Hate on the 38th

But that calm and silence did not last, as within a few seconds of the open door opening and then shutting behind them, they each lunged at each other, absolutely desperate to reassert their own dominance. Taylor having finally acquired it the night before, only to have Rebecca take it right back there on the floor of the office. And Rebecca, having become addicted to it, after having her own taste in that same moment.

With that dueling and adverse need driving them, like banshees they screamed. Their hands moving to each other's blouses and tearing, tugging, and snapping buttons as if they were popcorn in a microwave.

Something about what they wanted — what they craved, their primal need for domination and control of the other, made them act as beasts. Each of the two snarling at each other and brandishing teeth like fangs, as they shifted back and forth in a maelstrom of yanking limps and ripping clothing.

There was no doubt that they hated each other. That their feud was real. That Rebecca's anguish from the night before, and Taylor's terror of being fired were palpable and true. But, as they struggled against one another in entrance of Taylor's home, each of the two found their hearts pounding, their pulses racing, and themselves more excited than either ever had been.

No, they weren't bored housewives, searching and yearning for the other to be their small glimmer of excitement in an otherwise joyless life. Instead they found themselves on the very verge of screaming with glee as they clashed, because all of their time spent at each other's throats. All of the insults; the backstabbing; the downtalking; the glares; the 'accidental' hip-bumps in the halls, and even Taylor's sleeping with Rebecca's husband had all led to that moment. A moment each of them had always wanted — a moment they had denied to themselves and each other for so very long.

That revelation and exaltation one might imagine them to be blind to, but in that moment they could each feel it. Each sense it. And so as each finally tore the others blouse not just apart but off, and moved their hands to each other's hair, they clung together and hissed.

"You better not touch my fucking face, cunt!" Taylor laid down the only ground rule she needed, as her body and Rebecca's met in a violent hurricane of hate.

"EErrrrrr" Came Rebecca's animalistic reply, as she and her rival's foreheads pressed together, their heels planting into the wood floor. With such footing, their powerful legs strained to drive themselves forward, their high heel-strengthened thighs and calves straining to push the other back, though each found only parity and a placement they could not alter.

Broken however, such a stalemate was, when Rebecca found just the right angle, and with it, tugged cruelly on Taylor's hair, sending her careening backwards off-balance. Such a state only worsened, as suddenly her blouse-covered lower back slammed against the black wrought iron railing that separated the entrance of her home from her living room. After such harsh and unexpected contact, and with the intense force each woman applied to the other, they spilt over it and then together crashed in a heap on the giveless wood floor.

If it had been any other fight, between any other women, both would have separated and taken a moment to recover from such a fall. But Rebecca and Taylor clung together like wolves, fighting for the last piece of on a kill. Such ferocity led neither woman to relinquish their grasp on the other's hair, instead only tugging harder and sinking their fingers deeper as they laid next to each other on the floor.

But they only "laid" for a second or two, for a flash later the two rose to a sit, while still clinging to their grips of the other's hair. Grips they used to pull cruelly, even as they began to kick at each other. The pointy heels of their footwear landing and stabbing into the shins, thighs, and exposed tops of the other's feet.

Attacks which caused the two women, battling with such violence there on the floor of Taylor's home, to scream out in pain, as what felt like the sharpness of a thrust dagger plunging into their bare skin again and again.

Compared to such plunges and wounding strikes, their pulling at hair seemed not just weak but useless. So much so, that almost at the same time, they each let their grips on each other's locks go and began to slap. Not with wide, focused wind-ups, but in quick, aimless strikes.

The other's kicking feet causing them each so much pain, they could focus on nothing else. Not the small trickles of blood that began to run down their bare legs from where their rival's heel had landed hard and torn skin. Nor on the strands of the other's hair that had been ripped follicle by follicle from their enemy's head.

No, for instead, each found themselves focused on trying to decide between two adverse desires. The first, to escape the pain the other inflicted with their kicking heels. And the other, to punish their foe for daring to cause such tear-inducing suffering.

But as the two women tried to decide which path to take in their only beginning war, the decision was made for them. As kick after kick caused their red sets of heels to loosen and then slide off, until they hung uselessly off of their feet.

