[sinclairfan]

When August came and my freshman year at Miami of Ohio started, Karen went back east to Wheaton to start her senior year, and I participated, moderately enthusiastically, in the freshman part scene. 

While remaining completely transparent with Karen (by long distance landline--that was the only real time communication available in 1985) about what I was doing, I had one night stands with drunken Miami (mostly-) freshman males, and finally experience the satisfaction, which Tommy never gave me, of a normal-sized dick that sort of filled me. 

I stilled viewed myself as straight.  No woman on campus in Oxford, OH  at all enticed me as dating, or NSA (No Strings Attached) material--Karen was still the only girl for me.  And guys with nice big dicks still got my motor revved.

But, shit, no one could kiss like Karen did.  I missed, already, our long August 1985 fuckfests, where she and I would caress and massage each other for 12 hours at a time.  Guys were done after they came, and they always came way too fast.  Karen took forever to cum, and even then was just getting started.

And, yet.

I couldn't understand what was uo with her and Lorraine.  Karen had confided with me, by now, that Lorraine had strict Massachusetts Irish Catholic parents, with whom she couldn't come "out" (this was 1985, don't forget).

But why was Karen putting up with this?

Karen's parents were Catholic, too.  But liberal, Vatican II-ish Cincinnati Catholics, who were (slighly more) open to pre-marital same-sex intercourse, as long as both girls were unmarried.

The casuistry was mind-bending and confusing.  I didn't think I liked it.

But I knew what I did like.

Three things:
1.  Fucking a guy with a big cock.
2.  Kissing and massaging Karen.
3.  Stealing someone Lorraine was fucking.

In reverse order.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Even as the weeks of September and October dragged on with my only contact with Karen being brief long distance phone calls, and hand-written letters which seemed to get lost in the mail half the time (and, 100% of the time if sent as a card), I still felt attached to her and determined to maintain contact.  Besides craving the mind-blowing sex with her, I was drawn like a magnet to the security of her wholesome Catholic family in the Cincinnati suburbs, and their material wealth stemming from her dad's lifetime career as a P&G executive. 

I mourned the contrast, materially and emotionally, with my divorce-shattered New England family, my parents living in drab, unstable housing arrangements.  Dreading each new phone call from my Dad, fearing that he would any week get engaged to his younger girlfriend, the rough-around-the-edges biker woman who seemed to get a sick pleasure from punching me in the face, and getting punched by me.  In middle school, I had heard sad stories from classmates who had witnessed knock-down-dragout fistfights between their older sisters and their stepmom, or between older step sisters or half-sisters, both women fighting across the house or in the backyard with no rules and No Holds Barred.  I never thought, at age 19, that would be on the verge of being my all-too-plausible reality.

Who would win a girlfight between me and my Dad's girlfriend?

Who did I want to win?

Karen was due to come back home to Ohio on Thanksgiving Break from Wheaton.  She was bringing Lorraine with her, under the mistaken impression that I was going back to Rhode Island.  I wasn't--I had no intention of getting sucked into my parents' depressing vortex.

I was going to confront Lorraine the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving to decide who got to be Karen's "date" at her parents.  That night was the traditional local reunion night for college students coming home from school at the local bars.  No one would think twice about two blondes having it out in the back parking lot.  They'd let us finish.

I couldn't wait.

One of my Miami of Ohio suitemates was a Catholic virgin from Michigan who enjoyed the same high school lip gloss games my high school classmates had.  We'd kiss in bed with the lights and I'd tell her about my plans to fight the night before Thanksgiving, and about the catfight Lorraine and I had had at Wheaton in the spring.

Telling the stories and kissing her made her cum.

I liked it.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

In 1985, office careers at 'Nifty Fifty' companies like Procter & Gamble in Cincinnati carried a special intoxicating magic if you were deciding what to do with your life.  The first reason was that they offered, in effect, lifetime employment  (if you wanted it--more on that later).  They proudly proclaimed that they had weathered the Great Depression without laying off a single employee.  The implication was that if you landed a job there, you would never be laid off.  In 1985, that implied promise was only 5 years away from being broken, as corporate downsizing became a thing, and ill-fated office romances and sending raunchy emails became firable offenses.  But I sssooo wanted an interview for a P&G job in 1985, and I saw Karen's family as my 'in' to get one.

