[sinclairfan]

As Lorraine and I punish each other on the bike shop floor, I imagine how the conversation would have gone that July night with my dad if Maria and I had gotten into a catfight at the town water hole.

We would have been watching the Boston Red Sox game on NESN.  1983 or so.  Yaz's last season.  Height of the Jim Rice / John Tudor era.

> Lisa?  You seem quiet.  Everything ok?

> Umm, ya .... so about that ..... I got into a fight this afternoon.  Yes, a catfight.

> Oh, Lisa ..... you didn't get jumped, did you?

> No, ummm...  it was 1 on 1 .... fair.... I sorta started it.

> What did she do to you?  Who was it??

> Well,   ummm , ....., it was a long time coming .....

> Maria?  Wait it Maria?

> Ummm..   ... yes .... Dad, no offense, but are you in love with her? 

> No, no...... Lisa, Lisa, .... you mis-understand .... I just mean .... there's been tension between you and her ... I just worried.... she would catch you off guard sometime .... you said you started it?

> It was at the town pond.  We were 500 feet apart, whatever.  I gave her the finger.

> So you fought right there?  On the sand??

> Ew.  No such luck for you, Dad .... we got in her car ....

> She has a car??

> Ya, she works .... as a waitress .... don't distract me...

> Sorry.  Go on.

> I asked if she wanted to ..... if she dared to .... I guess I dared her .... to drive to the woods and face me there in her bikini.

> She was wearing a bikini??

> Dad, ew ... again, just ewww Dad ... not the point .... the point was I was daring her to fight me in something where we could pull each others' tops off.... like, sonething that wouldn't be her thing .... that she'd be afraid to do ..... to uptight, ya know?

> But she said yes.

> Well....  she didn't say know .... so we got in her car.... I was in the back passenger side .... [Eddie Murray has just hit a 3-run home run off John Tudor; my Dad curses].... and we parked in the woods .... you know, on the fire road or whatever it's called, the path for the fire trucks in case of a brush fire ....

> And?  And???  [The Red Sox are making a pitching change, but my Dad's focus is on me.  I kinda like it.] 

> And we were pulling hair on the ground .... and pulling each others' tops off.... grabbing each others' breasts.... twisting .... pulling.  Dad it was horrible.  Vicious, really.  Dad, dhe and I hate each other.

Boy, is he in for a treat tomorrow night when I tell him about Lorraine and me.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Lorraine and I face each other on our backs in a crab position, kicking each other in the legs and hips.  We have pure hatred for each other.

Lorraine is three years older than me and expects .... I don't know..... what DOES she expect at this point.  Me to defer to her? 

What pisses me off about her and Tommy was that I busted her that their "relationship" was a sham.  He was her "beard"--a LGB term Elena taught me--she's so smart--and instead of "backing off", Lorraine gets even more defiant, more in denial.  Upset at me for outing her.

And I'm upset at HER.  She ruined my first boyfriend, my first intercourse.  Playing the victim.

That's what I hate most about Lorraine.

Playing the victim.

SHE's the villain.  Not the victim.

Tommy is the victim.

My Mom is the victim ... for Lorraine going to my house looking for me.

I'm the victim.

For having to fight a girl three years older than me.

Even youth tennis is organized in 2-year buckets.

Under 18.
Under 16.
Under 14.
Under 12.

You can "play up"--be 13, and play in Under 16.

But you're never forced to.  No 13 year old HAS TO play 16 year old.

But Lorraine is forcing me to fight her.  Over and over.

> You're a total bitch, Lorraine.

> No.  You are, Lisa.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

A few years earlier, on a lazy Sunday night, my Dad and I were watching CHiPS, the California Highway (motorcycle) Patrol show with Erik Estrada.  I was in a novelty phase of being into Latin men, and there weren't many place to go on American TV to get that.  The Plain Jane lady cop who had been on the show for years was replaced by a new tall, shapely blonde named Bonnie--I could tell my Dad's interest in the show went up as Bonnie get more and more camera time and speaking lines in the show.

