[sinclairfan]

As Bonnie rolled on the floor with Krista, kissing and carressing having been banished from the room and replaced with clutching and grabbing, Bonnie was surprised to find her sexual arousal not abating in the least.

On the contrary, she found it reasserting its hold on her body.  Her body sought sexual release as hungrily as it had as minutes ago when Krista was kissing Bonnie on the mouth, neck and breasts.

In fact, her desire was even more possessive of her thoughts and urges.

Bonnie thought back to the summertime waterfight (by name:  "You!!!!  Bonnie!!!") call-out from the stranger girl with whom she shared a mutual flirtation with a boy.  Her first feelings in that confrontation, both before and after it became physical, was of fear and trepidation.  And her face and torso  surely felt the wrath of the jealous rival's slaps and punches.

But throught that skirmish, Bonnie also felt overwhelming arousal.  At first, she thought, it had been stirred up by the memory of the boy over whose attention the two girls were competing.  She had masturbated all night after that fight to the thought of flirting and dancing with the boy.

But, now, Bonnie wondered ..... what if her arousal that afternoon with the rival girl was from the fight .... not the boy.

What if her arousal this day with Krista wasn't from kissing Krista, but was from .... fighting her.

What if Bonnie's ability, to reach climax for the first time from other than her own touch and thoughts, was due to the more violent nature of this fight.  For this fight wasn't a waterfight, where water and sand cushioned every fall.  This was a violent fight on a hardwood floor.

Naked, except for riding boots.

Bonnie remembered the riding points.  But Krista must have remembered first.

Since Krista mule-kicked Bonnie in her back with the hard heels of the riding boots.  Bonnie felt excruciating pain.

And even more intense pleasure.  Surprising pleasure.  Sexual pleasure.

> You can't kick any harder than that, Krista?

> Show me how YOU kick, Bonnie.

Bonnie sits back and lashes out with a hard heel-kick to Krista's belly.

Krista must be a poker player.  For she hids two feelings wiyh wash over her.
Pain.
And pleasure.  Sexual pleasure.

Both women are close to orgasm.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Bonnie and Krista roll into a 69-style position, except with their faces buried into each others' riding boots, rather than in each others' crotches.  They are attemting to squeeze and each others's head and faces with their boots, sometimes succeeding and eliciting grunts of agony. 

Krista is actually familiar with the phrase '69'.  At Transylvania College, playful games of show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine on dorm beds would proceed to kisding and fondling in the 69 position.  It had the great benefit that the sexually inexperienced, but hot-to-trot, college men (boys, really; but treated as men) could realease their pent up aggression and tension on a willing coed, with no risk of a reputation-ruining pregnancy, an unthinkable scandal in still-Puritanical America.  Krista's breasts had always been erotic, and she had successfully achieved orgasm at times on her partner by rubbing her nipples on hips and frontier-hardened abs.

Krista was doing the same now with her enemy Bonnie.  Her arousal was frantic and uncontrollable, and she sought relief, between headkicks, on Bonnie's firm torso.  The prickly bristleness on Bonnie's pussy hair was an erotic tactile sensation on Krista's breasts.  It reminded her of stolen nighttime breast kisses from bearded Transylvania professors .... or naughty farmhands .... or travelling frontier merchants.  She rubbed herself furiously on Bonnie.

Bonnie, too, was experiencing frenzied arousal.  The power of her boots reminded her of her first time alone tending horses, wearing full workboots.  And workgloves.

She would form a fist with both pigskin workgloves on, picturing herself in a fistfight with another farmgirl, alone in a haybarn, throwing haymakers (is that why they're called that?), trying to permanently disfigure each others' feminine faces.

The sound of Krista coming throws Bonnie over the top, like a haybail being tossed into a wagon.

> ooooooooaaaaaaassooooooolo

> aaaahhhhhhhjjjhhhhhhhhhh

> Fuck you, Krissssssssssssstaaaaaa.

