[Guy Incognito]

First three chapters of my second ever story. I'll release the rest chapter by chapter, wanted to post the first three at once since the first two are build-up. Didn't want to tease y'all too much



Chapter 1 - Out of Place

Amber and Ben didn’t seem like a likely couple at first glance. Amber sat comfortably at the lower end of the middle class, holding a steady, if unremarkable, job—one that covered the bills and left just enough for the occasional indulgence. She lived in a modest apartment on the outskirts of the city. Her life was good, but she had worked hard to earn that privilege.

Ben’s life experiences couldn’t have been more different. She’d been surprised to learn that the bank her mother had worked at for twenty years was owned by Ben’s father. Not the branch, nor the building it was housed in—the bank itself. Amber had almost spat out her drink when she first learned how much the man was worth—and how much Ben stood to inherit from him.

Despite his privilege, Ben was surprisingly down-to-earth. Far from the entitled, pretentious rich kid Amber had imagined when she first found out about his family’s vast fortune, she’d found him to be kind, considerate, and shockingly humble for a man who could have bought her entire apartment on a whim. (He’d offered to do so, and she’d politely declined.) He could be a little out of touch with what he jokingly referred to as “the peasantry,” but Amber found him pleasant company overall, and a caring and attentive boyfriend.

When he’d invited her to a gala, Amber had had to ask him what one was. Ben had described it as basically being a big party. This particular event was held every year at the house of some politician she’d never heard of. Many business owners, politicians, and other influential individuals would be there. Ben had talked about it like it was a networking event—a chance for the rich to schmooze with the even richer. She hadn’t exactly been listening at the time; she didn’t really understand the politics of Ben’s peers.

When they first arrived at the gala, her jaw had dropped. The only kinds of parties she’d ever been to had consisted of around thirty people crammed into the tiny kitchen of someone’s rented terraced house, drinking the cheapest booze a bunch of broke students could find and picking at bowls of off-brand snacks on the counter. Technically, this event was the same thing—just swap the shitty rented house for a mansion, the cheap booze for an array of wines older than her great-grandparents, and the off-brand snacks for a buffet table that seemed to stretch on forever.

After being dropped off by Ben’s chauffeur, it had taken them a full ten minutes to cross the garden. They’d passed through a foyer large enough to fit Amber’s entire apartment twice over, and entered a grandiose sitting room. Guests milled about, sipping wine and making polite conversation. Others sat on velvet sofas, discussing business and politics over polished mahogany coffee tables. The walls were adorned with large, expensive-looking paintings, giant bay windows draped in velvet curtains, and, along one wall, a crackling fireplace. In the corner, a man in a tuxedo played a gentle melody on a grand piano.

Amber found the whole experience overwhelming; she couldn’t have been more out of her element. Ben wasted no time—he immediately started networking, greeting people he knew and introducing himself to those he didn’t. Amber mostly kept to the sidelines, offering a polite hello whenever Ben introduced her but otherwise leaving the talking to him. Most of the people who engaged Ben seemed content to let her fade into the background. After a while, Ben left to fetch drinks for them both.

Amber stood against the wall, hoping to be ignored. She tugged at her dress, conscious that it wasn’t sitting quite right. Ben had bought her an undeniably gorgeous new outfit for the occasion—a jet-black, backless dress with a deep V-neck and a thigh-high slit that exposed one shapely leg. The fabric clung tightly to her strong frame, accentuating her considerable curves. The stylist Ben had hired had spent hours meticulously styling her back-length brown hair—one side draped over her shoulder, the other left to hang freely down her back. The dangling earrings Ben had surprised her with on the ride over apparently contained real sapphires that complemented the blue of her eyes. Her black, open-toed heels added a good six inches to her height and showed off her red-painted toes.

Before the party, she’d spent hours admiring herself in the mirror; the outfit undeniably made her look sexy as hell. Now, standing among these people, it just made her feel uncomfortable. The heels made her feet ache, her hair kept falling into her face, and she constantly felt the need to readjust the dress to make it sit better on her body.

For ten minutes, she endured, silently willing Ben to return. Occasionally, a guest approached her, attempting to strike up a conversation, but they soon moved on when she proved unreceptive. Another five minutes passed. It occurred to her that it might actually take that long to walk between rooms in a house this size.

After another five minutes, she’d had enough. She made her way to the door, skirting around the edges of the room to avoid the centre. As she passed through the doorway in a hurry, she collided with someone coming the other way. Wine sloshed over the sides of the glass in the other guest’s hand as they both came to an abrupt stop.

“Oh, I’m so so—” Amber began, but the words died in her throat.

Glancing up at the woman in the doorway, she recognised her immediately.

Oh shit, she thought. This is going to be interesting.



Chapter 2 - Unexpected Encounter

Amber and Hazel had met in their first year at university; they’d lived in the same halls and initially hit it off. They shared many of the same interests and became friends quickly. When the time came to decide who to live with in their second year, the choice had been obvious—they settled on a small, cheap house close to campus, just the two of them. Given how close they had become, it felt like a no-brainer.

The problems started early. Small differences in their habits and lifestyles clashed, causing tensions to rise. The housemates bickered over fairly minor things—unfinished chores, noise, bathroom time. As the year wore on, things only worsened. Their arguments grew in both frequency and intensity as they continued to get on each other’s nerves. Soon, they evolved from polite disagreements to full-on arguments. By the time they were halfway through their tenancy, the two were getting into full-blown shouting matches almost every night.

It all came to a head one night, about a month before their tenancy ended. They had gotten into an argument over a chore that had gone undone, each insisting it had been the other’s responsibility. What started as a few passive-aggressive remarks escalated into a heated row, which then exploded into an all-out shouting match. Finally, eleven months of anger and resentment erupted into an all-out brawl. Punches were thrown, hair was pulled, and clothes were torn as the two former friends fought out their frustrations. The battle was brutal; with no one to stop them, they kept going until they were too exhausted to continue. Bloody, bruised, and breathless, they finally retreated to their respective rooms to stew.

Amber spent the remainder of their tenancy staying at a friend’s place; it didn’t seem wise for the two of them to continue sharing a roof. When moving day arrived, both women brought along groups of friends to help carry boxes, and to prevent another fight from breaking out. The atmosphere was tense, with more than a few close calls, but their friends managed to break up each argument before it turned violent.

In the three years since, Amber had barely seen the woman she now despised. Their mutual friends were well aware of the animosity between them and knew to keep them apart. On the rare occasions they ran into each other at a club or party, they were wise enough to maintain a wide berth, while their friends kept a watchful eye.

About a year ago, though, they had met again in a nightclub bathroom. Drunk and uninterrupted by their usual mediators, they had gotten into their second fight, tussling in the dingy space before tumbling onto the grimy floor, wrestling as a small crowd of clubgoers cheered them on. The brawl came to an abrupt stop when a couple of their friends finally intervened and pulled them apart—to the disappointment of the growing audience. That incident had been the last time they’d seen each other.

Now, Amber and Hazel stood face to face in the unlikeliest of places.

Like Amber, Hazel was dressed for the occasion. She wore a red, off-the-shoulder dress that stopped at her knees, showcasing her toned legs. A pair of black, pointed-toe stilettos added height, and her wavy blonde hair had been styled back behind her bare shoulders. Hanging from her ears were earrings that might have contained real emeralds.

Amber couldn’t help but feel a pang of rage at how stunning her former housemate looked.

