[sinclairfan]

ALL ABOUT ME

Hello, there.  My name is Jenny.  Just a regular 5'7" 130 lb 34c brunette Midwest girl.  I grew up in West Gurnee, Illinois, which is a remote western suburb of Chicago, just off the Fox River.  I was born there in 1994, and attended middle school from 2005 to 2008, and high school from 2008 to 2012.  And then had to decide what to do next. 

West Gurnee pushes sports a lot, which isn't completely a bad thing--if you drive thru our town this month in February 2018, you'll see the name of a Winter Olympic athlete who lives here.  But it gives a lot of boys, and some girls, false hope that they can make a life out of sports, without preparing us for what to do next if we don't have what it takes.  I played sports all seasons:  soccer in the fall, basketball in the winter, lacrosse in the spring.  Lacrosse was probably my favorite; West Gurnee had just built a huge sports complex with two full-size indoor lacrosse fields, so all my spare time was there at camps or practices or games.  It was fun, intense......and expensive.  Instead of saving for college, my parents spent on me for equipment, registration fees, transportation to tournaments.  I don't even want to think about how much we could have had in a 529 by the time I graduated in May 2012.

Instead, we had $12,405.41.  It's something, but not even enough for one full year anywhere, when you think about it.  So I had that, and empty promises from a handfull of women's NCAA lacrosse teams.  If you walk on here, maybe we can offer you a half scholarship.  Blah, blah, blah.  I probably should have specialized in soccer or basketball--there's hundreds of D1/D2/D3 programs in the U.S. in those sports.  But only about a quarter of that in women's lacrosse.  And worse, it's a sport disproportionately played by wealthier girls, who aren't even in need of scholarships.  I didn't have that luxury--I couldn't take on 100k of loans just to play college lacrosse somewhere for four years.  I got roped into that because of the darn new building, and now my athletic career was at a deadend.

In the fall, just to keep busy, I enrolled in College of Dupage, a junior college.  I had vague hopes of getting some sort of adminstrative or, someday, sales jobs at one of the big prescription drug companies up on I-94 north of Chicago.  I was hooked on "The Bachelor" tv show, and all the prettiest, sexiest single girls with the nicest clothes and hair always seemed to be Pharmacy Sales Reps.  I decided that was the job for me someday.

But junior college didn't feel like it was getting me any closer--none of the pharmacy companies recruited there.  They only recruited at the glamour 4-year colleges like Northwestern and Loyola--but not at Northern Illinois.  I was right back to where I started--needing to borrow six figures and hope for a fulfillment of a dream after 4 years.  But if it didn't pan out, then what?

So as not to feel like I had wasted time, I went ahead and completed an Associate's at Dupage.  But it was now 2015, I was out of savings, and my parents were getting tired of doing my laundry.  And I had only one real friend, or at least that I was in regular touch with.

Kristin was a West Gurnee multiple-sports jock like me.  We knew each other for years jock for years, and had been friendly, but not friends.  But we reconnected in 2014 when she dropped out of the University of Illinois after trying ROTC there but flaming out.  She, too, was doing classes at Dupage to figure of what to do next.  We started commuting together, and then hanging out.  While all of our former friends were posting about their perfect college lives on Instagram, we kept each others' spirits up that we were doing the right thing in not falling for the student debt racket.

Kristin, like me, was getting attitude from her parents to move out.  In the summer of 2015, we moved to an apartment in Arlington Heights, Illinois.  The city was exciting itself with lots to do, and it was on the Metra line to Chicago.  We both used Dupage placement services to get marketing jobs at different advertising firms downtown, and we started commuting to the city.  We got our own credit cards and fancy clothes and bought our own cars.  We felt like grownups for the first time.

Kristin, apparently, felt very grown up.  In 2017, she ditched me, moving in with a guy she met at work.

I was a little bad sad about losing Kristin, but a liitle bid glad too.  One thing I had learned about myself in 2 years with Kristin is that I'm a bit of a loner.  I need my own space.  I decided to keep the 2-bedroom apartment.  If money ever got tight, I figured, I could invite in a new roomate.

Plus, now, in the apartment parking garage, Kristin's empty space next to mine would allow me not to have to squeeze in and out of my car everytime I went out.  I could park my sinhle car in the center of the two spots.

Except that, apparently, the car in the spot just to the left had the same idea.  It was a gold Honda which, the longer Kristin's old spot remained vacant, began encroaching on, then completely violating, the line between it and what was now my 2 spots.

I asked Kristin on Facebook if she had ever met the owner of the gold Honda.  She said it was a bitchy redhead our age named Angie.

I'm paying for 2 spots and get to use 1.  Angie is paying for 1 spot and gets to use 2.  How the fuck is that fair?

I figured I would just talk to Angie one day in the parking lot, but weeks went by and I never saw her.  I searched for her in Facebook.

Angie worked in the same town that we lived in--Arlington Heights--as a horticulturist for a landscaping company.  Born in the exact same year as me--1994.  Then I really started getting pissed--she had graduated from Valparaiso University in Indiana, having gone there on a full soccer scholarship.

Shit.  She had picked the sport I should have picked, and had the prestigious degree in a door-opening field that I should have had.

And was parking in MY spot.

I decided Angie and I needed to have a little chat.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

INTERLUDE--JENNY VS BRENDA, 2012

Now, I know what you might be thinking.  "Jenny, you didn't want to 'chat' with Angie about that parking spot.  You wanted to start trouble with her."  But actually, I didn't.  I knew that when two girls start trouble with each other, there's no telling how it might end.  I knew this from painful experience.  From my senior year in high school.  With a cheer girl named Brenda.

Brenda was a perky blonde who dating a boy lacrosse player named Scott.  Scott and I had trained forever together, and when the new building opened in West Gurnee, he would give me rides all the time in his car.  We always clicked in a "just friends" kind of way, and I didn't want to mess up the good thing I had going with the carpooling arrangement, so I never let us get into any situation where things might turn frisky between us.

But at the start of senior year, I saw Scott and Brenda kissing all the time in the school hallway, them having become a couple sometime over the summer, and it made me sad......and a little bit jealous......that in our hundreds of cartrips back and forth to lacrosse, Scott had never "made a move" on me.  Or me on him.

