[femfitefan]

Didn't see that coming... Loving this story!  Keep it going!

[sinclairfan]

After I slept with Mrs Harris's husband, there was a divide between us.  The butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling when she would get close to me was gone.  The arousal I would feel when her hand caressed mine was replaced by a sense of violation of personal space.  Even the smell of her hair and cologne, which used to be so aromatic to me, now made me want to gag.  For the next three days that I stayed at her and Mr Harris's house, she had given me her cologne to use.  I tried it for a day, which I spent breathing as shallowly as possible, so distasteful did I find it. 

The car rides back and forth from work were spent in awkward silence between me and her.  My sleeping with her husband was the elephant in the room between me and her.  We could neither bring it up (she tried a couple times:  "Ssssoooo, was it what you expected?", "Glad your v-card is gone?"), but my curt responses masked my intention to have sex (and LOTS of it) with Mr Harris at some point in the future--I had his work phone number and intended to use it.  As luck would have it, that week was college acceptance week, and I turned down an acceptance at Northeastern in Boston to instead accept one at Rhode Island College locally, in order to be closer to Mr Harris.

If I had my way, he and I were going to be doing lots of fucking.

I also stopped have the vivid dreams I had been having of Mrs Harris catfighting Miss Fredrickson.  I just didn't care anymore.  If anything, if the two of them did fight, I would have been hoping for Miss Fredrickson to lay a beating on Mrs Harris, much like the one Donna had laid on my sister.

What HAD happened between Donna and Lisa, I found myself wondering.  When Lisa and I fought at home, she fought like a hellcat.  She was also an there, which Donna was not.  In a fair fight between them, Lisa should have been able to hold her own.  What the hell had happened?? 

I began to wonder:  if two women are in a love triangle, does the one who's cheated on take on some sort of superpower that lows her to thrash her rival?

Would Mrs Harris do that to me if she ever found out about me and Mr Harris?

After three days of awkward car rides and silence while at her house, Mrs Harris and I knew the whole temporary living arrangement of me at her place had run its course.  (I was on my last set of clean clothes anyways.)  That day after school, instead of going home in her car, I went back home.

My mom wasn't home, but my sister was.  I asked if I could come into her room.  She nodded, and we sat next to each other on her bed.

> Are you OK, Lisa?  [My mom wasn't exaggerating that Donna had kicked the shit out of her.  Lisa hadn't gone to school since their fight, and I could see why.  Both of her eyes were still black, and her face and breasts were covered with scratches.]

> I will be.  Lance still wants me. He told me Donna is boring in bed.  And nags him constantly.

> I'm sorry I wasn't here to defend you.

> Don't sweat it.  I should be able to handle my own shit.  I underestimated how serious she was.  It won't happen next time.

> [Her forgiveness of me coaxes me to disclose my secret news to her.]  My narking you out won't happen next time either.  I'm not a virgin anymore.

> But ..... I'm confused ..... weren't you at Mrs Harris's? 

> I was.  And I fucked Mr Harris.  More than once.

> Anne!!!  Wow. 

> It gets better.  Not right away, but ....  We're gonna do it again.  [It's been years since Lisa and I have spoken so intimately, as friends.]

> Wow, Anne.  I don't know what to say.  Or, I guess.... actually ..... I knew you had it in you when.... [She's blushing now] ..... after our last catfight, when Mom made us kiss ..... I didn't think you would do it .... but you did .... do you know what I'm talking about.

> I think I do.  But let me make sure.

Lisa and I lean our faces into each other.  We exchange a series of quick chaste kisses on the face.

Then on the lips.  First slow.  Then fast.

Then, neither of us is being chaste about our kisses.  We open our mouths to each other, and find each others' tongues.  Both of us is trying to be the aggressor, but we are each others' equals at kisses, just as we are in catfighting.

Lisa's phone rings.  She motions whether it's OK if she gets it, or if I want to continue kissing her.

" We should probably take the hint and stop before we go too far, sis."  She answers the phone.