It was clear that time apart had done nothing to dull their animosity. The anger that surged in Amber at the sight of Hazel was mirrored in the other woman’s green eyes.

“Watch where you’re going!” Hazel spat.

“You watch where you’re going!” Amber shot back, all thoughts of apologising vanishing the moment she realised who she was speaking to.

Hazel took a step back, looking Amber up and down before smirking. Amber had to fight the urge to punch the smug expression off her face.

“Amber,” Hazel said, feigning nonchalance. “I’m surprised to run into you here. Doesn’t seem like your kind of scene.”

Amber rankled at the barely veiled insult but kept her expression neutral. “Yes, not where I’d expect us to run into each other either,” she replied, mirroring Hazel’s smirk. “What brings you here? Are you on the catering staff?”

“Actually, I’m here with my boyfriend,” Hazel replied smoothly. “His family are the ones hosting this party.”

“Oh, I’m here with my boyfriend as well! His father owns a bank.”

“That’s nice! My boyfriend’s father is in politics. I think he’s been elected three times in a row now? He’s planning to retire before the next election, though. My boyfriend will probably run in his place.”

“Nice! My boyfriend’s dad has given him a branch of his bank to run so he can learn how to manage a business before he inherits the entire thing. He isn’t just riding on his dad’s coattails like some people.”

“Oh yes, it must have been so nice for him not to have to go through the same hiring process as everyone else. Of course, my boyfriend will actually have to get elected if he wants to be successful.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure Daddy’s money will help with that.”

“I’m sure it will.”

Their increasingly unsubtle pissing contest petered out, and they stood for a few moments, silent, fake smiles plastered on their faces.

Amber broke the silence first. She reached out and ran her fingers through Hazel’s hair. “Your hair looks so much silkier than I remember! It must have taken your stylists hours to get it this perfect.”

Hazel grinned a sickeningly sweet grin, ignoring the obvious backhanded compliment. She mimicked Amber’s action, pinching the fabric of her dress and rubbing it between her fingers.

“Thank you!” she said with mock sincerity. “Your dress is gorgeous! So brave of you to wear something that shows off so much of your skin.”

“Yes, and your shoes are amazing! They almost make you as tall as me!”

“Oh, and those earrings are fabulous! They really draw attention away from your eyes.”

For a long moment, they stood in the doorway—Amber with her hand in Hazel’s hair, Hazel with the hem of Amber’s dress between her fingers. Both women tightened their grip slightly as they stared each other down.

Amber didn’t see how this could end well. She knew she should walk away, but she couldn’t bear to back down.

Just as she was wondering if a fight was about to break out, a voice cut through the tension.

“Hey, baby, sorry it took so long!”

Hurriedly, the two women released each other and turned towards the interruption.

Ben was approaching, a wine glass in each hand. He smiled at Amber, then turned towards Hazel. “Who’s this?” he asked, oblivious to what he had just prevented.

“This is Hazel,” Amber replied tersely. “We used to be… housemates.”

Ben grinned. “Wow, small world, I guess. Nice to meet you, Hazel. I’m Ben.”

He leaned in and kissed Hazel once on each cheek in greeting. Amber felt like strangling him.

Ben handed Amber one of the wine glasses and gestured down the hallway in the direction he had just come from. “I was just chatting with someone in the other room,” he said. “I should head back. You want to come with?”

Amber glanced at Hazel, their eyes meeting briefly before she looked back at Ben. She nodded.

“Great!” Ben said. “You coming too, Hazel?”

Hazel shook her head. “No, you two go on. I’ll stay in this room for a while.”

“No worries,” Ben replied. “Maybe we’ll run into you later?”

“Yeah,” Amber said, locking eyes with her rival once more. “Maybe we will.”



Chapter 3 - Table Manners

Ben led her into a large ballroom, illuminated by an extravagant chandelier. The room was filled with rectangular tables, each draped with a white tablecloth. A few guests sat around them, chatting and sipping wine.

The man Ben had been speaking to was seated at one such table. Ben introduced Amber to his companion, Kyle, then sat down directly across from him. Amber took the seat next to her boyfriend. It wasn’t long before the two men were deep in conversation, apparently picking up where they had left off before Ben had come to get her as if she wasn’t even there. Amber didn’t really understand what they were talking about, nor was she particularly listening. Her mind was elsewhere.

Her mind was on Hazel.

She remembered that fateful night in their shared kitchen over three years ago. Their fight hadn’t been a pretty one; neither woman had been in a physical altercation before. But neither had held anything back. They had punched, slapped, kicked, and bitten. They had pulled at each other’s hair, ripped clothes, and rolled across the kitchen floor until they were too exhausted to continue. Nothing had mattered to Amber at the time except punishing her enemy as much as possible.

Their meeting at the gala had played out much like the last time they had crossed paths, around a year ago in the dark nightclub basement. The setting couldn’t have been more different from their current surroundings, but their animosity had remained unchanged. They had flung insults at each other—less veiled back then, as both had been fairly intoxicated—and gotten in each other’s faces.

One of them had grabbed the other’s hair, and they had stumbled across the bathroom while onlookers cheered, eventually sprawling onto the grimy floor and rolling across the filthy tiles. The only thing that had stopped them was the arrival of their friends, who had pulled them apart as they kicked and hurled curses at one another.

Their first fight had ended with exhaustion. The second, with intervention. Every other time they had encountered each other since their battle in the kitchen, their clashes had been cut short by outside interference before they could escalate into violence. But every time they met, it was inevitable—they started sniping at one another, too stubborn to back down. Their arguments always escalated into all-out fights that raged until someone or something forced them to stop.

Amber wondered how their confrontation tonight would have ended if Ben hadn’t interrupted. Would they have yanked at each other’s beautifully styled hair and torn their expensive dresses? Would they have clawed at each other with perfectly manicured nails and stomped on each other’s feet with six-inch heels? Would they have rolled across the polished hardwood floor the same way they had rolled on the sticky bathroom tiles?

Would the sophisticated gentlemen and elegant ladies around them have applauded politely, just as the drunken nightclub patrons had jeered and egged them on?

And what would Ben have done if he had returned to find his date rolling on the floor with another woman at this exclusive event? She doubted he would have been pleased. Something like that could ruin his reputation. No, she couldn’t let that happen.

She would simply have to avoid Hazel for the rest of the night.

It shouldn’t be too difficult. The house was enormous—it was possible she wouldn’t even see her enemy again. With luck, she wouldn’t have to worry about it at all.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Kyle raised his hand and waved at someone behind her.

“Hey, babe!” he called.

The sharp clack of heels against the hard floor signalled the approach of a woman. She walked around the table and stopped behind the chair next to Kyle, directly across from Amber.

The moment Amber saw her, her heart skipped a beat.

It was Hazel.

Kyle rested a hand on Hazel’s shoulder and turned back to Ben. “This is my girlfriend, Hazel,” he said.

Ben chuckled. “Wow, that’s crazy! These two actually know each other from university. They used to be housemates!”

Kyle laughed. “No way! Small world, huh? Crazy how you can run into someone you know in a completely unexpected place, hey, babe?”

“Yeah. Crazy.” Hazel replied, her gaze locked onto Amber’s.

Apparently oblivious to the tension in the air, Ben and Kyle quickly resumed their conversation, leaving the two women to glare at each other with undisguised hatred. Kyle absentmindedly pulled out the chair next to him, and Hazel sat down. Now she was directly in front of Amber, mere feet away.