One episode, the storyline actually sort of centered on Bonnie's character, both on- and off-duty.  They showed her decked out in makeup and jewelry on a Saturday date night out in L.A., triple-dating with her two male cop partners, so 3 men and 3 women on the date.  They went to a nightclub that had women's mud-wrestling, which the 3 men were delighted to be witnessing and the three women were bored and, especially in the case of Bonnie, repulsed and offended.  "How degrading to women.  How can you be into this?  blah blah," protested Bonnie. 

Since it was only 15 minutes into the episode, and CHiPs was a stereotypically formulaic hour-long TV drama, it was pretty obvious that before the episode was over, that Bonnie was going to be in mud herself with another woman, the only question was how.

Which my dad was anticipating eagerly, while trying not to show me.

And which I was anticipating twice as eagerly, and attempting to not show him.

It was one thing, I guess, for him to pipe up and voice a query as to whether our neighbor Maria and I had fought yet.  Or would be fighting soon.

But it was a bridge too far to admit we were both watching the next 45 minutes of CHiPs for one reason:  a Bonnie-vs-villain catfight.

The villain presented herself immediately after the commercial--a sexy brunette with attitude who ..... bonus points ..... had a history with Bonnie.  A contrived-but-sexy run-in from their Police Academy days, when the brunette had gone down the wrong path but Bonnie had stayed on the straight and narrow.  Classic good girl - bad girl set up.

But with mud thrown in.

At the episode climax, Bonnie caught the brunette villain red-handed with contraband, and went to cuff her.  The brunette ran, Bonnie gave chase, and tackled her perp in a horse corral with .... mud ... in it, over six inches deep.  Bonnie and her suspect were thoughly covered head to toe, and her colleagues gave her a standing ovation ..... and proto-feminist razzing .... for the show she had put on.

Bonnie cuffed her suspect.  The whole scene was unapologetically sexualized.

My Dad asked me if I had any interest being a cop.  He was no doubt picturing me in mud-covered cuffing duels with female bandits.

I had no interest in being a cop.

Although the cuffs intrigued me.

And ....  yes ..... the mud wrestling.

If all the suspects were as sexy as Bonnie and her academy rival.

I masturbated to that episode .... different parts of it ..... for weeks.

I'll be masturbating to this fight with Lorraine for years.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

From 1978 to 1985, all the time and money and driving and sweat Lisa spent on travel tennis never paid off.  There was no scholarship, or acceptance, from Notre Dame or Boston College or Holy Cross.

But two mornings before Christmas in 1985, Lisa's cardio from all those tennis practices and matches and tournaments finally did pay off.

Because 35 minutes into their catfight, Lorraine got gassed first.  Her arms and legs turned to jelly, and she stopped being able to defend against Lisa's slaps and kicks.

So Lisa got Lorraine on her back, and mounted her.

And, here, at this point, the catfight really started.  Because all the coaching Lisa got crom her hairdresser about punishing a defeated rival started getting applied.

Lisa felt empowered sitting on Lorraine's chest.  And patiently mauling Lorraine, like a bear wounding an injured pioneer.

Lisa slapped and pulled and tugged and twisted Lorraine's flesh.

And made Lorraine recite all the ways Lisa was better than her.

> Lisa is better looking.
> Lisa is better in bed.
> Lisa's a better fighter.
> Lisa will be more successful.
> Lisa is a better lover.

"Better than who?".

"Better than me, Lisa.  Leave me alone."

"Not yet, Lorraine.  No chance."

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

The brain works in strange ways.  As I straddled Lorraine and worked on her face and upperbody, a summertime neighborhood episode from my past, which I had completely suppressed, came back to me as if it had just happened yesterday.

When my parents split and my Mom got her new place, she tried to console me for the smaller bedroom, and the lack of air conditioning, by buying me an inflatable backyard pool.  It was close useless for cooling purposes, but became a neighborhood hangout spot, with weed-smoking and boom-box music and late night makeout sessions. 

