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Misdirected aggression

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Offline peccavi

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Misdirected aggression
« on: December 06, 2013, 09:57:28 AM »

9 Misdirected aggression
 
“Hello Vic.” I was still shaking my head as I answered the phone. It had been going through my mind all last night and all day.  I still couldn't believe what had happened the night before.
 
Bethany had fought another girl from her office.  That much I could believe.  From the first time I saw her, I'd known she was a feisty, pushy bitch. I could even believe she'd won the fight, though after seeing her fight Kelly, the win had surprised me.  Bethany had shown much more skill and much, much more staying power than I'd expected. What had shocked me – infuriated me, to be honest – was that she just had a single drink with me afterward, then went home.  After our previous encounter, I was expecting a lot more, but she had stood me up!
 
Vic gave me the next surprise of the day.  “The girl…Bethany…must have worked all night and all morning on the marketing. She sent me some proposals. They’re excellent. She’s recommending an internet marketing campaign.” These days, when everyone does net marketing and newspapers are struggling to survive, it’s hard to remember just how cutting-edge a digital campaign was, back in 2006.  “I'll email them to you.”
 
He did, and when I looked them over, I realised why Bethany had had only one drink last night. She had indeed worked really hard on the scheme. My little head still wasn’t entirely happy but my big head had to admire her expertise, not to mention her professionalism.  She had wanted me last night – I’d seen it in her eyes – but she had put her work above her own wants.  That not only impressed me, but surprised me too.
 
The proposals were very good, not just the content but the way the emails were to be directed. She proposed buying a list of email addresses for people who were gym club members – they would be a good match for the type of people who were most likely to buy our CD. I think this was the first I'd heard of harvesting email addresses.
 
Vic called back just before I left the office.  “I want to keep the momentum going, so I want to meet Bethany over the weekend. You and I need to work out exactly what we want…we can do that by email…then we need to meet with her again to go over the final details. Can you make dinner at Emily's Beach Bar on Saturday night?  It's still warm enough to sit outside and watch the lake.”
 
“Sure.” I was looking forward to seeing Bethany again.  I had blue balls after taking Kelly to lunch earlier that day. Kelly still hadn’t forgiven me for daring to join Vic in his marketing scheme, and wasn’t letting me sleep with her yet.  Nevertheless, she had flirted shamelessly throughout the meal.  She’d stroked my leg under the table.  She’d even given me a deep loving kiss when we left the restaurant – but then said goodbye.  Even as Kelly had flirted, I’d been thinking back to the previous night. I’d hoped then that Bethany might give some relief, and I was still hopeful, despite last night.
 
I knew Kelly was just playing with me.  Sooner or later she would allow me back into her bed.  Her displeasure over the CD project was mostly pretence.  She’d never say so, but I got the feeling she was jealous that I’d partnered with Vic and not her, and maybe even that Vic and I had come up with the idea, without her involvement.  Even so, Kelly had managed to insert herself into the project – vicariously – by ensuring that we hired Bethany as our marketing consultant.  After all, Bethany worked for Kelly.
 
I knew Kelly was pretending but there was nothing much I could do about it, for now at least.  And while Kelly was keeping me at arm’s length – even if that arm was stroking me under the table – I was going to try to find a way to fuck Bethany. I’d had my way with her before. I knew I could again.
 
Vic was still speaking.  “Oh…one other thing.  We’re going to need some administrative work…typing, invoices, setting up computer programs.  I think we’ll need to pay someone.  What about Wendy?”
 
Not really paying attention, I agreed. Only afterwards did I realise that he wanted to skim off some money for his mistress.  I was mulling this sourly when I had an idea. First I’d need to square it with Kelly. I called her right away.  “Hun, we should go out for lunch after we finish coaching the sailing development squad.”
 
“No Peter, I already have plans.   I’m lunching with Kim Curzon.”
 
Then, more to show my eagerness than because I really wanted to meet her, though of course I wanted her to relent, I added, “How about Sunday? I can’t make dinner Saturday night…I’m meeting Vic. Yes, it’s about that marketing proposal.”
 
She giggled. “I like it when you beg. I’m almost inclined to forgive you. But no, I have a lot of things to do this weekend. By the way, Bethany showed me some of her ideas. She’s putting a lot of work into this and she’s done well.”
 
