My name is Kim, and I work in housing administration at a liberal arts college in South Florida. In my last story, I described my first adult catfight, with a woman named Gemma. We had a full-on brawl at a pirate-themed party at a mansion, and I lost. But in the following days, all of my thoughts went back to that fight, slapping and tearing clothes and pulling hair, matching myself against this beautiful, busty woman. When I came home looking like a mess, my boyfriend Joel freaked out. He wanted to know what happened, but as I started telling him about and the excitement came through in my voice. I could see him pull away from me, which was fine. He could go back into his world of video games and cable tv. I felt like my own life was taking shape for the first time, and if he wanted to drift back into lifelessness it was his loss.
Claudia was more accepting, though. She was the woman who had encouraged my interest and taken me to watch an organized catfight, a topless match between willing participants in the basement of a well-heeled sponsor. Claudia and I talked at her house over some glasses of wine. She’s a gorgeous Latina with a bountiful body, and she was wearing a long-sleeved button-up shirt that she had only buttoned about halfway up. We were sitting at her bar, and her black hair was swept across her forehead like the darkest water in the world. I told her all the details about the catfight with Gemma and the feelings that I was having afterward.
“What’s holding you back?” she asked. “Why haven’t you committed yourself to this yet?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re still with a man who would rather play Call of Duty than talk to you about the most important thing in your life. And it is the most important thing in your life now, isn’t it?”
I finished my glass and stared at her. All the images from my fight with Gemma flashed through my mind, and the rush that I felt with each slap, tug, maul. “It is.”
“Then act like it. Be a bitch. It’s okay,” she told me, and then Claudia told me this story about a fight she had in college, the one that told her that she was hooked:
All through high school and college I was the girl in the room that all the guys were paying attention to. And because of that, all the girls paid attention to me too. Lots of death stares when I was in class, at the grocery store, sitting around on one of the benches on the UF campus. There was one girl in particular who seemed to have it in for me. She was a strawberry blonde girl named Jessica, a grad student who TA’ed for my psych lecture. The professor had given me a few looks in class and Jessica didn’t like it. She had graded down my essay test because of it too, and when I went to her office to complain it turned into a shouting match. It simmered for a month, and that whole time I was thinking about her being a jealous bitch and about how much I’d enjoy kicking her ass, and humiliating her. And then I ran into her at a party, a grad student party I’d gone to with a guy I’d started seeing. It started with a dirty look when I first entered, continued with a hearty bump in the kitchen, and it ended with a catfight outside in the back yard. She was lean and small-breasted and she went for my chest early. Soon enough she had me topless and was smacking my boobs around, but in the end I got her pinned against a car and pounded her down into the ground. Five minutes after I asked her if she wanted to step outside with me, I was standing over her listening to her sob, and it was the most wonderful night of my life.

Claudia’s story percolated in me over the next few weeks. I took a long weekend off of work, long enough for makeup to cover up the marks on my face. There were scratches on my body, too, so I had to dress more conservatively than I felt like on the inside. Joel and I had essentially stopped communicating altogether, just going through the motions of a relationship. That included his sleeping on the couch, too. He tried to touch me the night after the fight, and it left me cold. I told him that I needed time, but I was coming around to the thought that our time was about over. He did a good job of paying bills, though. He owned a used record shop, and I started spending more time there. It was under the guise of getting closer to Joel, but I think that both of us knew that that wasn’t true. It was true that it was nice spending time at his work, though. He had a clerk named Dana, a co-ed who worked nights and weekends for Joel. She brought in a lot of foot traffic and did a good job of tolerating it, too. She was tall, taller than me and maybe 5’8. She wasn’t beautiful or stunning, but she had a very wholesome college girl thing going on. And she was built well, too, with a generous C cup and strong hips and thighs from years of playing lacrosse. Easy to see why she attracted all the foot traffic. I knew that it would have been easy for me to dislike her, with Joel always working around her, but I’d never seen her show any more interest in Joel than she had in the yahoos who wandered in.
