[sinclairfan]

My name is Jessica, and I'm a nurse.

I know that sounds like a parody of "I'm Jessica, and I'm an alcoholic," (I'm not an alcoholic, by the way), but I say it all the time for two reasons.  The first is that my being a nurse, for the entire 23 years since I was born in 1994, has been a fundmental part of who I am--it's almost my calling.  Since the time I was three and started playing tag and "house" and "doctor" with other girls and boys, I always wanted to play the nurse in every scenario.  Anytime we were playing in a school playground and someone would fall and scrape an elbow or a knee, there I was, Jess to the rescue, making the cut better.  At the beach, I always made sure everyone had sunscreen (growing up in Boca Raton, Florida, this is not a hypothetical scenario--we spent many long days at the beach).  My parents and grandparents tried to push me to become a doctor--for the status, for the money--but I always knew that Nursing was for me.  I studied AP biology and chemistry in high school, went into an accelerated Nursing program at my hometown Florida Atlantic University, and in May 2015, at age 21, was given the piece of paper which confirmed what I knew all along.  I'm Jessica, and I'm a nurse.

The second reason I talk like that, though, is that it sounds, well, confessional.  And I've always had some things on my conscious, sexually.  No, I was never abused or had my innocence prematurely taken from me--my parents gave me a healthy home life and childhood, allowing me to explore at my own pace.  I dated boys my age, and lost my virginity, when I was ready, at 16.  But I also dated girls.  Like my being a nurse, and people saying "Why don't you become a doctor?", people's first reaction to my kissing girls was slways, "Why don't you come out as a lesbian?", which was not a helpful reaction.  I might be exploring, but I know I like guys, (and cock--blushing), and always will.  Bi is a thing, and it's my thing.

Enter my friend Katie.  Ahhh, Katie.  So similar to me, and yet so opposite.  Not my BFF, but so bound up in each others' destinies.  You see, when high school graduation came in 2011, and all my friends were headed to FSU or UCF or USF or Miami or U of F, even though the hometown FAU program was the right one for me, I was getting a slap in the face from reality, dreading the loss of social life when all my friends went away in August.  It was Katie who was my lifeline--she was sticking around in Boca, too.  Katie had a lot of "stuff" going on--a reading disability that caused her to dread textbooks and thus college, a fantastic job at Kroger's (and an offer to enter their Management Deveopment program), and a feud with her over-the-top-Catholic fsmily about her emerging.....bisexuality.

Now, I need to pause here before you start jumping to conclusions.  I know what you're thinking--Jessica and Katie, 2 18-year old sexually precocious Boca beach blondes discover each other are bisexuals, and immediately get into each others' pants.  It was NOT like that, not even close.  Katie and I were each others' social support system for that lonely 2011-12 first school year out of high school, but that was it.  Although that was a lot, especially for Katie.  She has attended a Catholic high school, and her family had set money aside and expected her to attend either Barry University or St Leo's, both in Florida and both Catholic.  Her double rebellion, by not attending either school and her persistance in identifying as bi, was causing her unspeakable strain with her family.  But she stuck to her guns, and buried herself in her Kroger job.  She became a manager, and I became a nurse.  Our friends had student debt, and we didn't.

Life was good.  We spent 2015, 2016, snd 2017 working at the jobs we loved, and accumulating money.  And a failed experiment at dating each other, which went horribly wrong.

But before I get to that, I need to pick up the thread of the confessional for one last piece of background.  In addition to exploring, in a healthy way, I think, my bisexuality, I've also been exploring, in a less healthy way, a taste for rough sex.  Especially when I'm with a woman.  Again, I had no underlying childhood trauma which "triggered" anything in me, nothing I've repressed.  It's just that, when another woman and I are in bed, and we get to the "What do you want to do now?" part, I, ummm, well I have a one track mind.  I want to hit, and be hit, and hit back.  And I'm not talking silly slapping and giggling.  I mean closed fist, no holding back.  If I just caused you to lose interest in me and my story, well, so be it.  Because it's part of who I am.

I'm Jessica, and I'm a nurse.

To be continued.....

[Vanessa]

A great beginning to another fantastic SF story.

[sinclairfan]

JESSICA VS MARIANNE

One of the incidents which cemented the friendship between Katie and me happened late in my 2011-12 freshman year at FAU.  Katie had my back in an incident which went down between me and my brother's girlfriend Marianne.

Even though I've always known who I was and where I was going, or maybe even because of that, my little brother Geoff has always struggled in that area.  He's one of those people with an imaginery "Kick Me" signs taped to his back, and he doesn't always see when he's being taken advantage of.  When I was younger, I reacted by staying away from him, but then I overcompensated and, by college age, was overly protective of him.  Especially when it came to Geoff and girls.  There was one girl in particular, Marianne, who rubbed me the wrong way, and who I was keeping an eye on.

My freshman year at FAU, Geoff and Marianne were seniors in high school.  Not the same high school--Geoff went to the same high school in Boca that I had just graduated from, while Marianne went to our rival high school 12 miles away.  Marianne always had a chip on her shoulder about the rival school thing, and always thought it was the reason I didn't like her.

No.  The reason I didn't like Marianne was that once I "went away" to FAU (it was in Boca, but I kept a dorm room there for nights I needed to study late; and even on nights I came home, I was spending daytime hours and mealtimes away from home), Marisnne filled the vacuum at my house opened by my absence.  At first it was probably innocent enough--two horny 18 year olds having a house to their own from 3 in the afternoon, when school ended, to 5 at night when my mom got home.