Kelly hung up, leaving me wondering what her plan was.  She knew – hell, I’d told her – that I’d bedded Bethany, the night after Kelly had kicked her ass. Now Kelly was all but throwing Bethany in my path – or maybe that was exactly what she was doing. She knew what had happened on Wednesday night. I’d texted her the photos I’d taken during the fight, in the hope it would get me in her good books – and back in her bed. It hadn’t worked, so far.  I sensed that Kelly had something in mind.  I wasn’t sure what and I knew she wouldn’t tell me, so it was ‘hide and watch’.  For the hundredth time, I reminded myself never to play chess against Kelly.
 
I sighed.  If I couldn’t lay siege to Kelly over the weekend, at least she wouldn’t expect me to be with her, either.  I called Bethany.  “Has Vic spoken with you about Saturday night?”
 
“Yes.  He suggested another meeting.”
 
“Would you like to come out and see the place we’re using for the scenes in the relaxation CD?  We could do that Saturday afternoon, before we meet Vic for dinner.  It’s an hour or so from my place.”  The words had hardly gotten out of my mouth before she agreed.  I grinned.  I’d been right – Wednesday had been a case of business winning over pleasure.  I didn’t plan to let her get away with that, a second time.  “Great!  We can have a picnic together. I’ll pick you up after I finish sailing.”
 
*****
 
"Peter I hope this forest spot is cool,” said Bethany.  “I’m dying here!  How far do we have to walk?”
 
I'd picked her up in my Packard Clipper, telling her truthfully that old cars were one of my passions. The down side was the car had no air-conditioning, and we’d been lucky enough to score one of the rare very hot days in mid-September.  With Bethany's pale complexion, I guessed that she didn’t like the heat, and I was right.  I also sensed, from the fading bruises and faint marks on her face, that she was still more than a little stiff and sore from her fight with Alison.  She wore a long sleeved blouse and jeans, so I supposed that her arms and legs were equally bruised and marked.  By the time we got to the trail head, she was sweltering.  Her face was red and she was breathing hard.
 
I led the way, carrying the hamper. “It’s not far, even if we go the long way round.  I want to show you the cove, too. We might just want to include it in our CD.  It’s secluded and very beautiful…just like the pool in the forest.”  Then I continued, “It's a pity the beaches were closed.  We could have gone swimming.”
 
“Oh Peter!   You didn’t tell me we could swim!  I didn’t bring a swimsuit!”
 
I smiled inwardly. Bethany knew where we were going, and she wasn’t stupid or naïve, which meant she knew there was only one reason not to bring a swimsuit – so she could swim without one.  That meant she wanted precisely the same thing that I did.  “The forest pool is very secluded.  No one will see you if you go in naked…except me of course.”  I looked her right in the eye.  “Remember, my dear, you and I don’t have much to hide from one another.”  She grinned.
 
“No one else will see those marks from the fight,” I added.
 
This time, Bethany blushed.
 
“Come on,” I urged her.  “You'll feel so much better after the swim.”  We arrived at the pool.  “Look at the water.  It’s so clear you can see the bottom…and it’s deep too.  I can’t even dive that far.”  I pointed.  “See the minnows there.”  I gave her my best encouraging smile.  “Go on.”
 
Bethany smiled back. “Yeah, I would feel better.” She peeled off her top and jeans.
 
“I'll race you!”  I got my clothes off – I had a little less to remove than she did – and dived in. By the time she did the same, I’d swum across the pool.  I ducked under the water, swam back and surfaced right in front of her, hugging her as I did.  Her breasts felt warm and slippery against my chest.  My cock nudged her belly.  I could tell from her smile that she noticed, and didn’t mind one bit.  I kissed her.  She kissed me back.  The look in her eyes was an unspoken promise.
 
We swam for a while, enjoying the cool clear water.  “As I held her close again, water droplets sparkling on her skin, I said, “Bethany, you look as though you burn easily. Let me rub some lotion on your back.”
 
“Thanks Peter.  That’d be good.”  We swam to the shore and climbed out, then she lay on the grass on her belly as I rubbed her back. She sighed with pleasure. “Bethany, I told you, the first time saw you, that you could fight. You proved it last Wednesday.” I kissed her neck.  “And you're smart too. Vic and I think your ad campaign is great. We’ll talk more about that tonight, but right now I just want to say you've done really well.” I let my hands slide lower, over the mounds of her buttocks.  She shifted slightly and her feet parted just a little – invitingly.  I rubbed the inside of her legs with the suntan lotion.  “You're no bimbo…not like that Alison who fought you. You beat her. Watching that was so hot. You really kicked ass.” I rubbed higher up her legs. “No, I’m wrong…what was so hot…so sexy…was watching you destroy her.”
 