> Fuck yiu, Cllllllllaaaayyyyyy bitcchhhhhhhhh.

Both women come simultaneously for minutes, loudly and violently.

They pause and catch their breath.  But not as long as they'd like to.

As if on cue, they pop to their feet, still naked but for their boots.

Bonnie wishes she was wearing workgloves.

Krista wishes they both were.

But barehands will have to do.

> Let's fistfight.

> Like men.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

The ever-observant Bonnie noted a similarity between childhood summer watering hole play-wrestling with boys and girls.

A watering hole playfight with a boy was rehearsal for grownup sex.

And a watering hole playfight wiyh a girl was rehearsal for a grownup catfight.

Bonnie was in her first grownup catfight now.  It was with a political enemy who she would be interacting with for potentially decades.  She needed to establish superiority over Krista.  Right here.  Right now.

She had always known her first adult sex would come on her wedding night.  That's when it happened for all respectable Indiana women in 1845.

But she never knew when her first adult catfight would happen.  The first time she put on rawhide workgloves, she assumed it would happen in the fields.  Perhaps a dispute over pay.  Or stolen farm equipment on her barn.

Or perhaps with a romatic rival.  But thst would be a really nasty fight.  It would be to the death, potentially.  Since there would be no rules.

This was better.  A fight over politics.  Whig vs Democrat.  Clay versus Jackson.

Men fought over politics all the time. 

Why not women?

This was perfect, thought Bonnie.

Me vs Krista.

> Bring it, Krista.  Hurt me.

> I intend to, Bonnie.

Why are we using our Christian names with each other, wondered Bonnie.

Has it actually become THAT personal?

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Bonnie thrills to the fulfillment of a lifelong dream of standup fistfighting another woman.  The years-before aborted dress fight against the schoolgirl bully, which she was hurriedly driven to by her aunt, is quickly forgotten in the silent tense exchange of fists to the face with her Transylvania coed rival.

Although part of Bonnie wishes rawhide workgloves were available for this duel, as when she word wordlessly flex workgloves in the southern Indiana cornfields, the flesh-on-flesh sensation of her fist to Krista's, and of her face to Krista's fists, excite and thrill her.

And arouse her.  Bonnie has been aroused continuiusly for ovef an hour this morning.  She has never imagines such sustained arousal being possible for her.

Is this why they call in the Wedding NIGHT, not the Wedding consummation.  Does Wedding Night sex indeed last all night? 

Is that why Honeymoons are a week long.  Does the stimulation and titillation last all week?

> Hitting you turns me on.  [Why did I blurt that out?]

> That's because you're a low class slatternly whore.

> I'm no whore.  Your Transylvania education doesn't make you higher class than me.

> It does so.  That's what class IS, whore.

> I'll never forgive you for thinking that.

> I seek no forgiveness from the likes of you.  Whore.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Krista thought back to an all-dorm coed meeting at Transylvania weeks ago when the school was disbursing for holiday break.  Women attending college, except for Teachers' Colleges, was especially rare in 1845, and even more so in the West (in 1845, any state west of the Appallachians).  Frequently coeds would receive playful, or not so playful, taunts from jealous hometown chums.  Under the late night influence of Kentucky Bourbon, some of the underclassmen girls posited the question to the older girls, "What advice do you give if one of the girls should slap me?  What is the ladylike response?".

"My advice is that you should hit her back," was the unhesitant unanimous response.  "Fiddlesticks to behaving like a lady to any impertinant bitch who slaps you.  Show her that Transylvania ladies have not lost their Old Northeest grit.  Slap her back, and offer the opportunity to fight outside."

Krista's chest swelled with pride that she was unhesitatingly brawling with Bonnie, a non-college barbarian masquerading as a reader of law.  What need had the Old Northwest of a woman lawyer.  No doubt to aid Whigs in land-speculation, the only reason Clay and his acolytes supported a National Bank.  She craved to return to school and relate the details of the thrashing she had laid on an Indiana Whig bitch.