But as the school year progressed, Marianne's presence in my home got more.....intrusive.  To start with, she stopped even checking with my parents--and, eventually, even with Geoff--if she could stay a few more hours, or take a spot at our dinner table.  There was one night that I came home at 6 from FAU, and was starving.  And there was barely anything left, because Marianne had not only stayed late for dinner, but had totally chowed down, eating more than half the food on the table.  And she gave me attitude when I was obviously disappointed, making a snarky comment about not beinv late next time.  Something about that night triggered my "nesting" hormones--another attractive woman, in MY space, eating MY food, using MY brother, taking advantage of MY parents.  After that night, Marianne had no chance to make things right with me.  I got on the phone and vented by text for hours with my Boca bud Katie. 

Katie did what any good friend would do--she logged onto Facebook and Twitter and started spying on Marianne.  Instagram wasn't a thing quite yet, Snapchat was still just for naked sexting, and MySpace had fizzled out, but Katie got herself friended on Facebook and buddied on Twitter with the unsuspecting Marianne, and
Marianne's friends, online and IRL, and started eavesdropping on their online communications.  What she found was, predictably, pretty damn disturbing.

In her online world, Marianne presented herself as totally single.  She made no mention at all of my brother Geoff, either by name or otherwise.  There were pictures with Geoff in them in her Facebook files, but her captions on
the pics never made any reference to him.  Marianne, you little bitch, Katie and I concluded.  Quite the set up you have--using my brother for sex and food, but then acting at your high school like you're single and available.

Katie and I war-gamed different scenarios of what to do with this knowledge.  Go straight to Geoff with it?--na, too.....shocking.....heartbreaking..... to him.  Go to my mom?--na, not "with it" enough to get the online etiquette breeches Marianne was committing, and plus I come off as the bitch, not Marianne.  Confront Marianne?--yes, but how?

After that dinner incident, and Katie's online spying on Marianne, every verbal exchange between hef and me was short and bitchy, every glance was a malicious staredown, every second in each others' presence was a tension convention.  I knew, and Katie knew, my first ever physical girlfight was going to be with Marianne.  It was just a matter of when, where, and how it went down.  Katie assured me that she was there for me if either Marianne "tried to pull shit" to make a fight happen, or if I was the one who "decided it was go time".  For some reason, I got the idea in my head that I didn't want to fight Marianne in Boca--Marianne had already taken enough liberties in our, my, house.  Katie understood my wishes, and said she'd drive me to wherever I needed to go to fight Marianne.

Everything came to a head at once on a Saturday morning the first week of March.  Geoff snd Marianne got into an argument over whose Prom--his school's or hers--they were going to attend, and Geoff was in the process of losing a $250 deposit.  And Marianne, without asking, had "borrowed" our family's Boca municipal beach pass, just as Spring Break season was heating up (she was planning on hooking up with college guys, no doubt).

I told Katie, "Today's the day.  You free?"  She wasn't, but she made herself free. 

Katie came over to my house, and we pulled up Marianne's Facebook.  We were more serious than we had ever been with each other, like we were fucking Mafia hitmen about to assassinate someone.  Katie hsd been in fights before, so I think her seriousness was in knowing this was my first fight.  We could see on Marianne's Facebook that she was going to be at a Middle School parking lot at 9:30am, meeting up for a day at the beach. 

With my family's parking pass, probably.  Perfect.

I can sit here and tell you now that I was all business, all "with it", all confident and cocksure of myself as Katie and I got in her car and drove the 20 minutes to my confrontation with Marianne.  But that would be bullshit.  I was terrified.  What if I lost the fight?  What if the cops came?  What if one of Marianne's friends had a knife?  What if I peed my pants?

One thing I AM  proud of, damn proud of, to this day, is that I wore a bikini to the fight.  I knew Marianne would be in a bikini, and I wanted to fight to be a fair one, and jeans vs bikini didn't seem like a fair fight.

After an endless drive, getting every red light, getting stuck behind every 80 year old Cadillac driver, getting catcalled by every Harley gang, Katie and I pulled up to the school.  I spotted Marianne's frosted hair in the crowd of 4 boys and 8 girls ("making" the crowd, like to arriving cops at a crime scene on TV do) immediately.  Gawd, I hate that bitch.  She knew why I was there.

I stepped out of the car and strutted right up to her, my right palm open and extended, and not in an offer of a handshake.

"The parking pass...bitch."  My sandals came off as I strided.

"Fuck you."  Marianne's kicked off her flip flops as well.

We started hairpulling and kicking immediately, going for the first round KO in case the crowd broke us up.  They didn't, I think because no one recognized me and so no one knew what to make of the situation.  Either that, or they were just open to viewing a girlfight between two teenagers in bikinis.

With so much of our flesh exposed and in contact, the fight between Marianne became primal and vicious in seconds.  Nails slashed at faces and even eyes, and we clutched and grabbed each others' breasts.  Flesh slapped flesh in a sickening, mesmerizing tone and beat, and the crowd started shouting "Upper cut her!  Upper cut her!!" instructions to Marianne, which, oddly, I obeyed and she didn't.