Bethany sighed. I slid a hand under her tummy and started to roll her over. I stopped half way – I wasn’t going to push her into this. She smiled up at me and rolled the rest of the way, onto her back. I kissed her breasts. She moaned and spread her legs.
 
“Yes Peter,” she sighed in answer to my unspoken question, though I already knew the answer, from the moment I’d first kissed her in the pool.  I smiled inwardly and bent down to stroke her. She fondled my shaft, gently holding and squeezing it while I brought her to her first climax with my fingers as I cooed and kissed her breasts, her face and the lovely pale skin in between. Then I took her. She wrapped her legs round me as I plunged in and out. She gasped and groaned, meeting my thrusts with her own until at last we came to a mutual climax.
 
Afterwards we dozed for a while.  I woke first and kissed her gently until she woke too.  She began to return my kisses and before we knew it, we made love again, more slowly and gently this time but our bodies had dried and we were sweating when it was over.  We swam again and Bethany came to me, wrapped her legs round my hips and, while l kissed and held her in the shallows at the edge of the pool, she rode my shaft till I came again.
 
Finally sated – at least sexually – we turned to our picnic.  When we finished eating, I took her back and showed her the cove with its picturesque, sheltered beach.  After that, we headed arm in arm back to the car, and back to Chicago.
 
I dropped her at her apartment, went home, showered and changed, then picked her up again in time for dinner. I noticed she wore the same outfit as she had when I first took her to the jazz club, the night after she fought Kelly at the garden party.  The tight turtleneck sweater covered a lot but showed off her spectacular bosom, and her skirt clung to the curves of her hips and butt.
 
We arrived at Emily’s just a few moments after Vic and Wendy. They were at the bar.  As we ordered drinks, Vic whispered to me, “What happened to Bethany?  There are bruises on her face.”
 
“She won a fight with a girl from her work. Remember how you suggested I should take her to dinner?  Well, I did. Some other girl picked a fight with her, and Bethany won. If I remember rightly, the last time I saw your girl Wendy, she picked a fight too…but she didn't win.”  I still felt sour that Vic had tricked me into letting him carve out some money from our CD venture for his mistress.
 
Vic coloured a little. He got the message.  He introduced the two women.  “Bethany Beaverbrook…Wendy Griffith.  Wendy’s going to be our venture’s office manager.”
 
Bethany looked hard at Wendy. “Oh?” Her unstated question – why did a small start-up venture, marketing a single product, need an office assistant, let alone a manager? – could not have been more clear. It echoed my own, but I knew the answer.  I was pretty sure Bethany wouldn’t take long to work it out, either.
 
“Only when we need one, of course,” Vic added defensively, “not full time.” He wasn’t making it any better for himself.
 
“I see.  You're from a temp agency.” Bethany's tone made it more of a question than a statement.
 
Wendy looked at her sharply. “No.  This is an extra job for me.”  She smiled at Bethany and added, “I guess you’re moonlighting too.”
 
“No,” Bethany returned her stare evenly.  “As it happens, I'm here because Peter and Vic engaged my firm to do the marketing.  My manager is a friend of Peter's. I'm not cheating the IRS.”  The words Unlike you hung unspoken in the air.  She held Wendy’s gaze until Wendy looked away.  I was proud of her.
 
I broke the ensuing awkward silence. “Vic, let’s get a table or a booth for dinner…come on. We'll carry the drinks, girls.” I led him away and the girls followed.
 
We sat down, made a little small talk while we ordered our food, and then Bethany pulled out her folio and began to talk about designs. Vic and I were immediately engaged, but Wendy looked glum.
 
Two strikes for Bethany, I thought. She had clearly hit the nail on the head about Wendy’s ‘job’ with our venture.  Wendy wouldn’t be declaring her income from us – not that she’d be doing much work for it anyway.  I planned to make sure that her ‘salary’ would come out of Vic’s share of the revenue.
 
From the moment Bethany stared Wendy down, it was clear that the two women were not going to get along.  Bethany was doing her real job, while Wendy was pretending and not very convincingly at that.  Now Bethany had just excluded Wendy from the conversation and in doing so, she had shown just how little Wendy knew about our business.  Wendy’s face alternated between boredom at the conversation and hostility at Bethany.  I wondered if something might come from that – both women were not afraid to fight.
 
