It has been 67 days, 11 hours, 36 minutes, and 12 seconds since Sarah (blonde) and Jennifer (brunette) first brushed up against one another – since their fire-forged eyes first engaged. Initially, after that fateful meeting, they did their best to ignore each other — each pretending that they were still unchallenged as the hottest woman on the 14th floor of their company’s corporate building. But as if drawn by gravity, they were over and over again placed in the other’s path: field assignments, company dinner seating arrangements, cubicle placements, each seemingly designed solely to place the two as close to each other as possible.
Whether derived from coincidence or design, the proximity of the two women, each doing their utmost to draw and retain the eyes of their fellow co-workers was a recipe for the eventual happening of a hostility-and-sexuality-drenched reckoning.
One that is now waged — one that now rages, on a still-made bed, nestled within the cayenne-colored walls of a local boutique hotel. They each, both brunette and blonde, doing their best to exhaust the other’s defenses – at first with long, elongated motions, meant to send the message that they were ready, and willing to go for as long as would be required to best the other. But after sending, and in turn receiving such carnal communications, they drive and dive harder into one another; no words spoken, no energy wasted on anything other than pushing their rival into orgasm.
The momentum and resulting pendulum swing of shame and fear moves at times at speed, and at others with patience, allowing neither woman to dominate, or to take their victory for granted. They are different in form and figure – tone and tan, but their womanhoods and ways of using them could not be more evenly matched. It is that symmetry of sensuality that plays now both burden and blessing, leaving them locked and writhing in a battle neither can win, but in such struggle, lost in a pleasure like they have never felt, or could have even imagined.
