Girl Fight
Lisa and I had so much in common. We were both overachievers. We were both star athletes, and on the same teams no less: swimming and fencing. We both also made the honor roll every term, even though neither one of us studied very much. We just picked up things quickly. A classmate once asked me whether I had to study for hours every night to make the honor roll. I said, "What do they test you on here that you would need to actually study?" But Lisa and I also saw nothing inconsistent in being both an overachiever and very feminine. Both of us know how to dress to make a boy’s mouth water, and we can flirt our way into or out of anything we choose to. Yes, Lisa and I were almost exactly alike in every way. I guess that’s why we hated each other so intensely.
Surprised? It really makes sense when you think about it. Think of the really good friendships you’ve had or known about. Haven’t you noticed how people "specialize"? If you have two girlfriends, there’s either the really popular one and the wallflower, or the really smart one and the airhead, or the leader and the follower, or some such thing. Nobody wants to be in a group with someone else who’s "doing their routine." So Lisa and I hated each other from the first time we met in high school. (Oh, and by the way, my name’s "Susan," although if I decide I like you I’ll let you call me "Suzie.")
This story takes place in my senior year of high school, shortly after my eighteenth birthday. (Make that "our" eighteenth birthday. Lisa was born only a week earlier than I was, it turns out.) We had been trying to outdo each other, competing with each other, and verbally abusing each other for the previous three years. It finally came to a head at a party one Friday evening. I saw her in the corner flirting a little bit with this cute but vacuous-looking guy. She was only flirting on "medium," and this guy did seem stupid, which is a total turn-off, but the fact that Lisa was showing some interest in him immediately made me decide to make a play for him. I was delighted by the thought of how angry it would make her if I stole him! So when he left her for a moment to get some more drinks, I intercepted him and started flirting on "high." Boy, appearances really can be accurate. This guy was d-u-m. (Yeah, I know there’s a "b" on the end, but this guy wasn’t smart enough to merit the fourth letter.) But that just made my job easier. He seemed to have forgotten Lisa in a few seconds. Unfortunately, she had looked across the room and seen me with him, and immediately cruised in for a counterattack.
If you saw the scene from a distance and didn’t know the background, you would think that the guy in between Lisa and me was the luckiest dumbass in the world! Two hot girls fawning over him! Now, Lisa has sexy red hair, a narrow waist, and breasts that must somehow break the law of gravity. I had seen her naked in the locker-room shower, and I knew that this boy was in for quite a treat if Lisa won the battle for him. She had nipples with dark, cookie-sized areolas. They were so big that I had taunted her by greeting her "Hey nips!" in the locker-room. She’s not to be toyed with, though, because she immediately shot back, "Hey hairy!" Let me quickly explain that I am NOT hairy. All she meant was that I, unlike her, had not shaved my pussy. That never bothered me before, but after the laugh her comment got in the locker room, you can bet I went home and shaved it that evening.
Of course, I’m a pretty nice prize myself. An old boyfriend had once described me as looking like a "gypsy princess." I have long, curly hair that is almost black, but with a hint of auburn. This sets off my skin nicely, which is creamy in complexion. And I may not have a rack quite as impressive as Lisa’s, but it was certainly drawing this guy’s eyes down to it.
So Lisa and I tried to out-flirt for this guy, who must have thought that he had transformed into Tom Cruise overnight. Eventually, though, Lisa directed him to get us all some more drinks. When he was out of earshot, she kept on smiling, so no one at the party would guess what she was saying, but leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Get the fuck out of here, you bitch." I smiled back brightly as I whispered, "Fuck you, cunt."
"You get your little whore ass out of here," she threatened, "or I will kick your skinny butt from one side of this town to the other. I mean it." I laughed in her face, and said, "You are so full of shit." The smile had gone from her face. She hissed in my ear, "You’ve been asking for this for a long time. Meet me up in front of the gym in fifteen minutes. They have it set for the wrestling match tomorrow. I’m gonna bitch-slap that smile right off your face." I forced myself to keep smiling to hide the fear I was starting to feel. Was she serious? "Really cute," I said. "I go up to the gym, and with me out of the way, you‘re in the back seat of this guy‘s car, sucking his slong. How much do girls like you usually charge, by the way?"
"You want him?" she said. "Take him. I’m leaving. But if you’re not up at the gym in an hour, I swear to god I will drive to your house, and I will beat the shit out of you in your own room if I have to." She stalked off, and I could tell by the look on her face that she was not bluffing. "Oh man," I thought. "What have I gotten myself into this time?"
I lost the dumb guy at the party (not very hard), and drove up to the school. She was waiting in front of the gym. She had the key and knew the security code because she was captain of the fencing team, and sometimes needed access to the gym to check or prepare equipment before a match. We just glared at each other, and without saying a word, we went in. She flipped the lights on, and we both walked over to the wrestling mat. She looked me up and down and said, "That looks like an expensive blouse."
"It’s silk," I said. "Yeah, mine’s pricey too. We’d better strip down so we don’t ruin our clothes." And with that she started to undress. I paused for just a second, and then followed suit. (I wonder why it didn’t occur to me to ask why we couldn’t just strip down to our underwear?) Soon we were both naked, except for our running shoes, which we kept on for traction. Since we had been out partying, we had each worn some smart-looking shoes. Mine were burgundy, and I had on loose white socks, that hung around my ankles. Hers were white, and I could see that she didn’t have any socks on.
I walked toward the center of the mat, trying to look like I knew what I was doing, and like I didn’t have a knot of fear on my stomach. I’d wrestled and rough-housed with my brothers and my younger sister any number of times growing up, but this would be a lot more serious. What if she easily dominated me? How much would she hurt me if I was at her mercy? I knew from having competed against her and worked out in the same room with her that she had more brute strength than I did. And, although there wasn’t a gram of fat on her, she was heavier than I was because of her muscle mass. But I also knew that my reflexes were much faster than hers, and that I was somewhat more limber. I hoped that would be enough to compensate for her strength and momentum.
She walked up to me and said, "Okay, here are the ground rules: no biting, no scratching, and no punching with a closed fist." Inside I felt a little bit of relief, but I wanted to sound tough, so I sneered, "I suppose you don’t want any slapping or hair-pulling either, you scared pussy." She stared daggers at me and then suddenly slapped me right across the cheek. I didn’t even see it coming. She smiled evilly as she said, "Does that answer your question, bitch?" I grunted, "Yes" as I suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her hair, each hand on one side of her head. I got her as much by surprise as she had caught me. She stumbled backwards but managed to regain her balance and quickly grabbed my hair back. For a few seconds we stumbled back and forth, using all our strength to twist each other’s heads or try to drag the other down underneath us. The sounds of our quick heavy breathing, grunts, and moans echoed through the gym. We were both too proud to yelp or scream out in pain, despite how much we were hurting each other. Soon her strength started to become apparent. I was managing to stay standing, but just barely. Unless I did something to change the situation fast, she’d be on top of me and in control. So I suddenly stopped pushing back against her and instead pulled her toward me. As I hoped, she was pulled off balance. As her breasts pressed into mine, I pulled one foot back and swiveled my torso, so that she flipped over onto her back. (I learned later that I had instinctively performed a judo move.) I followed her to the mat, quickly straddling her chest. She was stunned for a moment by the impact, and I quickly took advantage of the situation to slap her smug face as fast and as hard as I could. I tried alternating left and right hand slaps, but I found that it was quicker to hold myself up over her with my left hand and slap her face with my right. "Bitch!" I yelled as I hit her, "Whore! Take it! You like that?! Want more?!" I couldn’t help noticing that her tits bounced with every slap.
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