Sering that the crowd was going to let us finish, or, perhaps, being winded from our out-of-the-gate mad dash, Marianne and I fell to the ground in a headlock bearhug.  We wrestled on the ground, cutting and scraping our skin on the hard pavement.  Shit, I woulda won this fight easy if I was in jeans--note to self for next time.  The skin on skin feeling with a girl, a woman, who had been in bed with my brother was.....primal.  For the first time in my life, I was trying to hurt someone.  We were sweating profusely now, the mid-morning sun baking the pavement, and us, and I smell the scent Marianne used to leave on the leather couch in our living room after she had fucked my brother.  Our knees begin kicking each other in the belly and the groin.  I'm feeling jealous and possessive of my baby brother.  Is Marianne feeling jealous that I live in his house?  I hope she is.

"Where's the fucking beach pass, bitch?!?!?  Don't make me hurt you!!!!"

My ever-practical on-task hormones pull Marianne and I back from the brink.  She accepts the face-saving escape hatch I've (inadvertently) offered her from a fight which she might lose, and cries, "In my pink Vera Bradley bag, fucking psycho!!  Take it and GET...THE....FUCK....OFF...OF....ME."

Katie and I suddenly realize that we're 2 versus 12, on hostile turf, and we better get while the getting is good.

I grab the pass, Katie grabs her car, and we get the hell back to Boca.

"How'd I do?", I ask in the car.

"You fucking kicked her ass, girl," says Katie.

"Thanks for having my back.  I owe you."

Damn, that was intense.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

DATING KATIE

After I had been in my first real girlfight in my freshman year at FAU, both Katie and I laid low for the next two years.  We were expecting any time for either Marianne or one of her friends go drive to Boca in retaliation for us driving onto their turf, beating up Marianne, breaking her up from my brother, and ruining a day at the beach for them by taking a precious municipal parking pass away from them. 

There were about a dozen witnesses to the catfight Marianne and I had on the hot parking lot pavement, so it seemed inevitable at least one girl in that crowd would try and make a name for herself by taking down a Boca Bitch (that's what girls from our rival high school called us) a notch or two.  Katie in particular like in constant fear that one of Marianne's posse would figure out that Katie worked at the local Kroger.  As a safety precaution, Katie and I wiped clean and deleted our home pages from all social media--Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and even LinkedIn--which, in 2013-15, was social life suicide--we now had no practical means to keep in touch with our high school classmates when they returned home for the summer.  This action cemented Katie's and my isolation from our entire ago cohort--and tied us ever closer to each other. 

At first, staying off of social media was a great academic and career move for me.  While the rest of my FAU classmates were looking at their cellphones like addicted zombies, I was free to do what pre-Millennial college students, especially in a hard science like nursing, used to do.  You know--hit the books, go to the library and the lab, apply for internships.  I kept my eyes on the prize, was an honor roll student, and was treating real patients in real hospitals.

And dating.  Since everyone in medicine works such long and inflexible hours, they are not shy about asking out their co-workers.  And as a young and available blonde, I drew my share of date requests from doctors and residents.  But I couldn't find one who was looking for what I was.  Either they were too eager to start taking marriage, or I was just a booty call.  I wanted to be wined-and-dined, and it didn't seem to be happening.

Katie and I inevitably became each others' sounding board for our dating disappointments.  And our growing realization that we were each others' only sounding board for each others' bisexuality.  We weren't lesbians, and we weren't straight, no matter how much everyone in our lives wanted to peg us as one or the other.  Whenever our sexual and social frustraton would become too much to deal with, we would console and comfort each other on the phone, then on the couch, then in bed.  Between Christmas 2015 and New Years' 2016, after serious and respectful discussion and discernment, Katie and I decided to become a couple--to begin dating each other exclusively.

We both knew that as soon as we began dating, we were giving up each other as friends-- realistically, if we broke up, we could never go back go the way things were before.  But the prospect of regular sex was too tempting, and besides, I had genuine respect for the career Katie was building for herself, and at such a young age, as a grocery store manager.  We both seemed to be going places.

I had another, more selfish, motive in mind as well.  As I explored my sexuality, I was growing more and more fascinated with my hitting fetish.  And it's hard to get a new partner into bed and say to him or her, "So, hey, I was wondering--how about we smack the shit out of each other?"  Either a "no, thank you", or, alternatively, a too-enthusiastic yes are both buzzkills.  It's the sort of thing you can only do, and do right, with a regular partner.  And even then it's dicey.  Especially when both of you work with the public.

Together, by trial and error, Katie and I learned where and how to hit each other and not leave visible marks.  Eyes--no.  Nose--no.  Mouth--surprisingly, yes--it's kinda like getting a pizza burn in your mouth; only you know you have it.  Breasts--yes.  Collarbone--no.  Shoulder blades--hell, yes.  Back--yes.  Abs--yes.  Hips--below the beltline only (isn't that ironic?).  Thighs--no, dammit.  Knees--yes.  Shins--no one questions bruises there, so, occasionally, yes.

And so Katie and I would get into bed, and well, we would go at it.  Hitting each other as hard as we could in the areas which weren't off limits.  She was skeptical at first.  Until she saw how aroused and wet it made me.  Both the hitting, and the getting hit.  All my sexual inhibitions went away after less thsn five minutes of hitting.  After that, Katie could see, I was all hers.  Everytime.  So she went all in.  And so did I.

We began to discuss moving in together.

To be continued.....

[Jacob226]

Great story, please continue!!!

[RPBella]

amazing story as usual

[sinclairfan]

KATIE'S TEXT AFFAIR

In June 2016, just as Katie moved out of her parents' house and had found a one-bedroom apartment in Wellington, Florida (the town my catfight occurred in) that she and I were considering moving into together, Katie began flirting with a married 45-yesr old man that she met in the check-out line of the Kroger she was a manager at.