The second attraction of a P&G job was this neat thing called a defined benefit pension plan--once your age plus your years of service summed up to 70 (say, 52 years old and 18 years of service), P&G began paying you to NOT work.  Your salary continued, and you could stop working.  Your day was yours to pursue what you wanted.  No contributions required from your paycheck, as happened in 401(k)'s.  This was another doomed promise, taken away in the early 2000's, but we didn't know that yet in 1985.

Finally, if life at P&G became too limiting or confining, their corporate training was first-rate.  You could learn selling skills, factor financing, entrepreneurship, manufacturing, and distribution, then use those skills in a career of your choosing.  I would turn out differently from my mom, divorced in her forties and forced to go backwards in her standard of living.

I could taste the foot-in-the-door to upper-middle-class-dom that P&G would give me.  I had tasted it briefly in youth tennis.  Summer trips to clay courts in Brookline, MA and Cape Cod.  The grass courts of Newport, Rhode Island, with an annual tournament the week after Wimbledon.  Saturday nights at indoor racquet clubs in tony suburbs like Weston, MA, where the members worked in medicine or academia or the booming Route 128 technology industry.  Lorraine and I could sense the relative income equality of the 1950s-1970s giving way to the Winners and Losers economy of the 2000s.

We both wanted to be a Winner.  And for the other to be a Loser.

In fighting.
And in life.

Our night before Thanksgiving catfight in a few weeks would determine which side of the divide we were on.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Karen didn't know that I was planning on staying in Ohio for Thanksgiving Break.  She assumed I was a homesick freshman who would be heading home to New England to see my separated Mom and Dad. 

And that meanwhile Lorraine and her parents would be seeing one another.  I couldn't understand why Karen wanted to be seen with Lorraine everytime she saw her parents, but I had a theory.

Karen had no intention of bringing a boy home to her parents, but by bringing Lorraine, she was demonstrating she was worthy of having a partner.

Just as....

Lorraine had no intention of bringing Karen home to HER (conservative Catholic) parents, so she brought Tommy home to them.  Even though her sex life with him was a bit of a sham.

Tommy was the missing link who allowed Karen and Lorraine to keep a bit of temporary eqilibrium with their parents.

And I intended to knock that equilibrium all to shreds.

Karen and Lorraine were buying time until graduation, where they intended to get high-paying jobs and buy their independence from their conventional parents.  Karen and I never discussed it, but I sensed they were planning to lock in their paycheck and their routine together in either Cincinnati or Boston, and then announce to each others' parents they erre a couple.

The parents would then have the impossible choice of either disowning their own daughter(s), or accepting their daughter's same-sex partner into the household.

Society forced cruel choices on parents in 1985--Karen and Lorraine were just standing up and forcing even more impossible choices.

Karen and Lorraine were seniors in college in Fall 1985--I was their parents' last chance to not have to face a Hobson's Choice.

We had studied Hobsen's Choices in Catholic High School metaphysics class, and we were studying it again at Miami of Ohio.  Catholic Tradition was so rich in life lessons.

My suitemate and I kissed in bed at night to the manipulation of their parents Karen and Lorraine were forced into.  Which forced me to lie to Karen and stay in Ohio and confront Lorraine.

> When Lorraine sees you in the bar that Wednesday night 2 weeks from now, will she know you're there to fight?

> Oh, ya.  She'll know.

> That's hot.

> I know it is.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I woke up early, got in my car, and got onto the freeway to the Cincinnati suburb where Karen and her family lived.  My plan was so half-baked that I had made no plans of where I was going to stay that night.  I just assumed that I would stay at Karen's parents, not taking into consideration that if they were hosting Thanksgiving dinner that next day, it would probably be very difficult for them to host a house-guest the night before with no notice.

But I didn't have much choice--it's not like I had a credit card to reserve a hotel.  (College student credit cards weren't a thing yet.)

I liked how I looked in my bad-ass fight boots.  They would be effective in a bar dirt parking lot fight.

One part of my plan WAS well-thought-out:  I had beaten the holiday traffic, and arrive in southwestern Ohio by noon.  I found the bar where that night's Happy Hour would be, and was starving.  I was already going to be tired for my catfight with Lorraine, having woken up early (and having no place arranged to nap).  I didn't need to compound that by being hungry.

So I sat at the bar, asked for a menu, and ordered lunch.  A blonde sitting alone at a bar drew attention, and soon single 20/30-something guys of all ages were chatting with me and asking awkward questions.  The internet wasn't a thing yet, so in 1985 guys that age who looked for helping picking up women would ask questions they had read about in "Pick up books"--lame, tired, in effective lines about being an ex-punter for the Green Bay Packers or having title to an overseas Royal throne--the lines were coming fast a furious, and it was still only mid-day.