The problem was:  it put out of business the pre-existing neighborhood makeout spot, a bad-girl named Michelle.  She was pissed at the competition, and one night tried to paralyze it by pulling the platic drain from the bottom of my inflatable.  She thought no one was looking one drizzly evening, but I saw the whole thing from the inside of my house.  I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and ran outside to catch her red-handed as she chucked the plastic piece into the woods behind my house.

I was anticipating a WTF???-type girl-argument, but found I had startled the guilty-acting Michelle, who tried to run back home.  Doing my best Jack Ham imitation (he was a Steelers linebacker my Dad and I had watched on Bengals-Steelers games), I chased Michelle from behind and literally tackled her.  She desperately tried to roll me off of her, but both of her were at full-adrenaline mode, and started flailing our arms at each others' faces dangerously but ultimately futilely.  We paused and just stared at each other, wondering what would break the stalemate, when my mother's voice rang out from the house, "Lisa!!  Get off of Michelle!!!!".

I think she was so used to see making out behind the house that she just assumed what 2 people, 1 mounted on the other, must be doing.

I went into the house, into the tub (Michelle was a swearty girl), and masturbated hard.

As I straddle Lorraine, I have the urge to masturbate.  But not after the fight.  I have the urge to do it now.

I'm pretty sure Lorraine is in no shape to stop me.

I start touching myself.

Feels
Ssssooo
Good

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

As I sit on top of my defeated rival Lorraine, I consider that I'm a college freshman, she's a college senior, and I've defeated her fair and square in a fight.

And I don't just mean our physical fight.

I've snuck behind her back and fucked her boyfriend.
More than once.
With her knowing about it.  That I planned on doing it.  Then I did it.

I've talked to her on the phone to challenge her to fight.

Then went to her sorority.
And fought her there to a draw.

Then I stole her sorority girlfriend.  And slept with her behing her back.  With her never suspecting it.

Then I went to Cincinnati, crashing her invite to the family's Thanksgiving dinner.

And went Black Friday Christmas shopping with Elena, a member of that family.

And got Elena to come to MY family's Christmas break.

That's about 7 wins against a girl three years older than me.

That would be like when I was playing in youth tennis, in the Under-16 group, beating a girl playing Under-18 tennis.

I had done that once in tennis.  As an Under-14 beaten an Under-16 girl.  My beating her made her cry.  And stop shiwing up regularly in practice.  And eventually quit our club, and then the sport entirely.

All because I beat her in a tennis match.  It broke her.

What will my beating Lorraine do to Lorraine?

What will my cumming on top of her, like I'm doing now, do to her?

She's crying.  But she's cumming too.

I rub my throbbing clit all over Lorraine's.  She likes it, I think.  And she hates it, too, I think.  Or maybe just hates me being on top.

Lorraine and I rock back and forth, cumming at the same time, but sycopated, not together.

The thought of cumming together with her sickens me.

But the thought of my being able to make her cum delights me.

It's a serious turn-on.

I bend over and kiss her.  She turns away at first, but then offers her open mouth.

> I hate you, bitch.

> I hate you more, slut.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

The morning after I beat up Lorraine, the phone women up Elena and me in bed.  It was my Dad--he had 2 Patriots tickets.  They were playing the Cincinnati Bengals in Foxboro in the last game of the regular season; if they won, they were in the playoffs.  The weather forecast was:  sunna, window, and FREEZING.  10 degrées Fahrenheit.  Before windchill.

Part of me didn't want to go.  I needed to rest.  I felt pain all over from my brawl with Lorraine.

But I went for two reasons.

First, it was my Dad.  Hé and I grew up watching football on TV--often, it was Bengals-Steelers games.  His heart was setting on going to the Patriots game.  With me.  I could never say no to him.

Second, Elena was giving me the silènt treatment.  She was angry when I came home from my fight with Lorraine.  I had told her the fight was spontaneous.  But she knew I was lying.  She knew it was a planned fight, and I had hidden the plans from her.  Whether it was planted for days or weeks or month she didn't know.  But she knew I was lying.