> Fuck you, Bonnie, I hate you.

> I hate you completely, Krista.

Krista has an irresistable desire to mount Bonnie and thrust their naked pussies together.  Bonnie rolls Krista over, and the two are side by side.  Krista has Bonnie by the wrists, but is to strong for Krista to mount.

Krista feigns weakness, rolls on her back, open her legs, and feels Bonnie's pussy on her.

Will Bonnie fight me or fuck me?, Krista wonders.

> Release my wrists, Krista.

> Thrust into me first, and I shall, Bonnie.

Bonnie thrusts into Krista's pussy, and the two are orgasming within a minute.  The two continue until satiated, maybd for 10 minutes.

> Release my wrists now , says Bonnie.

> Fuck, you, retorts Krista.  So you can thrash my face?

> So I can thrash your tits, Jackson whore.

> I shall release them.  But anything that happens to your tits will happen three-fold to yours.

> You wouldn't dare.

The women begin mauling each others' breasts.

Bonnie, still mounting Krista, slaps Krista in the face.

Then punches.

Krista's nose is bleeding.

> Stupid bitch.  This fight is mine.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Krista and Bonnie both grew up "living off the land" in sotheastern Indiana and fully understood the causes of ..... and effects of .... bloody noses.  Namely, a likely broken nose .... and, if not reset immediately and perfectly by a trained surgeon, a permanently disfigured nose.

Mere minutes earler, Krista was in a position to convey the ideal Transylvania "what I did on my Holiday Break" tale to her classmates-- I stood up to a Whig rival after helping Speaker Polk from Tennessee win back the White House .... and the associated Postmaster Grneral patronage .... from the Harrison/Tyler/Clay plutocrats.  Harrison .... Tippecanoe .... from my own native soil of Indiana .... I stood up to a bitch acolyte of his, Bonnie.  An Amazonian unwed .... Amazon.  Who enjoyed fighting like a man.

I went toe to toe wth her, and have the scars to prove it.

But I'm sbout to have a disfigured face, which will prove little beyond my defeat to her.

> I give, Bonnie.  Stop.  You won when I released your wrists.

> Duplicitous Jackson whore.  I won when you decided to fight me.

> I regret not fighting you, Whig plutocrat.  Fighting is rhe way of honor in Indiana, may it always be so.

Bonnie could not dispute her enemy's pricipled stand, however much hatred she bore for her opponent.

> Acknowledge my victory then, with the kiss of charity.  Krista.

> You have won our battle, Clay devil.  I know not the "kiss of victory."

> Then I shall .... enlighten you .... Jackson slut.  [Bonnie, still mounted on Krista, bends over and kisses her enemy energetically, the two women's pussies again finding each other and grinding.  Both women finish quickly.]

> The kiss of victory is better .... and yet sweet.

> 'Tis, isn't it?

> 'Tis.  [The two women collapse in embrace.]

> What happens now?

> What, indeed?

> Thank you for not .... maiming me.

> Thank you for not forcing me to.  Krista.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Both women faced painful horse rides home thru the Indiana prairie from the Postal sorting facility where they had brawled all morning.  Each prayed not to be stopped and queried by neighbors as to their ragged and dishevelled condition, or even worse, to be accosted by brigands.

Their prayers were answered.  Each miraculously reached her destination safely.

Bonnie's destination was the residence of her tomboy-ish Aunt who had escorted her to her schooldays confronation with her bullying rival.  Her Aunt, Bonnie correctly guessed, would be discreet about the causes of Bonnie's many wounds, and would know how to clean up from a catfight.  Bonnie rejoiced that her Aunt answered the door.

> Bonnie!!!  Look what the cat done drug in!!  Are you ok??  Did you have an encounter with a bear??

> Worse.  A Jackson bitch.  Krista--that horrid Transylvania College coed.

> Did she ..... assault you??  Do we need to have the Sherriff arrest her?