Maybe the fight boots I was wearing weren't a great idea--sitting at the bar, I looked like a strung-out street whore trying to get picked up.

I felt vulnerable sitting by myself at the bar.  Plus, since I wasn't drinking, the bartender would get upset with me at some point for not ordering a drink.  I ordered a Budweiser that I could nurse.

I felt it going straight to my head right away.  Being holed up in my sterile dorm suite for 4 straight months hit my senses suddenly.  The bar music and mood lighting and the beer made me buzzed.  I needed to stay focussed for my catfight hours from now.

A guy came up to me not using the lame pickup book lines.  It was so refreshing to have a normal conversation.  He was being completely straight and honest with me.  He was dressed nice and smelled nice.  He had just shaved. 

He told me he wanted to fuck.  Where? I thought and said, not with words but by looking around the bar.  "There's a pool table in back.  If we're quick, before it gets crowded they'll give us a few minutes uninterrupted."

"Show me," I said, not meaning it as assent to his proposition, more curious as to whether his proposition was sincere.  I'd weigh a yes-or-no after seeing the pool table.  (If the room was private enough to fuck in, maybe it was private enough to fight Lorraine in.)

My getting up and following him was taken as a yes.  We were in the pool room, and his pants were already down and his erect cock was out.  He eased me onto my back onto to pool table, and slid my skirt and panties down.

His cock was bigger than Tommy's way bigger.  I knew from my drinking party hook-ups at Miami how much I liked big cocks.  I could have said No still, but didn't.  I put my boots up over his shoulders.  I had never fucked in this position, but I liked it.

When we were done, I asked if he was free to sit at the bar with me this afternoon.  He asked why I wanted to stay, couldn't I come home with him.  I said I could, but needed to be back by 7 or 8, when the college students came back home for their Wed night "reunion".

He said he'd drop me off if I went back to his place and fucked.  He said he'd give me dinner at his place.

I said yes, that I needed dinner for what I was doing that night.  That I was going to catfight a girl driving in from Massachusetts.

He laid me back on the table and fucked me again.

Just in time.  Just as we finished, the bar owners were banging on the door for us to open it.  They assumed I was a hooker and was getting paid to have sex in the backroom.

They told me not to come back later that afternoon or night.

I told them they misunderstood; thst I was there to fight a girl later.

They said, "Then defintely ...  DO ....  NOT ....  COME .... BACK."

Shit.  This plan isn't working.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Later that night, after an afternoon of showering, napping, eating, and fucking (hard--and not showering afterwards) with my new clean-cut mystery "friend" from Cincinnati, he agreed to drive me to the dive bar parking lot to look for Lorraine and/or Karen.  I needed to see Lorraine to fight her.  But I also needed to see Karen--she didn't know yet that I was in town.  I wanted to let her know so that I could do Thanksgiving dinner with her her and her parents.

My plan was pretty dumb.  I didn't dare set foot inside the bar--they had kicked me out earlier that afternoon (for being under the impression I was a hooker), and would be on the lookout for me.  I vaguely knew that Karen drove a blue Honda Accord.  But had she and Lorraine taken that car from Wheaton to Ohio?  Or Lorraine's car?  Or had they flown?  Did Karen keep a car at her parents'?  Did they take THAT car to the bar tonight?

I wandered thru the cold, dark parking lot looking for a blue Honda Accord.  I was going to go to the doorman and have him send a message inside that its lights were on, and then Karen would come out and we could talk.

But my plan was stupid.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

First, my feet were killing me walking in my fight-me/fuck-me pumps in the gravel lot.

Second, the place was packed.  I mean--overflowing.  Over 100 cars easy.  There was no chance I'd find a particular car.  Which might not already be here.  Or arriving at all tonight.

And third, the 1980s were a decade of car breakins for car radios.  I looked totally suspicious wondering thru the lot.  Like I was casing it for a car to break into.

My fuck buddy friend asked me what I wanted to do.

> I want to kick Lorraine's ass.

> Well, I know THAT.  How do you want to make it happen?

> Can you take me to her parents' at 11 tomorrow for Thanksgiving?  [There was no Uber in 1985.]

> Gonna do the Turkey Day Drop-In?