Lying was necessary to survive in 1985 if you were LGBTQ.  But you weren't supposed to lié to your partner.

I was freezing my ass of on the métal bleachers at the Patriots-Bengals game.  Before the game, I saw Ken Anderson, number 14, the Bengals quarterback I had first seen on TV in 1975 or so with my Dad.  Maybe 1973 even.

I put my head in my Dad's lap to stay warm.  He can tell I'm hurting.

> Dad.  I got in a total bitchfight with that girl Lorraine yesterday.

> Everything ok?  Is it over?

> Over for now.  I fought her Thanksgiving, too.  In Ohio.  But, yes, I think it's done for awhile.

> I always thought that old friend of yours .... Maria .... would be the girl you fought.

> Nope.  It was Lorraine.  She had something I wanted.  Getting introduced to Cincinnati.  I want to work at P&G.

> Did your plan work.

> Maybe.  Time will tell.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

In January 1986, I stayed behind in Rhode Island (Elena went back to Cincinnati) and watched with my Dad every Sunday as the Patriots stormed through the AFC playoffs, going on the road to beat the New York Jets, the Los Angeles Raiders, and the Miami Dolphins and advancing to Super Bowl XX.  The Raiders win was sweet for Patriots fans, as it avenged à terrible 1976 playoff loss to the Oakland Raiders on a questionable late hit call on Sugar Bear Hamilton in the 4th quarter.  (Would Lorraine came back into my life 10 years later to avenge her catfight loss to me?)

But the Dolphins win was especially joyful (if shocking), as the Patriots had been losing to the Dolphins at the Orange Bowl (the stadium, not the game) forever (basically, my entire childhood).

I wished I could have sat with my Dad on the couch and watch the Super Bowl.  But the spring semester at Miami of Ohio was starting up, and I needed to get back to campus.  It was just as well we didn't watch together.  The Patriots got destroyed by the Chicago Bears, 46-10. 

The Patriots were briefly ahead, 3-0, early in the game, when Tony Franklin, the Patriots' barefoot placekicker, made à short field goal.  I thought back to watching college football with my Dad in 1977, when Tony Franklin was the kicked for Texas A&M, when they were one of the best teams in the country with Texas and Arkansas, who also had great kickers that year--Russell Erxleben and Steve Little.

Steve Little had ended up getting cut later from his NFL team, the St Louis Cardinals, when he lost à "kick off" compétition to Neal O'Donoghue.  He then got in his car, wrecked it, and was tragically paralyzed for life.

I thought of how Susan had knocked Becky out of the #4 spot at travel tennis.  Had Becky ever recovered?  What was Becky doing with her life now?

I thought of how I had beaten Lorraine in our catfight.  She wouldn't come to Thanksgiving in Ohio anymore at Elena and Jenna's anymore, would she?  She wouldn't work at P&G, would she?

I hoped not.  I hoped she stayed in Massachusetts.

In 1986, there was no social média to look up where someone was living or working.

Back at Miami, I started cheating on Elena right away.

I made out with boys at Miami parties.

I let girls in my suite climb into my bed.  First at night.  Then during the day.

I started an affair with my woman English composition teacher.  She was attracted by my plans to work at P&G that summer, where Elena had gotten me a summer internship.

I kept thinking about Lorraine.  She was graduating Wheaton in May.

What were her plans after that?

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

In May 1986, I got ready for my first day of my summer internship at P&G at their Cincinnati headquarters.  Women's office wear in the mid-'80s, especially at a conservative company like P&G, hadn't changed much since the early-'60s, and I thought my outfit looked good on me.  I stared in the mirror, hoping my new 'do-and-'dye job would survive the coach bus to the office in the already-stifling Cincinnati early summer (late spring, technically) air.

I hoped they'd like how I looked.