So much for avoiding Hazel tonight.

Amber considered getting up and leaving, making some excuse. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it—it felt too much like conceding to Hazel. Instead, she managed to tear her gaze away from the other woman, hoping that avoiding eye contact would calm the rage simmering inside her. Even that felt like surrender, but she forced herself to relax, letting her gaze wander everywhere except in Hazel’s direction.

She sighed and leaned back in her seat, stretching her legs out beneath the table. It was going to be a long night.

She tried to convince herself it would be fine. She could handle this. She could spend an evening in her former friend’s company without devolving into conflict.

They were both adults, after all. Surely they could last one night without brawling like schoolgirls.

Amber felt something brush against her leg beneath the table. Instinctively, she recoiled, already on edge.

Across from her, Hazel flinched too, sitting bolt upright in her chair.

Their eyes locked.

Hazel shot her a look of contempt, and it was immediately obvious what had happened. Both women had stretched their legs out, and their thighs had come into contact.

Amber should have let it go. She could have folded her legs beneath her chair and looked away, keeping her body and her gaze as far from Hazel as possible. She should have.

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t bring herself to back down. Not from Hazel.

Just like in their kitchen. Just like at the nightclub.

Amber was determined to do battle with Hazel until she was forced to stop.

Slowly, Amber began to slide her feet forward. As they reached the centre of the table, her toes met resistance—Hazel had been doing the same thing. Maintaining eye contact, they pressed their toes together, each attempting to push the other back. The pressure mounted as they shoved harder and harder, neither willing to concede.

Several minutes passed with no movement. Both women were now pushing with their full strength, locked in a stalemate. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they simultaneously withdrew their legs, ending the silent battle.

Amber raised her legs and thrust them forward. The soles of her shoes met Hazel’s with a faint click. They each shoved hard, trying to force the other’s legs back towards their respective sides of the table.

The fight was on.

They pushed and pushed, straining against each other’s feet in a contest of sheer will. But they were too evenly matched, neither able to gain more than the smallest advantage. Before long, their heels slipped, the narrow soles providing little grip for this kind of combat. When this happened, they simply pulled their legs back and struck out again, meeting once more in the centre to continue the battle. Occasionally, one of them would misjudge a thrust, missing their opponent’s foot and jabbing the heel of their shoe into the other’s shin or thigh. A brief flicker of rage and pain would cross the wounded combatant’s face before they both pulled back and attacked again, this time with better aim.

After a while, their heels slipped as they had done many times before. This time, however, instead of sliding past one another, the sharp edges became hooked together at a ninety-degree angle. Their shoes locked, and the struggle took on a new dimension. Both women twisted their legs, yanking at each other’s feet while continuing to shove forward.

The constant tussling and twisting soon loosened their heels. Then, with a particularly violent twist from both women, all four shoes came loose at once, clattering onto the hard floor noisily.

The sudden sound jolted them out of their battle. They froze, exchanging quick glances before casting their eyes towards the men, worried they might have noticed.

They hadn’t. Ben and Kyle remained utterly absorbed in their conversation, chatting animatedly about something Amber couldn’t care less about. She had no idea how they could be so oblivious to the silent war raging just feet away, but she was grateful.

She turned back to Hazel, whose gaze had also darted to the men before snapping back to Amber’s.

Their eyes locked.

As if signalled by some unseen cue, they thrust their legs out again—only this time, their bare soles collided instead of their heels. Their skin gave them far better traction than their heels had, and they renewed their efforts, pressing and shoving against each other’s feet. Occasionally, one of them would pull back and strike, the slap of skin against skin barely audible over the murmur of conversation around them.

Then, in the midst of their struggle, one of their kicks missed, and instead of clashing, their legs found themselves side by side.

Neither pulled back.

Instead, they intertwined their thighs and began wrestling their legs beneath the table. Their bodies slid lower in their seats as the struggle intensified, stretching out further and further, each trying to trap the other’s legs between her own. The more they fought, the closer they got.

Amber stretched her legs out far enough that they made contact with Hazel’s chair. Her feet now rested against the wooden seat, right next to her opponent’s butt.

She glanced down. Hazel’s feet had done the same—perched on the chair beside her, shifting slightly as their legs continued to battle.

Hazel’s toes were painted black. A shade strikingly similar to Amber’s dress.

For some reason, the sight made Amber irrationally angry.

Without thinking, she reached out and grasped Hazel’s foot, digging her nails into the bridge.

Hazel’s expression didn’t change. There was no flinch, no flicker of pain—only a cold, furious glare.

Then, Amber felt a sharp sting as nails dug into her own foot.

She gritted her teeth, refusing to let the pain show.

The fight continued.

They sat low in their seats, feet still planted on each other’s chairs. Their hands tugged and clawed at toes, aiming to inflict as much pain as possible. Beneath the table, their legs remained entangled, wrestling softly as they focused on their opponent’s feet.

Amber’s world had narrowed to this single, silent war. The party, her boyfriend, the guests around them—all forgotten.

Nothing existed but Hazel.

A voice shattered her trance.

“You want anything, babe?”

Amber snapped her head up, heart pounding.

Ben stood beside the table, watching her with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh… what?” she asked thickly, still dazed.

“I said, Kyle and I are getting more drinks. Do you want anything?”

Amber glanced at her wine glass—it was still full. She turned back to Ben.

“I’m good. Thanks,” she replied.

Kyle asked Hazel the same question, receiving a similarly terse response.

If either of the men had looked down for even a moment, they would have seen their partners still gripping a pair of bare feet. Yet somehow, neither seemed aware of the battle raging right in front of them.

Amber was almost impressed by how oblivious they were.

“All right then!” Ben said with a grin. “We’ll be back soon. Don't have too much fun without us!”

With that, the men walked off, disappearing into another part of the vast mansion in search of drinks.

Leaving the two women alone at the table.



Chapter 4 - Entangled

Coming soon...

[emmaduncxn]

I can't wait for more omg you're my favourite new writer in this community gfdcjjbb

[ThickLeyla]

Omg.. what a story.. Please continue.. RIGHT NOW !!!

[Guy Incognito]

 

I can't wait for more omg you're my favourite new writer in this community gfdcjjbb

Thank you, very kind!! 

[Guy Incognito]

Omg.. what a story.. Please continue.. RIGHT NOW !!!

Aye aye, captain!!

[sinclairfan]

Nothing beats a rematch.

[Pinnerdown]

Very interesting, hopefully there will be more coming soon.

[Mike_Lynn]

GALorius! ?

[fight fan steve]

Fantastic! I can’t wait to read more!

[Damerei]

Amazing start!

[Guy Incognito]

Chapter 4 - Entangled

They sat in silence, waiting for the boys to be out of earshot. Amber was facing away from the door and refused to turn from her rival, relying on Hazel to signal when they were safe.

After a few more seconds, Hazel turned her gaze back to Amber, fury in her eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?” she hissed, keeping her voice low enough that the other guests shouldn’t hear. “Can’t you keep your fucking feet to yourself?

“Me?!” Amber shot back, her voice just as sharp. “You were the one who kicked me first!”

“That only happened because you had your legs on my side of the goddamn table!” Hazel’s voice was little more than a growl now, her frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“My legs were nowhere near you, you psycho! Maybe if you didn’t spread your legs like a whore, there’d be enough room for both of us!”