Brenda knew of my years of closeness with Scott, and we tried several civil ways of intrracting with each other.  We tried being friends.  Gross.  Then being acquaintances.  Cheesy.  Then finally ignoring each other.  Tense.  We were still figuring out how to best interact, when over Christmas break, Brenda got ahold of Scott's cellphone and read the 654 text messages between Scott and me.  Every single one.

Shortly thereafter, Scott told me he was going to stop texting me.  And that if he drove me to lacrosse, there had to be a third person in the car.

Game on, Brenda.

The first weekend in January, a frigid Midwest Chicago morning, Scott and a girlfriend lacrosse player of mine and I drove to lacrosse for a winter teaining session.  I sat down in a dark corner in the lounge area by a roaring gas fireplace, and texted Scott that I was there.  Within three minutes, he scooched up next to me, and within 5 seconds we were tongue kissing.  We didn't talk, and didn't necessarily need to.  We were sort of expressing, to each other and ourselves, our declaration of independence from Brenda's controlling impulses.  He couldn't text me?  (In 2012, cellphone bills showed a summary of the phone number of all outbound texts.)  Fine, bitch.  Are you going to tell me I can't text HIM?  I dare you to try.  And you forget to tell him not to kiss me.

And then, for three weeks, nothing between Scott and me.

And then, the final Saturday of January, another, longer, deeper, wetter, sloppier tongue kissing makeout session by the same fireplace.

And then nothing again for two weeks.

And then it was February 11.  A little before Valentines.  A girl's gotta do....

I texted Scott a two characters.   :p    To represent our tongue kissing.

My phone rang 10 minutes later.

> Scott?

> Umm, no it's Brenda.

> Oh...hi...why....

> I'll ask the questions?  Why did you text that to Scott??

> Oh....whoops....I meant that for someone else...

> Cut the crap, Jenny.  One of Scott's lacrosse friends saw him kissing someone who looks like you twice in January.

> I don't know what you're talking about.  And shouldn't you be having this conversation with Scott?

> I'll deal with him later.  And if you don't know what I'm talking about, then why don't you face me and tell me that?

> Fine.  Where?

> The cheer team has a mat room behind the new gym.  I have a key.  We can meet there after school.

> Fine.

> Don't cancel.

> I wouldn't miss it for anything.

Now, if this was a challenge to a catfight, doing it on school grounds, in a room Brenda was solely responsible for, seemed a very odd choice.  I honestly spent the entire next day expecting that Brenda and I would have a frank, candid, and perhaps even occassinally heated conversation about boundaries between Scott and me.  After all, he and I hadn't even gone the third base yet.  (Or, as far as Brenda knew, even to second.) 

But still, just that--a conversation.  After all, why would a cheergirl want to risk her face against a strong jock like me who had a 1 inch, and 25 to 30 pounds, advantage over her?  Every girlfight I had participated in to date, sister-on-sisters battles over allocating morning and date night bathroom schedules, resulted wicked scratches to the face.  Every cheergirl I knew was too vain and prissy for that outcome.

And, maybe, in that mat room that afternoon, a candid talk is what Brenda intended.

But between the disrespect and contempt between us, the new knowledge that Scott was attracted to both of us, the locked-room privacy between us, and the mats on the floor, we were at war almost immediately.  Brenda, and me, and long locks of torn and tangled brunette and blonde hair were strewn across the mats.  Brenda and I were ripping and tearing unhesitatingly, not caring one whit for the retaliation which might result nor how far our fight would escalate.  Although I genuinely hated Brenda and her insecure controlling ways, the thought of losing Scott, or maybe my regret at not having grabbed him when he was mine to grab, was a powerful remover of all my nurturing feminine insticts.

Or was it the other way around?  Were my true feminine instincts finally being unlocked?  Was this my body's way of saying to cool it with the constant sports and to have a first serious boyfriend?

Brenda, though, was giving as good as she got.  She wanted be alone to see if I wss interested in Scott, and my violent actions were putting the lie to my protestations from the night before.  Brenda had her answer now, and she damn well didn't like it.  Or me.

After 5 or so minutes of fierce not stop catfighting on the ground, our hands moved their way down our backs, grabbed ahold of fabric, and we wriggled each others' tops offs.  Getting a girl's top off and letting the crowd see her tits was how you won a catfight, right?  Except, we quickly realized there was no crowd.  Just us.  We inspected each others' breasts.  Shit, we both thought, neither of us is bigger.  A draw.

That broke the spell of our catfight, which, like the topless "best chest" contest, ended right then and there.  A school bell rang in the background.  We realized we better exit the room before we got caught and expelled.

Scott and I never made out again.

Later that April, he brought me home by car.  We pulled over into the woods and I let him fuck me.  He wasn't good at it, and he could tell I didn't like it.  That bitch Brenda was emasculating him.

Good,  She could have him.

She and I steered clear of each other till graduation.

So, don't worry, I knew.

Don't face Angie alone.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

STALKING ANGIE

Although I started getting similar feelings about Angie as her car continued to invade my space in 2017 as I had had about Brenda when she and I competed over Scott in 2012, there was one important difference.  Since I was the "other woman" in the Brenda-Scott-Jenny triangle, the only way Brenda could win would have been to beat me so badly in a fight that I had no choice but to withdraw from the relationship in total humiliation.  Fighting even to an inconclusive draw, which is what ended up happening, still left me the winner, because I continued to have sidechick sex with her man.

Angie and I were in a similar predicament over my parking spot, only now it was me in the disadvantageous position of defending home turf.  If one day Angie and I were to bump into each other in the parking lot, and I got all chest-to-chest with her and demanded she stay in her own damn space, and we started going at it, a girlfight stalemate would leave me with a draw in the battle, and a humiliating loss in the war, since she would continue to occupy the empty spot between us that I was paying for each month.

Before confronting Angie, I needed an "equalizer", a vulnerability of hers, that I could exploit and get leverage over her.

