Who Is This

With speed the brunette made her way from her car to the front door, looking almost nervous at the prospect of being seen. With no less speed, Lauren grabbed her belted trench coat from the hall closet, and threw it around herself, tying it closed just before she opened the front door.

There, in silence, the two women examined each other. Lauren's brown, and Claire's green eyes traveling up and down each others still-covered bodies. Finally however, their eyes, having finished their exam, aimed upward and met -- locking together as each stood only a foot apart.

"You were wearing a wool coat when we were speaking?" Lauren asked with a smirk.

"You were wearing a trench coat?" Claire responded in query with an an identical curled lip.

Without answering or saying another word, Lauren turned and walked back into the house, only stopping when she reached the long couch which sat in the center of the living room. Claire followed her without asking permission after closing the door, thereafter taking off her heels, as she moved the couch which Lauren had peered out of. Their placement on the two angled couches leaving the two sitting next to each other, but aligned in almost a V, with the tips of their toes only centimeters away from touching.

Once in place, their eyes met again, just as each untied their coats, shrugged their shoulders, and let them fall behind them. In silence they studied one another, Lauren in her black bra, panties, and lace thigh-highs. Claire, in a color-pitched mirror of her rival, she wearing bright white panties, with a matching bra, and the exact same brand and style of black lace thigh-highs.

Though before they had stared at, studied and examined one another's bodies, now that each was nearly bare, they instead sat, neither wanting to break their intense gaze. Despite that decision, neither could help notice out of the corners of their eyes, that the shape of their bodies appeared nearly identical. C-cup breasts, with stomachs that had echoes of abdominal muscles, though not pulled taut by them. Long, muscular legs, formed by years of walking in stiletto heels. And finally, a small amount of thickness to each of their frames, making every line soft, and every curve blistering hot.

"Wine?" Lauren offered, as she motioned to the bottle of "Darwin" red Syrah on the coffee table, and the two glasses she had brought out with it in anticipation.

"I'd love some, thank you." Claire said in appreciation, the idea sounding like exactly what she needed at that moment.

Keeping her back straight, and legs purposely extended to show them off, Lauren leaned over, and took the already open bottle into her hands. Then, she poured herself and her rival a glass of the dark burgundy wine, before picking each up. With a glass in each hand, and separated from her rival by only the arms of their couches, Lauren handed Claire her glass, letting her eyes drift down to their feet, which sat upon the carpeted floor so very, very close -- both pairs threatening to touch, should either re-adjust themselves even a little.

"Your home is lovely." Claire said before taking a drink of her wine, she wanting desperately to break the electric silence that existed between the two.

"Thank you." Lauren responded, as she too began to drink. "Did you like the bedroom?" The blonde added in question, her previously warm tone turning more hostile.

"Yes, I did. And the kitchen table, the shower, your vanity, and even..." Claire paused as she watched Lauren's face contort with a barely restrained anger. "...that couch you're sitting on." The comment again was a shot, one aimed right at Lauren's heart and confidence -- one meant to impress upon the blonde how real a threat Claire was. The message was heard. Understood. And then, responded to.

"What do you want, Claire?" Lauren asked planely, growing tired of the calm.

"I want what you want, Lauren." Claire said cryptically.

"I doubt that." Lauren replied, her tone now serious and combative.

"I want David." Too honest and direct, the sentence sounded, and yet, there it was.

"Well, he's mine. See...?" Lauren asked as she raised her left hand and wiggled her ring finger, and the giant diamond ring thereupon.

"Well, yes, in a legal sense you are correct. He is technically your husband, but in EVERY other sense, he's actually OURS, and I want that to end, don't you...?" Sounding just like David -- just like a lawyer, Claire muddied the issue.

"That would be nice, wouldn't it...? If you stopped fucking MY husband, and found someone wasn't a married man to satisfy your needs." With every word spoken between the two, and completely unbeknownst to either of them, each of the women's non-glass-filled hands began to lower to a gentle rest between their legs.

"But that's just it, and I can see how you'd like to think I'm just sleeping with David, fucking him in your house -- your bed, just for the thrill of it. Because it's taboo, or because I'm some slut who just wants the excitement of taking a married woman's man, but I love him. And so do you. And so we have to settle this..." Claire's words were sincere, thoughtful, but still demanding, she making clear that she wouldn't be leaving, or abandoning her affair with David. Not willingly. Not ever...