Lisa gets it.  It's Lance.  I see her blush.  She and he must still be a couple.

"Yes.  Anne is right here with me.  Why Lance?"

Lisa listens.  She then tuns and looks at me.

"Anne, there were a bunch a kids in the school parking lot at 4:00 today.  Donna was there, and you weren't.  The rumor is you and her were supposed to catfight there at 4, and you didn't show.  Is that true?"

Now, false after school fight rumors can crop up at any time.  But the timing of this one was too specific.

Had it been started by Mrs Harris?  Or was I just feeling guilty about my feelings for her husband?

I went to my bedroom, I pulled down my pants and lay on the bed.

And imagined me confronting her about the 4:00 rumor, and me looking like I had backed out of a planned catfight.

And imagined her acknowledging she had started the rumor.

And saying to me, "What are you gonna do about it Anne?".

I imagined myself lunging at her, and digging my nails into her face.

I imagined her retaliating, mauling my breasts with her soft hands that had held my hand for weeks.

I starting moaning.  I could feel myself close to cumming.

I could hear my sister in the next room, cumming herself, as she and Lance had phone sex.  That was enough to make me cum.  I was positive she heard me.  And was glad she did.

Lisa hung up the phone with Lance.  She came into my bedroom and lay next to me on the bed.

"So, Anne ..... did you want to continue that kissing we were doing?"

"More than ALMOST anything."

[We tongue kiss hard.  But my last remark hangs in the air.]

" Anne.  What's the other thing you want to do?  Besides this."

[I let a dramatic  pause build.] "To catfight Mrs Harris."

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Yearbook Club between Mrs Harris and me becomes a test of wills, with us alternating between giving each other the Silent Treatment for 30 minutes, and then sniping insults at each other and hoping the few other students in the classroom don't hear us.

> "Your hair looks particularly Brillo Pad-dish today, Anne."

> "Let's get in the car and drive to your husband's office in Providence and see what he thinks of it."

> "You ever set foot in that office in Providence and you'll leave it in a wheelchair, I swear, Anne."

> "Oh, but why, Mrs Harris?  Because he'd fuck me on the desk if he ever had the opportunity?"

> Homewrecker.

> Psycho.

> Slut.

> "How am I a slut?  I've slept with one man.  YOUR HUSBAND!!!!"

Shit, I said that too loud.  The other students are staring at us now.  We shut up.

With four weeks to go until graduation, I get a letter from Digital Equipment Corp in Maynard, Massachusetts, where I had a lucrative summer internship lined up, thru a contact of Mrs Harris's.  It's how I'm going to pay for Rhode Island College, and how I'm going to be Mr Harris's mistress.

There's mail from them one day after Yearbook Club.

"Dear Anne--We regret to inform you that your internship for Summer 1983 has been defunded.  You may continue it on an unpaid basis, but we understand if you cannot and wish to withdraw."

I pick up the phone and call Mrs Harris's house.  She answers.

> Hello?

> This is personal now, Mrs Harris.  I got the letter from Digital.  You fix this or I'm shoving this letter us your fucking ass.

> Oh, will you, Anne?  This wasn't personal when you planned an affair with my husband??

> I spiced up your sex life with him better than it's ever been.  At least his mistress is someone he can't leave you for. 

> I let you in with conditions.  You broke those.

> The conditions you set are impossible to meet.  I wasn't going to try to steal him from you.  But all bets are off now, bitch.  This is war between you and me now. 

> Oh is that so, little girl???  As in, woman to woman ..... or, woman to little girl???

> I'm 10 times the woman you are.

> Prove it.

> Fix the Digital internship first.

> Make me.

> When and where?

> Anytime.  Anywhere.

> You fucked with my pay.  Maybe I should fuck with yours.  Fight me at school.  They'll fucking fire your ass.

> Try it.  Bitch.

> Whore.

I hang up the phone.

My sister has been listening.

> Catfight at school tomorrow???