I also had a run-in with Gemma. I had gone out to look for a new recliner for Joel because all the Call of Duty had worn down his old one. It had run down his ass, too, if I’m honest. Gemma looked hot, if I’m continuing to be honest. She was wearing a sun dress that was a size too tight and clung to her chest and waist. I had gone too conservative, jeans and a t-shirt, but the shirt showed me off well and I looked hot too. We locked eyes and slowly drifted toward each other. We stopped a few feet apart, both of us holding our breath, eyebrows raised, and held that pose. I wanted to slug her, and I knew that she wanted to do the same. So, I put out my hand, and we shook. A long, hard, tense handshake, and then she snapped her hand out of my grip.
“Looking for couches?” she asked.
“No, no. Thinking about replacing the recliner.”
“That sounds nice. The picture of domesticity.”
“We plebs do what we can.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do.”
“And when we do, we bring it until it’s done,” I replied cattily.
“And I’m sure that some day that will all work out well for you.” We hung fire and then turned and left the store separately.
A few weeks later I was driving near the neighborhood where Claudia had taken me to see my first arranged catfight. We had stopped by a coffee shop where she introduced me to Anna, a waitress who shared our passion. I went to the coffee shop, but no luck. The girl who was working the counter didn’t take too kindly to my questions, either, and I had to burn a medium house brew just to sit and watch college brats pretend to study while they checked their phones. No giving up, though. I called Claudia and said that I was interested in getting to know Anna better, and she was overjoyed about my interest. She gave me Anna’s number, and a few texts later we had a date. Not at the coffee shop, either.
The mall was new, finished just before the economy crashed and about one wing too big for what the area could support. But it was modern, with clean lines and open white spaces. I met Anna at the food court. I was wearing my hair in wavy curls and walking with a spring in my step. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing cutoff jeans and a spaghetti strap top that could barely contain her massive chest. She was still young, but you could also see that she was going to age very well and develop into a self-assured and powerful woman in her thirties. Your age, I told myself, except she would be a physical powerhouse, as a fighter and a looker. We smiled at each other, and as I approached she rose and gave me a hug. Her grip was firm, her body responsive and strong but also fluid and yielding as she moved. Judging from the looks that we got from the two middle aged women sitting next to us, any guys walking by got a great view of two well-endowed women hugging for too long and too tightly.
“So, Claudia tells me that you’ve joined our little club.”
“I suppose so,” I replied shyly. “I lost though.”
“What was it like?”
“It was like I was myself and this other person at the same time. And while we were getting down and dirty, we were dancing too.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” she said, leaning forward and touching my arm. “Don’t get down. It’s all about the experience for you right now. You have to get comfortable with yourself.”
Jesus, I thought, she even gives better advice than I do. “So tell me about you.”
“I’m just the hot girl who works at the coffee shop. I’m from Ohio, and stupid me, I thought that I could come down here for college and change everything. It seemed like a way to avoid the ‘young girl goes to LA’ cliché, but I just switched one old story for another. Communications major, can’t land that pre-med boyfriend, don’t like parties, at least not every night like some of these girls do. And most importantly …”
“Other women won’t be friends with you?”
“Something like that,” she replied, and we both laughed.
“Let’s go,” she said, smacking the table and grabbing her purse. “I want to go shopping.”
And that was how I found myself following a 20-ish girl around the mall. She needed a new sun hat, and we drifted from store to store. At the end of the afternoon, I had a new pair of sandals and a few t-shirts that were twice as expensive as they should have been and a size too small. I had also paid for a pair of shorts and new bikini for Anna. The shorts were very short and made a good show of her muscular thighs, but the bikini was something else. She came out and modeled it for me in the store, and I clapped for her. It was a bright, shiny blue piece with tiny white vertical stripes, cut high on her hips. And I couldn’t help but notice that the material dug just a bit into her flesh all the way around, on her waist and across her DD chest and the straps on her shoulders. The top had full cups, but they were still barely enough. God help those straps, I thought.
“Do you like?” she asked, and I replied that yes, I most certainly did.