I started to really get on board with the idea of facing Angie.  For the first time since high school, I was starting to get a "big man on campus" spring in my step.  Drifting thru a junior college I was attending just to get out of the house, and then commuting downtown by train everyday with people two decades older than me, had left me feeling empty and doubting myself.  Standing up to Angie gave me a confidence I'd not felt since standing up to controlling Brenda, trying to tell her boyfriend who he could and couldn't share rides with.

I noticed that there was a deep physiological association embedded in my brain of kissing with girlfighting.  There was a chain-of-events expectation of kissing->sexting->angry phone call->girlfight.  Each event exciting in its own right, but also for the anticipation triggered in my mind, sort of like that half-second after you see a breakable glass or, even better, a ceramic plate fall off a surface in the kitchen, and you're preparing to watch it hit the floor to see if it will land safely, just crack, or completely shatter.

Is that what Angie was doing with me?  Was she just an equal opportunity offender with rude parking lot etiquette?  Or had she chosen to "borrow" my parking space after asking about or seeing me?  Was there something about me that she thought was "soft"?  Or even better, did she find me to be a worthy adversary, and was baiting me to get the same rush of excitement I was experiencing from the situation.

Was my role in my 5-years-ago confrontation with Brenda as innocent as I thought it was at the time.  Or had I been a bit of an "agitator" all along, getting closer to Scott as a way to get to Brenda?  And was she actually a controlling girlfriend, or was that just a way for her to get at me? 

Which had I enjoyed more?  The fireplace makeout session with Scott, or the mat room catfight with Brenda?

I decided to find out more about Angie.  I wrote down the address of the florist she worked at from her Facebook page, and went there one Saturday in May when I saw her car in its familiar encroaching spot.  I wanted to ask her coworkers at the florist what they knew about her.

That conversation ended quicker, but more productively, than I expected.  Angie didn't work at the florist anymore.  She had quit to work fulltime as a nanny for the summer for a family in nearby Barrington.  Barrington is a very wealthy community, so the nannying was definitely a believable job.  But why had the family picked Angie? 

Each answered question just fed my anticipation of pursuing the next one.

I asked if Angie had left contact information at the florist about the family Angie was nannying for.  It was a pair of doctors, I found out, as they were regular customers at the florist--that must have been how they originally met Angie.  I then started Googling the two doctors, and found out that one of them, the wife and mom, was working in Milwaukee, a doable-but-inconvenient 1 hour drive from Barrington.  That must have been a contributing factor as to why they needed a nanny in the house.

Everytime I started to feel icky about creeping on Angie in person or online, I remeinded myself how much Brenda seemed to know sbout interactions between Scott and me at the lacrosse center.  She had been gathering intelligence on me for months leading up to the day of our fight.

Spying on each other is what girls do.  When they want to fight.

To be continued....

[grimlok]

Keep it going 😀

[sinclairfan]

DRESSING ROOM CONFRONTATION

On the Saturday before Father's Day in June 2017, I was parking outside of the two doctors' house in Barrington where Angie was nannying.  I had no specific plan, other than a vague hunch that the wife in the house might have Father's Day plans for the husband, and there might be activity at the house.  An extremely thin reed, I admit, on which to base a stake-out, but at this point in my life it wasn't like I had anything better to do on a Saturday afternoon.  Plus, my women's intuition told me Angie was scheming something.

Almost as soon as I arrived outside the doctors' house, I saw an SUV exiting the driveway, and was pretty sure I saw the red-haired Angie in the front passenger seat.  I followed them through the winding roads of Barrington to an outdoor mall in nearby South Barrington, where they exited their vehicle--Angie and the Mom, sans baby.  (Nice trick, ladies--leave the baby home alone with the Dad on Father's Day weekend.  Just what he wants, I'm sure.)  The two women went into a women's clothing store, and not having the guts yet to follow them in, I remained outside in my car.

I still wasn't 100% sure, yet, if Angie even knew who I was.  Or, I should say, she knew Kristen had a roomate whose parking spot she was encroaching on, but I didn't know yet if she knew that I was that roomate, or if Angie knew me by sight.  Only Kristen had ever seen Angie in the Arlington Heights parking garage.  If I walked into the store, would Angie recognize me?  Would she care?

I started to feel sad about the contrast between Angie's life versus the life I was leading.  I was living alone in a two-bedroom apartment, stuck with a long commute on weekdays to what was rapidly turning into a deadend job.  Angie was getting paid (presumably:  she had quit her job as a florist) as a nanny without even having to spend all her time with the baby, and was out clothes shopping (for herself or for her host, I didn't know yet; but either was more fun than what I was doing) in a sort of upscale mall.

The curiosity was killing me as to what else the two women were doing on this outing.  Perhaps they were eventually buying a Father's Day gift for the Mom's husband and/or father (if she even had one nearby;  she looked Indian or South Asian so I was starting to doubt it). They exited the first clothing store with a small bag and placed it inside their SUV.  They then started walking towards another part of the mall.

The South Barrington mall is just a sprawl of detached buildings that have no real structure or symmetry.  Rather than an unsightly mega parking lot, each individual storefront has its own parking in front, with a maze of sidewalks and narrow roadways connecting it all.  You're free to drive or walk from building to building.  It was a nice, warm, sunny June day, so Angie and her boss were walking to their next destination.  With no particular plan, I followed, at a distance, on foot.  I started breathing more quickly.

Angie and the South Asian doctor-mom starting walking a zig-zag pattern on the mall sidewalks.  They were moving forward, not doubling back at all, so they appeared to have a fixed destination.  But I was beginning to worry for how long my following them could remain inconspicuous.  A 24 year old long-haired brunette walking alone a long distance from her car did not easily blend in to the vehicular theme of this plaza.

Sure enough, at a bench along the path, Angie and the doctor-mom sat down.  I was now in a pickle.  Without an available left- or right-turning path between me and them, my only choices were to do a quick 180 or to walk the gauntlet right past them.  Had they specifically stopped because they noticed me tailing them?  I suddenly felt alone and vulnerable.

I took a breath and walked by their bench, trying to become as aloof as possible.  It didn't work.  They stared at me as I walked by, and I wasn't 5 steps past when Angie called out

> Where ya goin', Jenny?