Hazel scoffed. “Oh, I’m the whore? You were the one playing footsie with me like some fucking pervert!”

Hazel’s feet still rested on Amber’s chair. Angry, Amber wrapped her hands around the other woman’s shins and yanked. Taken by surprise, Hazel yelped as she was pulled under the table, her forehead striking the underside with a dull thud.

“You BITCH!” Hazel’s voice rang out from beneath the table.

Amber felt hands grasping her own shins and dragging her down. She passed through the white tablecloth, landing on her butt on the hard floor, face to face with Hazel.

They sat in the cramped space, legs wrapped around each other’s waists, faces inches apart, murder in their eyes. The tablecloth concealed them from view—otherwise, the party guests would have been treated to the bizarre sight of the two women seated under the table, nose to nose, glaring with seething hatred.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!” they both yelled at the same time, all thoughts of being quiet forgotten.

“MY problem?!” Amber spat. “What the fuck is YOUR problem, whore!”

Hazel scowled “You’re the one with the problem, slut! Can’t you keep the goddamn peace for a few hours!”

“Like you can talk, bitch!”

“Fuck you, skank!”

“Fuck YOU, cxnt!”

They reached a boiling point; Amber grabbed two handfuls of Hazel’s blonde hair just as Hazel seized hers. They yanked hard, forcing each other’s heads back. Their legs tightened around one another’s waists. They grunted and moaned quietly from the pain and exertion of the fight.

They twisted and wrenched each other’s heads from side to side. Before long, they toppled over, landing on their sides, still clenched together. Their bare legs tangled as they rolled under the table, hands still knotted in hair, dresses riding up around their waists as their limbs writhed. Their faces mashed together, eyes locked in mutual hatred, they tumbled back and forth across the confined space.

The sounds of the party faded, muffled by the tablecloth—not that Amber would have noticed; This small, secluded space beneath the table might as well have been her whole world, so focussed was she on their secret duel. They were close enough that Amber could feel the warmth of Hazel’s short, sharp breaths, smell her sweet perfume mingling with her own, hear the curses muttered under her breath and the faint jingle of their expensive earrings clinking together as they fought.

As their struggle intensified, the rolling ball of fury only became more chaotic. They occasionally rolled too far and collided with one of the table’s legs, reaching the limits of their secret battlefield before reversing direction. After a particularly violent roll, the mass of limbs and hair slammed into one of the table legs hard enough to jolt the entire table. A second later, a crash of shattering glass rang out—presumably, one or both of their wine glasses had perished.

They froze, still nose to nose. Side by side, they lay in silence, waiting for someone to investigate the noise.

A minute passed. No one came.

“You think anyone heard?” Hazel whispered.

“Someone must have,” Amber replied. “That was fucking loud.”

A few more moments passed before Hazel muttered, “Nobody’s coming to investigate. Maybe there’s nobody in the room?”

Amber frowned. There had been a fair few guests in the room before they’d gone under the table. It seemed like wishful thinking that the room would have emptied just in time for them to remain unnoticed. And yet, Hazel was right; despite the commotion, nobody had come to investigate.

She shrugged “Only one way to find out.” She began to get to her knees, planning to peek out as stealthily as possible.

As she made to move away from Hazel, something tugged painfully at her ears. She let out an involuntary squeak of pain, immediately aborting her attempt to move. Hazel matched her noise and instinctively pulled away—only for the pain to intensify. Their noses came together again, the pain receding as the distance between them closed.

It didn’t take long for them to work out what had happened. In the chaos of their close-up battle, their expensive earrings had become badly tangled. Every attempt to move apart resulted in the chains becoming taut, pulling at their ears painfully.

“Ow! Fuck!” Amber hissed. “Stop pulling!”

“You’re the one pulling!” Hazel shot back.

Amber raised her hands in a symbol of truce. Not that Hazel could see it, but the movement got the point across. “Alright! We need to untangle these, then get the hell out from under this table!”

They tried in vain to untangle the earrings. Unable to move their faces more than an inch or two apart, it was impossible for either of them to see what they were working with. They fumbled for a while, getting increasingly frustrated as they failed to untangle themselves. They pulled their faces as far apart as they dared, enduring the pain for a better view of the problem, but it didn’t help.

“Fuck it!” Amber growled. “Just take the damn earrings out!”

“You take yours out!”

“Fine!”

She struggled with the clasp, finding it more intricate than expected.

“Jesus, can’t you even undo an earring?” Hazel huffed in frustration, reaching up to help. She was much rougher than Amber, and she felt a painful tug as Hazel yanked at her earlobes.

“Ow!” she moaned “Stop pulling!”

She grabbed Hazel’s hands, trying to pry them away. Hazel resisted, and they locked fingers, a brief hand-wrestling match ensuing beside their faces before they broke apart.

“Fuck this!” Hazel snapped. “We’re not getting anywhere like this. We need a mirror if we’re going to untangle this mess.”

“Well, do you have a mirror?” Amber demanded.

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

Hazel sighed. “Well, we don’t have much choice then. We’ll just have to go and find one.”

Amber flushed red. “What, you mean we go wandering around the party like this? Someone will see us!”

“If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”

Amber didn’t. Carefully, they clambered out from under the table, checking for bystanders as best they could given the circumstances. They awkwardly stood, using each other for support, careful not to pull too far apart. Every time they separated by more than an inch or so, pain shot through Amber’s ears and they spat curses, blaming each other for the pain. Somehow, the room had emptied while they’d been under the table, allowing them to rise unnoticed.

Standing nose to nose, toe to toe, they began shuffling sideways towards the door, keeping their faces an inch apart to somewhat see where they were going. Amber dreaded what would happen if someone walked in, but mercifully, no one did.

Making it to the door with only the smallest amount of bickering, they glanced down the corridor as best they could. Empty.

“This way,” Hazel said, attempting to lead them right.

Amber resisted, earning them both a painful tug. “Who the hell put you in charge?!” she demanded. “There were a bunch of people down that way earlier. We should go the other way.”

Hazel scowled. “I put myself in charge! My boyfriends family owns this place, dumbass! I know where the stairs are. That’s where we’ll find the bathrooms.”

Amber didn’t budge. “A house this big must have mirrors downstairs. We should go where there are fewer people.”

“I’ve fucking been here before, asshole! There are no downstairs bathrooms with mirrors.”

“Bullshit, there’s no way you’ve checked every downstairs bathroom in this place for mirrors! We’d be better off going left!”

“Right!”

“Left!”

As they bickered, they drew their bodies closer together. They were already unavoidably nose-to-nose, and the rest of their bodies soon joined. Their chests met, pushing into each other.

As the petty squabble went on, they rotated until each was facing the way they wanted to go. Their hands moved to each other’s shoulders, shoving back and forth. Their chests flattened together as each woman tried to force the other in their chosen direction.

They struggled in the hallway, shuffling back and forth as they pushed and shoved. At the back of her mind, Amber knew that this was a waste of time; that the two of them should be working together towards a common goal of getting free. With Hazel though, she couldn’t bear the thought of backing down from a conflict.

The sound of voices brought their shoving match to an abrupt halt. They came from the left—the direction Amber had wanted to go—and were getting closer. She saw her own panic mirrored in Hazel’s eyes as they spun around and fled in the opposite direction as quickly as possible given their constraints, occasionally wincing when their tangled earrings pulled painfully at their ears.