Even though the swimming season was closed, Emily's was busy.  It usually was, until the cold finally drove people from the beach altogether, usually some time in October. It was a popular haunt for many of us and I usually ran into someone I knew.  After all, I lived within walking distance.
 
Tonight was Vic's night. A few moments after the appetizers arrived, Vic broke the conversation – still about Bethany’s designs and marketing in general – to greet a couple who had just walked in.  He invited them over to our table and introduced them.  “Meet Tom and Lauren Fisker, friends of mine from St Paul. The Fiskers have been flour millers for generations. They run one of the oldest and best businesses in the country – Fisker and Montague. Family owned, family run.”
 
“We learned the lesson that big isn’t always best,” added Tom with a smile.
 
“This is Peter Balfour, a friend from the Lake Michigan Sailing and Yacht Club. His family is Balfour Industries.  They make machine tools.  They’re leaders in robotic manufacturing.”
 
I smiled and shook hands. Tom said. “I think I've met your brother.  He installed some robotics in our Milwaukee terminal a few years ago.” He added what so many business men have said over the years. “It was a hard decision, but the right one.”
 
I shook hands with his wife, a pretty enough, plumpish blonde. “Pleased to meet you, Lauren.”
 
Vic went on, “Peter and I are just starting up a little side venture.”  He motioned to Bethany. “Meet Bethany Beaverbrook, a junior with Vaughan, Herbert and Donne. Bethany’s handling our marketer. She's come up with some excellent ideas. I'd never heard of targeted email advertising till she told us about it. She's a very switched-on young lady. I expect we'll be hearing that she's a senior associate before long, and then a partner.”
 
Bethany said something modest.
 
“And this is Wendy Griffiths,” Vic concluded, “our girl Friday, secretarial support and so on.”  I noticed Wendy’s face darken at the way he minimized her status in the venture, after building up Bethany the way he had.
 
Bethany started to pick up her folio, which she’d spread over the table.  “I guess we’re not going to look at this now…unless…” She paused.
 
“Unless?” I looked at her.
 
“Perhaps Tom and Lauren might like to be a little informal focus group for the marketing campaign.”  She turned to them.  “Would you mind?”  She leaned close to me – her breast pressed against my arm – and whispered, “This is a great opportunity.  My pitch is targeted at young professionals and business people…people just like Tom and Lauren.  Maybe you could offer to buy them dinner.”
 
She was right.  I spoke up.  “We’d love it if you’d help us out.  Of course, we’ll pick up the check for dinner.”
 
They agreed readily.  There was a brief pause while we got the restaurant staff to add another table to ours, and then Bethany spread out her folio again. She explained her plan over dinner, drawing Tom and Lauren out with open questions, engaging them in conversation and getting their feedback and suggestions.  She made notes, amended her plan, even pulled out her laptop and reworked some things, there and then.  I was more and more impressed with her and so, I could see, were Vic, Lauren and Tom.
 
Wendy, on the other hand, was completely excluded from the conversation.  Bethany hung her out to dry by totally ignoring her.  Finally Wendy whispered something to Vic.  I didn’t catch what she said, but he had just started to answer her when Bethany turned to him.  “Vic…what do you think about Lauren’s suggestion?”
 
Vic interrupted his conversation with Wendy and answered her immediately.  Lauren made some additional comments, and she and Vic talked animatedly for the next few minutes.  Vic completely forgot about the fuming Wendy.  Again Bethany had shut Wendy out completely.  The simmering hostility between them began to distract me from the main subject of the conversation.  I had the feeling Wendy wasn’t going to take this forever.
 
As the dinner went on, Bethany continued to orchestrate the discussion, and involved everyone except Wendy.  She did ask Wendy a few questions but they involved marketing minutiae that I didn’t even understand myself – and it was my concept she was marketing. Wendy had no chance to answer effectively, and only made herself look foolish by trying.  I knew from Bethany’s subtle smirk, concealed behind her wine glass, that the cunning bitch knew exactly what she was doing.
 
“You’ve put in a lot of work, Bethany,” Tom complimented her.  “Have you thought that this could be the start of a continuing series?”
 
Vic, always sensing dollars, jumped right on his comment.  “For sure!  We could do more relaxation CDs…a whole series of forest scenes and music. We could use some classical music.”
 
