The Meeting - Part 1

by Sidekick

Doris Bickell tapped her foot nervously on the inside of the cab door as
she was whisked through the streets of Philadelphia. It was 2:00 in the
afternoon and the skies were gray. With each passing minute she was
closer to the meeting she was both aching for and dreading. She could
hardly believe this afternoon would be the climax of a
bizarre year long relationship with a woman she knew intimately and yet
had never met. She had flown in from Kansas City earlier that morning;
no luggage. She stood in a brief line and then told the cab driver what
address she wanted. She plopped into the back of the cab and stared out
the window as they made their way out of the airport and into the city.

She shifted her ass on the well worn seat and thought of what lay behind
and what lay ahead. A year ago she was a bored HR executive working for
a newspaper in Topeka Kansas. She was comfortable and liked her job.
She had her own circle of friends. A few men came and went, but there
were no really serious relationships. She had turned to the Internet in
her spare time and found she liked the guilty pleasures that could be
found there. She had first monitored and then joined a discussion group
or two dealing with sexual topics It was surprisingly fun and easy to
do. She quickly left her inhibitions behind and hid behind her screen
and email name of "[email protected]".

Then one day she happened on a site which strangely made her tingle with
forbidden pleasure she hadn't known before. It dealt exclusively with
female fighting or "catfighting" as they called. it. The images she saw
there titillated her instantly, in spite of herself. She felt guilty all
the next week as she kept coming back and reading and
looking. There were pictures of attractive women pulling each other's
hair, wrestling, scratching and occasionally punching. Sometimes they
were wore jeans or shorts, sometimes they were depicted in their
underwear and even sometimes naked. The pictures had a dirty, forbidden
and animalistic quality about them that drew her attention.
She also enjoyed reading the dirty stories she found there about women
fighting. They were amazingly detailed about the circumstances, the
emotions, the details of the combat, the spectacle of it all. It was
clear that a good many people liked this sort of thing and Doris Bickell
was undeniably one of them. She was reminded of her school days, when
she and the other students would occasionally watch two of their
classmates fight. She remembered feeling guilty about watching, but
also excited.

Doris caught the cab driver looking at her in the rear view mirror. She
was dressed provocatively in a short skirt, heels and tight fitting
blouse. She blushed slightly and swiveled her hips so as to prevent the
guy from seeing up her skirt which rode very high on her thighs. She
thought about the first time she had sent a message to
the catfight site's bulletin board. She enjoyed the exchange she had
with others and became bolder about saying what she liked. Doris had
never been in a fight in her life, even as a girl. But this was all so
wonderfully exciting somehow. And she became bold about saying what she
felt and enjoyed. She imagined what it would feel like to
fight another women in the way shown and depicted on this site. She
became very interested in how everyone seemed to enjoy the uninhibited,
raw emotion. She was strangely attracted to the notion of the women
fighting because they liked it, and taking it as sort of a secret hobby
or something.

Then there was that first email message from someone she had not met.
The header said it was from "[email protected]". She had chuckled
to herself about there being at least 25 bad girls on hotmail. And
then she read the note and became strangely titillated and intrigued.

"I know what you want. I enjoyed your posts. You and I are the
same kind of woman. If you want to talk about it, I'm here. --
bad girl".

She had read the note over and over that first day. She went from
interested, to scared to angry to excited. Who was this woman; if it
was indeed a woman? She finally concluded there was no harm in
answering and sent her first reply.

"I already know who I am, thank you bad girl. But I do admit to
being surprised by how interested in this board I've become.
What makes you interested in my posts and in contacting me? What
part of this fetish interests you? -- sassy"

And that began a dialog between them which still continued through the
year. Bad girl said she liked everything about catfighting, including
participating. She asked about Doris. Where did she live? What was her
family situation? What did she do for a living? How old was she? And
Doris found herself revealing more and more about herself as she became
comfortable with this new acquaintance. It seemed harmless. The woman
didn't know her real name. She only told her the State in which she
lived. It was all anonymous and yet still
strangely intimate. At first she was suspicious of a fraud. But the
more they communicated, Doris became convinced this was a real woman who
was having a genuine exchange with her.

The cab exited the parkway and began to enter the city. Doris felt
little butterflies rise in her stomach. She remembered the escalating
dialog with bad girl last winter:

"So, you're bored. You need some excitement in your life. What
do you like about watching women fight?
- Bad Girl"

"Well, you presume I like it. Maybe it's just like watching a
car race for the chance of seeing a crash. It's mostly seeing
how the men go crazy over all this, that amazes me.
- Sassy"

"No, it's not the men. We're two women who've been discussing
fighting for many weeks now". The men have nothing to do with
it.
-Bad Girl"

"All right. I admit that it interests me. I don't know why. It
excites me. It makes me wet. What does that make ME?
-Sassy"

"It makes you a woman who likes fighting, my dear.
-Bad Girl"