We filled out paperwork with personal info and tax forms in the morning.  I was already eligible to begin accruing benefits under the P&G pension plan.  It would vest in May 1991, at age 24.  The start of F-U money.  I was on my way.

Then my heart sank.  We were mingle with new full-time employees starting that day.

I saw Lorraine.  But she had already seen me first.

> Hello, Lisa.  Welcome.  Fancy seeing you here.

> [We're surrounded by a crowd.  I can't tell her what I really want to say, which is that I could kill her right now for ruining my perfect day.]  Oh, hello Lorraine.  I didn't expect to see you so soon.  Ever, really.  Ha ha.

> Yes, ha ha.  You'll be seeing a LOT of me this summer, hun.  I'm your Summer Buddy.  I'll have a say in whether you get invited back here after this summer.

> [That manipulative bitch.]  Oh, really.  Well then I know I'll get a good recommendation.  And get invited back. 

> Don't be so sure, sweetie. 

We stare daggers at each other and part ways.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

The next morning at P&G is a buddy-intern training event with a guest corporate speaker.  The interns and their buddies mill around awkwardly, sipping terribly bitter coffee.  The bitter taste in my mouth reinforces what was already there, as my first summer on what I aspire to be at least a couple decades at P&G have been marred by the presence of Lorraine, and on top of that her authority over my performance.  Someone is playing a cruel hoax on me.

"Good morning, buddy!," I hear behind my ear.  It's unmistakably Lorraine's almost-masculine squeal.

"Don't 'good morning' me, sweetie."

Interns, mentors, and managers of all ages look askance at us.  "Are they fighting?", I hear one confused intern ask.  (What's she hoping the answer is?, I wonder.)

"Shhhh.  You'll cause a scene, Lisa."

"Don't shush me, honey, or then there will REALLY be a scene" I mumble under my breath.  "And it won't reflect well on either of us, I promise."

"I'll shush you when I think you need shushing.  All summer long, babe.  It would be irresponsible for me not to."

I see a stairwell to the side, and pull Lorraine hard by the wrist, digging my nails into her flesh.  I shut the door door behind us.  We have semi-privacy, but if someone overhears us, I'm willing to risk it.  This conversation is a day overdue.  It needs to happen now.

"You look me in the eye right now, you blonde bimbo.  What the fuck are you doing here??  I beat you fair and square in our fight."

Lorraine is still acting cocky.  She was prepared for this question, and has an answer at the ready.  "And that's why I'm allowing you to stay here this summer, sweetie.  But you and both know ..... that fight, the whole fucking fued over Tommy ... was BULLSHIT.  Neither of us wanted him.  We were fighting ...  for fun.  You won.  Congrats.  You're in.  Welcome to P&G.  But you can't make ME leave.  Unless..... you'd like to go again.  Capish?"

"Lorraine, you fucking psychpath.  You actually want to fight again??  We almost fucking killed each other three times."

Lorraine gets nose to nose with me.  "Then I suggest ..... we get along better this time.  Deal?"

Lorraine extends her hand to me.

I should have thrown her down the stairs right then.

But she plants a kiss on my cheek.

"You have lipstick on your face."

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

The next day, there's an intern/buddy guest speaker in a classroom lecture hall.  Interns are required to sit next to their buddies, so I'm stuck next to Lorraine in uncomfortable seats.  Other interns chat pleasantly with their buddies; Lorraine and I sit next to each other in stoney silence.  I have nothing to say to this woman.  Not with my words, at least.  She has plenty to say to me:  that my future depends on her evaluation of me at the end of the summer.  She has me by my short hairs, and she knows it.

The guest speaker is the Chief Executive Officer of American Express, James Robinson.  In 2022, he'd just be introduced as their CEO, but it's 1986, and that acronym is still unknown.  Mr Robinson is one of the forward-looking business leaders responsible for introducing the position, making the "President" of corporations the #2, not the #1.  He's forward-looking in other ways--being one of the first to grasp the value in the American Express (and P&G) brand, and incenting managers to "unlock" that value by making decisions, and getting results, which are good gor shareholders.  And "aligning" manager compensation with shareholders, by giving them stock and, even better stock options, which "leverage" stock performance.  With options, 1 plus 1 equal 3, not 2.