> I have no choice......I love Karen.

> And?

> And I hate Lorraine.

> I get hard when you say that.  The way you say it.

> I get wet when I say it.

> Then come back to my place.  So we can fuck.

> Um, ya.....the second part was obvious.

> I'll just shut up now.

> Good boy.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

After a 6am to 8am morning wood fucking session with my clean-cut mystery host, he helped shower me and dress me in my fuck-me/fight-me boots and my otherwise-appropriate Thanksgiving-wear.  We used his phone book to find directions to Karen's parents' house  (there was no Google Maps back then, and AAA and Rand-Mcnally maps only had major freeways), and he drove me there and dropped me off.  He said he'd be back at 4pm.

Rhat would give me enough time to eat turkey.

And fight Lorraine.

Not necessarily in that order.

I felt sexy in his car.  He was good enough in bed to almost turn me straight.

Almost.

But I knew by now I was lesbian.  I knew my long-tern partner would be a woman.  Possibly Karen, possibly not.

But I belonged at Wheaton, an all-girls school.  Not Miami of Ohio, a Catholic school.  Even in 1985, some Catholics were accepting of gays.  Hell, Pope Paul VI was gay.  Everyone knew that when he died in 1978.

But Wheaton was more accepting of gay couples.

I sgould be there, in Karen's sorority.  Insteadof Lorraine.

[sinclairfan]

As my driver dropped me off Thanksgiving morning at Karen's parents house (and wished me good luck in my hooefully-impending fight with Lorraine), I was comforted by 2 details.  First, the house was as impressive and large as I pictured it in my imagination--it had a bit of a Frank Lloyd Wright theme, which meant Karen's successful parents had had it customized for themselves, and must be doing very well at P&G.  The second comforting detail was that there were a good 6 to 7 cars already in the driveway and street.  I would be able to "blend in" with the other guests, abd not draw too much attention to myself as a party-crasher.

An attractive somewhat older woman, holding a champagne flute and already appearing tipsy (at 11am!), greeted me at the door.

<> I love your boots!

<> [Oh, good.  She noticed.  I look down at hers.  Hers are sexy .... and expensive .... too.]  Oh thank you.  I like yours, too.  Very sexy.  I'm Lisa.

<> [She reaches out and holds my hand, not quite shaking it and not quite squeezing it.  We hold the grip for several seconds.  I really like this woman.  I sense she likes me.]  I'm Elena.  I'm Karen's aunt.  [Wow.  She's young to be Karen's aunt.]  Are you one of Karen's high school friends?

<> College.

<> Oh?  You go to Wheaton?  [Oh, good.  I can confide in Elena.  It's chilly out, tho.  I need to get inside.] 

<> Sort of.  I met her at Wheaton.  But I go to Miami of Ohio.  I can explain.  But, first, can I come in?  It's cold as fuck out.

<> [Elena looks down at my chest.  She pulls in close to my ear and lowers her voice.]  Yes it is.  I just wanted to see your nipples get hard.  [Did she just say that?  I blush.]

<> [My eyes wander to her chest.  She has no bra on.]  Yours are getting quite stiff, too.

<> I can see you're not lying. 

<> About being cold?

<> That.  And about meeting Karen at Wheaton.  [This is a double entendre about Karen's lesbianism.  Is she 'out' with her parents??  Or just her drunk-y Aunt Elena?]

<> [I instictively grab Elena's hand.  Both to show I want to confide something to her.  But also because I like touching her.]  Elena, I know we just met.  But can I ask two favors?

<> Because of those boots,...  yes, you may.

<> Ok, first ..... can I get a glass of that champagne.

<> You may, Lisa.  And your second request?

<> Is Karen's friend Lorraine here yet?

<> She is.  You're friends with her as well.

<> [I look Elena in the eye.]  I hate her.  She and I are rivals for Karen.

<> Well, well.  This Thabksgiving dinner just got more interesting.  Come in.  And let's get that champagne.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

As Elena brought me into Karen's parents' beautiful home, I felt regret for my own parents' divorced-broken home, and the loss of Thanksgiving dinners with each other, rather than noon dinner with my Dad and his too-young girlfriend and evening dinner with my Mom.

The smells of the food were enticing.  The chatter of the guests, Karen's relatives, was heartwarming.