There was another young woman perusing the suits, and she had her eye on us. Anna, specifically. This girl was hot, too. She was a bit taller than me but an inch shorter than Anna. She had a Latina look to her, a very pretty face that was sharp at the same time. Very light skin, her straight black hair hanging about her shoulders, and she smirked and tapped her hair with her forefinger as she saw me seeing her. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt and capris and sandals, but the ring and Omega watch were a few steps too high for her pay grade. Even with the baggy clothes, though, I could tell that she had a fit and strong body. She was giving both of us the same scan, and when Anna smiled and said a barely polite hello she slid over.
“Shopping for a new suit, too?” Anna asked.
“All the fucking time, it feels like,” the girl replied. She had what seemed like a South American accent. “I’m Leila.”
We both accepted her firm handshake, but Leila dismissed me quickly and lingered over Anna. The shake hovered between the two of them, and I could see their eyes scanning each other’s pretty faces, Anna’s healthy and fair and Leila sensuous and piercing. At last they broke contact. The two girls continued to stare.
“Have you settled on that one?” Leila asked. “It looks gorgeous on you. And you have the body to pull it off.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her,” I said.
“Are you getting one too?”
Anna looked at me with curiosity, but I shook my head. “I’m not in the market for one right now.”
“That’s too bad. You have the body for it too.”
“Where are you from?” I asked. “If you don’t mind.”
“Sao Paulo. Brazil.”
“That’s so fascinating!” Anna exclaimed. “How did you end up here?”
Leila moved to the rack of suits and started browsing. She held one up to herself after the other, but none of them really worked. “I came here for college. Daddy always wanted me to go to school in the US, but he also didn’t want me to live someplace cold or too far away. It’s,” she trailed off, and shrugged.
“Why is it you need to buy suits so often?” I asked her.
“Work.” She pulled a black one out and held it up. “What do you think about this one?” she asked Anna.
“You should try it on,” Anna encouraged her.
Leila came back out rocking the black bikini. She paraded herself just a bit in front of Anna and me and then posed in front of the mirror next to Anna, who was still in her own suit. The two of them next to each other was quite a sight. Anna full and buxom in her blue and white suit, and Leila lithe and strong in her shining black string bikini with its triangle top.
“I’m definitely getting this one,” Leila said. “And you,” she said to Anna, “need to come and see me at work.”
“Where do you work?” Anna asked her.
Leila took a card and pen from her bag and wrote down an address. “It’s called Bad Sports, and it’s near campus. We’re having matches tonight, four of them, and I’m going to be working.”
“Matches?” I asked her.
“There’s a ring?” Anna asked.
“Sometimes. Tonight it’s a pool. Baby oil.”
“We’ll definitely be there,” Anna answered her, taking the card.
“Awesome! I will be looking for you for sure,” she said, touching her a bit too long on the arm. “Both of you,” she added, with a glance at me and then back to Anna.
Anna and I ate chicken and salad at one of the chain restaurants near the mall. We didn’t talk much. I felt like Leila and Claudia and Dee and all of these other women were at the table with us, but it was also as if I were all alone, and Anna was alone as well. At least we had that in common, I thought. When it was time we drove over to Bad Sports. “Near campus” wasn’t quite the way that I would have put it. It was between the campus area and an upscale office area, and the crowd was just as much yuppie as frat. There were more women in the audience than I had expected—never underestimate the Florida factor, I was always re-learning. The bar was furnished well, a modern look with clean lines and black metal, and management brought a solid security presence, too.
I took Anna to the bar and shook hands with the bartender. He was a tall white guy with a round, tight gut and oversized forearms. “This is a little awkward,” I started. “We were out today, and we met this girl who said she worked here. She wanted us to come by.”
“Oh yeah? I wasn’t informed that I was hiring.” He set the whiskey back on the shelf.
“It wasn’t for a job. I think that she just took a liking to her,” I explained with a nod at Anna, who had wandered over to the inflated pool. It was a massive thing, nearly the size of a regular ring. It was translucent and made out of baffles that rose too high and fell too low. Getting a foothold would be hell, which was the point, no doubt. “Really pretty and lean Brazilian girl. She said her name was Leila.”
“That figures. I’m Garrett. I’m the owner.”
“Kim.”
“Your friend there has the face and body for this shit. Can she perform?”
“Sure she can.”