I'll give Katie credit:  she didn't do the flirt affair behind my back.  She told me evdry step of the way what was happening.  The man would come in at around the samd time at store opening 2 or 3 times a week, and he and Katie started exchanging flirtatious glances, which developed into chat snd then exchanging cellphone numbers.  Katie knew he was married with kids because of his wedding band and the items he was buying.  But she was attracted to his looks, especially his body.  And, she rationalized, "It's just texting, not sex."  So she kept sliding deeper into the affair.

Although she was upfront with me about the text affair, Katie underestimated the emotional toll it took on me in undermining my confidence that Katie would ever be completely fulfilled in being in a permanent relationship with a woman.  Was this our future together?--me constantly looking over my shoulder for the next man Katie craved to make herself complete?  Was she going down this dead end because she was afraid of her and me moving in?  Because I was being too hesitant about leaving the security blanket of my parents?  Did she want me to step up and tell her to end the text affair, and did my not doing so make me appear weak?  When two women are a couple, does one of them need to "be the man"?  Did Katie crave tenderness in a relationship, rather than, or in addition to, our vicious hitting?

One afternoon in bed, I tried a change of pace.  Instead of hitting Katie, I just gently kissed her, over and over. We kissed on the mouth, and I moved down her body and kissed her breasts and then her thighs.  I moved back up to her mouth, and I noticed she and I hardly ever kissed anymore, and that we each enjoyed it.  I asked her why she was texting with the married man--we were drunk on the pleasure of each others' kisses and our guard was down--I knew I'd get an honest answer out of her.  She said she was turned on by his courage in asking for her text, that he was risking his marriage without even getting (so far) any sex out of Katie.  I asked Katie if she thought about the msn's wife.  Katie said no--her rival for the man's attention wasn't the man's wife, but a 3rd woman, also married, that the man was also texting with.  Katie knew that when a man cheats, it's always with more than one woman.  Katie was competing with the other text buddy, not the wife.  I asked Katie if she thought about fighting the other "text mistress".  Katie said, yes, all the time.

Katie and I were totally horny from an hour of kissing, and honest talking, that I told her to pretend I was her texting rival.  I told her she could do whatever she wanted to do to me.  Katie started pulling my long blonde hair, and I pulled hers right back.  Our legs wrapped around each other, and we called each other "cheating bitch"s, over and over again.  I found out that Katie's rival's name was Cassie, and Katie called me that as we pulled hair in bed and wrestled until we came. 

Just wrestling, no hitting.  I felt empty afterwards.  Had Katie avoided hitting because she associated hitting with me?  Did she not enjoy hitting in bed, and "went along" just to placate me?  Why had Katie never mentioned Cassie until tonight? 

It was now clear to me that although Kstie's text affair involved no physical cheating (yet), it was every bit as destructive to me emotionally, because Katie inevitably retreated, intellectually, to a world that excluded me.  Katie had fantasies that I could never, fully, be a part of.  There was a fundamental disrespect there.

I also got slapped in the face with how socially isolated I was.  No real life friends.  And no online friends, since I had shut off all Social Media three years ago to prevent Marianne's Wellington friends from finding me for a rematch catfight.

All my eggs were in Katie's basket.  But Katie wasn't reciprocating.  She was hedging with her stupid text affair with a married man.

The mature, adult thing to do would have been to tell Katie I love her, and to demand she choose between her text affair and me.

I did the immature, childish thing.

I began trying to find out who this Cassie chick, Katie's rival who she wanted to pull hair with, was.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

"JESS!!  THIS IS SERIOUS!!"

The sexlife between Katie and me experiences a brief Renaissance, as we get into bed and talk about Katie'z desire to pull hair with Cassie, the married woman she's in a texting triangle with.  Between tongue kisses, I ask Katie how she knows what Cassie looks like.  Katie tells me about the time her text buddy was inside Cassie's bedroom, with his own wife and with Cassie, looking at a new coat of wall paint.  He took a picture with Cassie in the background, and texted the picture to Katie. 

"So your sexting buddy's wife knows about Cassie?"

"Yes, but she doesn't know Cassie and him sext."

"Cassie sounds...two-faced.  Pretending to be someone's friend but sexting with her husband."

"She is.  I want to grab her hair and pull and twist her head."

I look at the picture on the cellphone.  Cassie's thick, auburn, shoulder-length hair is just begging to be pulled in a catfight.  My nipples harden and my crotch moistens to the thought of Cassie and Katie tearing into each other.  I blurt out,

"I'm gonna find where Cassie's house is."

Katie stiffens and pulls back from kissing me.  "Jess, are you kidding me??  This is fucking serious!!"

I become sexually aggravated at Katie's withdrawal, both physical and emotional, from our intense kissing session.  I'm extremely aroused, and not receiving the release I desire.  I lash out at my lover.  "I knew it!!  I thought you said you were just flirting with him, Katie!!  Just texting, my ass!!"

Katie realizes her mistake, and attempts to deflect.  "I'm not talking about the texting part, Jess!  I'm talking about you contacting....them.  They're married.  With families."

I refuse to fall for Katie's evasions.  "What about YOU, Katie?!?  Aren't YOU in a relationship, too??"