Lauren smiled. “Vaughan Williams’s The Lark Ascending or Fantasia on Greensleeves would be ideal.”
 
“I thought Gershwin’s Summertime or something like that would be good,” Vic replied.
 
Wendy finally lost her patience and spluttered, “Vic, do you have to talk about this all night?”
 
Clearly thinking Wendy was rude – and she was – Lauren replied, “Wendy, Vic did say this is a working dinner.  I wouldn't blow your chance.” She reddened. “Oh I'm sorry…you're not the marketing expert.  That’s Bethany.”  I concealed a smile.  It wasn’t as if that was anything but obvious.
 
Lauren turned away dismissively from Wendy, back to Vic.  “You could even broaden your market. You’re targeting gym members…yes, I know they’re only one of your targets…but once you win some hearts and minds there, you could sell a workout CD too.”
 
Vic was all over the idea.  He suggested music, scenes to intersperse with the workout routines, all sorts of things. Indeed, he got quite carried away. Bethany looked very pleased with herself, like a cat that had just eaten a whole bowl of cream. She knew only too well that if the venture broadened, there would be more marketing work in it for her firm, and a big feather in her cap.  Besides, in his typical enthusiasm for making money, Vic seemed to have totally forgotten Wendy – and both Wendy and Bethany knew it.
 
While Bethany looked smug however, Wendy’s face was red and glowering.  She sat with her arms crossed over her quite impressive chest.  Finally she snapped, completely off-topic, “Lauren I suppose your family is old money, so you've never had to work.”
 
Lauren coloured, but replied evenly, “No, actually my Dad was a supermarket manager before he retired. Mom was a nurse. I had to work my way through college to become an occupational therapist.”  She smiled at her husband.  “That’s where I met Tom.”
 
“Oh…well, I don't suppose you've had to work hard since,” persisted Wendy.  I’d seen her doing a slow burn for most of the evening but I’d expected her outburst, when it came, would be directed at Bethany rather than Lauren, but it seemed that Lauren’s subtle put-down had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.  “Except for keeping Tom happy of course. That's the best part of marrying money.”
 
Lauren flushed. “Tom, I don't think we're really wanted here.  Can we go please?”
 
“What’s up?” Wendy hissed.  “Can't take the heat?”  Vic and I exchanged glances.  He clearly hadn’t been expecting this either.
 
“Not at all,” replied Lauren, keeping her voice steady though she was reddening.  It didn’t surprise me that she was choosing flight rather than fight.  She didn’t look the fighting type at all.  Of course, that would leave Wendy with no other adversary except Bethany, and Bethany was something entirely different.
 
Lauren looked at me, Vic and Bethany in turn.  “We’ve probably said all we can about your business,” she said with a polite smile, then back at Wendy with a far frostier expression.  “I’m sorry if we bored you.”
 
“That's right.  Run away!”
 
Finally Lauren lost her temper.  She glared at Wendy “I’m not running.  I'm just very particular about the company I keep.”
 
Wendy abruptly stood up and threw the contents of her wine glass at Lauren.  Merlot splashed all over her well rounded bust.  Before Lauren, or any of us, had time to react, Wendy slammed the glass down and slapped Lauren on both cheeks. “Come on, bitch!  Outside!”
 
To the astonishment of all of us, Lauren shot back, “It’ll be my pleasure, bitch!”  A moment later, we had all trooped outside to the narrow strip of patchy grass between the building and the parking lot.  A lot of faces were watching with interest, through the big windows at the front of the bar.
 
The two women kicked off their shoes and stood glaring at each other.  That didn’t last long though.  Wendy struck first, a hard punch aimed at Lauren’s chest. Lauren sidestepped with surprising speed.  The blow just kissed her shoulder. Wendy followed Lauren, aiming again at Lauren's prominent chest. This time Lauren deflected the punch with her arm. She struck back with a stinging slap at Wendy's face. Wendy didn't even try to avoid it. “You hit like a weak baby!” she snarled. She lashed out again, this time aiming a slap at Lauren, but again Lauren deflected it.  For all her apparent softness, Lauren could handle herself.
 
Wendy closed, her face flushed, seemingly furious that she'd not hit the older woman once. She kicked up at Lauren's thigh and this time her blow hit home. Lauren winced and stepped back. Wendy pressed her attack but again Lauren sidestepped, not only avoiding the threatened punch, but striking back herself with a further hard slap to Wendy’s face. Again it hit, and Wendy staggered a step sideways.
 