"What does that even mean? 'Settle this...'" Lauren asked, more than aware of what it meant, but not yet willing to admit to either herself or Claire what she wanted to happen.

"Please, Lauren... Why else would you have picked up David's cellphone, when you 'knew he had a mistress'? Why else would you have spoken to me for hours on the phone, if you wanted to just ignore me, and talk to David...? Why else would you allow me to come over, and then meet me half-naked, if you didn't want us to resolve this...? If you didn't want to fight me for David...?" Claire questions required no answers, as there could only be one to each.

"I ... I don't kn..." As Lauren stumbled for an answer, Claire interrupted.

"Look, I don't know how to fight. I've never fought another woman for a man. This is all as new to me, as it is to you. I don't know you. I don't hate you. But I love David. And I will be with David as long as he'll have me. If you're willing to share him ... your husband ... then we can co-exist, but if you aren't ... then we have to solve this." Claire laid it out slowly, logically, leaving Lauren not else to say but her own desire.

"I will NOT share him." Clear did Lauren then make it also, that she was not willing to share her husband, as her eyes hardened, and her soft stare turned to a glare.

In response to the declaration, Claire took a long swig of her wine, before she said in an almost resigned fashion: "Then we fight."

Lauren was unsure which it was that sent a spark of electricity through her body, hearing her rival say those words, just as the toes of the same suddenly pressed themselves into hers.

"We fight then." Lauren responded resolutely, as she continued to sip at her wine. Beneath her words, the blonde began to push back with her feet, her toes slowly, but firmly wrestling with Claire's, through their thigh-highs, though neither woman made even the slightest mention or acknowledgement of it.

In silence each sat for a moment, unsure what to do or say, each still drinking their wine, their toes pressing together and then pulling apart as each struggled to pin the others toes down and assert their own dominance.

"Would you like to set any rules?" Claire asked cordially, her glass of wine almost empty.

"It depends on what we're fighting for. What do we get if we win?" Lauren queried, wanting to know exactly what was at stake. As she spoke, she suddenly felt Claire's toes come dangerously close to pinning hers, and at that feeling she pulled her foot back from her rivals, not wanting to be bested in their first challenge, even if by pulling away, she had assured just that.

"If you win, I leave your home, your life, and promise that david and I are through. If I win, you and David are through. You move out. I'll even prepare your divorce paperwork for you." Claire terms seemed harsh, given her previous comments, though Lauren would have demanded no less.

"I thought you wanted to share." Lauren asked, her eyes leaving Claire's, as she took what was was her last sip of wine.

"No, I am WILLING to share, not wanting to. And that's without a fight. If we're fighting, the winner gets David. Period. No. Matter. What. Agreed...?" Claire asked, wanting to make absolutely clear that if they two were to fight, that it would once and for all put an end to their feuding over David.

"Agreed..." Lauren said planely, before standing up from her seat on the couch, and reaching a hand out to help Claire to her feet.

"No more wine...?" Claire mused with a knowing condescension, one that made Lauren's grip tighten as their hands met.

"No more wine..." Came the blonde's reply, as she pulled the brunette to a stand. The two women standing at that moment not inches apart.

There, in that closeness, the two stood. Their eyes locked in an angry and fire-etched gaze. Their nostrils flared, even as the tips of their noses hovered so very, very close. Their breath hitching, as each tried to ready themselves for the struggle that was to come.

It was at that moment, and in that silence, that each began to feel dizzy, the weight of the moment getting to each of them, despite their confidence and resolve. A marriage hung on the outcome of this. A life together. Each of their chances at children with the man they loved. The opportunity to grow old with him. To be buried next to him.

Such thoughts rushed through their minds as they stood toe-to-toe, each being certain that the moment could not get more intense. But then it did, as each leaned in, not closer, but as close as they could, with each bending in towards one another until their foreheads sealed together. Until the tip of Lauren's nose bent and braced against that of the other, which did the same. Until their equally proportioned breasts met, pressed, and then flattened together. All as they glared. All as every intention of civility, of kindness, of feigned friendship faded, leaving only hate. Not for each other, but for the challenge they each represented -- for the chance, no matter how remote it seemed to them at that moment, that they might be beaten by the other, and forced to abandon David.