I paused, considering my options.  If we were going to confront each other, perhaps having a responsible adult mediator present was a good idea.  I turned and faced them.

> Busted.  How long did you know it was me?

> We saw you, or your....car..... behind us at a stop light on the road here.  What do you want Copper Jones?  They told me at the florist you were asking about me.

<<<<Shit.  So much for having any information advantage.>>>>

> Aren't you going to introduce me to your doctor friend first?

> So you can use her to get a pharmacy sales rep job?  Forget it, Jenny.

<<<<Shit, how does she know about my career goals?  I decide to show Angie I know a thing or two about her, too.>>>

> You know, Angie, you Valpo bitches really are as arrogant as they say.

<<<<Angie and I pause and start staring at each other.  Our bravado is partly for each other, but partly an invitation for our mediator to intervene.  The settlement of our stalemate is largely in her hands.  Angie's admission that we both see the young South Asian doctor as a career lead was a mistake--but it now gives her an angle.  She takes the bait.>>>>

> Well, Jenny.  Angie and I haven't spoken intensively about you.  But we have spoken.  And, I must say, you are every bit as......feisty.....as I was hoping.  I don't have a job to offer you.....or Angie.....but I know someone who does.  If the two of you are willing to....apply.

> I'm game.

> Me, too.

> Excellent.  So here's how this offer works, ladies.  My husband will be away golfing all day tomorrow.  My Father's Day gift to him.  Our infant will be with the grandparents.  I have the house to myself from 7am to noon.  Be there at 8am sharp.  And you can catfight for the job lead.  Winner gets it.

> Done.

> Done.

> Don't back down, Jenny.  Show.

> Same to you.  Bitch.

> Slut.

> Quiet.  Save it for tomrrow, ladies.

> Fine.

> Fine.

Fine.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

REQUEST FOR A DRIVE

At 4pm Saturday, the day before my fight with Angie, I text my former roomate Kristin to ask if she'll watch my back at, and after, the fight.

> You there?  It's Jenny.

> Hey, wassup?

> I have a 911 tomorrow morning.  Can you drive me to a fight with Angie?

> Sure, but, drive where?  Why not walk down the hall to her apt?

> Turns out she doesn't live here much.  She nannies for 2 dr's in Barrington.

> Get out!  So ur jumping her there when she's alone?

> Not alone and not jumping.  Mrs Dr wants to watch us fight.

> Double Get Out!!  She's ok with me being there?

> I didn't ask but it only seems fair. 

> How did this all get set up?

> Angie and Mrs Dr were shopping in S Barrington and I mighta sorta been following them.

> Wow and did you and her start fighting there?  Did she say y she's such a bitch about her car?

> Too public to fight there.  We didn't get to the car but she seemed like she wants trouble w me.

> Any rules for the fight?  You said she played soccer, right?  No kicking?

> It's not really a fight wo kicking but that's not a bad idea.  Rule is that winner gets a job lead.

> Wow Mrs Dr isn't some perv is she?  Did she seem creepy?

> Little bit.  She figured out I was following them and doubled back.  She's really exotic--Indian or Sri Lankan or something.

> I wonder if Mrs Dr is who convinced Angie to start giving you attitude with the car.  You worried about the fight?

> Not really she's a little thing I have like 30 pounds on her.  Unless like you say she's gonna do some soccer bicycle kick on me.

> Did Mrs Dr say what kjnd of fight?

> I'm pretty sure she specifically said a catfight.  But a catfight can have kick or no kicks, right?

> Sounds like Mrs Dr likes to watch, if you ask me.  Your high school catfight with cheergirl Brenda:  did you and her kick?

> Ok one when did you hear about that and two WHAT did you hear??!!?

> Oh relax Jenny that was a pretty long soap opera with you and her and Scott to stay on the down-low.  And don't worry we all assumed you won the fight.  You did, right???

> Not by as much as I would have liked.  Don't you DARE tell anyone but we kinda fought until we just sorta stopped.  Cuz it was getting too rough, as in too vicious.  It was scary cuz we were alone.  And yes some kicking but not much.  Does that make sense?

> Typical catfight, sounds like.  And yes I csn see it being scary to fight alone.  Tomorrow will go better.

> You ever been in a catfight?

> Ummm, two weeks ago.

> Kristin?!?!?  With who?  Who won?

> My bf's psycho ex.  She came back from college and was trying to start things up with him again.  It was bound to happen so we just got it over with.

> In front of him??  Who won??

> No, just girls watching.  Trust me some girls are totally into watching, that's what it sounds like Mrs Dr is like.  And yes it woulda got outta control if we were alone but I won in the end--she wsas badass but had no endurance.  Or not enough.

> Kristin u go grrl but I wish you woulda told me.

> You seemed "busy" with ur own stuff.  Jenny u were following her/them?

> Ya that sounds kinda bad when you say it like that doesn't it?  They always tell us to not catfight over guys but until Angie I always assumed that was the only reason TO catfight.

> Well this is over a job.  That's a good reason if the job is good enough.

> It is. 

> Good.  Then I'll pick you up tomorrow.  Anything we forgot?

> Just one thing.  Are YOU one of those girls that likes watching catfights?

> <<<<blushing>>>> Busted.  Is that bad?  Does that make you uncomfortable?

> No.  I like it.

> U like that I like watching?  Or you like watching too?

> Yes and yes.  And now I'm <<<blushing>>> too.

> Good.  Siya Sunday.

> K.  Thanks again.

I should have gotten to bed early that night, but I couldn't stop fantasizing about Kristin's catfight with her bf's ex.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

SATURDAY NIGHT WITH KRISTIN

After I ate dinner Saturday night before my Father's Day fight with Angie, I got lonely and asked Kristin if she wanted to spend the night at my place so we could get an early start Sunday morning.  Kristin accepted immediately, and was at my place within a half hour.  When we greeted each other at the door, we kissed each other on the cheeks, which I suddenly realized we had never done before.  I had a strange, giddy feeling seeing my only real friend.  It would be a shame to ruin our friendship by crossing boundaries, but part of me already knew that was exactly what was about to happen.