> No Holds Barred.

> [My sister is 3 feet from me] ....That's [2 feet] ..... so..... [1 foot] ..... fucking ..... [we tongue kiss] .... hot.

> I know.

> Stop talking, just kiss me.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

I dress for school that morning anticipating trouble between Mrs Harris and me, so I dress in a tear-away blouse so that when she and I are broken up by onlookers, it will look like a teacher tore the top off a student, maximizing the amount of hot water Mrs Harris is in with school administrators (and the amount of gossip our confrontation causes in the school community).  I also do something I haven't done in about 3 years--I have no bra underneath.

She and I will finish our catfight, no doubt, at a still to be determined time and place.  Something which I am eagerly anticipating.  Today will just be the undercard.

I walk to the school entrance.  It's a spectacular Rhode Island spring morning--so I'm not surprised, at first, to see a circle of students congregated outside the front door.  But I start to get wary that they seem to be staring at me.  Like the parting of the Red Sea, the circle opens, and I feel a shove in my back.  I collide with a blonde who I recognize right away, from her 38c chest (she and I are pretty much the only students in the school who are that endowed) and the scent of her cheap cologne still lingering in our home from when she came over to fight my sister, as being Donna.

The whole crowd starts chanting FIGHT-FIGHT-FIGHT-FIGHT, and Donna's claws are digging into my scalp.  Her fists begins pounding my face.

I realize right away a couple of things.  First, I've been duped into a fight on school property, which is going to get me suspended.  Second, I have no doubt that Mrs Harris is behind this.  Donna knows that if she wanted to fight me, she could come to our house like she did to fight my sister, or do this after school in the parking lot, after hours and off school grounds.  Third, I realize I better respond to Donna's punches, so I grab her hair with my left hand and uppercut her with my right fist, over and over, fast and hard.  (This fight is NOT a marathon--it's a sprint.)

And fourth, I remember the tearaway blouse I'm wearing.  Just as I remember it, I feel Doona's hands reaching down for it.

And ..... it comes right off.

The FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT chant turns to BOOBS TITS BOOBS TITS.  Donna and I fall to the ground, and the entire high school circle closes in on us, leaving us no room to swing at each other anymore.  The fight is stalemated in a clinch--Donna got in more punches, but mine were more powerful, and I can see and feel blood coming from her nose and mouth.

But we're now just waiting to be broken up.

Which happens withing a minute or so.  Two school teachers come and pull us apart, and they cover my exposed chest with my torn blouse.  The teacher asks where my locker is, so I can clean it out.  I'm probably suspended until graduation.  I've attended my last day of high school.

"But she started it."

"That's not what Mrs Harris saw from the window.  She saw the whole thing."

Fuck, I'm gonna kill that bitch.

To be continued.....

[sidekick]

I'm enjoying the hell out of this story. I think it's one of your best. There are so many delicious angles. Please explore them all.

[papillon]

I was rather hoping Miss Frederickson would take care of Mrs Harris (I mean, really take care her) but if you want to soften her up first and perhaps steal her husband along the way, that's fine too. She is one weird individual (!) and I'm not sure she should be around children. A little late to report it now though.

[sinclairfan]

My biggest advantage in my war with Mrs. Harris, I decide, is that when she called a "little girl", she wasn't lying.  She actually does think of me as a student, and not as an adult who has her eyes set on her husband.  I decide to make her pay for underestimating me.

Over the next two days, I make good use of my free time from being suspended from school, and splurge on myself, upgrading my wardrobe, getting office-appropriate skirts, blouses, shoes and boots.  I then buy a copy of the Providence Journal, and hit the want ads.  I know Mr Harris's company, Fleet Bank, is downtown, and the office it's in, so I start looking for open positions.  It's 1983, the economy I'd booming, and my DEC experience looks golden on a resume.