And so it went. They continued to discuss their strange interest and
passion for the next few months. They talked about childhood memories
of fights. Doris made further admissions that she fantasized about
going at it with another woman, just like the pictures and the stories
on the Internet board. Bad Girl congratulated her on her honesty. She
told stories of fights she had in the past. Their running conversation
grew into a friendship of confidence. They shared honestly and openly
with each other. Doris enjoyed this tremendously. She began running
home from work to chat online with Bad Girl; sometimes long into the
night. She exchanged email with her from work. Their discussions just
made her want more and more. She wouldn't have believed she would act
this way, if anyone had asked her before. She began to day dream about
it. She began to look at other women differently. She still was afraid
to confide in anyone but Bad Girl. But she imagined how it would be to
lock up with others she knew in a real fight. She wondered if they ever
had such fantasies. Had they ever been in a fight? -- Recently? She
was still afraid to ask anyone but Bad Girl such an intimate question.

Then late last winter, the tone of Bad Girl's messages began to change.
She wasn't distant or bored. They still corresponded every day; even
more than they used to. But she became a little belligerent at times.
She became haughty and superior in the way that she talked. Doris tried
to ignore it at first. But then she started to
confront it. Things escalated quickly and their relationship changed in
a significant way. At first they began to argue about being tough or
scared. Bad Girl insulted the naive, unsophisticated and boring way of
life she said Doris led. Doris took offense and for a while they just
bitched at each other like school girls. They hadn't ever
been afraid to let four letter words drop into their conversation from
time to time. But now they began to curse each other. Bad Girl called
her a boring and naive little bitch who was afraid of her own shadow.
Doris got pissed off and said that Bad Girl was a spoiled whore that no
man would give a second look to. And so it went.

As things escalated Doris remembered how uninhibited and nasty their
conversations became.

"You pitiful little girl bitch, you would go running from the
first signs of a confrontation. Why don't you admit it?"
-Bad Girl

"You know what? -- Fuck you Bad Girl. I'm not intimidated by your
superior brand of bullshit. You're just a whore pretending to be
respectable. I don't give a damn what you think or say."
-sassy

"Yeah? You wouldn't say that to my face, cunt. I'll bet you're
to scared to even talk to me by phone."
-Bad Girl

"I'm certainly not scared of a dyke slut like you. Give me your
fucking number, you cow."
-sassy

"My number is xxx-xxx-xxxx. Why don't you drag your fat ass
off the chair and dial it?"
"Bad Girl

"Just listen for the ring, slut"
-sassy

Doris felt the butterflies rise in her stomach, but she was angry and
determined to confront Bad Girl. She nervously dialed the phone; making
a couple of attempts as her hands were shaking so much. Finally she
heard a voice at the other end answer, "Hello".

"Now what do you have to say bitch? You want to call me names? Go
ahead.", blurted Doris. "Ooooh, I'm officially impressed, slut."
replied Bad Girl sarcastically. "Did your fat fingers get sweaty dialing
the number?" Doris was breathing harder as she became angrier. They
argued childishly back and forth. "Fuck you". "Fuck
YOU". "Slut". "Bitch". "Dyke". "Whore". "Cunt", "Cow". Doris was
panting as she spat out each curse. "You wanna fight, you bitch?" Bad
Girl asked. Doris had no hesitation at all. "Yeah, I'd love to pull
your hair out and bash your face in, you fucking whore". "Well come
one, let's pull hair, if you have the guts". Doris heard a static
rising on the line. Bad girl said something else that she couldn't
quite hear. Then the static took over the line and they were cut off.

Doris sat clutching the phone receiver tightly with her chest heaving
with every breath. She was seething mad. After a few seconds she
realized that she was sitting in a wet spot where her pussy had soaked
through her panties and onto the seat. She had never felt like this
before in her life. She was angry, turned on, scared and exhilarated
all at the same time. It took several minutes for her to calm down and
get her wits about her again. She paced around her apartment
nervously. Should she try to call back? Should she forget about it?
She strangely felt guilty; as though someone was watching. But that was
ridiculous. She was alone. Finally she made herself a margarita
and tried to lie down. But she could not shake the strange feelings.
She drifted to sleep eventually, wishing that Bad Girl was there so they
could settle things.

All the next day at work, Doris was a wreck. She couldn't concentrate
on anything. She couldn't get Bad Girl out of her head. Fleeting
images of the two of them rolling around the floor would not leave her.
She imagined the two of them standing together nose to nose; cursing and
spitting at each other. At lunch she had to lock herself
in a bathroom stall and masturbate before she found any relief at all.
This was not something Doris had ever done at work. But these were not
normal times for her. And still that afternoon she imagined how it
would feel to slug her fist into that bitch. She thought it would feel
very satisfying.