> 'Twas no assault.  We fought.  Mutual decision.  Hand to hand.
 Vicious, but with full fair play.  We needed to know .... which of us was ..... [blushing] the better woman.

> And?  Was that decided??

> It was.  I carried the day on the field of battle.

> Bonnie!!! [hugs her niece]  I'm proud, never prouder actually.  Your secret fight will be safe with me, but thank you for telling me.

> Thank you.  And ..... what do I do about this? [opens her top to reveal her mauled bosom]

> That barbaric animal.  This is what they teach her at Transylvania?
Is it some kind of Amazon school?? She did THIS to you.  I hope you reciprocated in kind.  Let me get the iodine out.

> I got her back far worse.  I made her beg for mercy.  And something else ..... most unladylike ..... as well.

> [Looks at her niece slyly.]  If you two were fighting as viciously as your wounds show ..... my guess would be that you were ..... each of you .... experiencing arousal from your loins.  It is natural .... I assure you ..... when one is in a woman to woman contest such as you had.

> Thank you.  I was afraid .... I didn't want to .... sin.

> Think not of sin.  The Lord made David a King for killing Goliath in a duel.  That's what you had today.  A duel with an enemy.  Men do it all the time.  Do not let anyone make you feel women cannot do that same.

> You've ..... duelled ..... hand-to-hand with women.

> I have.

> And your loins .... and hers .... were excited?

> Like nothing else in life.  Other than, perhaps, watching a feminine duel.

> You were lucky enough to watch.

> A couple times, yes.  How I wozld have loved to watch your war this morning with that witch Krista.

Bonnie's aunt disinfected Bonnie's wounds.  The aunt and niece retired to their beds to rest.

And to masturbate to the thought of the Bonnie-Krista fight.

****************************
Krista, too, received medical care at home to her wounded face and bosom.  She returned to Transyvania, where her battle scars were still visible.

She showed them off to her dormmates.

> You received those in a fight??  With a woman??  Did you win??

> Hand-to-hand.  With a woman.  Just like Canto XXVII of Orlando Furioso.  And I won.

Krista felt no choice but to lie about the outcome.  Defeat would have reflected poorly on the school.

She couldn't stop masturbating to memories of the fight.

She longed to reach out to Bonnie and share her feelings of the fight.

She considered writing a letter to her enemy.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Three weeks after the brutal catfight which Bonnie won over Krista, the Clay supporter (Bonnie) was also "winning the post-fight" over the Jackson acolyte.  For two reasons.  First, Bonnie was the truth-teller when she recounted the battle and stated she was the victor  of the clash (Krista's claims of victory rang hollow no matter how many times she repeated them in her Transylvania dorm--either that, or Krista was just a plain terrible liar).  But secondly, Bonnie's listener, her own aunt, was able to read between the lines and understand the sexual arousal, and satisfaction, to which Bonnie and Krista had brought each other during the fight.  Krista's listeners at Transylvania responded to her innuendo with blank stares.

And spelling out the experience to them was, well, un-speakable in the Victorian (literally--the Great Queen was in Year 8 of her 64 year Reign of Glory) Midwest.

Krista was sexually frustrated post-fight.

The only path to relief she could think of was to....
....write a humiliating, but candid, letter to her rival.

Is Bonnie still my rival, wondered Krista.  Will she even open my letter?

Only one way to find out.

Three days later, Bonnie's hands shook as she opened a handwritten letter, apparently genuine (not a forgery--after all, thanks to the Spoils System, Krista's party now controlled the mails in the U.S.).

Dear Bonnie,

Three weeks ago, you and I engaged in an un-lady-like combat of protracted duration.  Although the tactics and attire were not what would be approved in Polite Society if witnessed intra-fight or negotiated by seconds pre-Duel, I hope we can be in agreement that we followed Fair Play in seeking a victor.