Hang as they did, Taylor moved to reach down and remove them, bringing an end to her spree of stinging slaps. But as blonde paused, redhead advanced, she looking to use that moment to take control by diving forward and on top of Taylor in a straddle.

Once there, she with a fire-touched soul fought to find and secure Taylor's wrists, wanting to grab them and pin them to the ground. But Taylor resisted, abandoning her grasp for heel, and instead shooting her hands up to Rebecca's cleavage-exposed breasts.

Rebecca's first thought was to mirror the attack, and grab onto Taylor's own. But instead, and with the pain already causing her eyes to well, the redhead found herself compelled to seek Taylor's wrists again. This time seeking to find and grab them, not to pin, but to pull the blonde's squeezing hands away from her tits.

Sensing her rival's moment of weakness and her own growing control, Taylor used her grasp of Rebecca's tits to roll them, moving the redhead to her back. With her opponent so placed, the blonde quickly took the top position, never easing her attack, instead squeezing even harder, loving the look of anguish on Rebecca's pretty face.

"Today was your chance, bitch..." Taylor shouted down at Rebecca, as she lifted her right leg, and then after moving it slightly, let it drop down on the other side of the redhead's left — wanting to make sure she didn't find herself caught in a leg scissor. "...to just admit you're nothing compared to me!"

With every word, Rebecca, as her eyes welled with yet-shed tears, continued to pull at Taylor's wrists, desperate to escape the pain.

"But NO!! You just had to fight me!" Not satisfied with only pouring it on physically, the blonde continued to belittle her rival with her venomous words, feeling as if the superiority she had always craved was LITERALLY at her fingertips.

"Even after I fucked your husband in front of you, and you. Did. NOTHING!" The hateful, hurtful comment having been spoken, Taylor was certain: Rebecca would break, release her grip upon the blonde's wrists, and give into the torment she now suffered.

Such a fate seemed to be at hand, when Rebecca hands released from Taylor's wrists, causing an evil, self-pleased smirk to grace the blonde's face. An expression the blonde wore as those removed hands came to a gentle rest on Taylor's thighs in an unspoken communication of submission.

"Mmm, just like I th-" Taylor began, as she continued to squeeze and claw at her rival's tits. But just as sentence of claiming neared its ending, the redhead's hands shot upward. Not to her attacker's own breasts, but in an abandonment of the only rule that seemed to be in place, the redhead drove her long red fingernails deep into the sides of Taylor's face — her effort-flushed cheeks.

"No, no, no!" Terrified of suffering a wound she could not hide from management, Taylor began to panic. Just as such emotion took the blonde, Rebecca's nails began to drag down with all the ferocity the redhead could muster.

In an instant Taylor began to scream, not in fear of what her employers might think the next day, but in abject pain. "You fucking BIIIITT-AAAaAaahhHHHh!!."

It was then, just as the blonde screamed out in pain, releasing Rebecca's aching breasts as she did so, the latter retracted one of her clawing hands, and then with it, slapped hard. So hard, in fact, that she knocked Taylor off of her and to the side. Not to fall softly to the floor next to her rival, but face-first into the wrought iron railing the two had spilled over earlier.

The resulting impact let loose an echoing gong sound, as well as pained grunt from Taylor, who suddenly found the room spinning around her.

Just as the blonde was beginning to deal with the pain from the deep claw scratches on her cheeks, the hard slap to the face, and then being slammed into such an unforgiving fixture, Rebecca attacked again. The redhead doing so by grabbing two handfuls of blonde hair, and then with them, driving Taylor's face being slammed into the hard railing again.

"FUCKING, SLUT!" Rebecca yelled at the top of her lungs, as she drug her rival back, and then shoved her forward again, bashing the blonde's forehead into the unforgiving black metal. As that same gong sound rung out once and then again, Taylor went almost limp in Rebecca's arms, who held her upright, as she herself sat on her knees.

"I will never... EVER(!!) forgive myself for letting you leave my house!" Even though Rebecca's voice quaked with anger, her volume began to lower with every word spoken.

"But I can make up for it now, can't I..." As Rebecca asked the question, Taylor merely slumped in the redhead's lap, her focus and strength taken from her by the repeated blows to the head.