I didn't ask Kristin how living with her new boyfriend was going.  Instead, I immediately began showing her some camosiles I was thinking of wearing for tomorrow morning's catfight.  Kristin volunteered that her recent fight with her boyfriend's ex had been in nightclub outfits, and that she and her enemy expended as much effort ruining each others' clothes as they had scratching each others' faces.  The message to me was that I should wear something nice enough to impress the event's sponsor, the mysterious South Asian "Mrs Doctor", but not so nice that I minded it being a casualty of the battle.

I say message, because conversation between Kristin and me had waned, even though I was still giddy.  But it waned for a good reason.  Kristin had reclined on my sectional couch, and was touching herself under her skirt.  I removed the red silky camosile we had agreed on, and was now in just a bra and jeans.  I lay on the sectional perpendicular to Kristin, who was already aroused. 

Our feet were bare, and we began playfully having the balls of our ankles touch each other.  I was jealous of how soft the bottom of Kristin's feet were compared to mine, which were callousy by comparison.  Our disclosure to each other earlier in the day that we were turned on by the thought of each othrr catfighting lay heavy in the air.

We lay our heads to the side and looked diagonally across from each other in our foot-to-foot L shape, our hands under our pants and pleasuring ourselves.  We both seemed comfortable to not cross the line into full-on body contact, but to keep tonight confined to mutual masturbation.

We were silent at first, but I couldn't resist quizzing my friend about her recent fight.

> How was psycho ex wearing her hair when you fought her?  What color is it?

> [between moans] Blonde.  Long and curled, teased for a night out.  Same bangs.

 > [thru heavy breathing] Did you pull the bangs?  During the fight?

> [between inhales] Of course.  Who wouldn't?

> [out big toes outling circles around each other] Did you know you would fight her someday?

> Yes.  When I saw her picture.  [Kristin's body shudders.]  How close are you?  I wanna cum together?

> 6 out of 10.

> I'm 8.  8 and a half.

> Did you and her name-call during the fight?

> Bitch and....

> 7.

> ....whore and....

> 8

> ...slut and....

>....9....

> ....cccuunnnn [Kristin cums]

> ....tttteeennnnn [I cum with her].

Kristin slides her skirt off, and I slide my pants off.  Maintaining our L-shape, we slide down the sectional and scissor each other, opening our legs and touching our soaked pussies.  We lean on our elbows and grind together, exchanging less intense but equally enjoyable orgasms.

As we wind down, only then do we for the first time kiss on the mouth.  It's less awkward than I had feared.

We look at the clock and realize three hours have passed.

> You need to get some sleep.

> I do.  But I needed this too.

> So did I.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

ADAM AND EVE, STRAIGHT AND ROUND

When I was at College of Dupage, I took an English Composition class which included a study of the Adam and Eve story in the Book of Genesis.  For a mandatory junior college course, that particular assignment was really quite mind-bending.  And sexually subversive.  The lecturer, a chip-on-her-shoulder attractive lesbian feminist, invited us to consider how Eve, the first female, is portrayed as different from Adam, the first man.  Eve desires something long and straight, and is seduced by the serpent.  Adam desires something firm and round, and is seduced by the apple.  The thought stuck in my head and stayed with me long after the class.  No wonder the Book of Genesis has survived thousands of years.

Long and straight.  Firm and round.  I had always wondered:  if I had a first girl-on-girl encounter, would that change what I desired.  The night before my catfight with Angie, I've made love to my ex-roomate Kristin, my only friend since I've graduated high school.  What does it mean?  Am I bi?  Was I never actually straight?  Will the experience make me bi?

I wake up the morning of the fight, craving to wrap my hands around anything round.  The doorknob.  An orange.  An old lacrosse ball.  Kristin wakes up, and sees me approach her.  She kisses me on the lips, but doesn't notice me fondle her breasts.  I get ready in the bathroom, looking for anything round to cup in my hands.  Including my own breasts as I shower.  The feeling is impulsive, obsessive, erotic, all at the same time.

I think of Angie.  And the South Asian doctor she nannies for.  What's their relationship?  Is it sexual?

I decide I'm sexually attracted to the South Asian doctor, her dark but flawless skin covering her whole body without a single blemish.  When Kristin and I made love on the sectional last night, we kept our tops on--I didn't want the sight of Kristin's numerous freckles and other flaws to ruin the mood.  The South Asian doctor's skin, from what I saw at the mall, is flawless everywhere.  I want to beat Angie this morning; to punish her for encroaching on my parking space, to take the pharmaceutical sales rep job lead from her, and to make love to the South Asian doctor, both of us completely nude. 

I snap out of my langorous breast-touching in the shower long enough to wash, dry off, and put on the red camosile Kristin and I picked last night; the one I don't care if Angie completely ruins this morning.  I make sure cleavage still shows at the top, and that round is visible underneath it.   In case Angie has the same urges to grab round that I do.

I'm an inch taller than Angie, and have a good thirty pounds on her, and yet our tits are the same size.  It burns me up.  Is that why Angie decided, twice, that it was safe to pick a fight with me?  First by provoking me with her car parking, and then at the mall when she and the doctor saw me following them?

Kristin and I are quiet in the car ride to Barrington.  It's Father's Day morning.  What a nice day -- I need to remember to call my dad tonight.  If I get that pharmacy sales rep job, he'll ask how I did it.  What will I say to him?  How did Angie get the nanny job?  Was it open?  Did Angie take it from another girl by fighting her with the South Asian doctor watching?

Kristin and I knock on the door at the doctor's house.  The doctor answers, smiling a bit nervously, and invites us in.  She directs us thru a maze of baby gates and cribs to a mostly empty room at the far side of the house, with just two old couches for her and Kristin to sit on while they watch the fight.  Mrs Dr asks if I want bottle water, and I decline.  I stand in the middle and wait for Angie.  I'm aroused, standing in the presence of the woman who was my first girl/girl partner, and the one I'm hoping will be my second.

Angie strides in, wearing bare feet and a bathrobe.  My eyes are immediately drawn to her breasts.  She speaks first.

> Ready to get fucked up?

> You can try.

> Try what, honey?  What are you gonna try?

> What's under the bathrobe, Angie?  I take it I'm overdressed?