Back in 1983, it wasn't possible to submit your resume "online".  Instead, big companies would have staffing and temp offices on the ground floor.  You would bring copies on your resume on bonded paper, and if it looked professional (and you did, too) and if you had done some legwork and knew what openings you were applying for, you could fill in some paperwork and get called in for an interview that same day.  I looked spectacular in my new clothes, and my hair looked even better, so I scored an interview and told them I could start next Monday.  As the interview (with a sexy Italian woman with a Providence accident), I could tell I was acing the interview.  Two days later they called and offered me a job.  I'd be on the 7th floor; Mr Harris was on the 9th.

My mom was ecstatic to finally have a second paycheck in the house.  She was always skeptical of the concept of spending thousands and thousands of dollars on college.

But I had no plans to be in my Mom's household for more than few weeks--or, tops, a couple months.  I was going to steal Mr Harris.  I was going to live in HIS household, in HIS current house.  Mrs Harris would just need to move out ..... or I would throw her out.

A house where he and I would have sex all the time, at least anytime we weren't working.  Just like my sister Lisa had sex with Lance anytime they weren't at school.

I was super-naive.  I was spoiled about the work it takes to maintain a house.  The cooking, the cleaning, the yardwork, the maintenance, the snow shoveling.  I was spoiled because my Dad kept handling a lot of that after divorcing my Mom.  My Mom got the best of both worlds from him--a check, and his labor.  I wondered if when she was out at night if she was rewarding him for his work by fucking him, and that's how she kept him in our lives, if they didn't fit as a couple but did as lovers.

I started fantasizing at night about me stealing Mr Harris from his wife--but then her getting her own place and trying to lure him for sex there.

And me finding out and getting furious with her, and challenging her to a fight.

I got ready for my first day of work that Monday morning, loving my work clothes look.

"Good luck kiss?, sis," I ask Lisa.

"Of course."

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

My first day of work at Fleet is a whirlwind of training and paperwork.  The girls in my new hire class are all so pretty and smart, I begin to wonder if Fleet hires women on the basis of looks.  1983 was still the in the Dark Ages on sexual harassment topics, and I get jealous of all the sexy secretaries and clerks Mr Harris is surrounded by 50 hours a week.  (Someone in HR must consider me to be pretty if they hired me.)  I wonder if he's ever been tempted to stray from Mrs Harris with any of them.

And if he did, I wonder if the sex was as good as the sex he had with me.

Towards the end of the day, I make a point to pop up to Mr Harris's cubicle on the 9th floor.  I want to make sure Mrs Harris knows that I'm working in his office--that her threat to me to never set foot in his office backfired on her.

Plus....I miss Mr Hariss's smile.

When I stride over to his cubicle, he doesn't seem surprised to see me.  I ask him why not.

> Oh, someone mentioned you'd be starting today.  I recognized your name.

> Oh, good.  [I begin talking to him in a suggestive seductive tone.]  Any ..... other ..... things you remember about me, Mr Harris?  Ya know, besides my last name?

> [He considers whether to take the bait I've dangled in front of him.  He's sizing me up.]  I think I do.  But I could use some reminding.

> [Good.  He and I are on the same page.]  Anytime you want, sailor.  We can use my place ..... or yours.

> Lemme free up my calendar later this week.  Be thinking .... say, Wednesday?  After work.

> I look forward to it.  Honey.

I drive home with my head spinning with joy, excitement, arousal.  Every feminine hormone is at full throttle. 

Including Jealousy.  He's going home to her, tonight.  Mrs Harris.  I hate her.

I step into the house.  My sister can see I'm glowing.

> Good day at work it looks like?

> The best.

> Anne, I ....  ummmm ..... remember how until a few weeks ago, we'd constantly fight each other?

> Ummmmm, ya ..... remember how dirty we'd fight sometimes.  Sorry about that.

> No, no, nothing to apologize for.  That's not why I mention it.  I, uuummmmm, .... this is embarrassing.

> Ask me anything.

> It's just that....  I see you in those workclothes ..... it make me want to wrestle you.  You know, play fighting.

