[sinclairfan]

Emily's Airbnb rental in Nokomis.  Denise rings the doorbell.

E> You?  How did you find me?

D> Never mind that.  May I come in?

E> [considering whether she wants this meeting to happen today]

D> Does the Mercedes outside belong to a man you're fucking?  If so, I can come back later.

E> The only man I'm fucking is your husband.

D> Then I would think you would welcome the opportunity to .... meet with me ..... alone.  Unless .... you're afraid of me.

E> Tou know I'm not afraid of you, Denise.  The car ....  by the way .... I bought it with the profit from selling my place .... when I decided not to close.

D> I remember that place ..... I think of it often.  You and I started a catfight there .... but didn't finish.  Why didn't we finish, Emily?

E> Because I got your man.

D> How did you ...  'GET' .... him?  He's not leaving me.

E> I still get to fuck him.  And you have to do his laundry. 

D> I came to end that.

E> You were wrong to do so.

D> Prove it.

E> [Thinks one more minute.]  OK.  Come in.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

Emily and Denise look themselves in the small foyer of Emily's Airbnb bungalow, Denise latching the front door closed, and Emily latching the door into the house.  The women instinctively remove their tops and bras, revealing bare chests, and brush their long blonde hair back away from their faces.  They close, and clutch each others' biceps, sinking their nails in, and pushing their bare chests against each other.  Emily speaks first.

> Did Vicky give you my address?  Did you need to fuck her to get it?

> We almost fought over it, actually.  Full on, almost.  But we held back.  Did YOU fuck her to get her to bad-mouth me in the community?

> I think you fucked her.

> Why so?

> [The women are waltzing in the tiny foyer, beads of sweat coating their torsos.  They're shaking, knowing each is able and willing to tear into the other on the slightest provocation.]   Because ..... [grunting] ..... wouldn't this be easier .... for everyone ..... if you just gave up your husband ..... and fucked Vicki??

> [Emily pins Denise to the wall of the small foyer.  The hate in each woman's eye is white hot.]  I love fucking Vicki.  But I need cock.  The cum from my husband's cock.  I would kill for that.  Literally, Emily.  I would kill.

> [Denise now pins Emily against the wall.  The women's biceps are shredded with nail rakes.]  I know.  I'm divorced, Denise.  I would kill for it, too.  For cock.

[The two women release their bicep clinch with slaps to the face.  They stare at each other hateful, and sink their nails in each others' scalps.]

> Why did you get divorced, Emily? [The two women exchange hard face slaps.]

> The sex wasn't satisfying.  [More slaps.]  It was satisfying.  [More face slaps.] Just not fulfilling.  Not long enough.]

> [The two women begin punching with closed fists.]  Then it's fulfilling?  [Hard punches to the jaw.]  With my husband??

> Yes.  [More hard punches.]  I'm fulfilled.  Every time.

>  I hate you for fucking him.

> I'm not giving it up.  I'm rather die.

> I'm not giving him up.

Emily and Denise pull each others' heads down by the hair and attempt to slam each others' heads into the foyer wall.  Their right hands claw at each others' back and slash at whatever flesh they can find.  The pain is searing and infuriating.  Both are lightheaded with rage and anger.

> You thought .... you thought to challenge a woman 9 years younger than you??

> You thought to let your husband alone at a country club with a divorced woman??

> You blame ME??  You blame ME, Emily??

> I blame you.  For challenging me to fight.  [Primal grunting.]  Alone.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

Emily and Denise fall to the foyer floor in a temporary catball stalemate, Emily's hips somewhat on top of Denise's, but with Denise facing the floor but her knees sufficiently scooched up to prevent Emily pressing her full weight onto Denise.  Emily closes her fists and attempts to connect with Denise's face, but connects only with the side of Denise's head, causing more injury to her own knuckles than to Denise's covered up face.  Emily takes a minute to catch her breath.  She moves her mouth close to Denise's ear.

E> I have a theory about you, Denise.  When you found out I was moving in.

D> What would that be, bitch?

> I have a theory that when you found out a single 48 year old woman was moving next door, you were hoping it was a lesbian.  So that you could step out on your husband.

> Where'd you get that idea, honey?

> From Vickie .... from how quickly you started sleeping with her.

> [Denise's body tenses, as she wonders how Emily knows about herself and Vickie.]  Vickie and I don't 'sleep with' each other, Emily.  She gets off on the drama between you and me.  I went along so that she'd give me your address so I could confront you.