Katie and I silently contemplate the elephant in the room--our discussions about moving in together, which becomes more unlikely every week it doesn't happen.  What's our hesitation?  What's mine?  If we were living together, we eould finish this argument to a resolution.  Instead, Katie offers a clumsy olive branch, which backfires. 

"Jess, it's just that.......if Cassie and I really fight over him, it will get serious.....violent......not like the Boca-Wellington girlie fight you had with Marianne."

Did she just fucking say what I thought she said?  There was nothing girlie about my fight with my brother's ex.  There was genuine hatred between us, and we held nothing back in our fight.

Katie can read the hurt in my face, and attempts to backtrack.  "By girlie, Jess, I don't mean how you fought her.  I mean.....Cassie has a home, a husband, a job, kids.  Jess, she HAS kids.  You and I ARE kids.  You, know, like, freedom....binge watching Netflix when we want....no IRAs....on our parents' health insurance....taking classes.  Am I making sense?"  All the stuff Katie and I won't be able to avoid anymore when I move in.  If I movd in.

"Ssssoooo.....you and Cassie fighting.....why even bring it up if it will never happen?

Katie and I don't resume kissing, but we touch each other gently.....or at least don't pull back when our bodies touch.

"It's not that it won't happen.....it might, ...it will....if we....both.....keep flirting much longer with him....it's just that--you can't go all hothead and fight a married chick on an impulse.  There's more at stake.  Not that I'm an expert.  There's just.....an added layer there that makes it complicated."

Katie and I are no longer angry at each other, but our booty call has run its course.  Time for me to leave.  I get dressed and freshen up.

It's 2 in the afternoon.  I have a rare 3 days off work coming up.  I'm in Wellington.  I'm single and free.  All the things Cassie isn't.  Free to act on impulse.

I wonder if Marianne still lives in Wellington.

I dial her number.

"Jess?"

"I'm in Wellington right now.  Bitch."

"You alone?"

"Yeah."

"Meet me behind the high school, at the tennis courts.  They get locked at dusk."

"I can't wait that long.  I meant right now, pussy."

"Fine, let me think.....behind the old Sears....I don't think the cops go in the back."

"Fine."

"Fine."

I'm glad I didn't get off with Katie--I'm like a coiled spring right now, ready to explode.

Marianne is already waiting for me at thd fight spot.  Pffft--she actually thought this could wait till dark?

We get out of our cars snd stride at each other in direct lines.  I want to tear this bitch's head off.

"Boca Bitch."

"Wellington Witch."

Marianne take a couple swings at each other, but are in each others' hair in an instant.  This is going to be a pure catfight.  We're in a ball down on the pavement.  Shit, why do she and I always fight on blacktop?  At least we're in jeans and t-shirts this time, not bikinis.  We roll on the ground, scratching and clawing desperately, peeling off flesh and hair.  We screech in anger and hate.

"I'm gonna fuck you up this time, Jessica."

"Because I won last time?"

"Fuck you, my ass you won."

"Why didn't you come to Boca if you wanted this?  I would have gladly accomodated you."

"Boca Bitch."

Did I mention?--Boca girls and Wellington girls just don't like each other much.

This fight had the potential to be a marathon if it had been on grass.  If we had followed Marianne's instinct and waited till dark and fought at the high school.

But a fight this hard on pavement--will, it ends badly for the sorry bitch on the bottom.  Which, today is me.  Marianne gets on top of me, gets ahold of my hair, and slams my head, repeatedly, into the parking lot surface.

We hear sirens in thd distance.  Marianne gets spooked and gets off me and drives off.  Otherwise, I might still be in the hospital.

I can't drive him to Boca.  I decide to drive to Katie's apartment.

I knock on the door, telling her I'm hurt.

A man answers the door.

I recognize him right away.  It's the older, married man Katie has been texting with.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

AN AWKWARD ENCOUNTER

Katie's texting buddy opens the door and is immediately confused, but concerned, about my appearance.  My blonde hair is wildly dishevelled, and my face and skin is pockmarked with countless scratches and scrapes, from the catfight I've just lost to my Wellington enemy Marianne.

I can hear the shower running in the background--Katie must be in it.  Has Katie started sleeping with her married text buddy?  Are they going out somewhere?  Why hasn't Katie told me they had an IRL meeting planned?  I thought she and I tell each other everything.

Katie's text buddy looks at me, confused at my appearance, but also in a cat-caught-with-the-canary sense as well.  He knows he shouldn't be here, alone with Katie in her apartment.  And now he's been spotted here by someone--me.  I have him by the balls now--I csn report him to his wife if I wish, so he better be nice to me.

Oh, one final element adding to the awkwardness.  We're immediately physically attracted to each other.  Our eyes linger on each others' faces and bodies.  I can see why Katie started flirting with him at Kroger.  I'm flattered that he thinks I'm attractive, even after losing a catfight.  Does he think I'm prettier than Katie.

He invites me in.  We sit on the couch.  Or, he sits on the couch, and I pull over a wooden kitchen chair--I don't want to get blood on the fabric of the couch.  I give him Neosporin and wipes to start treating the worst scratches on my forearms, shoulder, and face.  I pray for Katie to stay in the shower.  The atmosphere is sexual.

-I'm Jess, by the way.

-Yes, I know, Katie mentioned you.  Goodness, what the heck happened to you?

-A bitch from Wellington happened to me.  Girls from Wellington and girls from Boca don't mix.

-She jump you somewhere?

-Nah.  I started it.  Well, re-started it--she dated my brother last year. 