All the talk of #1 and #2 ..... plus the strong coffee .... make me need to pee.  I excuse myself and go to the rest room.  As I sit and go, I think of Mr Robinson's message to us, the future leaders of P&G.  He's verbalizing everything I've been thinking about P&G, and the F.U.-wealth I've been planning on building in a long career here.

I finish in the lav, and open the door to wash my hands.  Like some sort of sociopathic stalker, Lorraine is waiting for me, staring me down through the mirror as I wash my hands.

> So, buddy--What did you think of Mr Robinson's words of wisdom?, she asks me.

> [I need to decide whether to engage.  Fearful that giving her attitude will uncontrollably escalate, I decide a professional approach.]  I agree whole-heartedly with his idea with respect to managers participation in shareholder wealth.  It's what brought me here to Cincinnati.  Why?  What did you think?

> [Lorraine turns and faces me.  We're no longer talking through the mirror, but face to face.]  I think that what he said .... how he said it .... his looks .... his coming here to speak to us...... made me horny.  I'm still horny now.  Are you?

> [My b.s. radar is at the maximum reading.  Is Lorraine playing a mind game with me?  I keep my guard up.]  Being here .... actually being in this office .... the special events ... the structure .... getting paid this Friday .... yeah, it all makes me horny.

There's dead silence between Lorraine and me as we consider our answers to each others' questions.  Are we waiting for each other to make a move?  To kiss, maybe?  I remember Lorraine kissing me yesterday in the stairwell.  Her lipstick will get on my face again.  The rest of the interns will start asking questions about what's up between me and her.  It's 1986, so, incredibly, buddy-intern sex isn't sexual harrassment.  But the same-sex angle will finish both of our careers.

> We should get back to the lecture.

> We probably should.

Lorraine and I take our seats.  But I wish I had kissed her in the rest room.

Mr. Robinson answers questions from the interns.

Lorraine and I holds hands under the desk.

What's happening between her and me?

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

As the early part of the Summer of 1986 progresses, Lorraine and I become a discussion item amongst the other intern/buddy pairs.  They can't help but notice that Lorraine and I always separate ourselves from the rest of the group at company events, finding a quiet corner to engage in private conversation, rarely joining wider circles to network.  Even though Lorraine and I work in separate buildings on the P&G campus, we are always visiting each others' desk to see each others' co-workers.  We always have lunch with each other in the P&G caf.

One day at Lorraine's desk, one of Lorraine's coworkers is curious about our closeness and our obvious bond.

> Did you guys know each other already?  Before this summer?

> [I chuckle inside of the thought of giving a truly complete answer: 'Yes!  We were dating the same boy, and had 3 vicious catfights over him.  The at Lorraine's sorority, the second for the sexual amusement of our girlfriends, and the third one alone in a bike shop."]  We, ahhhhh, we both got this job thru some P&G lifer family we know--Elena and Jenna are their names.  Lorraine and Jenna were sorority sister at Wheaton, in Massachusetts.  And I grew up in Rhode Island.  So we .... ran into each other ... up there oh ... almost ... well yeah .... summer of 1985 .... exactly a year ago.  Just over.  It was a busy year, right Lorraine.

> Ya .... eventful too [Lorraine winks at me.]

> Oh, cool .... so you two were networking even before you got here?

> Yeah, I guess you could say that.

> You two are going to go far here.  P&G management really values networking, and women leaders who do it. 

> [Lorraine and I smirk knowingly at each other at the "do it" phrase.  This whole early summer has been building towards only one thing--her and I fucking each other in bed.  And more than once.  Later at lunch, Lorraine discreetly puts her hand over mine on the table.]  Your place or mine tonight?