I acknowledge you were said victor, despite my preparing for such a battle since reading of a feminine dual in Ariosto's 'Orlando Furioso', Canto XXVII.  [I recommend it to you if you have access to the text.]

But that's not the only reason for note.

You say you are reading law, and as such I trust you have at least heard of Ariosto.

Have you heard of Sappho?  Classical Greece?

A female poet, who wrote of her love of other females.

Now, I don't love you, Bonnie.  This isn't that kind of confession.

But I was aroused like never before while fighting you.  But it was more than that.  I got aroused at the Raintree County watering hole, both participating in and watching female 'waterfights'. 

But it never went beyond arousal.  I never got "over the summit" and achieved ..... climaxing, the girls at Transylvania call it.

Until I fought you.  So many times that I lost count.

I think I might be permanently broken for male suitors.  Maybe I already was all along--maybe that's why I'm not married yet.

Do you feel the same?  Would you be open to ....  fighting me again?

Krista

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Bonnie received, read, .... and re-read, not fully believing or trusting her lying eyes, .... the intimate correspondence from her enemy Krista.  Three streams of thoughts ran thru her mind.

Either:

> Krista had banged her head in her fight with Bonnie weeks ago, and was delirious.

> Krista was playing a prank on Bonnie, perhaps in league with her Jackson-Van Buren-Polk allies, in order to embarrass Bonnie and pull her into a scandal.

> Krista was asking Bonnie for a fight re-match.

The first two, of course, would be very very bad for Bonnie.  But the third would .... enticing ...  to Bonnie.  And, most welcome to her as well.

Bonnie knew she had to go to her aunt.  After masturbating to Krista's familiar scent, still lingering on the fine stationary, Bonnie put on her riding gear and galloped to her aunt's.

Bonnie excitedly handed the letter to her aunt, momentarily forgetting her aunt's il-literacy.  Bonnie's aunt was of the final Vincennes Culture generation, where few men ... and almost no women ..... wrre taught to read and write.

Bonnie's aunt listened to Bonnie's recitation of Krista's letter, and spoke: "I envy your generation, able to challenge rivals to fights by letter.  More fights ..... so many more .... would have happened in the Tecumseh War days, and the peace afterwards, if we had had the gift of letters available to us."

"But, dear Aunt .... do we respond by letters ..... or in person?"

"I'm glad you said 'we'.  I want to be included.  And to witness your next fight with this college hussy."

"I want you to witness it, too."

"Then let's prepare to travel to Lexington, Kentucky [which both knew as the site of Transylvania College], and answer this bitch's challenge."

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Bonnie's and Krista's upbringing in Victorian Indiana deprived them of the vocabulary to understand, describe, and act on the feelings overwhelming them after their Post Office brawl.

The Vincennes Culture of the Old Northwest gave them the experience to understand a 1on1 fistfight, and to never back down to a challenge.  Bonnie's Aunt had brought her to fight a girl during her schoolgirl days.

The make-out culture of the Summer Watering-Hole in Raintree County had given them their first quivers of sexual desire and release.

The courtship culture of rivalry and marriage and taught them to compete for the most fertile, and socially desirable, mate and life partner.

And, finally, the Jackson-Clay, Democrat-Whig political feud taught them that go the winner belonged the spoils.

They thought their Post Office was the natural result of all of the above, especially the latter.

But why, then, they wondered, was Bonnie drawn to Krista's retreat and refuge at Transylvania College.  To her lair.  Her literal bed.

Were they here to fight?

To grapple, as at Watering Hole playfights?

Or was this a mating competition?  To test, against each other, who could better satisfy the sexual appetites of a hypothetical future high-power alpha husband.  Bonnie hoped the answer lay here.

Krista gasped when she opened her dorm room door to a lady's knock, and found it was Bonnie.

> You?  You?  Bonnie?  You've actually .... come?  I knew it was possible .... glfrom the day you wrote your letter .... but I prayed you would change your mind .... or ..   Bonnie, I fear to say this .... I prayed you would die on the road on the way here.