The sight of Lorraine across the room was .... infuriating.  Our eyes met right away.  We stared daggers at each other.  We were both wearing boots which slipped and slid on the waxed tile floor.  If not for that, I believe to this day that the mere sight of each other across the room would have been enough for us to leap at each others' throats and strangle each other until one or both of us were dead.  I hated her THAT MUCH.

She was in MY HOUSE.

I saw Karen next.  Karen is one cool cookie.  If she was shocked at my unplanned appearance, she did a good job of hiding it.  She coasted over to Elena and me and opened her arms to me.

> Lisa!!!!  Welcome!!!  How are you?  [Karen was wearing panty hose and a short skirt that made me want to get in bed with her now.  What were her and Lorraine's sleeping arrangements this weekend??  Same room?  Same bed?]

> Karen!  Is it ok that I came??  I tried to catch you at the bar yesterday, but it was so crowded!

> Don't apologize!  I'm glad you're here.  I see you already met my Aunt Elena!  Well, technically my Aunt--but we're more like cousins.  She's WAY younger than my Mom!

> Yes, my parents were Good Catholics.

> I'm Catholic .... Lorraine's not.  [That was an awkward thing for me to say.]

> [Or maybe not.  Karen and Elena look at each other and address to elephant in the room.  That either Lorraine or I are a third wheel.]  Yes, we'll address the .... you and Lorraine .... situation .... after dinner.  C'mere Lisa.  Let's get you a champagne.

Elena leads me to the house bar and mini-fridge, a relic of the 1970s, when this house must have been built.

> Drink this [Elena encourages me], it will calm your nerves being around Lorraine.

> Thank you.  How'd I do so far.  I can't STAND being around her.

> You did fine.  Didn't give any ground.  Quite impressive.

> Thank you.

Elena and Karen keep Lorraine and me separated except for one slip-up during the coffee part of after-dinner.  Lorraine and I are seated across the table, 8 feet apart, and have 30 seconds for private conversation.

> You were an asshole to come here, bitch.  I'm going to fucking send you back to Miami in a bodybag.

> Bring it, bitch, you don't fucking scare me.  I'm sticking one of those boots up your ass, and the other one down your fucking throat.

Twenty minutes later, Elena apoligizes for leaving me alone with Lorraine.

> Karen told me how bitter your first fight, last summer, was with her.  You were scratching pussies?

> Umm, ya .... not very ladylike, huh?

> Au contraire.  I find it very ...  adult ... in a good way.  And sexy.

> You wanna watch us do it again, Elena?

> More than anything.

> I think you'll get your chance tonight.  Just get her and me alone.

> I will.  Guaranteed.

To be continued ....

[sinclairfan]

As the Thanksgiving afternoon progressed into evening, everyone made their way into the TV room/ rumpus room to watch the Dallas Cowboys play the St.Louis Cardinals on CBS.

Lorraine pipes in with her stupid commentary, hoping to seem hip and smart:

> St.Louis Cardinals??  I thought they were a baseball team?!?

I pounce on the chance to correct her publicly:

> There's one of each, dumb ass.  St.Louis Cardinals baseball ... and .... St.Louis Cardinals football.

She looks at me quizically, but the men in the room all grunt that I'm correct.

I remember gtowing up in the 1970s, watching the football Cardinals on TV with my Dad.  Jim Hart was their quarterback.  Everyone called him 'baby-faced'--I just thought he was cute.  Mel Gray and Terry Metcalf were his receivers.  Conrad Dobler and Dan Dierdorf were his blockers.  Dan Dierdorf was an ABC announcer now, in 1985.  I missed those Sundsy afternoons .... and Monday nights .... with my Dad.

> What a dumbass you are, Lorraine.  [Elena squeezes my hand and whispers to me, 'Save it for later, hun.']

Dallas starts to kick the shit out of the Cardinals.  This game sucks.  The champagne has my tipsy.

I go to the bathroom, close the door, and take a long pee.

I don't want to get up when I'm done.

Should I rub one out?  Right here?  Right now?  In Karen's parents' house?

Why not?

To be continued.....

[Dendex]

Keep up the good work and always bring something exciting to your Gedakengänge. I love your natural and comprehensible writing style

[sinclairfan]

As I sit on the guest bathroom toilet fingering my aroused clit for at least 5 minutes, I can tell I won't be able to climax.  My head is spinning as my champage buzz drifts into outright drunkenness, the triptophan from the turkey three hours ago is causing me to get drowsy, and the inside of my pussy is sore from yesterday's and last night's fucking from my clean-cut bar pickup.