With their decision made for them, they hurried down the corridor unimpeded. When the voices behind them had finally faded to nothing, they slowed to a walk, confident they were safe. They shuffled forward awkwardly, trying to scan ahead for bystanders as best they could. Movement was clumsy at best; they constantly stumbled, stepping on each other’s toes as they were forced to crab-walk through the grand house. Each time their feet made contact, they scowled at each other, as if the other was to blame.

Amber only now realised that they’d both abandoned their heels in the ballroom. The absurdity of their situation struck her properly for the first time—two women traipsing through an opulent mansion, barefoot and slightly dishevelled after their fight, their earrings tangled and their faces mashed together. What a sight they’d be if anyone spotted them. She might have laughed if she weren’t still panicking.

They reached a grand staircase, which, to their relief, was empty. Hazel shot Amber a smug look, which she ignored. Their climb upstairs was painfully slow, taking one step at a time. The situation would have been challenging enough for two people who got along—being at each other’s throats only made it that much harder.

By the time they reached the top, it felt like hours had passed. Hazel started to take the lead. Amber had the urge to argue but couldn’t think of a compelling reason to do so. For now, she went along with it.

The hallway seemed to stretch on endlessly. Amber was still stunned by the sheer extravagance of this place—it would have taken her less time to walk from one end of her apartment complex to the other than it took to reach the end of this one corridor. Under better circumstances, she might have enjoyed the feel of the plush carpet beneath her bare toes.

At an intersection, Hazel hesitated. She pulled back slightly, careful not to tug at their ears, and glanced left, then right, before cursing under her breath.

“What? What’s wrong?” Amber demanded.

“I don’t remember this fork,” Hazel admitted. “I thought there was a bedroom this way. I’m not sure which way to go.”

Amber stared at her. “I thought you fucking knew where we were going!”

Hazel tensed. “I’ve only been here a couple of times! I don’t know the whole place that well! Besides, it’s a little difficult to see where I’m going with your fat head blocking my view!”

“Like you can talk! I’ve been staring at your ugly face for the last half an hour—I think I’ve seen every zit you’ve ever had!”

“Well at least I’m not covering up my imperfections by drowning my face in makeup like a slutty clown!”

“Who are calling a slut, you whore!”

Just as their bickering threatened to explode into another fight, voices caught their attention. This time, they came from multiple directions—one set from behind them, and two more from each end of the fork. And all of them were getting closer.

Up until now, their journey through the house had been ridiculously lucky, with barely a soul crossing their path. But now, it seemed their luck had run out. They spun in place, frantically searching for a hiding spot.

There was none.

They were trapped.

The voices grew louder, footsteps drawing nearer. Amber’s mind raced. How the hell were they supposed to explain this?

Then, an idea struck her. It was insane, and it could lead to problems of its own, but it was still better than the alternative.

Without warning, she grabbed Hazel’s shoulders and shoved her against the wall. Hazel barely had time to react before Amber’s lips crashed into hers.

Hazel tensed in shock. Amber seized the moment, bringing her hands up to cradle Hazel’s face, making sure to cover their tangled earrings.

Hazel let out an indignant noise, hands pressing against Amber’s shoulders as if to push her away—then, seemingly thinking better of it, she hesitated. A second later, her hands slid up to Amber’s face in return.

Now they stood in the hallway, Hazel pinned against the wall, locked in what Amber hoped looked like a passionate embrace rather than the aftermath of a petty catfight at a high-end gala.

Then Amber felt it—Hazel was probing at her lips with her tongue, trying to force them open.

Shocked, Amber nearly pulled away. But she refused to back down from a challenge. She parted her lips, allowing Hazel’s tongue inside, only to feel the other woman pressing against her own, trying to pin it against the roof of her mouth.

Amber fought back.

They wrestled silently as the first of the approaching groups rounded the corner, their tongues entwining in a battle neither was willing to lose.

The first group passed them without so much as a glance, disappearing down the left fork of the corridor. The second and third groups were the same, walking past without sparing them a second thought.

As the voices faded into the distance, Amber knew they were safe. And yet, neither of them pulled away.

The kiss stretched on for just a moment longer than necessary, as if neither wanted to be the one to back down first.

Hazel finally broke away, shoving Amber slightly, which resulted in a painful tug on their ears.

“What the hell did you do that for?!” Hazel hissed.

Amber wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Because I thought it might raise some questions if people saw us standing here, upstairs from a party, with our earrings tied together?”

“Oh, right, and us snogging in a hallway is so much better for our reputation?” Hazel shot back. “With our hair a mess and no shoes? You do realise people will assume we’ve been shagging up here?”

Amber rolled her eyes. “Yes, actually. It’s a hell of a lot better than them knowing we got stuck like this from fighting under a table.”

Hazel smirked. “You know what I think? I think you just wanted to kiss me and saw an opportunity.” She tilted her head. “You did seem to be enjoying it, you dirty little slut.”

Amber scoffed. “Oh, fuck off! I wasn’t the one who started with the tongue!”

“Yeah, well you didn’t seem to mind!”

“Whatever! Let’s just find a room so I won’t have to stare at your stupid face any longer.”

“Fine!”

They moved together, making to head down the hallway in search of a room. Unfortunately, they had both picked a different direction to move in; Amber tried to go left while Hazel went right. Their earrings yanked painfully.

“OUCH!” Hazel yelped. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m trying to find a room with a mirror. What does it look like I’m doing?” Amber shot back.

“Yeah, but that’s the way that couple went. Shouldn’t we go the way without people?”

Amber narrowed her eyes. “And what do you think those guys were doing up here? They were either looking for a bathroom or a bedroom to fuck in. Either way, a room likely to have a mirror.”

Hazel huffed. “Why the hell would they know their way around this house better than I do?”

“Oh yes, because you were doing such a good job of finding us a room!”

“Fuck you, I was doing more than you were!”

Amber threw up her hands. “Whatever! We’re going this way.” She took a small step back, pulling the chains taut again. It hurt.

Hazel didn’t budge. “No, we’re going this way.” She too took a step back, pulling at their ears. It really hurt now.

For a moment, neither woman moved. They stared into each other’s eyes, inches apart, as far as they could be from one another. The frustration of the last hour, of being stuck to the person she hated most, all came bubbling to the surface. Amber despised this woman, and would do whatever it took to make her suffer, even if it meant mutually assured destruction.

Something snapped.

Both women brought their hands between themselves, planting them on each other’s shoulders. They pushed hard, forcing their bodies as far away from one another as possible. The earrings that linked them stretched to their absolute limit. Both women screamed in pain as their ears stretched. Amber was in agony, but she didn’t care—if anything, the pain gave her satisfaction; she knew Hazel was suffering too, and the thought thrilled her.

“FUCK….. YOU….. BITCH!” Hazel moaned through gritted teeth.

“FUCK….. YOU….. cxnt!” Amber responded.

They strained against each other in the hallway, faces contorted into agonised grimaces. Amber stared into Hazel’s eyes and enjoyed the pain she saw there. They both groaned in pain and exertion as they piled on more and more pressure. Something had to give soon, and it wasn’t going to be either of the women; they were both too stubborn to back down now. It was only a matter of time before metal tore through flesh; Amber hoped it wouldn’t be her own flesh that tore, but the idea of tearring the earrings out of Hazel’s ears excited her more than she could say.