> Your prayer went unanswered, bitch.  And, yet .... if you really desire my non-presence, you can close the fmdoor now, and deny me entrance.

> [Krista leans forward and kisses Bonnie's lips.]  No.  No.  Come in.  We must .... kiss .... until one of us can take no more.  Do you .... accept?

> [Bonnie think, feeling Krista's bosom under her top.]

> Answer me, bitch.  Now, I demand.

> I accept.  I'm the better woman than you.  I showed you in Raintree County with fists, and will show you now with my passion.

Bonnie pushed thru the door past Krista.  Krista latches and locks it behind them.

> When that door opens, one of us will be a defeated woman.  Irrevocably so.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

In 1845, Transylvania College was a hub of gadgetry (Kentucky lore has it that the very word was invented there) and techical wizardry.  Watt's steam engine was the iPhone of its time, and the "killer app" in Krista's dorm suite was a primitive steam bath.

Bonnie was gritty and grimy from the long road trip.  Her eyes were drawn to the enticing wash room--nothing like the outhouse shack she was required to use in Indiana.

> May I try the bath?

> You may.  Let me show you how to use it.  It's easy to burn yourself.

Krista started the bath contraption (another Transylvania-invented word). 

Bonnie undressed.  She was normally bashful about her own naked body.  Not in front of Krista, though.  She was glad she had made this trip.

The bathroom filled with steam.  Literally .... and figuratively.

Bonnie sat at the age of the filling bath.

Krista readied a straight-edge razor, and shaving cream.  She pylked down her own pants, and showed Bonnie had to shave her bush.

She handed Bonnie the razor.  Bonnie was glad.  She half expected Krista might slit her (Bonnie's) throat with it.  Bonnie hoped Krista tied--so that she could fight her off.

Bonnie shaved.

> When are we going to fight?

> Finish tour bath, first.  You're filthy. Clay-whore.

> You're filthy in ways that can't be cleaned.  Jackson-slut.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Bonnie stripped and let her weary body melt, almost literally, into the steamy tub.  She had never felt such scalding water in her life, even when cooking on her Indiana farm. 

She had also, Krista now realized, experienced a bubble bath, requiring special liquid soap imported direct from Paris.  Krista wanted to brag to Bonnie, lording her University lifestyle over her uneducated hick rival.

Krista knocked on the bathroom door and entered.

> I apologize for interrupting.  May I come in?

> [Aren't we about to see each other naked when we resume our fighting later?, wondered Bonnie.  Why the sudden show of feminine modesty and decorum?]  Please.  My body is ... in the bath water.

> I wanted to show you .... such a silly name .... it's from King Louis-Phillippe's France .... it's calle bubble bath.  It's what it sounds like.  Soap that fills the tub with bubbles.  Can I pour some in?  Only the right amount of lotion.... works.

> Please.

> [Krista pours soap into the tub, filling it with relaxing volumes of bubbles.  Bonnie smiles in relaxation, then catches herself.  Krista is her mortal political rival, she reminds herself.  Clay and Jackson supporters have been at each others' throats since the Nullification Crisis of 1832.  That was over a dozen years of political warfare, often erupting in war with fists, as it did that morning in the Post Office between Krista and Bonnie.  Krista sees Bonnie suppress her smile.]  I'll let you alone now.

> No.  Please stay.  [Bonnie is surprised by her own request.  Why dud she ask Krista to stay?]  I .... will need your help drying when I'm done.  And emptying the bathwater.

>  Very well.  I shall stay.  I actually .... wanted to ask you something anyways.

> [Bonnie has questions of her own for Krista.  Perhaps our questions are similar, she tells herself.]  Please.  Ask me anything.

> The fight .... you and I had .... and will be having ..... this is awkward .... [both women are blushing] ..... do women who used to have playfights at the summer watering whole .... do THEY, when they are adults .... do they fight each other like you and I enjoy doing?