“What's Wendy trying to prove?” Bethany murmured to me as we stood watching them.  “She's been sullen all evening, but why’s she taking it out on Lauren?”
 
As if you didn't know, you conniving bitch, I thought to myself.  You're not content with just making her look stupid.  Now you want to paint her as the violent, aggressive one.  I added aloud, “She lost a fight a few weeks back…out at the cove actually, and in front of Vic.  Maybe she's trying to show him she's no wimp.” That was more payback to Vic for his earlier comment about Bethany.  I watched the two fighters. It seemed Wendy wasn't doing too well in this one, either.
Vic looked over at Tom.  “Tom, are you ok with this? We can always stop it if you want.” I raised an eyebrow.  Vic was showing more thoughtfulness than I thought he possessed.
 
Tom shook his head.  “No, Lauren wouldn’t thank me for interfering in her private battle.”  I could understand his point of view.  I’d have thought much the same if it had been Kelly – or any of my previous girlfriends, for that matter – in his wife's place.
 
Wendy retaliated in kind and the two women stood toe to toe, trading slaps.  Some they parried, but most hit. For almost a minute they exchanged hard, stinging slaps to the face and upper body. The only sounds were the slap of their hands and the groans and gasps from each of them as the other landed a blow.  It seemed that Lauren was starting to take the advantage.  Wendy was younger but Lauren was heavier.  The younger, slimmer girl's slaps were not as hard.  Wendy's groans grew louder.  She began defending more and hitting less.
 
“Urrgh!” Lauren suddenly staggered, half bent over, clutching her tummy. Wendy had driven her knee into it. Wendy sprang forward, flinging her arms round Lauren's waist, driving her down to the sparse grass and sand below. She was onto Lauren before the bigger woman had had a chance to recover, swinging her knee up again into Lauren's side as her hands sought her enemy’s shoulders. Lauren thrust her arm up, her elbow striking Wendy's chest, knocking her away and interrupting her attack.
 
Lauren tried to roll clear but Wendy pinned her shoulder, forcing her back onto the sand. Lauren swung her fist out, then up, striking Wendy's jaw. She seized Wendy's hair with her other hand and dragged the younger blonde to the side as Wendy screamed in pain. Lauren heaved, bridging upwards, forcing Wendy off her.
 
Before Lauren was fully on her feet again, Wendy attacked once more.  Her punch struck Lauren hard in the ribs and the older blonde groaned. She backed up and Wendy followed.  She kicked out at Lauren's thigh again and hit.  Lauren stumbled back further, favouring her leg.
 
Now that she had damaged her foe and reduced her mobility, Wendy switched her tactics. She moved quickly, dashing in to fire a punch or a slap before darting back again, then moving to Lauren's other side and repeating the process. She peppered the bigger woman, keeping her off-balance, her movements were restricted by her leg.  Very soon Lauren was reacting, dancing to Wendy's tune. She seemed to realise this and moved forward, though slowly.  She tried to punch Wendy's stomach but Wendy simply danced away.  This was a very different Wendy to the one I had witnessed on the beach a few weeks ago.  This Wendy was fighting smart.
 
The younger woman swept in again. This time, Lauren changed her tactics too. Instead of merely defending, she grabbed at Wendy's top, pulling the slimmer girl towards her. She slammed her body against Wendy’s and drove her knee up into Wendy's tummy. Wendy groaned. She tried to pull back but found that Lauren had too tight a hold on her.
 
“Wendy's not doing too well in this fight either!” Bethany just managed not to smirk.  “She’s had plenty of opportunities, but she’s not making the best of them.”
 
Wendy squirmed as Lauren's knee pounded her gut twice more. Each thump on her tummy elicited a groan. Wendy punched hard, repeatedly, at Lauren's sides but it didn’t seem to faze the older woman one bit.  Lauren didn’t so much let her go as fling her back. She followed the smaller blonde as Wendy fought to keep her balance, before throwing herself at her foe.  The two of them crashed to the sand with Lauren on top.
 
Wendy raked Lauren's sides with her nails, making the older woman rear upward with a cry of pain, then locked her ankles around Lauren's back, squeezing tightly, restricting Lauren's breath, frustrating her attempt to mount and straddle the smaller girl.
 