Suddenly, the resistance was gone. With a loud snap, something finally gave way. Still pushing hard against each other, the women flew backwards, stumbling as they did and landing on the carpet on their backs. Quickly, they scrambled to their feet, and looked at each other in shock.

Amber felt like she’d forgotten what it was like to not have the majority of her vision taken up by Hazel’s face. Hazel stood looking as dazed and confused as Amber felt. She looked lopsided. In her right ear, she wore half an earring; where before there had been an emerald, there was now only half a chain. Her right ear on the other hand still had it’s emerald attached, as well as one of Amber’s sapphires, hopelessly tangled. Half of a broken chain dangled from the mass of metal.

Amber imagined that she looked like the mirror image of Hazel. The combination of mismatched earrings, the dishevelled hair and the bare feet made the two women look half wild.

There was a long silence. Then Amber shrugged.

“Well. I guess that solves that.”



Part 5 - Release

Coming soon...

[Doc Holliday]

Super unique story. Can’t wait ti see where you go from here!

[emmaduncxn]

I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!

[Just A Guy]

I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!

It is SEXY as FUCK!!!   

[Guy Incognito]

Chapter 5 - Release

They trudged back down the hallway in silence, savouring their newfound freedom. Now that they could move at a normal pace, the journey felt much shorter. As they walked, Amber’s mind drifted to her earrings. She still wasn’t sure how she was going to explain their disappearance to Ben. After the girls had examined the damage, it was clear they were beyond repair. With no better option, they’d discarded them.

Lost in thought, Amber suddenly realised Hazel was no longer beside her. She turned to see her standing a few steps back, staring at a door with a puzzled expression.

“Was this door here when we came down this way before?” Hazel asked.

Amber raised an eyebrow. “Uh… yeah. Obviously. It’s the same corridor. It’s not like a door just materialised out of nowhere.”

“I don’t remember seeing it.”

Amber folded her arms. “Yeah, well, I seem to remember my vision being obscured by something.”

Hazel shot her a look before stepping forward and pushing the door open. Curiosity quickly overpowered Amber’s irritation, and she followed her inside.

The room was extravagant. A large four-poster bed dominated the space, draped in deep red velvet curtains and piled with embroidered silk pillows. Opposite stood an ornate dresser, complete with a mirror, its surface gleaming with gold filigree. An honest-to-God grandfather clock stood in the corner.

To the left, two doors led to a walk-in wardrobe and an ensuite bathroom, both equally lavish. A plush Persian rug stretched across the floor, and the faint scent of roses lingered in the air. In any other house, this would have been an over-the-top master bedroom. But given how untouched it was, Amber suspected it was merely a guest room.

Hazel threw her hands up in annoyance. “Goddamn it! I told you I remembered there being a bedroom down this corridor! And it’s got a mirror!”

Amber scoffed. “Fat lot of good it did us! We could have saved ourselves a hell of a lot of trouble if we’d noticed it earlier.” She shrugged, turning to leave. “Not much we can do about it now. We should get back to the party before the guys realise we’re gone.”

As she reached for the door, Hazel’s voice stopped her. “Wait.”

Amber turned back, folding her arms. “What?”

Hazel took a breath. “I think we should talk.”

Amber let out a dry laugh. “Talk? Hazel, when was the last time you and I had a conversation that didn’t turn into a fight? I honestly can’t remember. We’re better off just avoiding each other.”

“That’s exactly why we need to talk,” Hazel said. “I thought we could get through the night without clashing, but clearly, that’s impossible. No matter what we do, we’re always at each other’s throats. So maybe we should just stop pretending and deal with it properly.”

Amber frowned. “Deal with it how?”

Hazel folded her arms. “If we’re going to fight anyway, why not do it in private, in a controlled way? This room is out of the way, there’s plenty of space, and we can lock the door. There’s even a bathroom so we can clean up afterwards. Maybe if we get it out of our system, we won’t have to spend the rest of the night sniping at each other.”

Amber hesitated, considering it. As much as she hated to admit it, Hazel had a point. They had already proven they couldn’t last ten minutes in each other’s company without squabbling. Maybe a proper fight would help settle things.

“Alright,” she said. “That actually makes some sense. But we need ground rules. We can’t go back to the party with black eyes and bloody noses, so no hitting the face. Or anywhere that won’t be covered.”

Hazel eyed her up and down. “That doesn’t leave us much to work with. Arms, legs, shoulders, back, chest—all off the table. We might as well ban punching entirely.”

Amber shrugged “We’ll just have to make do. We can’t have anyone knowing that we’ve been fighting. Let’s just have a blanket ban on punching, kicking, biting, scratching—anything that will leave a mark. Oh, we should probably ban hair-pulling too. Can’t have our hair getting messed up.

Hazel groaned. “Oh, come on! What are we supposed to do, glare at each other aggressively? At least let’s allow hair-pulling. We can fix it up in the bathroom when we’re done. Besides, it’s already a mess from earlier.”

Amber considered this. “Alright, fine. Hair-pulling is allowed.” She crossed her arms. “Any other rules?”

Hazel thought for a moment. “No tearing our dresses, obviously. We can’t go back downstairs in rags.”

Amber smirked. “Then why not take them off? That way, we don’t have to worry about them getting damaged.”

Hazel flushed. “You mean fight in our underwear?”

Amber’s smirk widened. “What’s the matter, Hazel? Embarrassed? Worried your tits are smaller than mine?”

Hazel’s face darkened. “Worried? About your flat fucking boobs? Not likely.” In one swift motion, she pulled her dress over her head and tossed it onto the dresser. She turned back, tilting her head challengingly. “What’s wrong? You’re not chickening out now, are you?”

Amber said nothing. Instead, she simply removed her own dress, placing it neatly to one side. The two women now stood only in their underwear. Both wore simple lingerie underpants and a strapless bra, Amber’s nude, Hazel’s black.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, sizing one another up properly for the first time. Both were lean and toned, built from years of athleticism. Amber thought her breasts might have been slightly larger, but it was close, and their asses could have been twins. The similarity irritated her.

They shifted uncomfortably, suddenly unsure of how to start. Every fight they’d ever had had ignited naturally from an argument. They’d never done something so formal before—as much as you could call brawling in a guest bedroom of an opulent mansion formal.

Hazel turned wordlessly, turning the key in the door—there would be no interruptions.

“Alright,” Amber said, rolling her shoulders back. “We clear on the rules?”

Hazel nodded, mirroring her movements. “Yeah. No punching, kicking, scratching, or biting. Hair-pulling is fair game. That about cover it?”

Amber smirked. “Sounds good to me.” She stepped forward, hands raised, crouching slightly. “You ready?”

Hazel took another step, closing the gap between them. “Ready.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved, both waiting for the other to make the first strike. Then, in near perfect synchronisation, they lunged.

Their bodies collided with a thud, hands locking onto each other’s shoulders as they struggled for control. Amber could feel Hazel’s soft skin rubbing against hers, a stark contrast to the raw force behind each push. They grappled fiercely, feet shuffling against the rug as they struggled for balance.

Amber hooked her leg behind Hazel’s and shoved hard. Hazel yelped as she toppled backwards, but she refused to go down alone—her grip on Amber’s shoulders yanked her forward, and the two crashed onto the floor in a tangled heap.

Amber landed on top and immediately tried to pin Hazel’s shoulders, pressing down with all her weight. Hazel reacted fast, growling in frustration as she bucked her hips and twisted, throwing Amber off. In a swift reversal, Hazel straddled her, pinning her down instead.