Practically racing home after work, she burst into the apartment,
throwing her keys in the direction of the table. What time was it in
Philly? - only one hour later. She lunged for the phone and dialed the
number that was still scrawled on the paper pad by the phone. Then she
hung up instantly. What was she doing? This was not like her. What do
I want? She fretted for several more minutes until deciding that she
wanted to confront Bad Girl again. She wanted it in the worst way. She
was alone in her apartment and no one would know what the two of them
said to each other. Once more she picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?", she heard at the other end. Doris hesitated a moment, still a
little unsure of herself. Then, sensing the situation, Bad Girl said,
"Hello cunt. It's you, isn't it?" "Fuck you, slut.", spat Doris.
"I'll snatch you bald". "Yeah? come on baby. I'll pull hair with you
if that's what you want. Your stringy mane will soon be all
over the floor." "And your pitiful little girl tits will be scratched
and bleeding, whore!" "Ooooh, you really wanna fight? Come on, dyke!
You wanna catfight?" "I'll fight you anyway you want, you fat cow!"
Doris was about to come totally unglued. She had never let her emotions
carry her away like this. But the butterflies in her stomach, her heavy
breathing and her leaking pussy all betrayed the fact that she wanted it
bad.

"I'd love to feel my fist smash into your scrawny stomach and my knee
pound into your smelly cunt", said Doris. "You try it and I'll trap you
between my legs and dig my nails into your big cow tits until you
scream, bitch", answered Bad Girl. Then Doris head the faint sound of a
chuckle over the line. After a pause Bad Girl said, "I think you want
it bad don't you? Remember how you used to be so timid and shy about
talking like this? You have really gotten in touch with your hidden
side, girl". Doris did not know how to respond immediately,
but realized it was certainly true. "You know," Bad Girl continued
almost in a whisper, we don't live worlds apart. We could really get
together and do it". Once more the butterflies jumped around inside
Doris as she heard that. "Let's get together and fight. Let's fight
anyway we want, as long as we want and as many times as we want." Doris
groaned into the phone as her pussy soaked through her pants, making an
obscene wet spot she would have been mortified to show in public.
Another chuckle from Bad Girl, louder this time.

In the next few minutes they had made the deal. Doris didn't want to
run any risk of being seen around her home. The people talked to much
and she would never recover her reputation if discovered. Bad girl, on
the other hand, lived in a much larger city and was not afraid of
discovery. Doris would travel to meet her. As they made
arrangements, Bad Girl urged Doris to go all the way if she were going
to do this. "Let everything ride", she said. "Just come as you are for
the weekend. Don't even bring a change of clothes. You and I will lock
the door and spend the weekend fighting in every intimate way we want.
You won't need clothes. I'll have food available. You
can borrow something or buy something to wear back if necessary." Again
Doris heard that little chuckle. "We'll just be too sluts getting
together to fight. What do you say?"

Doris groaned again as she experienced a small orgasm right there in the
chair with the images flashing through her mind as Bad Girl described
them. "I'll be there this weekend. Tell me your real name and address,
cunt. I'm coming to fight you", Doris said, as she rubbed her soaking
pussy.

And so it was that Doris Bickell and Kate Johnson had set a date for
their first face to face meeting. Now, as the taxi turned quickly in
the residential neighborhood on the West side of Philadelphia, Doris
tried to slow her breathing. She shifted in the back seat to look at
herself in the driver's rear view mirror. She primped and fussed with
her hair just a bit. She had taken a deep breath and decided to dress
the part for the trip. It seemed appropriate for her to look a little
bit slutty to meet the slut Kate. And having no change of clothes, she
was committed to the role for the weekend.

"Heh, heh, heh, Big date doll?", said the sleazy cab driver as he
watched her primping in the mirror. She flushed as she realized how she
must look to him. "Oh what the hell", she thought, crossing her legs
and letting her skirt ride up her thigh. "Sort of", she answered him
and smiled sweetly. "Whoa!", He swerved suddenly to avoid a
turning pickup truck as he brought his eyes back to the road. "Fucking
dickhead redneck drivers!", he swore. Then he added, "Pardon my
French," as he glanced back at her.

She was ignoring him and looking out the window again. In just 2 more
turns, he slowed and stopped in front of a huge gate. He spoke into the
microphone on the side, "Taxi to 315, Stanton Place". There was a
buzz and the gate swung open. Even in the gray weather conditions, it
was evident these grounds were immaculately kept. This was obviously
some rich community and very secure too. They drove around the wide
curving lane and passed three or four huge houses with lots of land
between. Finally coming to number 315, the taxi stopped and Doris
looked out at a lavish, but smaller home with a beautiful oak front
door, bay window in the front, two stories with wide green yard to
either side and high and well kept hedges all around the property.

She stepped out and tipped the cab driver and turned to walk up toward
the door. On the left was a beautiful flower garden of many varieties
and colors. She struggled to control her breathing again as she stepped
up to the front door, took a last deep breath and pushed the buzzer.
Nothing happened for what seemed like a very long time. Doris shifted
her weight back and forth nervously until at last, she heard the latch
open.

-- to be continued . . .