Lauren punched at Wendy's head. Wendy punched back. She thrust her elbow into the sand, using it as a lever to start a roll. The fight dissolved into a melee of punches and slaps as the two women rolled on the sand, each trying to gain the advantage. It seemed that Lauren's greater weight at last prevailed, and she pinned Wendy's shoulder to the sand, but Wendy drove her other elbow into Lauren's side. Lauren faltered and Wendy swung her head up. Lauren rolled off her slowly.  She looked all but exhausted
 
“Wendy will fight back,” Vic retorted, staring at Bethany.  “She's already starting!”
 
Lauren surprised him, and – to be honest – me. Before Wendy got up, Lauren had trapped Wendy's leg under her.
 
This time Bethany's smirk was obvious. “Fighting back?”
 
“How did she do that?” Vic asked.
 
“I don't think Wendy ever forced Lauren off her,” I replied.  “She tried and she thought she succeeded but she didn’t.  Lauren was playing possum.”
 
“Look!” Vic insisted, pointing. Wendy had punched Lauren’s belly – twice. Lauren gasped, spittle burst from her mouth. “She’s winded her!” It certainly looked like it. Lauren gagged.  She leaned back on her haunches. Wendy wriggled free.
 
The two women scrambled to their feet. They circled, Wendy moving faster and, as before, darting in and out swiftly to lob hard but light punches at Lauren. Lauren defended, blocking or avoiding most at first. As she tired, more punches got through her defenses. They began to tell. Lauren gasped as a particularly solid blow landed.  She hobbled back. Wendy kept her distance, faster and more mobile than the labouring Lauren, avoiding her opponent’s attempts to entice her in close, where her speed would be no help to her and where Lauren could bring her weight to bear.
 
Suddenly Wendy dashed to Lauren's side. She closed in, grabbed hold of Lauren's left shoulder and her knee came up, aimed at Lauren’s thigh.  Lauren, showing more speed than I thought she was capable of, pivoted quickly on her left leg. She grabbed Wendy's knee, jerking it up high, then lowered and shoved her shoulder hard into Wendy's cleavage. She let go, just in time for Wendy to crash to the sand.
 
“Some fight back!” Bethany remarked archly.  It was the kind of well-timed comment that reminded me of Kelly.  Maybe some of Kelly was rubbing off on Bethany – and more than just the skin of her knuckles.
 
Hampered by her sore right leg, Lauren was too slow to fully capitalise on her success, and Wendy was on her knees before Lauren closed on her.  She tried to tackle Lauren, who retreated out of range.
 
Wendy got to her feet. She resumed her jabs at Lauren, forcing the older woman back towards the wall of Emily’s bar. Lauren realised what was happening but couldn’t break free. Wendy was just that little bit faster, blocking each of Lauren’s attempts to escape.  She was there in front of Lauren, or she punched her side as she tried to dodge, herding her back into position.
 
Lauren tried to attack. She strode forward, her fists up. Wendy slapped Lauren’s face. Lauren replied in like fashion. For a while each woman stood her ground, again trading slaps with her enemy. Lauren was getting the worst of it this time, however.  Again Wendy pressured her, stepping in, and Lauren edged back. She was breathing heavily and reacting slowly, her earlier impressive speed lacking now.
 
“Yeah, a real fight back!” Vic said, licking his lips, his eyes fixed on Wendy.
 
Wendy kept the pressure on, with hard short jabs.  Most of them were hitting now. Lauren's defense, grim and determined though it might be, was increasingly ineffective. Her breath rasped audibly in her throat.  She kept retreating.  Then her back hit the wall.  Her eyes bulged and her face whitened.  She knew she had nowhere to go.
 
Wendy aimed a left fist at Lauren’s tummy. Lauren pushed it aside but that left her open and Wendy slammed a right fist into Lauren’s face. Lauren turned her head and the punch missed her chin but hit her cheek and the back of her head thudded against the wall. She groaned and her legs buckled momentarily but she rallied. She punched at Wendy’s sides with a left right combo. Wendy sidestepped and one punch missed. The other hit but it did little damage.  Lauren was too far gone to mount the kind of attack that she had only moments ago.
 
Wendy fired another punch to Lauren’s face. Lauren tried to block it and only just succeeded, but her movements were slow and uncoordinated, and she left herself wide open down below.  Wendy’s knee rammed up into Lauren’s tummy.   This time Lauren’s legs did buckle.   Another spray of spittle erupted from her mouth and she slumped against the wall.  I thought she was going down but again she stood upright, slowly, just in time for Wendy to drive a pile driver of a punch right into her face.
 