Amber gritted her teeth, arching her body in an attempt to dislodge her, but Hazel held firm. Her expression shifted from focused determination to a slow, smug grin. Amber had never wanted to slap someone so badly in her life. Hazel winked at her, eyes glinting with amusement.

Amber’s response was a sharp yank to Hazel’s hair.

Hazel let out a gasp, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden pain as her head was pulled to one side. Amber seized the opportunity to twist free, shoving Hazel off her.

Both women scrambled to their knees, breathing heavily as they faced each other.

“Bitch.” Hazel muttered, rubbing her scalp where Amber had yanked her hair.

Amber smirked. “You were the one who wanted hair-pulling, remember? We can always ban it if you’re too much of a pussy.”

Hazel’s only answer was a low growl before she lunged again.

Amber met her head-on, and their bodies slapped together, arms tangling as hands went straight for each other’s hair. They yanked viciously, forcing each other’s heads back even as their chests mashed together, breaths coming hot and fast. Locked in their struggle, they swayed, twisting and pulling, neither willing to give an inch.

Any lingering hesitation about fighting in this bedroom had long since vanished.

They lost their balance at the same time, sending them toppling sideways. They began to roll immediately. The struggle turned frantic—hips twisting, legs tangling, thighs pressing together as they grappled for control. Their bodies pressed so tightly against each other that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

Then, suddenly—sharp pain flared in Amber’s lower back. Hazel’s nails digging into her skin.

Amber gasped, her body tensing at the sting. “You scratched me!”

Hazel didn’t let go. “So what? No one will see it there.”

They lay side by side, still locked together, fists tangled in each other’s hair.

Amber growled, giving Hazel’s hair an even harder yank, forcing a yelp from the other woman. “We agreed—nothing that could leave a mark!”

With a frustrated huff, Hazel finally released her grip, shoving Amber back. Both women rolled away and scrambled to their feet, breathing heavily as they stood a few feet apart, eyes locked.

“Oh, get over it!” Hazel snapped. “It’s not like I drew blood!”

Amber scowled, reaching behind her to touch the spot where Hazel’s nails had raked against her skin. “That’s not the point, you cheating bitch!”

Hazel scoffed. “Oh, please! Like you haven’t bent the rules already!”

Amber’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about? I played fair!”

Hazel sneered. “Fair? With the way you were throwing me around, you think there won’t be bruises?”

Amber took a threatening step forward, closing the distance between them until they stood toe-to-toe. “You want to see what throwing you around really looks like?”

Hazel didn’t flinch. “Bring it on.”

Their breaths were heavy, chests rising and falling in tandem as they stared each other down. An unspoken agreement passed between them—no more rules. Hazel had thrown them out the moment she raked her nails across Amber’s skin. Now, nothing held them back.

Amber struck first, shoving Hazel hard. Hazel staggered but caught herself, responding with an equally forceful shove. Amber barely moved. Instead, she smirked.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Hazel snarled and lunged, slamming into Amber with enough force to shove her backwards. Her shins hit the edge of the bed, and they both went toppling onto it.

They hit the mattress with a bounce, hands flying, nails digging, fingers clawing at whatever they could grasp. Their legs tangled as they thrashed across the sheets, rolling back and forth, neither willing to be the one left pinned beneath the other.

They careened across the bed, a furious, writhing mass of limbs, claws, and hair. Gone was any semblance of restraint; they clawed, punched, squeezed, kicked—anything to gain the upper hand. Soon, their bodies were littered with scratches and red marks where slaps had landed. Amber knew they should preserve themselves for the party. She didn’t care.

Somehow, they managed to scramble back to their knees. Wasting no time, they lunged, wrapping their arms around each other in a desperate grapple, faces pressing together. Amber locked her arms around Hazel’s back in a crushing bear hug, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling hard. Hazel, however, went for a different target; Amber felt fingers hook into her bra strap, pulling hard and twisting.

Amber gasped, arching her back at the sudden pressure on her breasts. “You bitch!” she hissed, releasing her hold on Hazel’s hair and yanking her bra in retaliation, pulling until the fabric strained against her rival’s skin.

Hazel hissed through her teeth, eyes blazing. "So we’re playing dirty now?"

Amber smirked despite the pain. “Looks like it.”

They pulled harder, locked in a mutual bear hug, each determined to make the other suffer. Their bras stretched to their limits, fabric biting into their flesh, squeezing their breasts painfully. Amber could hear the material starting to fray, threads straining under the relentless tugging.

“Stop, let go! You’re fucking ripping it!”

“Then let go of mine, bitch!”

Neither relented. The fabric strained, threads pulled, the tension building—until, with a sudden snap, both bras gave way.

For a brief second, they froze, chest-to-chest, arms still wrapped around each other, fingers gripping the remnants of their shredded bras. Then, as realisation set in, they both spoke at once.

“You ruined my bra!”

Amber shoved Hazel off, and they scrambled apart, standing on opposite sides of the bed. Their bare breasts heaved with heavy breaths, their sweat-slicked skin littered with red marks. Their hair was a wild mess, and in their hands, they clutched the remains of each other’s bras.

“That was expensive you bitch!” Amber spat, pointing at the tattered scrap in Hazel’s hand.

Hazel laughed. “Oh please! This ratty piece of fabric? With how easily it came apart, it can’t have been that high-end.”

Amber smirked. “Well, at least now we know for sure—mine are definitely bigger!” she cupped her hands around her breasts, pushing them out.

“Oh please!” Hazel scoffed, cupping her own breasts. “There’s barely anything in it! At least mine are real.”

Amber bristled, “Bitch, mine are fucking real! Sounds to me like you’re projecting!”

“Mine were definitely bigger back when we lived together! Clearly something has happened in the meantime to change that fact.”

Amber scoffed. “You’re fucking delusional if you think yours were ever bigger than mine! Besides, when did you even get the chance to compare? Were you sneaking around, looking at my tits while I was sleeping, you pervert?”

Hazel rolled her eyes, “Oh, please! I didn’t have to sneak around to see your flabby tits—not with some of the slutty outfits you used to wear. Like when I had my boyfriend over and you just happened to be walking around with your cleavage on display?”

Amber smirked. "Hey, not my fault your boyfriend preferred what he saw. How is he, by the way? Oh, wait, I forgot—he dumped your ass when he realised what a bitch you are!"

That struck a nerve. Hazel’s face twisted in fury.

“You fucking BITCH!” she shrieked, balling up the remains of Amber’s bra and hurling it at her. It glanced off her harmlessly, but the intent was clear. Amber retaliated immediately, winding up and launching the tattered remains of Hazel’s bra right back at her.

They locked eyes, bodies taut with fury, chests rising and falling with heavy, enraged breaths. The air between them was thick, charged with the primal need to destroy each other.

There was no more trepidation

At the exact same moment, they lunged.

They met mid-air over the bed, colliding like two storm fronts clashing in the middle of a battlefield. They sprawled onto the plush mattress, a tangle of limbs, hands grasping, nails raking, legs entwining as they rolled across the sheets in a furious whirlwind. Their bare chests pressed together, slick with sweat, neither willing to concede an inch.

Hazel finally seized the advantage, forcing Amber onto her back and pinning her shoulders against the bed. She straddled her waist, pressing down hard to keep her in place. For a moment, neither moved, their chests heaving, breaths ragged as they recovered.