-And she finished it?

-Ha ha, wise ass.  She knows she was in a fight.

-Ummm, ya--pieces of her are still embedded in your nails.  She's brunette, apparently?

-Well, will you look at that <<<<I pick Marianne's hair and flesh out from under my nails>>>>>.

-I'm glad you're ok.

-Thanks.  Thanks for doing this.  I, ummm, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?

-Do you mean, are Katie and I about to "do it"?

-Ya....and, like, what's the deal between you two.  <<<<Pleeeease keep running, shower.>>>>>

-Umm, maybe you can help me out there.

-Excuse me?

-I, ummmm.....this is embarrassing.....well, the thing is....so.....Katie and I have been texting for two months now.....and I've been trying to get some alone time with her.....I'm married--I assume you know that, right?.....<<<<I nod, understandingly>>>>.....and the timing has never been good....and we start drifting apart--things are cooling off between us......well, ok, don't tell her I told you this.....so I start playing hard-to-get with her by telling her about this <<<<air quotes>>>> friend of mine, Cassie......you don't think I'm a totsl sleaze, do you?....and she starts getting interested again.....I tell her that Cassie is all over me, sending me these filthy sexts, wanting me to leave my wife.....and then Katie decides she wants to <<<<air quotes>>> rescue me from Cassie.....so she invited me over today to cock-block me from Cassie......

-Pretty good plan there, Mr Smooth.  You've got the two of them sort of....fighting....over you, huh?

-Do you think that's......hot?  <<<<<Between the story, Katie's devious cock-blocking, having my wounds tended to, the running shower, and the physical sexual attraction between Mr Smooth and me, I climb onto Mr Smooth on the couch in a lapdancing pose.  We begin gently but aggressively groping each other, our pace sensually slowed in an attempt to not reopen my scratches.>>>>>>

<<<<We continue speaking between tongue kisses, me going first.>>>>

-Don't tell Katie I told you this, but Katie tells me she wants to pull hair with Cassie.

-Don't tell Katie I told you this, but she tells me about fantasiss she has of walking in on Cassie and me.....and tearing Cassie out of the bed.

<<<<I'm uncontrollably turned on.  I get on my knees, open Mr Smooth's belt and fly, and take his moderately-sized but fully-erect cock into my mouth.  I'm actually grateful for his not being hung like a horse--it allows me to take all of him into my rececently-bruise, still-tender mouth.  I talk to him between enthusiastic sucking.>>>>

-Who would win.....if Katie and Cassie fought?

-Cassie would start out winning......getting on top of Katie.....but Katie would scratch.....and slash.....and tear.....at Cassie's clothes.....stripping them off.....snd Cassie would tear Katie's clothes off.....and they'd pull hair.....fighting for poistion....but as soon as Katie could get her hands on Cassie's breasts.....she'd maul them, with no mercy.....and then she'd do the same to Cassie's pussy......yelling at her, "Stay away from him....you....you goldigging.....bitch!!!"

-<<<<I continue sucking Mr Smooth's cock, then slide my mouth off, and my hands on, so I can speak>>>>> Do you talk a lot to them....to Cassie and Katie.....about them fighting?

-Yeesss....everyday.  <<<<I become angry at what a sanctimonious bitch Katie was for rebuking me when I brought up the topic of finding out more about Cassie.  I want to hurt Katie, thtough her text buddy.>>>>

-Who do you think.....would win a fight.....between me and Katie?   <<<<I stare at Mr Smooth with submissive puppy-dog eyes, his cock throbbing in my mouth, nearing explosion.>>>>>

-Judging from......the cuts on you.....and the hair and skin under your nails....you versus Katie....would.....be.....fucking.....mmmmmmm......world.....war......aaaaaaaagggggghhhhhh.....threeeeeeeeee

Mr Smooth explodes in my mouth.  I eagerly swallow every drop.  I finger myself to a decidedly less intense, but still satisfying, mini-orgasm.

The shower stops.  Shit, Katie will be out any minute now.  I can't handle facing her like this right now.  I get dressed, bid an awkward goodbye to Mr Smooth, and do the Walk of Shame back to my car.  I race back home.

*******************

Later that night, Katie texts me. 

"Well, I did the deed with Mr Married Kroger Customer.  It wasn't bad.  But I think he jacked off to Cassie when I was getting ready.  Fuck, I hate that bitch."

"By the way--were you here this morning?  I found a couple of long blonde hairs on the kitchen chair--they looked like yours."

All I can think about is who would win a fight between her and me.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

A LOT TO, AHEM, SWALLOW

For the next 5 days, I'm working double shifts at my nursing job, with a lot of time to myself.  I have a lot to contemplate, with 4 new people in my life.

Mr Smooth--that was incredibly reckless for me to give him the blowjob I did when I was alone with him in Katie's living room.  I'm not a prude when it comes to sex with older men--there's a lot to be said for guys who learned about girls by actually interacting with them, and not by watching them, and caricatures of them, on a cellphone--but the entire vibe of that day was all off.  I had just lost a fight, he's married, we were sneaking behind Katie's back.  How will I ever face him again?  And do I even want to?

Marianne-- How did I lose that fight to her?  Did calling her before the fight give her time to psych herself up?  Is that why girls jump each other?  To not give them that chance?  Did that fight end things between us?  Does she think she has unfinished business because she got spooked by the sirens when she was ground-and-pounding me?  Do I have unfinished business because I lost our last fight?  Why did I think of her, and call her, that day?  Was it because Katie was talking about fighting Cassie?