> Pretty good acting, sweetie, from what I hear.

> Whatever you heard was unreliable .... it's Vickie acting out the tension between you and me.  Which, while we're on that topic..... why'd you get divorced, Emily?  Did you get caught fooling around with girls like Vickie?

> It's none of your business, but what the hell ..... a girl like Vickie,..... or, actually, .... a girl like YOU .... a 30-something .... decided she liked my husband ..... and the sex between him and me wasn't worth the trouble ...... so I decided to find a man ..... and a lifestyle .... where I wasn't going thru the motions.

> So instead of kicking HER ass .... you try to kick MINE?

> Oh, there's no 'instead of' sweetie .... I kicked her ass ..... and I tried to avoid kicking yours .... but you didn't exactly leave me a choice.

> This doesn't feel like I'm getting my ass kicked, Emily.

> Well ...   YOU'RE not kicking MINE, are you, Denise?

> Not yet?

> Oh?  Is that a fact?  Do I need to 'watch out?

Denise scooches her butt up high and kicks her legs at Emily's head.  The two women scramble to their knees and grab each others' long blonde hair and pull hard.  Within seconds, they are in another catball stalemate.  Emily can see Denise's breasts, which are erect and throbbing.

> Someone's turned on.

> Talking about yourself, Emily?

> No.  Feel.  [Emily pushes Denise's hand under her pant waist to between her legs, which are dry.  She then feels between Denise's legs, which are soaked.]  You're turned on, Denise.  I'm not.

> [Denise licks her lips ? and buries her mouth into Emily's left shoulder, kissing and sucking aggressively.  She inches her mouth and her kisses to Emily's jawline, to her chin, to Emily's mouth.  Emily offers Denise her tongue.]  I'm still kicking your ass when this is over.

> Keep thinking that, sweetie.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Denise and Emily wrap themselves ever tighter on the foyer floor, sitting up and kissing intermittently.  Denise feels confidently powerful in her ability to arouse Emily, having learned much from her blossoming relationship with Vickie.  Denise considers Emily more frigid, and older, than Vickie, and is pleased to see her learned techniques to be effective on a more challenging partner.

Emily kisses differently than either Vickie or Denise's husband.  She uses very little tongue, and refuses to lock mouths for longer than a few seconds.  Denise considers the possibility that Emily has difficulty breathing through her nose, possibly  as fallout of a previous broken nose.  Denise recalls witnessing a vicious girlfight in college, which ended prematurely when one of the fighters got the bridge of her nose crushed by an accidental headbutt.
The prospect of disfiguring Emily, once their fight resumes full force, excites Denise.  She taunts her enemy verbally.

<> You cold blooded bitch.  Does my husband need to work hard to get you aroused?

<> No, bitch, he and I are straight.  Sure you are?  Do Vickie and you go at it like this?

[Denise and Emily exchange 5 consecutive deep kisses.]

<> Vickie wouldn't appreciate your anti-LGBT bias.

<> You're very protective of Vickie, honey.  I wonder why.

[Denise loses count of her pecking kisses with Emily at ten.]

<> Vickie and my husband have better sex with me than with you.

<> Your husband fucks me harder than you.

<> He can't tell if you're still alive when he's doing you, bitch.

<> Oh, he KNOWS I'm alive, sweetie.

<> Fuck you, Emily.

<> Fuck you, Denise.

[Denise slides her pants down below her waist, and lifts Emily's skirt.  She initiates a scissoring position with her rival.  The women are unable to kiss, and lock eyes.]

<> I'm kicking your ass when this is over, bitch.

<> Not a chance, slut.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Emily and Denise cease their kissing on the foyer floor, and begin an exchange of face slapping and hair pulling.  Denise believes she has cracked the code of Emily's deepest-seated insecurity and vulnerability, and begins to verbally taunt her for it.

> You're a .... what's it called, in bed? .... a cold fish.  You have a weak sex, drive, Emily.  Pathetic, really. 

> I have a connection with your husband you'll never have, sweetie.

> He's fascinated with what's new, honey.  The shine will be off that coin in weeks.  [She slaps Emily hard.] If it isn't already.

Denise and Emily have stopped kissing, because their minds and psyches are well past being on parallel tracks.  Denise is feeling empowered with confidence at having overcome what she no longer believes to be a worthy rival.  Her giddiness turns to borderline drunkenness, and manifests itself in an increasing inability to keep metaphors straight.  Her speech is becoming slurred, almost punch-drunk.  Her face sustains increasingly direct slaps from the angered Emily.