“Give up!” Hazel demanded once her breathing was under control.

But Amber refused to yield; instead, she wrenched her arms free, reaching up and grasping hazel’s bare breasts, digging her nails into the soft flesh.

Hazel shrieked, arching her back in pain. Instinctively, she tried to pull away, but the movement gave Amber the leverage she needed. Bucking her hips, she threw Hazel off, sending her rolling onto her back. Both women scrambled to their knees, glaring at each other from across the bed.

Hazel’s gaze flicked downward. Red, angry marks marred the curves of her breasts where Amber’s nails had torn at them. She looked back up, fury blazing in her eyes.

“YOU BITCH!”

Amber smirked. “What’s the matter? Tits not up to the task?”

With a howl of pure animalistic rage, Hazel lunged, hands outstretched. Amber thrust forward to meet her.

Four hands found four breasts. They clutched and clawed at one another’s flesh, fingers digging deep, nails raking over sensitive skin. Agonised moans filled the air as they squeezed and twisted, neither willing to relent. Amber felt her own breasts burning with pain, but she gritted her teeth, satisfied as a single bead of blood welled at Hazel’s nipple and rolled down her skin before dripping onto the sheets. She barely registered the state of her own chest, though she knew it had to be just as bad.

Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they released their grips.

They sat back on their knees, hands cradling their throbbing breasts. Their bodies were a mess of scratches, welts, and bruises, the worst of the damage concentrated on their chests. Amber’s skin burned from the brutal assault, every breath a fresh reminder of their struggle.

After a few seconds of silence, they looked up at each other again.

Hazel looked as wrecked as Amber felt. Her hair was a tangled disaster, her flushed face streaked with exertion. Her breasts had taken the worst beating, but her body bore the marks of their battle—nails, fists, sheer stubbornness. The lacy underwear she still wore clung to her sweat-dampened skin, her bra long since destroyed and discarded somewhere on the floor.

Amber imagined her body looked much the same. “Shit,” she said. “How the hell are we gonna go back to the party looking like this?”

Hazel frowned, glancing around as if the answer might be hidden somewhere in the dishevelled bed. “I don’t know.”

A beat passed. Then Hazel’s gaze sharpened as Amber’s did the same.

“Well,” Amber murmured, eyes narrowing. “We’ve gone this far. Might as well finish it.”

Hazel clenched her jaw, fists tightening.

“Gladly.”

Amber launched herself at Hazel, tackling her backwards. They toppled off the side of the bed, crashing to the floor with a heavy thud, landing in a tangled heap on the thick Persian rug. Neither let go. Their slick bodies pressed together, breathless and burning with exertion, limbs locking as they rolled, each desperate to seize control.

They were beyond words now—only ragged gasps, snarls, and the sharp smack of flesh on flesh filled the air. Sweat beaded on their skin, their struggles growing more frenzied, more reckless. They were relentless, their animosity boiling over into something raw, something neither could fully control. They hadn’t fought like this since that night in the kitchen four years ago—like wildcats, clawing, biting, thrashing with no thought beyond inflicting as much damage as possible. And with no one to interrupt them, it seemed the battle would rage until neither could fight anymore.

Locked in a crushing bearhug, they continued to brutalise each other’s backs, nails dragging down slick skin, fists pounding, slaps landing across shoulders and asses as they continued to roll about the floor. As Amber’s fingers sought any grip she could find, her hand found the waistband of Hazel’s black underwear. A cruel smirk curled her lips, and she gave a sharp, vicious tug.

Hazel let out a sharp hiss as the fabric wrenched upwards, cutting into her mercilessly.

It didn’t take long for Hazel to retaliate. Amber gasped as Hazel’s fingers found her own panties, yanking them upwards just as hard.  She winced in pain as the fabric rode up in her ass, biting into her flesh.

The struggle turned vicious, neither willing to be the first to break. Tears burned in their eyes from the pain as the material was pulled further up their asses, but neither relented, each determined to outlast the other. The thin fabric of their underwear strained under the assault, seams digging into flesh.

Then—rip.

For the second time that night, the air filled with the sound of tearing fabric.

Relief flooded Amber’s body as the tension released. The pain dulled, the unbearable pressure vanishing in an instant. She barely registered that her last shred of clothing was now a torn ruin on the floor. Hazel, equally bare, seemed just as unfazed. There was no time for modesty.

Stripped of everything, they fought on, their frenzied struggle reaching a new level of intensity. They rolled across the floor, slick and tangled, their bodies locked. Their bare chests compressed against each other, pressing painfully as they grappled for control. Their legs entwined, their bare crotches grinding as they wrestled. Their faces mashed together, foreheads, noses, and lips colliding as they snarled, eyes burning with undiluted hatred. Their hands grasped at hair and skin as they rolled across the rug in a blur of limbs.

Then—

A sudden impact.

Their tangled bodies slammed into the dresser with a heavy thud, rattling the furniture. A heartbeat later, something crashed onto them from above—a decorative lamp, knocked from its perch. The heavy base struck first, followed by the sharp shatter of glass scattering around them.

The shock was instant. Their grips loosened. Their bodies stilled.

For the first time in quite some time, they broke apart.

They rolled onto their backs, side by side, panting heavily, the only sound in the room their ragged, exhausted breaths. Pieces of shattered lamp lay scattered around them. The fight was over—at least for now. The rush of adrenaline that had fuelled them was ebbing away, leaving Amber sore and drained. Every inch of her body ached, her skin burning from countless scratches, bites, and bruises.

She turned her head, catching sight of Hazel’s equally battered form. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her flushed skin marred by the evidence of their brutal war. She was a wreck—her hair a tangled disaster, her entire body glistening with sweat. But then, Amber imagined she looked much the same.

A chime broke the silence.

Both women jolted, still wired from the fight. They scrambled to their feet, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound.

The grandfather clock.

Amber’s eyes widened as she took in the time.

“Fucking hell!” she blurted. “That time can’t be right can it?”

Hazel groaned. “It must be.” Her voice was hoarse with exhaustion. “We’ve been going at it for nearly an hour.”

Amber swore under her breath. “Shit. That means we’ve been gone for ninety minutes. Ben’s gonna think I left.”

Hazel shrugged. “I guess we’d better get back then.”

Amber took a long look at her. Hazel stood completely nude, her body a canvas of battle scars—scratches, bite marks, bruises, handprints. Her hair was a wild, disheveled mess, and a sheen of sweat covered her from head to toe. Amber didn’t need a mirror to know she looked just as wrecked.

She gestured to herself. “We’re really gonna go back to the party looking like this? There’s no way we can hide all this damage.”

Hazel said nothing. They stared at each other in heavy silence, neither sure of their next move.

Amber’s mind spun through options. She could leave—make up some excuse for Ben. She could say she felt sick, had gotten nervous, lost him in the crowd and couldn’t find him again. He wouldn’t be pleased, but it had to be better than showing up like this.

But then… there was another option.

Amber could feel it still, simmering just beneath the surface—the raw, unspent rage. She could see it in Hazel’s eyes, too. Their fight had been brutal, but unfinished. They could stay. Keep going. No one was stopping them. No one could stop them.

Just as Amber tensed, ready to lunge—

Hazel exhaled sharply and turned away.

“Alright,” she muttered. “We’d better get cleaned up.”



Chapter 6

Coming soon...