> I don't care, Lorraine.  Wait, I do.  My place is closer.  Let's do it there.  I can't wait a minute longer.

> Me neither, babe.

At 4:45 that afternoon, we're in my summer apartment, tearing each others' clothes off, kissing desperately, and touching each others' bodies with insatiable craving.  Our desire for each other is total, and once our orgasming starts, it rolls over us in waves we feel like will never end.

> You're the lust of my life, Lorraine.

> I need you so bad, Lisa.

> I want to talk to you, but I want your mouth on mine.

> Then stop talking.

This .... is what total fucking is, I decide.  I just want to feel it.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

Once I started sleeping with Lorraine (and thoroughly enjoying it), I was pretty grotesquely over the line cheating on Elena.  This was both more and less important than it seemed.

On the less important side of the ledger:  you need to keep in mind that this was 1986, and unless you were an artist or musician or in fashion or interior design, and LGBTQ relationship was strictly under-the -table--there was no way you went public with it in any other field.   (Heck, the abbreviations weren't even LGBTQ yet; they were just LGB--T and Q were still unspeakable even in whispers.)

So, the point is--Elena wasn't "out" even to her own family, so I wasn't officially dating her.  Her family still introduced her to eligible bachelors.  I was around her a lot, but in their eyes it was just as friends.  So it was kind of hard to cheat on someone you weren't even acknowledging as your partner in the first place.

On the other hand ..... Lorraine was persona non grata in Elena's family by now.  After graduating Wheaton, Jenna and Lorraine had parted ways not on speaking terms.  For Lorraine to follow through on her P&G offer made when she was dating Jenna was sort of ballsy--and cheesy.   I waited with some trepidation for Elena to find out Lorraine was my intern buddy.

I didn't have to wait long.

One Sunday, Elena and I were reviewing the statements from her May 15 P&G dividend (Feb/May/Aug/Nov 15 were quarterly dividend day for P&G shareholders) (oh, and starements were paper back then, not online, and came by snail mail).  I craved to be the one someday receiving my quarterly dividend check from P&G, the apex of capitalist decadence, and going clothes shopping with it downtown at L.G.Ayres.  (But, with who?  Elena?  Lorraine?  Another woman lover?)

Elena blurted out to me:  "I heard you and Lorraine are joined at the hip at summer speaker events."

My heart sank.  Elena and I hadn't even broached the topic of Lorraine BEING AT P&G, never mind her being designated as my summer buddy.  And already we were going 15 steps ahead to her being my summer buddy.  I couldn't help myself--I got defensive.

<> It sucks.  The bitch has control over my future.  Elena, SHE writes my end of summer evaluation!  Lorraine!

> Why didn't you say something?  To anyone?  To me?  [I feel like Elena is being grossly unfair.  Why didn't SHE warn ME that Lorraine was partnered with me in the program.  There was NO FUCKING WAY that was a coincidence.  Elena was eiyher in on it, or knew who was.]  It's not that you're kissing up to her .... and kissing her [Shit.  How much does Elena know?] .... that hurts me, Lisa.  It's that you didn't say anything ..... See, you're not saying anything now.

I realize that I'm on the defensive.  But I'm not without weapons, either.  Because, the fact is ...... I like being competed over.  Elena and Lisa ...  two olde, mature [compared to me] independent women are competing over ME, Lisa, a rising sophomore nobody at Miami University of Ohio.

I kinda like it.

I think back to youth travel tennis, when #4 Susan and #5 Becky had their showdown tennis challenge match.  I was #3 at the time.  Frequently, in those scenarios, the loser of the #4/#5 match would get a "redemption match" opportunity against #3.  And would win.  And #3 would be the one out in the cold and not make the team.

As long as Susan and Becky were at each others' throats, I was safe.  That was why their catfight, and Becky leaving the team, turned me on.  As long as there was tension between them, I was ok.

I look at Elena now, and I see a snake.

She and Jenna had Lorraine and I fight at Thanksgiving break so that they could retain their status over us.

> Don't talk down to me, Elena.