It was that final thought. One of other taking the man they loved, that led them each to, at almost the same fraction of a second: explode, going from the intensity of their staredown, to wild, frantic action. No words being spoken. No ready, set, go. No countdown. Instead they each reached for each other -- around each other, and with as much violence and strength as each could muster, they began to try and throw the other to the ground -- digging their nails into each others back.

In that quest, neither found an advantage, and each instead realizing that their rival was so equal to them in strength that all thoughts of dominance faded in one terrifying instant. An instant in which they both stumbled and spun, each letting loose the smallest whimpers of effort and frustration as they struggled, locked in each others arms. Their stomachs pressed together. Their breasts mashed and shifting one direction and then the other with every twist.

Into the carpet their toes dug and heels braced, their powerful thigh muscles flexing and tightening, with each trying desperately to take control of their swirling battle for David. One in which they seemed locked in parity. Chained in equality. In which each appeared to be a mirror of the other, the only difference being their hues -- which could be seen only in blurs, the speed and force of their violent embrace being so intense.

Just then, however, as they whirled and waged their awful war, the back of Lauren's calves slammed into the seat of the couch, and to that piece of furniture she fell, with Claire atop her -- not by plan or on purpose, but instead by the luck of the draw. And yet regardless of cause, Claire wasted not a second, instead she straddled Lauren, raised up, pulled back, and then before the blonde could even center herself or stop her head from spinning, the brunette delivered a hard, stinging right hand slap across Lauren's cheek. As the splash of flesh rung out, Claire wound back and struck again, this time slapping from the left, which each blow echoing through the house as it sent Lauren's head snapping one direction and then the other.

Each slap was harsh, cruel, and intensely painful, but two were not enough for Claire. No, she knew that she would need to destroy Lauren before she would give David up, and so the brunette would hold nothing back. That commitment driving her, Claire wound back for another hard slap, but as she pulled her right arm back, Lauren struck. The blonde sending her own right hand out, up, and so ferociously across the brunette's face that she collapsed from her straddle to the side of her rival.

Dismounted and left laying on her side on the edge of the couch cushion, her legs laying on the lap of the blonde, Claire rolled to her stomach and tried to recover, using her arms to push herself back up, hoping to retake her position of dominance. But after raising only an inch or two, she found her hair tugged painfully from behind, just as she felt her rival escape from beneath her legs. Back, and then back again Claire found herself bent, but just as she decided to try and roll, the warmth of Lauren's thighs and the coolness of the same's panties pressed down on the square of the brunette's arched back.

The angle at which her back bent was painful enough, as was the ferocious tugging of her hair, but they felt like foreplay, compared to the hard, sudden, clubbing slams of wild, angry, left-handed punches, driven home by Lauren into the face of Claire. Each being sufficient to drag from Claire cries of pain, which she was kept from muffling in the couch cushion, as the blonde pulled tight on her hair-made reins. Claire had been so ready and certain that she could handle whatever her engagement with Lauren would entail, but at that moment. As one fist after another rained down into her face, she found herself literally terrified. Such violence. Such passion from each of them. Such desire to win. How would either of them survive this? What would be left of the winner for David to enjoy?

And while those questions haunted her, Lauren felt something very different. Hate. Malice. A loathing that had never felt before, building exponentially, making her every strike as potent and as harshly-aimed as she could make them. The first cry from her rival making her lips curl into a smile and then widen with each one thereafter. But just as she began to settle into the joy of hurting Claire, the same struck back, spinning beneath Lauren, hair-pull be damned. As she turned, the brunette sent her left fist flying out in a heavy, turning, back hand blow into the blonde face, which sent her off of Claire, the couch, and down to the carpeted floor.

The brunette wanted to right herself quickly and counter attack. To hurt Lauren -- to wound her, but the brunette found herself slowed and her mind fogged from the blonde strikes. And so in Claire's efforts to chase, she instead fell. Landing with a thud on the floor, only a foot from Lauren who had already begun to stir and press herself up off the floor. A third of the way through that journey, the blonde had already made it back to her knees, and had begun shaking her head to try and regain her ability to focus, before she quickly found herself beset again.