Cassie--Why does Katie tell Mr Smooth that Cassie is a goldigger, but never told me that?  Is that true about Cassie--that she's flirting with Mr Smooth because she's trying to 'trade up' in husbands?  Is Mr Smooth using Cassie AND Katie for the enjoyment of watching two women fight over him?  Who has the power in their triangle?  Mr Smooth, because he's the guy.  Katie, because she's not married?  Cassie doesn't seem to have an angle--is she in the process of losing Mr Smooth to Katie?  Or do I just not know enough about her?  Who WOULD win a fight between Cassie and Katie?

Katie--Is it her fault or mine that Mr Smooth came into her life?  Should I have moved in with Katie before this had a chance to start?  Would this have started anyways, and just been more awkward?  Was my sucking Mr Smooth's cock cheating by me on Katie?  Hasn't her whole texting flirtation with him been her cheating on me?  Her telling me about it--does she want me go put my foot down down and demand she end it?  Was the sex Katie and I were having unsatisfying to her?  Was the hitting my thing, and not hers?  Was she just going along with it, and never really enjoyed it?  Why do I need violence to get off in bed?  Even the blow job between Mr Smooth and me had foreplay about Cassie and Katie fighting.

And then about Katie and me fighting?  Why am I becoming obsessed by thoughts of Katie and me fighting?  Why am I weighing who would win between us? 

Why does it turn me on so much?  Fighting Marianne isn't a turnon.  Would I fight Katie like I fight Marianne--barbarically and viciously?  Or would it be like I fuck Katie, just with no off-limits hitting targets.

Will I ever have "normal" sex with someone?  Do I want to?

Will I fight Marianne again?

Will Katie and Cassie fight?

Will Katie and I fight?

To be continued....

[ralbright2010]

Interesting story line....but so many permutations it is almost a matrix algebra problem!

[sinclairfan]

"I KNOW WHERE YOU WORK"

On my next day off of work, Katie texts me to Skype her right away--that she has something important to tell me.  The big news is that Mr Smooth, playing instigator, has made it known to Cassie that he has progressed beyond sexting with Katie and is now having actual sex with her.  Cassie didn't handle that news well--on one of her early morning shifts at Kroger, Katie was stocking shelves in the tootpaste aisle, breaking down boxes with a boxcutter.  The doors opened to customers at 7am, and Katie could hear a woman in heels approaching her from behind.  She sensed almost immediately that it was her rival Cassie, and turned to face her.  The two stared at each other without speaking.

Katie said that her read of the situation was that Cassie came into the store that morning with the intent of starting something physical with Katie--not to have it out in a full-on catfight, at least not then and there--but to get Katie in hot water with her employer, perhaps even fired.  By pure luck, Katie had a boxcutter in hand, which both women knew that Katie wouldn't hesitate to use to its fullest potential, so the confrontation ended with Cassie hissing at Katie, "I know where you work now, bitch."  Katie had contemplated various comebacks such as, "I can give you my home address if you'd like, too, whore," or "Tell me where YOU work so as I can stop by, cxnt," but was afraid her voice would shake, so she stayed silent.  She then proceeded to mangle and slash twenty boxes with the boxcutter.

Cassie then shows me pictures Mr Smooth has shared with her of Cassie.  So glamorous.  She gets to wear such nice clothes, while I work in my hospital scrubs and Katie lives in her Kroger uniform.  I thought fast-tracking my career would be the fast-track to glamour like Cassie has as well.  But it's not turning out that way.  And Cassie showing up at Katie's workplace was her way of showing Katie (and, without realizing it, me) that Katie and I are just working girls, our income and status totally tied to and dependent on our place of employment.  Lose the job, and we lose everything--we'll be back in our childhood bedrooms in our parents' homes.  We're barely adults.  Barely women.

Cassie is both dependent on, and independent of, her husband.  Her being married to him, and his money and success, confers onto Cassie a certain intangible status that Katie and I lack right now.  And she also wields a powerful option--that intangible status is convertible to cold, hard cash (alimony) if Cassie chooses to divorce her husband.  By butting in on the thing Cassie has going with Mr Smooth, Katie is diluting the power of that option.  Cassie must be furious.  No wonder she is preparing for war with Katie.

Shit, that was a balls-y move, showing up unannounced at your rival's place of employment.  Is that what grown women, real women, do when they fight?  My middle school parking lot and abandoned Sears catfights with Marianne seem so small and silly by comparison.  Has she been in fights like that before?  Did the boxcutter make her change her mind because she's been in fights where weapons were actually used?

I hang up with Katie and marinate in my thoughts and feelings.  If sleeping with Mr Smooth is all it takes to provoke violence from Cassie, then I've already crossed that threshold, the day I sucked Mr Smooth's cock in Katie's living room while Katie was in the shower.  Why should Katie be the only one who gets to "play" with Cassie.  I want in, too.  I want to graduate from Boca-Wellington girlfights.  I want a bitchfight with a woman.

A woman like Cassie.

To be continued.....

[JT Edson]

I was spook turned on by the part just before this one. Wow. A cold shower just isn't enough.
Great story so far.