> [I square up to Lisa.  She looks pretty damn sexy right now herself in her mini-skirt and halter top.  I kick off my heels challengingly.]  We can play fight .... or, we can titfight.  [My pussy is soaking.]

Lisa steps up to me and bumps her chest into mine.  She feels the shoulder pads of my work blouse, rubbing our breasts together thru our clothes.  I grab and hair and respond to her rocking motion with my own, pulling our chests closer together.

> C'mon bitch, let's fight.

> Oh, you think you can take me, Anne??

> Ya, I do.

We're staring into each others' eyes challengingly.

> I miss fighting you.

> I miss fighting you, too.

> Bitch.

> Whore.

Our tits continue to press together thru our clothes.  I recognize my sister's groans from when she's fucking Lance.

> You gonna cum, Lisa?

> You first.

To be continued....

[coachzzz]

Sinclairfan, I had the urge to drop a couple quick paragraphs here.   One, I have always liked your writing style and your story structure.  It is different from the usual "modest build, then lots of detail on the fight" structure we see on this site a lot.   This structure is not for everybody's taste, but I enjoy it very much.   Thank you for your great work over the last few years.

On this story, I read the first part of the story a couple weeks ago and then came back yesterday to read the rest up to now.  How my view of the story has changed.   Over the first part of the story, I was rooting for Anne to prevail over the various people who were making her life miserable, and cheered Mrs. Harris as a sympathetic mentor.   Now I am actively rooting against BOTH Anne and Mrs. Harris, hoping both of them get their separate and respective comeuppances.  Well done on the change of direction. I am quite interested to see where this goes next. 

[sinclairfan]

On Wednesday afternoon, Mr Harris gives me a key to a room at a sleazy by the hour motel in the theater district of downtown Providence.  I'm terrified, yet aroused, walking past hooked and none-too-discreet pimps in broad daylight (this was early-1980s urban America, keep in mind).  If I wasn't a lilly-white office girl clearly from the suburbs, the pimps would clearly be approaching me as a teen runaway--instead, they're not quite sure what to make of me.  I act confident--which I am; I'm about to fuck the brains out of Mr Harris--and they leave me alone (except for staring at my firm ass).

The staring gets me soaked as fuck.  The mild Rhode Island spring is already transitioning to a humid summer.  My pussy is sweating, and now pre-cumming, thru my panties. 

I recognize the pre-cum smell I get when catfighting my sister Lisa.

Or thinking about kicking the shit out of Mrs Harris.

Or fantasizing about Mrs Harris catfiighting Miss Fredrickson in the school gym showers.  What a catfight that would have been.

Gawd, I want Mr Harris's cock in me now.  I want to lay my back on his washboard belly and have him fuck me from behind, wrapping his hands around me and caressing my tits.

I hope he and I do that this afternoon.

I'm at the sleazy hotel.  It's so gross here.  The liquor smell. The Chinese takeout spare ribs smell.  Gross.

I need to marry Mr Harris so we can fuck in a clean house and bed.  And floor.  And shower.  And kitchen table.  Everywhere in the fucking house.

In Mrs Harris's house.

I put the key in the lock and open the door.

There's someone in here.  She's naked. 

It's Donna.  From high school.

> Why fuck are you here, Anne?

> Mr Harris gave me a key.  Why the fuck are YOU here??

> MRS ..... Harris gave ME a key.

> To fuck Mrs Harris ?!?!?

> To fuck .... MR .... Harris.

> Well, that's not happening ..... LEAVE!!!!

> I don't do what YOU .... tell me to.

> You're not gonna be here when Mr Harris arrives.

> Oh ?!?  Where am I going??

[We both know we're about to fight.]

[Fine.]

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

My women's intuition, which had kicked in for me already at age 19, told me that Donna's presence in the sleazy hotel room was all the handiwork of Mrs Harris.  That she had set up Donna's jumping of me in at high school doors on what turned out to be my last day of school.  That Mrs Harris had written the School Yearbook nomination about 'Anne vs Donna' being the Best Catfight Matchup in the Senior Class.