> [Clearly taken aback.]  Excuse me?

> You heard me.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

When Lorraine and I were each sleeping with Tommy, it was a given that the triangle would be resolved by either Lorraine or I bowing out, or by she and I fighting each other.

The Elena-me-Lorraine triangle was much more ambiguous.  Do I just go on sleeping with both of them?  Does Elena fight me for my betrayal of her?  Or is it Lorraine betraying Elena and asking for a beatdown?  Or should Lorraine beat up Elena and "take" me from her?  Or should Lorraine beat me up for not leaving Elena? 

It was all very confusing.

It was a measure of my "moving up in the world" that just last Thanksgiving, Elena and Jenna had dressed Lorraine in me up in clothes they picked out and had Lorraine and me fight for their enjoyment.  Now Elena was close enough to an equal to me that I had a say in how our triangle resolved itself.

In fact, if anything I was quickly sensing that as the youngest member of our group, I had the most potential, and thus the most power.

Potential.  That spring at Miami of Ohio, I had taken physics, and learned the concepts of kinetic and potential energy.  And that potential energy--a mass at the edge of a cliff, a block on the high end of a see-saw, water behind a dam--was every bit as real as kinetic energy--a moving train engine, a falling knife .... a swinging fist.

I was feeling my potential.  That's what all of us summer interns were--pure potential energy.  Our P&G careers fully in front of us.

As long as Lorraine gave me a good evaluation.

So Lorraine wasn't going anywhere.  Because I wanted a good evaluation.  Or even better, a great one.

So Elena was odd bitch out.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

One summer night, as the internship was ending and evaluation time was coming, Lorraine and I wrapped up an intense post-dinner fucking session, and she turned the lights on and showed me my draft evaluation for the summer. 

It was glowing, going on and on about my strong performance, potental, and leadership skills.  It had obviously been prepared thoughtfully and, well, lovingly.

I kissed Lorraine.  And asked:

<> Should I sign it?

<> No.

<> Why not?  It will get me a return intership to P&G.

<> it will.  But it's not final yet.

<> What do I need to do to finalize it?  Is this a sex tease?  We've been fucking every way imaginable this summer.

<> [Lorraine stares daggers at me.]  Who's WE.  You and me.  Or you and .... ELENA.

<> Lorraine, things between her and me are in the home stretch, I swear.  We're just going thru the motions.

<> And will continue to do so in Ohio, in the fall.  When you're back at school.

<> Is that a statement??  Or a question?

<> Why should it be either?  WHY ARE YOU STILL FUCKING HER??

Lorraine's question to me would have been completely fair and understandable in 2022, where lesbian relationships have been nearly normalized and accepted.

But in 1986, it rubbed me [pun not intended] as supremely UNfair.  Finding a same-sex lover was NOT socially accepted, and in fact was socially dangerous, with the HIV epidemic running rampant.  (Lesbians were relatively safe from HIV, but that wasn't well-understood yet.)  YES, I was sleeping with Lorraine and Elena both.  But Lordaine knew that when she and I started up.  If she wanted to be exclusive, she should have either:
> demanded that in the beginning, or
> ask nicely.  Not bribe me with an evaluation.

An evaluation that would determine my future.

> Why are you so MAD?

> I think I'm entitled.  I feel like I'm about to be played.

> Says the supervisor telling me not to sign a valid evaluation.

> What are you implying.

> That maybe it was wrong to start fucking you.

> Well?  Was it?

> I don't know.

> Then I don't know if you're 'P&G-worthy'.

> I don't think you're an ethical supervisor.  Maybe I should report you.

> You wouldn't dare.  I'm not afraid of you.  And I have Elena to protect me.

> That's why you've kept sleeping with her??

> Take it how you want.  I'm leaving.

> Not until you and I have this out, bitch.

> You want ANOTHER ass-kicking, bitch?

[We stand up and are nose to nose.]

> What a fucking BITCH you are.

> Let's go, then.

To be continued.....