Lauren’s head slammed into the wall behind her for the second time. She dropped to her knees. She teetered there for a moment, tried to rise but couldn’t. Wendy lunged forward and slammed her knee into Lauren’s midriff.  Lauren made a gurgling sound and collapsed on her side, clutching her belly.
 
“That’s more than enough!” Emily – the owner of the bar – interrupted. She’d probably been standing there for some time, picking her moment to interfere.  She’d timed it perfectly.  The fight was clearly over but I wouldn’t have put it past Wendy to indulge her temper in a little gratuitous cruelty.  “Peter Balfour, get yourself inside and get some first aid for this lady. I’m surprised at you!”
 
I blushed, feeling like a scolded school boy. Nobody had talked to me like that in twenty years, except possibly my mother.  Emily was a forceful woman.  It had occurred to me that she was perhaps the only one who could stare Kelly down – at least in her own bar where she had a home ground advantage. I did as she told me.
 
“You,” Emily pointed to Bethany who was already kneeling alongside Lauren.  “Help me…and you too,” she said, pointing to Tom.  “Help your lady up.”
 
Bethany and Emily, with some help from Tom, got Lauren inside and to a table.  The bartender gave me a first aid kit which I took over to them.  Most of Lauren’s wounds seemed superficial. She’d be bruised and sore for a few days but she’d recover.  By the time I looked around for Vic and Wendy, they had already slunk off somewhere.
 
 Tom and I helped Lauren to their car. I came back after they left, to find Emily and Bethany sharing a coffee, chatting like the best of friends. I joined them for a while before Bethany began to look restless.  I took a hint.  “Come on Bethany…I’ll take you home.”
 
In the car I looked across at her as we pulled out of the parking lot.  Her eyes were sparkling. “You’re turned on, aren’t you?  You loved watching that fight, even though Wendy won.”
 
She nodded, putting her hand on my leg and squeezing firmly.  Then she moved her hand higher and squeezed something else, more gently but also more meaningfully. I found a spot to pull the car off the road, and parked it under a clump of trees.
 
Bethany gasped as I reached for the zipper on her skirt. She half rose as I undid it and pulled the skirt down. I slid over. She turned to sit astride me, facing me.  She pulled her thong to one side and pushed herself up, then lowered herself onto my shaft.
 
That was just the appetizer.  After we were done, we drove back to my apartment where we fucked four more times, like crazed minks, before daylight on Sunday morning. I took her out to brunch, then ran her home.  The smile didn’t leave my face for the rest of the day.
 
THE END





My thanks to the originals of Lauren and Wendy who allowed em to feature them in this story and to my friend The Scribbler who helped me write it
« Last Edit: December 06, 2013, 10:01:20 AM by peccavi »
Blondes are cool Brunettes are Hot!!

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Offline Marie B.

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Re: Misdirected aggression
« Reply #1 on: December 06, 2013, 03:20:13 PM »
From the moment Bethany stared Wendy down, it was clear that the two women were not going to get along.

In a Jenn Peccavi story, that's something you can always be sure of.

Of course, Bethany wasn't even involved in this story's fight; instead, she got to watch it. The tale itself was told from the point of view of a man, which is unusual for Jenn's stories. But, hell, these guys are so inferior to us gals, we've got to give them something, right?

Wendy vs. Lauren was a back-and-forth fight, leaving the reader to believe one fighter was going to win it.....then the other.

In the end, of course, it was Bethany who got action that night. :)

Great work, Jenn.

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Offline Corbin2012

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Re: Misdirected aggression
« Reply #2 on: December 07, 2013, 11:11:15 AM »
pleasure to read
I wish each and every day would start with a catfight in my flat

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Offline Kayla

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Re: Misdirected aggression
« Reply #3 on: December 11, 2013, 09:48:00 PM »
Hhhmm, another hot story, Jenn! Enjoying reading the adventures of Bethany!  :D ;)

Hugs
Kayla
Naughty - but oh, so NICE! :-)

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Offline GoldenGirl

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Re: Misdirected aggression
« Reply #4 on: December 19, 2013, 09:35:50 AM »
Another great story, which so skilfully combines all the essential elements!

Thank you for a wonderful read!!

GG