier?  Am I unhappy now?  Or just still reeling from my foreclosure nightmare?  Why don't I have any close friends?  Is Darlene the closest thing to a friend in my life right now?  Is this what it's like to have a frenemy?

Uber picks me up.  I ask to get taken to a Panera drive through window, then back to my motel room.  I'm famished.  I finish eating.  Shit, 2:38 already--where is the day going.  I shower, but don't feel cleaner--shoulda sprung for a more expensive motel.  If I had known I was seeing Sierra, I would have brought more makeup.  Maybe I should have taken Darlene up on her offer to stay at her house.  She had more than enough bathrooms for both of us.

Maybe she would have jumped me in the shower.  I try and wrap my head around her pepper spray plan.  Has she ever pepper sprayed someone?  Did one of her divorces go so wrong that she felt threatened by him, and was maybe even attacked by him?  Is that how she learned to fight?

I think back of my pinning Darlene on the kitchen island this morning.  I learned that move, I realize now, from my biker chick days, when I got pinned by a cop during a raid.  What moves are in Darlene's head that she'll use tonight?  I've won 2 fair fights--is she going to keep banging her head against the wall trying to beat me fair?  Or is she going to cheat?  Does her pepper spray plot mean she's out of ideas, or just getting started? 

What about me?  What should my strategy be tonight?  Fight like before?  Do something different?  I don't even remember--what WAS my strategy the first two fights?

What about Sierra?  Use her as motivation?  Or keep my focus on Darlene?

Fuck, it's 4:15.  I need a nap, but too late now.  The vodka for breakfast was a mistake--my body thinks it's 10pm now.  Fuck, this isn't feeling right.  Backing out now will be humiliating.  I can just imagine what Darlene would post of Facebook. 

Should I just have kicked the shit out of Darlene this morning, when I had her whimpering?  Why did I let her off the hook?

Am I going to regret letting Sierra into the picture?  Or is she the whole point of this?  Is she the girl that finally makes me lose my hang-up, and let's me move on and have a normal sex life while I'm sill fuckable?  Am I the only woman in America, straight or otherwise, not having sex on Snapchat?

I try to masturbate.  I can't get "over to top", so now I'm even more out of sorts than when I started.  5:10.  I need to get ready.  I arrange for Uber to pick me up at 5:45.  What are the rush hour traffic patterns here?  I don't know--remember?  I don't live here!!!

I'm tired, and the Panera wasn't enough food for today.

This has disaster written all over it.

To be continued.......