[sinclairfan]

FIGHT ME, BITCH

As I commit HIPAA violations by the dozens and begin snooping into Cassie's patient medical records, my blood pressure rises as I discover that she's a walking, talking stereotype of a woman pushing back against Father Time and the aging process.  Medically unnecessary hysterectomy in 2009.  Breast enhancement procedures in 2012 and again in 2014.  Collagen injections in the lips in 2015 and for her crows' feet at the side of her eyes in 2016.  Physical therapy, over 20 sessions, for a "sports injury" to a shoulder in 2013, the cause of which is not identified.  That's interesting.  Did Cassie used to be an athlete?  Or was her shoulder injured in a fight?  The original injury was serious if it required that much therapy.

The intimacy of reading someone's records, and the blatant impropriety of invading another woman's medical records, gives an erotic tinge to what would otherwise be a boring chore. Does this bitch ever do anything besides going to doctors and therapy?  Is that why she needs a sugar daddy husband?

Not mentioned in the hospital records are her dental and "ancillary" procedures, although the names and phone numbers of her providers are included.  A regular dentist and a "cosmetic" dentist, for tooth whitening.  This is odd--multiple "hair removal" providers.  Laser hair removal.  Body/bikini waxing.  Appointments the last Friday of every month.  Interesting.  Does Cassie have a hair problem?  Just routine mid-life feminine stuff?  Just keeping her body bikini-ready? 

Keeping your bikini line clean is big business in a beach town like Boca.  FAU had a certification program in it that was popular girls my age--I met them in Human Anatomy class as part of my Nursing degree.I stayed in touch with one of them in case I, ahem, ever required her services--she said she'd give me a good deal.  Last I spoke to her, she was running a shop out of her house--pretty shady from a legal/zoning perspective, but not my problem, right?

An idea percolates in my head.  I've already committed HIPAA violations that could abruptly end my career--I might as well take this to completion.  I try to think of a way to get Cassie and me alone in a waxing room so that I can inform her of who I am.  That she and I share 2 things that aren't meant to be shared--Mr Smooth's texting time, and his cock.  That I don't much like her.  That I'd like to cut loose with her.  I'd like that very much indeed.  That I think she'd like it, too.  Based on her 7am Kroger confrontation with Katie, which was short-circuited only by the boxcutter in Katie's hand.

Whaddaya say, Cassie?  You and me?

I masturbate in my car, at every stop light, to the thought of me cornering, confronting, and challenging Cassie.  Or I could just impulsively text her, like I did to Marianne.

Why not both?  I send a text to Cassie.  "Fight me, bitch."  No response.  No respose.  Still no response.  Well, I was kinda vague.  Or, is Cassie so used to getting texts like that that she just routinely ignores them?

Guess I'll have to call my bikini waxing friend.  Sending the text to Cassie has released my inhibitions.  Point of no return--it's now on between me and her.

My friend's bungalow home is available Friday June 30, right before the 4th of July long weekend.  I give Mr Smooth one of the blow-job-with-catfight-talk specisls that he loves so much.  While he's washing up, I take his cellphone and text to Cassie that due to the long weekend, the location of her June appointment has been changed, and I type in the address of my friend's house.  She types back, "Ty, lover." 

Slut.  I delete both texts.

There's no way this is going to actually fucking work, is there?  I get in my car on the 30th to drive to my friend's house for my 9am "appointment" with Cassie.  I wear nursing scrubs to keep Cassie's suspicions at bay until it's time for us to bare our claws.  My clit is hard and protruding, so much so that it's uncomfortable to sit anx drive.  Is this what it's like to have a hard on?

I haven't told Katie of my plans (or are they just hopes?) for this morning.  I already feel bad commandeering my waxing friend's house (is it even hers?  her family's?  her boyfriend's?) and indirectly "involving" her.  I hope Cassie and I don't break anything irreplacable when we fight.  If we fight.  This can't be about to happen, can it?

I pull into the driveway at 8:28am.  The key works.  I go into the waxing room and wait.  This house is small--I hope not too small to fight.  I look at the waxing tape and feel it.  Fuck, I'd love to stick this on Cassie and tear.  Make her cringe.

A Range Rover pulls up.  This must be Cassie.  Shit, she's beautiful, even prettier than the selfies in her sexts to Mr Smooth.  Even dressed casual like she is, t-shirt and jean shorts, her "enhanced" boobs practically bursting out of the tshirt.  Mr Smooth must love his family if he hasn't ditched them yet for Cassie.  She's a 10.

I suddenly realize I'm in over my head.  But, no, that's a good thing--this is what I wanted.  I can have a Boca-Wellington girlfight anytime I want.  This will be different.  A genuine woman.  Fighting how women genuinely fight.  I want to experience that.

I open the door.  Cassie stares me down in a way which I find unnerving.  Is it because the appointment is in a strange location?  Can she see my erect clit bulging on my scrubs?  "May I come in?"  "Yes, of course."  The conversation is stilted, unnatural.  Something is up.

"Where should I put my stuff down?"  "This table is fine."  This was a fucking mistake.  We're both gonna get hurt bad.  I can tell.  I can feel it.

"Let me just turn my cellphone off."

I already know what she's going to do.  She dials the number, mine, that the impulsive "Fight me, bitch" text came from.  I pray I remembered to turn off my phone.

I didn't.  It rings from the inside of my purse five feet away.

Cassie and I now know who each are.  And we now know we know.

"Ok.  I'll fight you.  Bitch."

She tosses her phone down, and grabs onto my hair.  I sink my claws into hers.  We slam into the wall, plaster flying everywhere.

Three seconds in, and there's already property damage.

To be continued......

[ralbright2010]

As always, superb buildup!