[sinclairfan]

When Maureen came to my house that day to fight me and I opened the door, my first thought was that we both looked damn good for being in our late 40s.  I had been dreading how close the year 2017 was to arriving--the year I would turn 50.  I'm not sure why 50 was the age I had a secret dread of.  I recently learned that one of my favorite actresses, Hillary Swank, had twins at age 48.  Was she dreading 50 as well?  Is that why she got prrgnant at that age?  To 'get in under the age 50 wire'?

Was this my last chance to have a no holds barred fight with Maureen?  Like the one we had in the rest room in high school, with our friends looking out for teachers at the door?

Hillary Swank.  A few years earlier she had been in Million Dollar Baby, an Oscar-winning movie.  She played a female boxer.  Her opponent hit her after the bell and permanently injured her character.

I like watching rhat movie.  I like women's boxing.  Women's MMA was just taking of.  I liked watching that, too.

But more than watching fighting....I liked being in fights.  My opportunities to fight other women had decreased since I left my Catholic Church Archdiocese job.  No more late afternoon meetups with sexy real estate agents in abandoned Catholic church halls or school gyms.  No more removing the earrings, kicking off the shoes, and setting down the purse and satchel of legal papers, and cutting loose.

Cutting loose.  I let Maureen in.

> I didn't think you'd show, bitch.

> I'll show anytime to cut loose with you, slut.  [She's ghinking of the 'cutting loose' phrase at the same time as me?  That's freaky.]

> Ffffft-slut.  What women not getting any call women who are.  [Last I had heard, Maureen never married.]

> Lisa, goddammit, you're a total slut.  Customers at the Stop N Shop know where to go to get some from the cashier.

> [Ok, one, I'm not a 'cashier' there.  Two...I fucked ONE customer from there.  Who's been talking about me?  The customer?  My coworkers?]  Maureen, your voice is getting more annoying with each passing year.  Let's just do this. [I slap her face.]

> [She double slaps me.]  Fine by me, slut.

We grab each others' hair and yank hard.

I feel my soaked groin.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

When Maureen and I had fought in the high school restroom in 1985, our tactics had been exclusively fists.  Back then, once you hit high school and college, fighting a girl by pulling hair, even if just to gain a hold advantage, was considered a baby-ish reversion to middle school slumber party tactics.  Even scratching an opponent accidentally would lead to being ostracized from the party circuit.  But .... give your opponent a shiner or a fat lip, and it would be HER who would need to take a sabbatical from the party scene (and, in high school or college, miss days or weeks of classes until her face was back to normal).

Once the mid-40s arrived, the tables of catfight battlescars completely flipped.  My returning to my Stop N Shop coworkers with a black eye would, if necessary, be easily explained away by saying a box had fallen off a shell and caught my cheekbone.  Or a delivery-truck trailer door had swung open on me. 

But, rows of scratches across my face?  On my neck and shoulders?  Or even my legs?

I could already hear the romour-mongering which would follow:

> Did Lisa get in a catfight?

> Was it with a customer?  Or the angry wife of a customer?

> Was it with the girlfriend of that contractor doing her house?

> Was she out drinking this weekend?  Was it a barfight?

This was the scarlet letter/(s)  Maureen and I were trying to inflict on each other.  To subject the other to a week of a hermit-like existence to avoid the rumours from everyone in each other's personal life.

Not even rumours.  Since .... the rumours would of course have a core of truth.

We were really in my house.  Having a vicious catfight.

Trying to humiliate each other.

Trying to act out our hate of each other.

> You fucking bitch, Maureen.

> Fuck you, Lisa.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Because we were fully clothed in jeans and long-sleeved tops, the only exposed flesh on Maureen and me was our faces and our necks.  Since we were both attempting to scratch each other as completely as possible, and there was so little surface area to cover, we were both thoroughly marked up within 5 minutes of the start of our fight.

Maureen's fight with me in 2014 was as 'efficient' time-wise as our 1985 high school restroom fight had been.  That fight had been with fists and this one with nails--but in both cases we had given each other all we could handle in a relatively short amount of time.  I had lost track of Maureen's fight frequency when I left Rhode Island for Ohio, but her fight card must have been as full as mine had been, because she was just as much as I could handle as she had been in high school.