“Have you seen her in action?” he asked, and from the look on my face he smirked. “We’ll find out soon enough. She needs to understand that what we do here isn’t scripted. It’s not rough, and you don’t lose control, but it’s legit. That’s what brings people here.”
I went over to Anna as she stood by the pool. “You ready for this?” I asked her, and she nodded eagerly, anxiously. “You’ll do great. And I’ll be here with you.”
She smiled and gave me a hug, and her face perked up. The hostess came over and directed Anna to the back so she could change. The hostess was in her forties, and you could tell that she had once been a performer at places like this. She gave me a good once-over and asked if I was interested in getting in there myself. I shook my head and explained that I was just there for moral support. “If you’re going to provide moral support, you should provide a little entertainment, too.” Soon enough I found myself changing as well, into a thong and a Bad Sports shirt that stopped just below my boobs. Anna and I waited together in a dressing room in the back, wearing robes and sitting on folding chairs. Anna’s foot was bouncing up and down, and I touched her on the knee and smiled at her. That calmed her down a bit, and she brushed her hair back and gave my hand a squeeze. We hadn’t seen Leila or any of the other girls who would be competing tonight, only the few waitresses with whom we were sharing the changing room. There was a hallway of them, and thinking of the other girls waiting in each room to step into the pool made me feel charged.
And then we were headed out. I was taken around from the side and directly to the ring, while Anna got to prance out onto a small stage that lead down into the pool. The crowd cheered for her as she stepped into the spotlight and dropped her towel, shaking her red hair and her bountiful chest, too. She took her spot in one corner of the pool, and I climbed over the side and joined her. I took out the tube of baby oil, drenched my hands, and began slathering it across her feminine form. I rubbed down her firm breasts, stomach, hips, thighs, all the way down to her feet. The hoots of the men in the audience I barely heard. All of me was intent on the feeling of her flesh under my hands. When I was finished with her lower legs I raised myself back up to look her in the eye, and I leaned forward until our noses touched for just an instant, our buxom breasts pressing together and our thighs and hips standing as it were in parallel.
Leila then made her own entrance in her sexy new bikini she had bought as a response to Anna, and the difference in her performance mirrored her physical attributes: sharp, striking, and darkly alluring. She then joined us in the pool, some twenty feet away in the far corner. She looked over her shoulder at Anna, black hair draped across her eyes, and then leaned forward on the side and posed with her ass up in the air. Anna and I were both taken in for a bit, but then I realized that Leila had no one in her own corner. She motioned for me and I crossed the pool to her. I oiled her up as well, but unlike with Anna the whole time I could feel her attention on me as if there were some impossible divide between the two of us. And when I had oiled her small breasts and vibrant arms, back, stomach, legs, and I came back up again, Leila was ignoring me altogether and staring intently at Anna. Anna was staring just as hard back at her.
The MC called me for to leave the pool, and I scrambled out. He rang the bell—a real bell that you struck with a mallet—and the two women crept toward the center of the pool. They were bent at the waist, legs taught and hair dangling over their faces. Anna’s breasts swayed slightly as she moved back and forth. The skin of both glistened in the flashing lights of the bar. Anna had a focused, determined look on her face, but as they drew closer something delighted came into her. She motioned “come on” with her hand, and she and Anna crashed together. They gripped each other by the shoulders and tumbled about the pool. Anna got her around the back and tossed her across her hips and they went down in a pile. Anna tried to get on top of her, but Leila slid out of her grasp and got behind her. She locked her legs around Anna’s hips, and the two started handfighting as Leila went for Anna’s top. Anna did a good job of keeping free, though, and Leila had to settle for getting her forearm across Anna’s collarbone and neck and controlling her. Anna tried to roll free, and the two tossed back and forth some more until the MC rang the bell to end the round.
Anna rose and came over to our corner. Her hair was tussled and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. “She’s pretty strong,” she said.
I pushed her curly red hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “You looked great out there.”