"CAN'T I!?" The redhead asked in sudden shout, one that came just as she tugged back harshly at Taylor's hair.

"Fuck... You... Bitch..." Taylor spit out in a barely audible mutter, one given as she tried to pull away and out of her rival's lap. But Rebecca quickly extended her strong legs and encircled Taylor's abdomen. They then clamping shut, and locking at the ankle in front of the blonde.

A blonde who found herself caught between the redhead's squeezing thighs, the latter grabbed and yanked the blonde's red blouse from the top of her shoulders down. A move that pinned Taylor's arms at her sides, at least above the elbow. It was then, that with her opponent trapped between cruelly squeezing thighs, and with both of her own hands free, Rebecca began to torture.

"Let me go!" Taylor demanded, as Rebecca's right hand suddenly caught a grip of the blonde's hair and yanked the same's head to the side.

"Owe! Bitch!" Came another protest from the once merciless blonde, who found her rival's left hand wrap around her body and rip down her newly exposed black bra.

"Don't you fucking..." Despite receiving no response from her rival, Taylor continued to speak, only stopping when Rebecca's fingers latched onto the blonde's hard left nipple and pinched hard. But not just pinched, for she also pulled — left and right, up and down, as far as Taylor's excitement-erect nipple would go and then some.

The state of that nipple, and the obvious connotation it had, pushed Rebecca to finally speak. "That's why you fucking tormented me, isn't it? Because it gets you hot...?"

Even though Taylor's mouth did hang open, and though through it came sound, such did not form words, but instead dancing whimpers of pain. Basking in the glow of those blissful reports of rapture misery, Rebecca's hands continued to work. Her right tugging the blonde's hair, and by effect, head awkwardly and painfully to the side. All while the redhead's left hand and fingers continued to pinch and pull at the exposed nipple of her rival.

"This is what you wanted all along!" Rebecca continued on the same train of thought, as she began to toy with her now helpless enemy.

"To fight me..." She whispered in her sultriest voice, as her words almost splashed in the form of hot breath against Taylor's ear.

"To have my body wrapped around yours, squeezing..." With every word, her lips began to brush that ear, and at the end of the sentence began to nibble gently.

"For us to hate each other..." Slowly, those nibbles became soft, almost seemingly sweet kisses, even as hands and fingers worked to destroy.

"To obsess about each other..." Those kisses then traveled down, from ear to neck, even as Taylor continued to writhe and whimper in pain between the redhead's legs.

"That's even why you fucked my husband... To bring me here..." From the redhead's mouth came her tongue, and it began to lick sensually down the blonde's neck, until finally it came to rest, just at the center of her trapezius.

And though within Taylor there was a true, nauseating hate for Rebecca, even she began to doubt herself in that moment. Not just herself, but her purpose for all that had occured. Why she had stoked the fire to their feud for so long. Why she had taken it so very far and made it so very personal. But just when she began to almost, even through the pain, enjoy not only Rebecca's lust-drenched words, but her slowly escalating attention, the redhead made her regret it.

"AaaaaahhHHhhh" The blonde screamed in agony, as Rebecca bit down on her bare shoulder hard — digging her teeth in deep, and clamping her jaw shut.

It only took a moment for Rebecca to taste copper, as her bite was vicious enough to draw blood on contact. But even with that taste, she continued, not just her bite or the pulling of hair, but the pinching of nipple and squeezing of thighs.

In reaction Taylor kicked out her heel-wounded legs trying to catch the railing to try and pull herself away from her rival's clinging body.

But when that attempt failed, Rebecca settled in. Each of her attacks beginning to ebb, until they transitioned from wild, draining ventures, to slow and methodical continuations of what felt to Taylor like never-ending pain.

With that subtle, hope-crushing change, Taylor's screams of pain ceased, they too changing in tone to low howls, soft plaintive whimpers, and haunting moans of agony. Every such sound bringing joy to Rebecca's heart, until she found herself almost milking them from her rival. The redhead using her pinching of nipple at first, and then the tugging of hair, followed by a squeezing of thighs to draw them out, and finally an intensifying of her bite. Until she began to use each and every at random, finding herself in full and unquestionable control.