It now made sense, in its own demented way, why Mrs Harris had let me get with her husband in bed.  Mrs Harris had calculated that the risk of me starting an affair with her husband was outweighed by the chance she might get to see me fight Donna.

That she had been fantasizing about Donna and me catfighting for the past school year.  Just as I had been fantasizing about Mrs Harris catfighting Miss Fredrickson the past few weeks, to the point of wet dreaming about the two of them having it out in the school showers.

Well, two can play at this game Mrs Harris.  I know you're somewhere in this sleazy hotel room.  And you're gonna get to watch your desired senior catfight.

But before this is over, I'm gonna get to watch YOU fight Miss Fredrickson.

And then..... I'm taking your fucking husband from you.

Before this is over .... I'll be Mrs Harris.  Not you.

Donna, God Bless her, just a pawn in this chessgame between the 2 Real Alphas, has fallen in the same trap I did in my final (real) catfight with my sister Lisa.  She's buck naked.  And I'm fully clothed.

She's gonna pay for this.  Big Time.

Donna bull rushes me, fearing my uppercuts from at our interrupted school catfight.  I'm ready--my claws are out, and I dig into her 38c tits with all 10 of them.  She slams me into the wall, and my back hurts like he'll, but I just use that as motivation to dig into her tits, twisting and yanking and jamming and mauling with every ounce of hate and sexual frustration from 19 years of woman
hood.

We're on the ground, and she has my hair, yanking out my best office haircut.

> You fucking bitch.

> You whore.

> You slut.

> You gutter wench.

> I fight better than you, Mrs Harris told me.

> My sister fucks better.  Lance told me.  AND her.

This one strikes a nerve.  Donna is out of control.  My hair will pay a price, but Donna will pay a worse one.

She'll be winded in 30 seconds.  60 seconds tops.

I was a little wrong.  It took 180 seconds of the worst hair pulling I've ever endured from Lisa, even in our worst fights.

But it's worth it.

Donna is winded.

And now her ass is grass.

I mount her.  And I twist and maul and jam and tug her tits in the opposite direction as when our fight started.

She's probably crying.  But I don't give a shit.  I see red.

Wanna know how I remember?

Because the blood from her tits, in my mind, blends into everything else I'm seeing around me--her nude flesh, the sleazy shag carpeting, the oak walls, the stained ceiling, the gross filthy porcelain on the bathroom fixtures.

In my mind, it's all red.

That's how much I hate Donna.  And how much I hate Mrs Harris.

Donna is done.  A broken woman at 19.

I'm tempted to call out Mrs Harris from wherever she's hiding and touching herself right now.

But I resist the temptation.  I'm gonna .... PLAY .... with that queen bitch first.

I wash myself off and get in my car.

Shit.  The bitch ruined my hair for weeks.  To punish her, I stomp on her tits one last time on the way out.

I drive to the school.  My old high school.

I walk to the gym.  Hoping Miss Fredrickson hasn't left for the day.

Good.  She hasn't.

> [Startled.]  Anne?!?!?  What happened to you.

> Donna and I.

> Donna?!?!?  Is she ok?!?!? [Good.  The 2 of them are still fooling around.]

> Mrs Harris forced us to fight.  It was ..... disgusting.  Can you .... help me???

> [Her face turns red.]  That BITCH.   Anne, tell me what you need.

This is gonna be a fun fight to watch.

To be continued.....

[papillon]

This is gonna be a fun fight to watch.

… and to read, I'll warrant.   

[Dirtymature]

Very erotic tale.

[sinclairfan]

I get home, considering my afternoon and evening to have been 90% successful.  Tomorrow, Miss Fredrickson is going to let me drive her to a confrontation with Mrs Harris.  And I've gotten back at Donna for her jumping my little sister.