> [Bonnie thinks of her aunt.]  My aunt, when I was younger, drove me to fight a schoolgirl I had a quarrel with.  She fought other women, I'm sure, when grown ..... and was in waterfights as a youth.  She's all I can really go by.  I don't talk to women .... or anyone ...  about fighting .... except her .... and you, Krista.  Thank you for your letter.

> Thank you for yours.  And for coming here.  To fight me.

> [After a pregnant pause...]  I can't believe later today we're going to fight.

> I can't .... either.  Will we know when to stop?

> I don't think we will.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Bonnie began to stand up to get out of the tub, but Krista motioned for her to stay stationary.

<> Wait, wait.  Before you dry off .... I had an idea .... I've thought of it, dreamed of it .... before, when you weren't here.  But now that you're here, in the flesh .... so to speak ....

<> Yes, in the flesh .... I love how that sounds .... so naughty....

<> Yes .... being around you makes me naughty .... I'm not normally like this .... well, not as much ..... well, anyways .....while you're in the full bath .... I had a thought .... I was wondering if you might consider it .... it's a bit .... dangerous ....

<> Danger?  Please ... ask.

<> When you used to have summer watering hole playfights in Indiana .... water fights .... if the girl you were fighting was an actual bully ... or, if she was an actual rival ... if you and her had the same suitor .... would you actually try to dunk each other in the water during your waterfights ... I mean, to actually try and make each other unable to breathe?.... Did any of your fights ever get THAT ....  violent? ...  and hateful?

<> [Blushing] .... if the other girl was an actual rival .... if we had both kissed the same boy ... then, yes, we would both try and dunk each other .... it made my heart race when a fight would get that violent .... because it was dangerous.

> I was wondering .... do you want to water fight me like that right now?  To try and dunk each other in the tub?

<> ..... [Bonnie hesitates]....

<> [Krista stands and starts to strip].... Perhaps I'm not asking you, Bonnie...... [strips and comes up to the bath edge, bending down and putting her face into Bonnie's] .... perhaps I'm telling you .... Bonnie, I'm coming into the tub to dunk you.

<> I welcome you to try, bitch.  Let's find out if Clay women or Jackson bitches are better at dunking.

<> Yes, let's find out.

Krista climbs into the tub and gets on her knees, facing her enemy Bonnie.  The two women lock each other into headlocks, recalling the tactics they used on youthful dunking waterfights.  These fights bore little resemblance to playful waterfights.  This fight was as real as rhe Krista-Bonnie brawl on the post office floor--It just was taking place in three feet of scalding water.

Then two and a half feet of water.

Then two feet.

As Krista and Bonnie squirmed in the tub, exchanging temporary advantages and briefly making her enemy gasp on mouthfuls of water, but then the other regaining the advantages, water was overflowing the side of the tub onto the floor.

Both women soon realized that so much water was lost that neither can any longer submerge her opponent.

It was not longer a watering hole fight, but a mud puddle fight.

> I think neither of us is going to dunk the other.

> I think you're right.

> I still .... very much enjoyed that fight.  I crave danger like that.

> I crave it as well.  That fight was ...  exhilirating.

> I'm glad neither of us drowned.  I've never had a fight opponent like you.

> Nor have I.

> Let's get dry and ....

> .... and fight on the bed.

> I was thinking exactly that.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Three decades later, in 1875, when Bonnie was a grown, married childless woman in Raintree County, a member of the Democratic establishment stll occassionally wresting power from Indiana Republicans, Bonnie became a leader of the nascent Granger movement.  She built one of the state's first indoor swimming pools in their activity center.

And wondered in 1870s Indiana college girls knew what waterfighting was.

She gathered a group together, and asked around to see if any of the two girls might have a rivalry in progress.  Over status.  Over a boy.

She would put these 2 girls in physical proximity with each other, and encourage them to engage in conversation, the bitchier the better.

She noticed they come together and waterfight.

She loved it.