> [Angie melodramatically undoes the belt of the robe and tosses it off, making herself totally nude.  The erectness of her breasts angers me.]  You.  Are.  Now.

If I was alone with Angie, like I was in high school with the cheer girl, I would have kept my clothes on and  immediately attacked naked Angie.  If she was dumb enough to meke her body momentarily vulnerable to mine, I couldn't be blamed for the consequences.

But I was treating this morning as a catfight, but also as an audition by me for Mrs Dr.  I wanted to see more of Mrs Dr after this morning, both in a professional capacity to put my career off the deadend track it was on, but also in the personal capacity off getting into her bed.  So I took Angie's bait and stripped.

Angie smirked.

> No fat chicks, Jenny.

> It's not fat, Angie. 

> Prove it.

> Let's go.

The craving I woke up with, Adam's desire for something firm and round, overwhelmed me. My hands reached out for, and latched onto, Angie's breasts.  I was surprised how cold, how hard they were.  I had never felt breasts so cold before.  I dug my nails in, and Angie was doing the same to me.  Angie began kicking my shins, and I remembered that she was a soccer player.  I too raised my feet, but more in self-defense.  I was concentrating on how to hurt Angie's breasts more than she was hurting mine.

I realized now that I had been so distracted this morning in the shower that I had under-applied my antiperspirant.  Between that and the anxiety from being watched in a catfight for the first time (my high school fight had had no spectators), my pits were already soaked and I could start to smell them.  I was dreading Angie noticing, and then pointing it out to Kristin and Mrs Dr.

Angie and I were alternating with pushing and pulling motions on each others' chests, stumbling across the room as we did so.  Kristin and Mrs Dr were stoically watching.  Were they bored?  Excited?  Disgusted?  I couldn't tell.

My right hand released its grip on Angie long enough to slap her in the face, then regrabbed.  The flesh-on-flesh slapping sound echoed through the room--is that why Mrs Dr had chosen this as the fight room?  Angie didn't retaliate yet.  Why not?  Without looking me in the eye, she rhetorically asked:

> Wanna fight?  Wanna fight, bitch.

I thought we alresdy were fighting, nails as deep as they were into each others' breasts.  I couldn't think of anything witty to say, and anyways wanted to save my energy for fighting.

Then I remembered making love to Kristin last night.  Our cumming to the name-calling she had exchanged with her bf's ex during their recent catfight.  I started calling Angie those names.

> Bitch.

> Slut.

> Whore.

> cxnt. 

Calling Angie those names reminded me how angry I was at her attitude to me.  Keeping my left hand firmly planted on one of her breasts, I threw my right arm around her neck.  We both, for the first time, felt the full effect on my thirty pound weight advantage, as Angie's body crumpled undef mine.  We wrestled on the floor as Angie tried, but was ultimately unable, to get me off of her.  I squeezed her throat harder and harder, angry at myself for not adopting wrestling tactics sooner on an opponent three weight classes lower than mine.  I began punching Angie in the face, and felt the fight deflate out of her.

Mrs Dr told me, "Enough, Jenny."  I complied.

I put my surprisingly-not-ruined clothes back on, conscious of my nakedness.  Just like the Genesis story.

I scooched next to Mrs Dr, craving my first of many kisses from her.

She demurred.  "You need to leave.  My husband will be back in 15 minutes."

"Call me."

"Probably tomorrow.  From work."

Was I getting the brushoff?  Why did Angie get to stay?  Would Mr Dr be surprised at seeing the beaten up nanny in their house?  Or was this a regular occurence at their house?

Kristin and I get in Kristin's car.

> How was the fight?  Why did things get weird at the end?

> Jenny, it's just.....did you two plan that?

> Ok, Kristin, you're scaring me.  Who two?  Me and the Doctor?

> No, you and Angie.

> Me and Angie what?  Kristin, say something!!!

> Jenny, that was.....amazing.  You teo tearing at each others'.....chests.  How did you do that?  How did you....keep doing it?

> What are you saying?  That it was bad??  Like in a cruel way??

> I'm saying......It was amazing!

Kristin and I lay down on the sectional, in our L-position, and grinded with each other, stopping only for me to call my Dad with Father's Day wishes.

"What's new with you, Jenny?"

"Not much, Dad."

To be continued.....

[colt 45]

Good story, thanks

[sinclairfan]

KALLIE THE DOCTOR

With Kristin's permission--given that Kristin and I had made love multiple times the weekend of my fight with Angie, I felt obligated to get her blessing to pursue another woman--I drove up to Milwaukee the Monday after Father's Day to find out more about the mysterious Sri Lankan doctor who arranged and witnessed my catfight with Angie, implicitly in return for a career lead to my dream job as a pharmaceutical sales rep. 

I checked into the hotel in Milwaukee that Mrs Dr commuted to for her job as a Medical Director Mondays thru Thursdays.  I was bored all day waiting for her to get off work.  To pass the time, I called Kristin for phone sex, and we masturbated to talk of the catfight I had with Angie the day before.

Mrs Dr texted me at 5:30 that she was in her hotel room and ready to see me.  I entered her room, and without any verbal exchange at all, we were tongue kissing and feeling each others' chests.  I gathered almost immediately that her fascination with me, and with Angie for that matter, was centered on our breasts.  I pulled back from our kissing, and asked Mrs Dr, first, what her name was, and second, what her deal was with tits.

She appreciated my directness and candor.  She told me her name was a long ethnic name, but that her American friends called her Kallie, and I could do the same.  She said she was Tamil, a Sri Lankan minority who had been exiled from their country in a civil war.  A group of educated, relatively wealthy exiles, some couples in their group (like Kallie and her husband) but mostly men, enjoyed watching women catfight for money.  Kallie had "auditioned" Angie and I for those fight at her house on Sunday, and we had passed with flying colors due to our high pain tolerance.

Kallie and if I would be willing to fight Angie again, but this time in front of a group of men.

I asked Kallie about the pharmacy sales rep job lead.  I suppose I was implying that was my "price".

Kaliie gave me a business card to a woman from a pharmacy manufacturer on Route 94 in northern Illinois.  A genuine lead.  She told me to spend the next day preparing my resume.