The only setback, or disappointment, was that I never did get to fuck Mr Harris tonight.  I was really looking forward to that.  I really need a dick inside of me soon.

I open my front door and head to my bedroom, passing Lisa's open bed room door.  She and Lance are kissing.  The notice my disheveled rat's nest hair.

> Anne?!?!?  Are you ok?!?!?  What happened?!?!?

> It's all good.  You'll be happy to hear this.  I clawed the shit out of Donna.

> Whoa!!  Where?!?  How?!?

> It's complicated.  But she won't be bothering either of anytime soon.  If ever.

> [My sister gives me a younger-sister-looking-up-to-her-older-sister look that she hasn't given me in years.]  Anne .....  ummmm,   ...... you look totally horny right now.  .....  amiright?

> [I blush.  She's right, tho.]  That obvious, huh?

> Ya know ..... you can fuck Lance right now.  .... I mean, if you wanna.

Lance shows me his erect cock.  He slides onto his back on Lisa's bed.  Lisa moves to a chair at the foot of the bed and pulls down her panties.

I undress and move over to Lance.  I lay facing up onto his belly.  I guide his hands to wrap around my aroused breasts.  I slide his cock into me, and I start sliding my butt onto his hips.  He kisses the back of my neck.

I lock eyes with my sister.  She's masturbating herself, watching her boyfriend fucking me.

I build very quickly to near orgasm.  Lance's neck kisses are completely arousing.

My sister and I starting mouthing the same three words to each other.

LET'S
CUM
TOGETHER

LET'S
CUM
TOGETHER

[and suddenly we do]
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

I pull out of Lance.  He cums on my back, and licks it off of me.  I cum again. 

I look at me sister. 

> I need a shower.  Care to join me, Lisa.

> Yes.  Lance, gives us 30 minutes.

> Just 30?

> Good point.  Lance .... this could be awhile.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

The next morning, getting ready for work at Fleet, I have a surprisingly difficult time arranging my thick brown hair in a way that's presentable.  Donna really did a number on it yesterday in our catfighting, tearing it out from the roots in four or five different places.  My eyes are also very puffy, and my forehead has scratches and bruises.  I'm leaving work early to drive Miss Fredrickson to her fight with Mrs Harris, but I do the best I can to get thru the morning in the office.

Maybe four hours will be a short enough shift to sidestep the office grapevine.

Nope.

I underestimate how gossipy the Fleet girls are at commenting on all of our appearances.  I'm in the crosshairs by 10am, where about five of the prettiest girls corner by at a training coffee.

> Anne, no offensichtlich, but what happened to your face?

> Ya, girl, what's the deal??  Bärbel wire fence obstacle course.

> [I decide to be <sorta> honest.]  Catfight.  With a girl, over a boy of course.

> Wow!  A serious catfight ?! You go girl.

> I knew it!!!  I told you girls it was a catfight!   [I get damp realizing the Fleet girls have been gossiping about me catfighting.]

> Sssoooo, whose boy?  Hers?  Or yours?

> Well, mine, now, right?  [This is kinda true.  Lance and I DID fuck yesterday.]

> I knew it!  You TOOK a boy from some bitch, right?!

> Go Anne!  So Gangsta!

> Everytime I see the portrait of Mr Harris's wife on his office desk, I wanna TAKE him from her.  Ya know, fight her over him? 

> [Shit.  Another pretty girl on the office is crushing on Mr Harris?  Has she already flirted with him?  Am I gonna hafta Deal with her later.  I need to get the conversation off of Mr Harris.]  Ya, this boy Lance, and his ex Donna.  It was our second fight.  The first one got interrupted.

> Ew, I hate it when a girlfight gets broken up.

> Ya, really, right.  It's like, let us finish.  Get things resolved.

> Really.  Otherwise there's just unnecessary Drama.  I hate that.

> Ya.  One empty room.  Two girls enter, one leaves.  That's the only way.

I get into my car to drive to Miss Fredrickson's office at school.

At every Red light, I masturbate.

To be continued....