When I start to masturbate but can't climax, I get really crabby.

I hear the sound off women's shoes coming to the bathroom.  I remove my fingers from my waistline and try to act nonchalant.  It's Elena, Karen, and .... fuck, it's Lorraine.  She smirks at the sight of me sitting on the toilet seat.  She can tell from the look on my face what I've been doing.

<> Not "getting any" [air quotes] at Miami of Ohio, freshman??

<> Fuck you, Lorraine, I'm getting it any time I want it.

<> I doubt it, honey. 

[Lorraine strides towards me with her claws out, making a move for my hair.  I stand up awkwardly off the toilet seat.  Elena inserts her body between us just seconds before we collide.  Everyone can smell the pre-cum coating my pussy--I didn't get a chance to wipe yet.]

<> Quiet!  you two hellcats.  The men will hear us and come in here.  Lorraine, Lisa--you two are going to .... start .... to settle this right now!

<> What??  We're gonna throw down in the bathroom??  [I think of my school bathroom fistfight with Maureen.  Why do all my fights happen in the bathroom?]

<> Are you afraid, bitch?

<> Not afraid--I just don't want Karen's parents stuck buying new mirrors and shower doors when I fucking throw you thru them!

<> [Elena shushes us again.]  Shit up, bitches!  Listen to me!  Karen and I are going to watch while you two .... 'ladies' ..... punch each other in the crotch.

<> But Lorraine's wearing a skirt!!  I'm .... naked down there.

[Lorraine pulls down her skirt and panties over her boots faster than I expected she would.  Has she done this before?  With Karen watching?  Is this a set up?]

Lorraine and I square up, hands on our hips, dressed only in boots and shirts.  We stare daggers into each others' eyes.

<> Hit me first, Lisa.   [Without hesitating, I clench my first and ram it into my enemy's pussy.]  oooooofffffff

<> [With an open hand, Lorraine backhands my pussy.  The pain pierces my hips and makes my knees buckle.  Fuck--I'm a tennis player, and she's the one who thought to use a backhand.  I smirk on her face irks me.  I backhand her in the face, the slapping sound echoing through the bathroom.]

<> [Lorraine whines the Elena about my choice of targets on my opponent's body.]  Elena!?!?!?  Did you see what a fucking cheater this bitch is??

<> Do something about it then, Lorraine.

<> Ya, Lorraine.  Do it.  Hurt me.  [My hatred for my enemy is higher than it's ever been.]  Let's hurt each other.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

There were a few points in my escalating feud (war, really) with Lorraine where I was willing to retreat, if only to allow Lorraine to save face and allow myself to fight another day.  The Thanksgiving evening bare-bottomed-but-booted staredown in Karen's parents' bathroom was one such fork in the road.  I felt like crap at the moment, but the day was already a 'win' for me--I had successfully crashed Thanksgiving at Karen's, I had met and bonded with Karen's sexy (and feisty) Aunt Elena, and I had gone toe to toe with Lorraine--all day figuratively, and for 5 minutes (in a bathroom!) literally. 

So, when Lorraine whined to Elena about me backhanding Lorraine in the face, I was more than willing to call it a night, go back to the clean-cut, large-cocked host who I had fucked the day and night before, and let Elena and Karen bask in the juices of Lorraine's bitchy complaining.  Especially after Elena's feedback was to dare Lorraine to "do something about it".

I was just about to take my marbles and triumphantly go home.  But Karen had other ideas.  She said:

> Ya know, Elena .... I gotta disagree.  I'm calling bullshit on Lisa on this one.

> Oh, really?  Do explain.  [Elena thoughtfully puts her hand on her chin.  I notice it had been at her crotch, her gently rubbing herself.]

> Well, here Lorraine, in good faith, challenges Lisa to a cxnt-busting contest, and in good faith exchanges blows with her.  [Karen talks, and acts, differently when Elena is listening.  I don't think I like it.  Is she trying to impress her?]  The contest is proceeding apace, when Lisa thrown in a gratuitous face-slap, without warning, leaving Lorraine no means to defend herself.  What are we here? .... cavewomen??  Brutes? 

> [Karen's speech is stupid and pointless.  Is she drunk on champagne like me?  And yet .... I feel the sting of her taking Lorraine side over mine.  I seek to get back on her good side.]  Fine.  Lorraine .... you may hit me anywhere in my body, where I'm not expecting it.  I'll stand here and take it.