> I call 'uncle', Maureen.  I don't give....I'll keep going if you force me....but I'm already gonna miss a couple days of work.  I'm afraid to look in the mirror.

> [Maureen pauses, weighing the pro's and con's of continuing.  Then releases me.]  That was a good fight, Lisa.  And, yeah... don't look in the mirror just yet. .... do you have any towels? 

> [I go to my linen closet.  At first I grab 2 white towels, but then think better of it.  I grab 2 dark blue one's, so that Maureen and I can stay in denial for another hour or so about how bad our scratches are.  Hopefully neither of us will be getting stitches later tonight.  I hand her one of the towels, and we sit next to each other on the couch.]  That fight was intense.

> It was, wasn't it .... and even, Lisa.  I guess you and I have always been even fighters, haven't we.

> Well..... one of us is better than the other.  We'd just kill each other figuring out which one.

> Ya....you're actually not exaggerating there...... Shit, how MANY cuts do I have on my face?  Am I missing one.

> There's one on your forehead you're missing .... little further over .... [I guide Maureen's hand with the towel to the cut she hasn't wiped yet....our eyes catch at the gentle flesh of flesh contact we're making....I can tell we're both turned on.....]

> [Maureen reaches down and unbuttons her jeans.  She's wearing no underwear.  I replay our fight in my head, this time with the erotic awareness that the entire fight she had no underwear on.  My entire body is aroused.]  Go down on me, Lisa.

> [Maureen doesn't need to ask me twice.  I face goes between her legs, and my tongue inserts itself into her soaked, swollen pussy.  I love how she tastes.  Maureen's legs wrap around my face and head.  I put my tongue in as far as it will reach.  Her hips start grinding into my face.  Maureen starts coming so hard that we both fall to the floor.  She cums for seconds.....then minutes.....then longer than the duration of our fight.  Maureen's cum washes over my face.  We stop after 10 minutes.  I look into Maureen's eyes.]  Now you do me.

> Just try and stop me, bitch.

> Fuck you.  Just do it.  [I open my jeans to Maureen's eager tongue.  I'm cumming within seconds.]

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Maureen and I continued to recuperate on my couch from our face-scratching catfight, holding towels to each others' cuts which were slower to clot.  We were running our upcoming social and work calendars through our heads, figuring out how many engagements would need to cancelled or postponed until our faces were again presentable in public. 

> Shit, Maureen.  I just realized .... I'm hourly.  Not salaried.  What am I gonna do about my missing paychecks for, ... whattaya think? .... 2 weeks?  3?  .... Wait.... are YOU hourly?

> Salaried.  I'll just use sick days.

> FFFfffffuck.  Lucky bitch.

> Shoulda though of that before you invited me over to fight.  Dummy.  [She leans over and kisses me on the lips.  I realize I have a fat lip.]

> I keep forgetting I'm not salaried anymore.  [I was supposed to be retired on  P&G pension by now.  Ahhhh.... the humiliations .... and regrets .... of getting old.]  That was .... totally worth it, tho .... wasn't it?

> You mean.... the adrenaline rush .... or taking things to the edge of .... going too far.

> [My pussy gets soaked again.  Its smell mixes with my post-fight B.O.]  Now that you mention it.... I came for the adrenaline rush .... but stayed for the ...  fear .... that we might maim each other.  Maureen ...  am I a sociopath if I crave that feeling?

> If you are ... then I'm right there with you.  .... Have you ever .... gone TOO far .... with an enemy?

> Lost control in a fight? ... Maureen ... the closest was... when you and I drove to Wheaton to fight Lorraine.... Remember that?

> Lisa .... I think about it all the time.

> ....

> ....

> Maureen, .... , Lorraine's living at my Mom's old house still.

> ....

> ....

> Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Lisa?

> If you're wondering if Lorraine would fight me ..... ABSOLUTELY NO RULES .... then .... yes.

> [Maureen kisses me hard.  Fuck, this pain in the ass fat lip.]

To be continued....