This time, with Claire's forearm snaking under her chin, around her throat, just as she felt the warm body of the same press against her back. Lauren was no wrestler -- no fighter, but she knew what the brunette was trying: a chokehold. And though her rival's hold had already begun to tighten, the blonde fought back, bent over quickly, and slammed her ass back into Claire's pelvis. The brunette fought to hold on to her burgeoning choke, but in so doing found herself lifted up into the air on Lauren's back as she bent over. There Claire teetered, trying not to fall off, but just as she began to feel herself slipping, the blonde straightened, only to repeat the same bend and lift, hoping to dislodge Claire. This time however, the brunette was ready. And when Lauren bent over, Claire quickly wrapped her thighs around the blonde's midsection, then locking them tight at the ankles.

Instantly Claire began to squeeze, pulsing her powerful thigh muscles around Lauren, who in response gasped and plaintively whimpered out, "noo...", before collapsing to the carpet on her side -- her previous smirk having disappeared. At the finish of that collapse, Claire found herself finally able to cinch in her choke, and when she did it was her lips that curled in pleasure. For the brunette knew, she had her rival, as her own forearm pressed against Lauren's windpipe, and that David would be hers. Pressing her advantage, Claire parted her legs just enough to pull the blonde back, deeper into her scissor like a spider latching onto its prey, so deep that only the smallest of gaps existed between the brunette's pelvis and the lower back of her rival.

There, with Lauren caught in her strangling web of limbs, Claire settled in. Ready to slowly, cruelly, drain the life out of her rival until she had no choice but to submit, or pass out. It was only then, as Claire allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of dominating her foe, that she began to feel the same lust Lauren had while they spoke on the phone. It was absolutely intoxicating. This woman had stood toe-to-toe with her. Challenged her. Demanded that they fight instead of share David. And now...? Now she writhed in panic between Claire's thighs. Locked in a hold she could not escape. Her every breath coming only at the brunette's allowance. Her every resistance weakening by the second, as she laid helpless in Claire's malicious embrace.

It was a lust born from those tantalizing facts which led the brunette to begin, without intention or even knowing, to loosen her leg scissor just enough to then tighten it again and drag her quickly wetting, but still panty-covered sex against the lower back of the blonde. An act which Lauren paid little attention to at first, as she was busy desperately prying at Claire's forearm -- to relieve the blackout-inducing pressure against her throat, so that she might breathe again. And though on the choke she was focused, she could still hear, even if her vision was quickly darkening. And what she could hear, out of her left ear, was the tiniest little moans escaping from the brunette's lips. Lips which laid against Lauren's ear.

At first, as the blonde began to realize what was happening, that she was being humped by her rival, as the same was choking her out, she felt humiliated. Horrified. But then ... as she felt the small, gaps in Claire's leg scissor strength, brought about as she continued to please herself at Lauren's expense, the latter realized. It was an opportunity. A chance. One she took, as she slowly reached her left hand back, an act which went completely unnoticed as Claire had closed her eyes as a result of the quickly welling passion within her. Then, without alarming she who was about to choke her out, Lauren shot her arm behind her own back, in between Claire's thighs, and then dug her nails into the wet panties of the same, each nail stabbing into either clit, lip, or something equally sensitive.

In an instant such a biting grasp caused Claire to release her choke entirely, and all but the last vestiges of her leg scissors, she keeping her ankles locked in front of Lauren. The latter sitting up, and letting loose a series of horse, wheezing coughs, as she fought to regain her stolen air. But as she so struggled, she did nothing but increase the ferocity of her gouging grasp on Claire's sex. An attack which sent Claire to her back, her mouth open letting loose one pained whimper after another, with high-pitched, piercing yelps in between. Sounds that continued, until finally Lauren had recovered enough to re-engage, which she did by turning around and diving out from between her loosely clasped legs and atop Claire. Then, mid-air, and just before she landed in a straddle of the brunette's mid-section, Lauren released her grip on Claire pussy. It was only a moment there after that when blonde brought that hand and her other down, slid them beneath her rival's bra, and then took two, vengeful and squeezing handfuls of Claire's tits.