> [Lorraine doesn't hesitate.]  Turn around bitch.  Bend over, and hold the toilet seat. 

> [Shit.  She's gonna kick me in the ass with her boot.  This was a bad idea.  But no getting out of it now.  I comply, and look down into the toilet, yellow with what must be a gallon of my own pee.]  Get this over with quick, Lorraine.  Then we back to hitting.  [I close my eyes, awaiting my punishment.]

> [Lorraine bends over my back and buries both claws in the back of my head.  Shit--what's she doing??  I reach of my arms and brace, but too late.  She dunks my face into the toilet and holds me down.  My boots slip all over the floor as I gasp for air.  It take me 15 seconds to get a grip on the toilet seat and push myself up, but Lorraine has alread pushed the handle.  The sound of the toilet flushing drowns out my screams of protest.  Lorraine releases her grip on my hair and lets me up.  I  turn around and see a huge grin on her face.  I see my soaked hair in the mirror.]

Elena speaks first.

> Damn.  Haven't seen a Royal Flush like middle school.

Karen high fives Lorraine.

> This is war, Lorraine.

> It already was, bitch.  I'm just finally fighting back.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

By this point in the evening, I'm a whole laundry list of estrogen-enhanced emotions:

Drunk.
Wet.
Frustrated.
Angry.
Sore.
Pissed (literally and figuratively).
Humiliated.

Humiliated in front of Karen.  In front of Elena.

I spring up and put my nose right into Lorraine's and snarl at her (keeping my voice down so that the men watching the Cowboys and Cardinals don't hear me):

Oh you wanna fight, Lorraine???  You want to really fight, you bitch?  Let's do this.  Let's fight.  Elena, take this fucking bitch and me somewhere so I can finally break her!!  [Rocky 4 had just come out, I think.  I was doing my best Ivan Drago.]

Lorraine won't wipe the damn smirk off her face, so I lift my fist to wipe it off myself.  Elena grabs it.

> Cool it, champ.  You'll get your chance with Lorraine, I promise.  In fact, .... I insist on it.  That was pretty cold, Lorraine.

> Fuck you, Elena.

> But, Lisa, you need to shower, girl.  I mean, you're a mess right now.  Karen, go grab a towel and a set of your clothes.  We're being shitty hosts to Lisa right now.

I hate being babied by Elena and Karen.  This whole school year Karen and Lorraine have treated me like a high school girl even though I'm headed for the Dean's List at Miami of Ohio, a helluva lot harder school than Wheaton.

Fucking girls-only Wheaton.  The only reason Lorraine goes there is because it's girls-only.  Her affair with bad-in-bed Tommy is just a front to avoid coming out to her family.  She told him she was the jealous type just so he's stay with her and she wouldn't have to come out to her family.

I can see it all now.  I hiss my epiphany to her.

> I see right thru you, you slut, Lorraine.  I'm going to expose you to your family.

> Oh, please, bitch.  Everyone knows you're a lying fuckung psychopath.  Your Dad's girlfriend knows, your Mom knows.

> I .....  can't .... wait ..... to go to YOUR family's house and see what THEY think of YOU, bitch.

Elena can see I'm getting upset.  Hysterical, arguably.  I can taste diluted urine in my mouth.  How do I know what that tastes like?  I wonder.  I think of the time my Dad's girlfriend showed me how to punch, and what a punch to the face felt like.  She had this weird habit of not washing her hands in the bathroom.  Just lazy, I guess.  Neglected in childhood, left to fend for herself.  Anyways, when her hand hit me in the mouth, it had this sour aftertaste on it.  I recognized it now.  Pee-sweat-water, all mixed together.

Would Lorraine think of me in the future anytime she tasted that gross taste?  This all happened in 1985.  It's 2022 now.  I'm in Florda, Lorraine is in Arizona.  (I know, because I stalk her Instagram.)  Does she think of me now?  Of our rivalry?  And our fights?

Karen brings a bathrobe, a change of clothes, a bra, panties.  6 months ago, I would have jumped at the chance to put on Karen's bra and panties.

Now it just seems ..... demeaning.

Karen takes Lorraine out of the bathroom.  Elena watches me shower.  Getting clean feels .... good.  I like it.  I needed this.

I need something else.

I need to get off.

I climb out of the shower.  I look Elena in the eyes, pleadingly.

> Eat me out, Elena.

> Just try and stop me.

Elena gets on her knees ans and give me the best cunnilingus I've ever had.