She smiled and turned to face Leila, who was preening for the crowd. The crowd was eating her show up, too. I rubbed Anna’s shoulders, and she gave me a smile and then the break was over. They both rushed together and Anna had her down on the mat soon enough. Leila tried to slip free, but Anna had a good grip on her and they were sliding over each other as the crowd roared. Leila got her legs locked around Anna’s torso, and from the look on both of their faces things had gotten serious. Anna pushed at her legs but her hands just slipped off. At least Leila’s legs were moving around just as much, up and down Anna’s torso. Frustrated, Anna smacked Leila’s thighs. Leila smacked her back, on the torso, and again and again. Then she reached back and Anna’s hair a tug and everything went fuckover from there. Anna popped her hips and spun free and she came at Leila. For maybe 30 seconds the two women went wild, tugging hair and smacking sides, hips, legs. Then the pace slowed down and Leila settled down on top of Anna. Try as she might, Anna couldn’t buck her off, and I thought that she looked like she was gassing out. They had been going hard for too long for someone who wasn’t conditioned for it. Eventually, Leila mounted her and then slid up so that she was sitting on her chest. Anna turned her legs back and forth, but she was stuck. I felt terrible for her, but it gave me a rush too. And then right before the bell rang, Leila leaned down close and slapped her across the face and then her boob. And after each slap she put her face right up to Anna’s and said something.
And then the round was over and Anna came back to the corner. The audience was fairly nuts at that point, and it seemed like the women were even more into it than the men. Her face was focused and intense, and I asked her what Leila had said to her. “She said one was for my pretty face, and the other was for my big boobs.” She and I locked eyes for a minute, and then I grabbed the lotion bottle and went to work. I pulled off my own top and poured the oil all over myself, and then I threw my arms around Anna and ground and rubbed myself against her. The place blew up, and it got even louder when I kissed her when the bell rang.
The kiss was there between us and I looked right into her green eyes and then I was knocked aside. Leila and Anna tore into each other. I threw myself out of the pool and got my shirt back on, which only made me a different sort of topless as the oil from my chest soaked into the white cotton. Leila got Anna in a headlock and paraded her around the ring. Then she tossed Anna over her hip and got her up against the side of the pool. Anna tried to get out from under, but Leila was a strong woman and she held her down. Then she got one of Anna’s arm’s trapped under her leg, and she first patted Anna on the cheek and then pulled down the cups of her top, exposing her large breasts. They looked firm for as large as they were, and they swung back and forth with her exertions. “Come on, Anna!” I shouted. “Get out of there!” She had a frantic look on her face, and on hearing my voice she looked at me and then slipped out from under Leila. As the Brazilian spun around, Anna got her by the hair and pulled her down. And when the two girls came back up, Leila’s top had been yanked down, too. Anna smirked at her, and in response Leila smacked her boob. Anna shrieked and slapped Leila across the face and then the bell rang to end the match. But the two of them fell together like two well-oiled hellcats, Anna pulling hair and Leila squeezing her breasts and both rolling back and forth. At last two bouncers pulled them apart, to the great disappointment of the audience. The last I saw before Anna and I were hustled into the back, a well-dressed woman of around 45 was shouting, “Let them finish it!”
When we were alone in our changing room, I hugged Anna and told her that she had been great. And she still looked great, too. I couldn’t stop taking in her messed red hair and smooth full lips and her buxom breasts. “God, I want to fight her for real,” Anna said, and I told her that there would be plenty of time for that kind of thing later. And then at that moment, as I was about to kiss her again, I realized that not only had I not told Joel that I would be out so late tonight, but I’d forgotten that he existed at all. I pulled back, and I could see that Anna was confused.
“I have to get home sometime,” I explained. “Joel probably thinks I’ve died.”
“Some other time?” Anna asked.
“Definitely,” Leila said, sliding through the door. Anna tensed up, and I put a hand on her shoulder. But before I could say anything, Leila added, “That was a fucking great time out there. We have to get you back in here again,” and she threw her arms around Anna. “I’m glad that you left most of my hair in place.’
“My boobs owe you a rematch,” Anna replied.
She and Leila traded cell numbers, and then Anna and I left. I drove her back to her place, and after a lingering and awkward “good night,” I was heading back to my life with Joel. When I arrived at out place, I found him eating at the kitchen table with Dana, the co-ed who worked at his record store.