A control in which Taylor languished, as she, for the first time, began to feel as if she might not ever find an escape to her redheaded rival's hold. That is until she saw it, one of their discarded red heels. One she knew she could use to her advantage, if only she had it.

And so the blonde began to wriggle and writhe, until her left arm came free from her arm-binding crimson blouse. As it came loose, so did her right, with the pressure of the constricting fabric lessened.

Then, with arms that could reach once more, she did just that. Extending with her left, and leaning, as painful as it was with her body, to grab the discarded heel which laid just feet away. One she then lifted, and before Rebecca could react, drove into the flexing calf muscle of the same.

"Arrrrgggghhhh!!" A muscle that in an instant went soft, as Rebecca wailed. The other muscles of the redhead's legs releasing the blonde as their owner scrambled backward.

Despite the pain that remained, Taylor quickly spun, and dove. Keeping the red heel in her hand, in fact grasping it with another, as she attempted to drive the sharpest point of it down into Rebecca's pain-etched face.

Almost blinded by pain, and certain her leg had been even further damaged by the desperate attack, though she was, still did Rebecca reach up. Her hands grasping not at Taylor wrists, but the heel itself, as the blonde landed atop her. Each struggling with the other for the bright red dagger-bottomed heel.

She on top to stab down and destroy, and she on bottom to take, turn, and re-aim. Each still ravenous and wild. Their hearts beating faster than they ever had before, as their wild battle continued. Neither in control any longer — their jobs on the 38th floor be damned.

In that state of utter madness they struggled and grunted, rolling together to the left, and then the right. Until suddenly they both stopped, and in a combined effort of push and pull their arms shot right, the heel flying from their grasps and across the room.

As an animal pursuing its last chance at food, Taylor chased the tossed heel, only to stop and turn, when she made it back to her feet. She finding that Rebecca had followed her to that stand, though she remained a few feet away.

Each of the two glaring at each other like no two have ever glared at each other before.

Their mascara running — their makeup ruined.

Their hair twisted, matted, and tangled.

Their every cell telling them to re-engage. To fight once again. To whatever end they might find.

And yet before she could or would, Taylor first began to remove. Taking off her formerly trapping blouse and the remnants of her bra. A sight that led Rebecca to do the same with her blue-hued top and lacey black bra, she not wanting to be any less maneuverable than her rival. She knowing full well how effectively she had used Taylor's button-up to trap and torture her.

But the blonde did not stop there, as she then, even as she glared, reached behind her back and unclasping her skirt. An act Rebecca copied, as each shimmied their black bottoms off, leaving themselves in only panties, and the absolute loathing etched on their faces.

Each wanted to speak. To taunt. To hit each other with every insult they had ever thought of. But instead, unable to take another second without hurting one another, they each stormed forward, and in a flash grabbed, binding their fingers to each other's hair again.

Then, as each pulled, and pushed, their bodies came together. Their nude breasts meeting, as undeniably hard nipples stabbed into soft flesh and then drug. But such sensations meant nothing to them. For at that moment they were each truly lost.

Whipping each other back and forth violently. Stumbling. Staggering. Into the living room proper then past it. Taylor's back smashing into the corner of the hall and the kitchen, she only a second later pushing off of the same. A sole-applied force that sent she and Rebecca, with their hands still laced and grabbing at hair, down and in.

Down the hall, and into the opposite wall, knocking picture frames from their nails and to the carpeted floor with an accompanying sound of shattering glass.

A sound that if Taylor's husband had made, she would have lost her mind in fury, but that mind had already pulled loose from its teathers. A fact made clear, not just for she, but her rival, as the two warring women, with equal force, slammed each other into a hallway door.

A door which swung open hard, and slammed into the bathroom counter behind it with a loud, echoing THWACK. A sound that, for whatever reason, caused each to change tactics. Taylor to lean in and bite Rebecca's shoulder hard, once and then again.

As those teeth sunk in, and then lifted, their receiver, even as she screamed, took a hand from the giver's golden hair, and with it: punched. The redheaded wildcat driving her balled fist hard into Taylor stomach.

A stomach, which though formed and framed with more tone than fat, still gave off a quick pop sound, as the afflicter's knuckles drove in. Drove in, and then retracted, as the owner of that battered tummy collapsed to her knees, her hands falling free from Rebecca's hair.