Poasibly that any woman ever has ever had.

Ever.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Elena and I get back to her place, a cute 3-bedroom apartment, just before 9pm on Thanksgiving night.  Elena sets me up in the living room and puts the TV on the Texas-Texas A&M football game, while she gets my guest bedroom and bathroom ready.  She's not going to let me sleep with her?  I look around the apartment--Elena obviously lives here with a female roomate, who is obviously not here tonight?  Is the roomate visiting family for Thanksgiving?  Is the roomate Elena's lover?  Is that why I'm not sleeping with Elena tonight.

I sit on the couch, struggling to keep my eyes open, watching the Longhorns lose the game.  I remember my Dad introducing me to college football in 1977, watching the Longhorn team that spent a lot of that season ranked #1 in the country.  Earl Campbell won the Heisman Trophy that year, and they had 3 receivers named Lam Jones, Ham Jones, and Jam Jones.  They went to the Cotton Bowl, and lost to Notre Dame, who had Joe Montana at quarterback.  Notre Dame had a running back named Rob Eurick, who was my first boycrush.  He was cleancut and babyfaced, like Jim Hart, and the cleancut man who fucked me yesterday in the backroom that back at his place.

My attraction to cleancut boys and men:  was that the first sign of my lesbianism?

Elena comes back into the room with pajamas, and a tootbrush and tootpaste.  Does she have overnight guests over a lot?  Are they girls she spends the night with?

> Elena .... when did you first know you were a lesbian?

> Oh .... no one moment .... at my sisters' sleepovers .... Karen's mom and her other aunts .... when they would stay up late, watching Saturday Night Live, talking about sex ..... when they would practice kissing with each other .... and then they'd invite me into their sleeping bag on the floor, and we'd feel each other under the sleeping bag  ..... kissing and feeling each other till 3am .... then eating breakfast the next morning, pretending nothing had happened ..... oh, and talking about other girls at schoool, who hated who, who thought who was a bitch ..... didn't you have older sisters?

> Only child.

> Oh .... that's rough .... at least you never got beat up by an older sister.

> They'd beat you up??

> Oh, totally.  It's a right of passage, having sisters.

> My Dad is dating a new girl right now.  She's about your age, mid-20s.  Anyways, I was about to get into a fight at school, so my Dad had her teach me how to throw a punch, how to take a punch, how taking a punch felt.  Anyways .... so she did that, like he asked .....

> But?

> But I got the impression she was like .... into it ..... Like she wanted to hurt me .... beat me up, I guess.

> That's rough.  I won't let her do anything to you.  Let me know if she ever crosses the line with you, k?

> I can still talk to you when I go back to Miami?

> Oh, totally.  But first things first.  I'm taking you Black Friday shopping tomorrow.  Downtown Cincinnati.  My sisters took me there in the 70s.  Pogue's--it's Ayres' now, Shillito's, McAlpin's.  They all have Tea Rooms--best lunchfood ever.

> You don't hafta do that.

> I want to.

The next day we get up early.  We spend the whole day, like a Fairy Tale, parking in the famous downtown 1,600 car parking garage, with the levels all named for different flavors of ice cream.  All the stores are connected by skywalks.  Elena buys me what must be $3,000 of clothes--skirts, blouses, sweaters, shoes, boots.  I buy her an anklet and matching bracelet.  She promises to wear them when I go back to school.  Lunch is as good as she promised.

Within the next 7 years, all three of those downtown Cincinnati stores--first Shillito's, then Ayres', finally McAlpin's all closed, including the Tea Rooms-- the garage, the skywalks, were all demolished by 1997.

I mourned the destruction of the buildings where Elena and I spent that magical day.

My head hit the fresh pillow that night--it had been months since I slept on such fresh sheets.

Around midnight, I was masturbating under the sheets.  Elena walked into the room, busting me.

> What were you masturbating to Lisa?

> You and my Dad's girlfriend catfighting.  Is that bad?

> No, not at all.  I was masturbating to a catfight too.

> Oh?  Who?

> You and Lorraine.

> Our slapping in the bathroom yesterday.

> That .... and your catfight with her tomorrow.

> Tomorrow?

> Yes, I was talking to Karen.  Lorraine is game .... if you are.

> Of course I am!

> I knew you's say that.  [Elena bends down and kisses me.  She climbs in my bed, and we kiss and fondle until 2am.  We crash in each others' arms.]

To be continued.....