I asked if Angie was willing.  Kallie said that yes, Angie's price had been the live-in job.  I asked, "But how about me?  She's specifically willing to fight me again?".

"She practically insisted."

"Does she know I'm here with you tonight?"

"Well, she doesn't have much to say about it, now does she?  You won yesterday."

"How long did I......win.....with you....by winning yesterday?"

"You won tonight.  Then you need to drive back to Illinois tomorrow morning and start your job search."

"And if I want to see you again after that?  Or if she does?"

"That doesn't happen unless I see one of you.....defeat....the other.  And so you don't get any ideas:  any fight you and her have without me witnessing it....that doesn't count.  Sorry."

"You must be quite good in bed to be able demand such a price.  Prove it."

"Scooch on over here and I will."

Kallie gave me the most intense orgasms I had ever experienced. 

I knew I would be fighting Angie again for another such "date". 

And that Angie would be fighting me.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

ANGIE / KRISTIN / KALLIE

Two days after sleeping with Kallie, on a Wednesday, I call the Sales Rep job lead phone number she gave me with the pharmaceutical manufacturer.  On Thursday, they interview me.  On Friday, they make me an offer for $125,000 per year, which I accept.  I'm on Cloud 9.

I call Kallie to thank her for the job lead.  She doesn't answer.  She texts back that she knows the real reason I was calling was to sleep with her again, and that the only way I can do that is to fight Angie again.  And I shouldn't be fighting before starting a new Sales Rep job.

I know she's right, so I console myself with Kristin.  Kristin tells me I'm an animal in bed, and that she likes it.

An animal.  How apt.  I think back to the Genesis story.  Adam craving something round.  That's me right now.  Craving watching Kristin's breasts bounce and vibrate as we scissor.  Craving Kallie's breasts and their exotic, mysterious dark nipples.  Craving clawing and mashing Angie's disproportionately large breasts.  Jealous of sharing Kallie with Angie.

Kristin comes clothes shopping with me in South Barrington--I need to upgrade my wardrobe to one appropriate for a Pharma Sales Rep.  Kristin is jealous of the job I have, or the pay.  She's just staying with me for the sex.

No one, my whole life, has ever stayed with me for sex.  The feeling is intoxicating.

I go to work 10 days after getting the offer.  The women in my training class are so beautiful, smart, and glamorous.  All of our small talk seems to dance around whether we're straight or....other.

I tell them I'm straight, because until the last month, I was.  But all I ever think about lately is....

.....Angie....

......Kaliie.....

.....Kristin.

I'm clearly no longer straight.

Eve....in the Genesis story....she was straight.  She thought about things that were long and straight.  The serpent.  Adam's dick.

That's no longer me.  I think about things that are round.

.....Kristin's breasts....

.....Kallie's breasts....

....Angie's tits......

I love the first two.  I hate the third.

......I love you Kristin....

......I lovd you Kallie.....

.....I hate you Angie......

It's Friday of my first week of work.  I'm a newly-minted, fully-trained Pharma Sales Rep.  It's a long 4th of July weekend.  This calls for a celebration.

I text Angie:   Wanna fight, bitch?

Three hours later, the reply comes:  Sunday 10am at Kallie's.

I text back:   (.)(.)

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

JENNY VS ANGIE, PART DUEX

Kristin and I spend a lot of time before my second fight with Angie talking about the Genesis story.  About how people who still believe it to be literally true defend the idea of 1 beginning man and 1 beginning woman is more plausible than, say, 10 male chimps and 10 female chimps breaking off on their own from the world's chimp population and starting their own society that evolved, eventually, into Homo Sapiens. 

Because the sexual politics in the 10-and-10 group would have been totally chaotic, to the point of being self-drestructive.  One Adam and One Eve is the only way of working out who sleeps with who.

Kallie, Kristin, Angie, and I are a case in point. 
I have Kristin.
Angie has Kallie.
I see Kallie.  Kallie sees me.
I want Kallie.  Kallie wants to see Angie and me beat the shit out of each other.
I beat up Angie.  I get Kallie.  I stll want Kristin, too.  Kallie wants to see more of Angie and me duking it out.
Now picture that in a group of 20.

Now that I think of it, maybe that's what mankind actually is.  Maybe that's why we're always murdering each other and going to war with each other.

War.  That's what this is between Angie and me.  Both of us have the most tenuous of holds on Kallie.  She has more power than us.  She's more connected than us, even though she's not in her native country, but Angie and I are.

Angie are I are desperately trying to life ourselves up the ladder.  We have our youth, and are trying to use it before it fades.  We're trying to translate it into wealth, then class, then status.  Kallie can help us, if she continues to tolerate our presence.  Which she will do, for now, in exchange for the enjoyment she gets in watching us fight.

If either of us is ever a bore to watch, she'll find some other girl to replace us.  It won't be easy, but with a little work, she can do it.

Kristin and I pull up to Kallie's house.  Kallie's husband is gone again, presumably golfing.  Kallie wants this show to herself. 

Angie's car, on the other hand, is already here.  I hope she and Kallie having been fooling around all morning.

I want Angie to myself, to fight.
And I want Kallie to myself, to fuck.
And I want Kristin by my side, to watch both.

Perfect.

As perfect as the Garden of Eden.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

"HOW DID YOU KNOW YOU WERE NAKED?"

The Genesis story.  Everyone thinks they know it.  But one word here and another word there are a little bit different than you remember, and you need to rethink it with the actusl words.

Example--everyone thinks the Garden of Eden was this peaceful, static utopia where Adam could peacefully contemplate God's creation.  But it wasn't.  First off, Adam's gotta be "on call" to the Lord, answering him immediately anytime the Lord has a question for him.  And second, the serpent and Eve are on his back, telling him to eat the apple.  Adam doesn't give a crap one way or another about the apple, but to get everyone to stop hassling him about it, he ate it.  And realized he was naked.

Kalle and Angie are the same way with me, but in reverse.  I'm naked with Angie right now, catfighting her, but barely conscious of it, and certainly not self-conscious about it.  Between Kallie and Angie, I'm not sure which is the serpent and which is Eve, but they've certainly changed me from the girl I was growing up in West Gurnee.