Emily hates her rival evermore for Denise's sexual confidence.  Emily compares herself in her mind to her performance when coupling with Denise's husband.  If Denise can arouse desire in me with her kissing and fondling, even in the midst of a vicious catfight, imaging what she can do to her own husband in their marriage bed.

Emily feels a rush a motivation to engage in feminine combat with her mortal enemy.  She releases her enemy's blonde mane from her grip, and gestures with her eyes and posture a request for her opponent to do the same.  The two women, topless and on their knees, face each other challengingly, wordlessly, threatening. 

Emily then raises her hands and forms cat-like claws with her bent fingers.  She sinks her nails into Denise's breasts, and begins mauling them slowly but systemically.  Denise instinctually reciprocates.

Both women are nearly instantly consumed in overwhelming and all-encompassing pain.

They regret their decision to exchange the passionate making out for primal scratching.

But are too stubborn to admit it.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

Denise wants to resume her catfight with her implacable enemy Emily, but is aroused and turned on to distraction.  Emily has refused every prompt and invitation to bring Denise to arousal.  Denise wonders, more than she already did, how her husband can find fulfillment in his affair with Emily.  Emily seems sexually .... immature ...  incomplete .... something.

What's her damn secret?

What's the draw?

Why has Denise come to her house to catfight her?

Denise has never sought out a catfight with another woman, despite occasional disagreements and conflicts.

She has always tried to seek out a compromise.  Mutual face-saving.

Her husband has never followed thru on offers of affairs.  Even ones that were no-strings-atrached.

Denise is frustrated by Emily. 

She seeks another way to combat her nemesis.

> I'm going to rub myself off, you divorced wench.  Or you're going to watch.

> Less talking, more rubbing, bitch.  You don't have it in you.

The venom between the two women is hateful.  Abrasive.  Venomous.

Like scorpions in a bottle.

The two women lock eyes.  Denise's hands reach for her own pussy.  She's rubbing longingly. 

> Suck my tits, Emily.

> You need help?

> I do.  I do.  I need to cum.

> Then beg me, Denise.  Beg hatred than you've ever begged, slut.

> Suck my tits.  Please.  I need this.

> Beg me by name, bitch.

> Don't make me.

> No beg, no mouth.  Bitch.

> [Denise tries to climax herself.  She realizes she can't.]  Please, Emily.  Suck me off.  Suck me off Emily.

> [Emily complies, but locks eyes with Denise.  Denise comes, but it humiliated.]  See how you need me, bitch.

> I might need you.  But that doesn't mean you're not getting your ass kicked, Emily.

> Try it, Denise.  I dare you.

To be continued.......

[sinclairfan]

Emily's sexual iciness is maddening to me.  But, at the same time, enlightening to me.

Sexually, she's passive.  Cold, almost.  Lacking in initiative.

But what if that's what draws my husband to her?  What if that's why he golfs with her, and then does whatever they do?

I think of all the times my husband and I are kissing on the couch, first during a commercial to a boring Friday night episode of 20/20, then extending beyond the commercial, beyond the local news, and beyond Jimmy Kimmel's monolog.

I think of how I get bored with the tongue-kissing, how I pull off my jeans and panties, and force myself onto him.

What if Emily just let's the kissing go on.... and on.... and on.  What if Emily and my husband tongue kiss until ...... they just fall asleep, in a nap, in each others' embrace.

My husband spends so much of the weekend napping.  That's why we moved to Florida, he reminds me--no more shoveling, no more show blowing, no more yardwork, no more watering.  Living in Island Time.

I let Emily and I continue tongue kissing.  Her tongue is so ..... smoky?  Is that the word?  Did she used to smoke?

> Did you used to smoke, Emily?, I hear myself ask.

> Shut up and kiss me, is her non-answer/answer.

Emily and I continue tongue-kissing, louder than before.  I try and keep my moans less frequents, and quieter, than hers.  I can't tell if I'm succeeding.

> You're such a fucking bitch, I tell her.

> You're not so bad yourself, hun; she retorts.

Did she take that as a compliment??  I meant it as an insult, a putdown..

> I fucking hate you.

> I hate you more, sweetie.

> Because I'm married to the man you love?

> That was a low bow, sweetheart.

> Good.  I hope it connected.

To be continued....