That girl, the girl I was in high school, would have never fought the cheer girl Brenda in public.  Or naked.  When I kissed her boyfriend, even that wasn't in public--it was tucked in a corner of the lacrosse training center.  But this morning, with my best friend Kristin watching, I'm fighting Angie in the nude to see which one of us gets to make love to Kallie and gets to continue being the beneficiary of her career patronage.

Angie and I are trying to submit the other as quickly as possible by pinning and face sitting the other.  It just seems like the most dominant, humiliating thing we can do to each other.  My athletic upbringing kicks in, and my competitve soccer juices are flowing for the first time in years.  Angie and I alternate being on top of each other, straddling each other in different positions--on the belly and leaning forward with our hands locked, on our opponent's breasts and hands reaching backwards to pinch the other's pussy, and direct on the face attempting to smother a submission out of our opponent.  But everytime the girl on top goes go lock in her hold, the girl on the bottom uses her legs and knees to kick her enemy's exposed back and/or face.  My back absorbs fearsome knees to the kidneys, drawing the bitter taste of bile from my gut into my mouth, and Angie bucks out of pin after pin after pin.  She then pins me, and out of fear of her smothering me out, I summon up the energy to stretch out my legs and connect with the ball of my ankle into Angie's jaw, stunning her long enough to escape her pin.  Kallie and Kristin masturbate ecstatically to the contest unfolding before their eyes.

Between the two of us, after fifteen minutes of catfighting, I'm the more energetic.  But it's hard to tell if Angie is judiciously saving her effort for a single strategic pin which will put me away.  Or if we're each just afraid of each others' kicks.  We sense that we're each inches away from landing a knockout kick to the face or gut, and so we wrestle closely, our upper bodies never fully unlocking, the fight remaining close and intensely personal.

What is it about Kallie that makes us both desperate to fight for her?  Is it her career sponsorship, or her lovemaking?   Or is it that Kallie represents both?  Without a degree, I sense my vulnerability in the job market.  My ex-soccer teammates who settled for their third-choice schools at Western Illinois or SIU-Edwardsville or Bradley and are drifting now at commission-only sales rep jobs, trying desperately to service their student loans or meet a Millenial who actually wants to marry.  Or even worse, who got hair stylist or massage therapy or personal trainer certifications and are at the mercy of unreliable hourly clients who cancel with 5 minutes notice.  All of them are living at home imposing on their parents or paying rent of $1,500 a month or more, with health insurance from co-ops like Land of Lincoln who disappear unexpectedly.  Being a pharma sales rep is my refuge from the economic existential hell my generation is living, and Angie's too.  Do we fight to keep our fingernail grip on the security Kallie provides for us.

What if neither Angie nor I can submit the other this morning?  Will Kallie call the fight and pick a winner on points?  Will she declare a draw, and let both of us make love to her?  Is she testing us to see if one or the both of us will ask such a question?  And does the one who asks become the loser of the fight?

How long can two girls catfight without there being a winner?  Are Angie and I near that point?  Or do we still have hours to go?  Is that why Kallie has our fights always start in the morning?

To be continued..... 

[sinclairfan]

STALEMATE WITH ANGIE

Angie and I, exhausted, continue to grapple in Kallie's living room with Kalle and Kristin watching and fingering themselves.  Both of us have attempted 3 or 4 face mounts and straddles, but were unable to withstand the bucking and kneeing to the back and butt inflicted by the girl being pinned.  Each of us is stubbornly refusing to either quit or ask for a break, so the fight continues in an increasingly sloppy but bitter manner.

We save energy by ceasing our hissing of insults of each other.  My mind starts thinking.  I think back to Genesis.  Genesis isn't just Adam and Eve.  It's Cain, Abel, Methusehlah.  The guy who lived 800 years.  Is this catfight going to last 800 years?

Genesis is Noah.  It's Abraham and Sarah and Hagar.  One woman wasn't enough for Abraham--is that what Kallie's like?  Is that what I'm like?  It's Isaac and Rebecca.  It's Jacob and Esau, vying for Isaac's favor and blessing, with Rebecca putting her finger on the scale for Esau, getting Jacob exiled.  It's Jacob, wrestling all night in the dark with the Lord's angel.

Wrestling.  Endlessly. Like Angie and me.  Does Kallie enjoy this?  That Angie and I are such a close matchup?  That neither of us give up?  That both of us are athletic?

Both of the catfight enemies I've had in my life were athletic.  Brenda from West Dundee was a cheer girl.  When we fought we grappled on the ground, with not much punching, and pulling hair only to get positional advantage.  My two fights with Angie have been similar, not fighting like guys, going for a John Wayne one-punch KO; but not like amateur soap opera actresses either.  Almost like Olympic wrestlers.  The Greco-Roman ones.  Not like professional wrestlers--like the Ancient Greeks.  They even wrestled naked, like Angie and I are doing today.  Like Jacob did with the angel.

Think, think, think Jenny.  How did that Jacob fight finally end?  I think he finally got mercy from the Lord, the Lord intervening when he saw how determined Jacob was. 

That's what I need from Kallie right now.  Her intervention.  Or at least her input.  What does she want?  A draw?  Is she testing Angie and me?  What's the answer to the test?

I free my face from a headlock by Angie and call across to Kallie.

> Did I prove myself, Kallie?  Can I get away from this pig and roll around with you instead?

Kallie thinks about her answer.

> And what if, Jenny, I'm even rougher on you than Angie is?

> That's why I came here, Kallie.

Angie, Kristin, Kallie and I all pause, replaying and processing the words we just heard.  Did Kalle just offer me, and I accepted rough sex?  Or a fight?

To Kallie, is there a difference?

Kallie will lose her too-cool-for-school vibe if she either asks for clarification or doesn't answer soon.  So she answers.

> Angie, let this bitch Jenny go.  You can stand down and clean up.  Jenny, come follow me to my office now.

I was hoping for the bedroom, but ok.

>  Can I bring Kristin?

> You cannot.  Come alone.

To be continued......

[Thommy1982]

Wow this Story is really amazing. I hope that you will finish it one day.