Christina Frederick smoothed her white silk shirt over her high, firm breasts as she readied herself for her nighttime bartending job. The women’s restroom was small and cool on this fall evening but she could already hear the sounds of the bar’s clientele outside. She flipped her soft brown hair back and made some more adjustments to her bartending outfit. She wriggled her upper body a little as she tucked in her shirt. She had chosen the top for its comfort but her breasts were still a little tender from the previous weekend. Christina had bloomed early in junior high school and ever since had always enjoyed comparing her body to other girls’. She was tall and slender but she had an impressive set of firm and heavy breasts. She was also, she well knew, a bitch, and she had long ago determined to take no attitude from other girls. She was working class and despised other young women who thought they were better than her.

As she studied her tawny features and dark, curly hair with its streaks of blonde softly framing her face she gently cupped her breasts until the cleavage bulged out a little beneath the unbuttoned silk collar of her blouse. She closed her eyes and groaned a little as she felt the weight of her warm boobs in her hands. She had recently started on the pill and her breasts were tender now—and, she noted with satisfaction, seemingly a little bigger than they’d been before she went on the birth control.

As big as that bitch Rhonda’s, she thought to herself grimly. It might have been an effort to convince herself of that fact, but at the moment it sounded convincing. She finally finished readying herself and stepped out behind the bar. There were only a few customers and Rhonda, the cocktail waitress, had not yet arrived. Her coworkers had all warned her about Rhonda when she had taken the bartending job, but they didn’t have to. The cocktail waitress had a reputation as a hellion that went all the way back to high school. She had been a groupie for heavy metal bands and had a hard rock and roll background. She was a couple of years older than Christina and as tall as the brunette, maybe a little taller. She had the same lithe, athletic, long-legged build as the brunette and, Christina had to admit, the most spectacular breasts she had ever seen. Christina remembered the first time she had seen just how tall Rhonda was at a function in high school. At 5’10” Christina was used to looking down every time she met a new girl; when she’d been introduced to Rhonda, who at the time had been a senior, she had turned and found herself almost staring right into the redhead’s chest. She’d been taken aback to look up and see another girl meeting her eyes at a level, maybe even looking down at her a little. Even then she’d gotten a little frisson of jealousy or competitiveness from the redhead; maybe she’d felt obliged to check out Christina’s tits the same way the brunette had eyed her rack, even if it had been unintentional. But she’d usually only seen the big redhead from a distance after that so there was no chance for any further friction to develop between the girls.

Rhonda usually wore a red turtleneck sweater that showed off her incredible rack to advantage, making her seem almost subtle in comparison to the other waitresses who liked to show off cleavage. She had an amazing head of thick, flaming red hair, swept back from her head like a lion’s mane, and a coolly cruel face with a sharp little nose and a dusting of freckles that offset her hard looks with a touch of cuteness. Her eyes were cold and she always seemed to look down her nose at Christina’s chest whenever she came up to the bar to place an order. Christina always delighted in those little moments when the redhead was leaning in to speak to her over the din of the bar and she could lean forward herself and give the cocktail waitress a good view of her own chest. She liked to wear loose shirts that fell open when she bent over to give others a look at her bra-cupped boobs hanging down, almost jiggling free of their moorings. Once in a while Rhonda would wear something equally loose and show off the tops of her big, freckled breasts. Christina had to admit that they might just be slightly bigger than hers, but she doubted they were any harder. She often wondered what would happen if their two chests were to collide head on.

Rhonda was a bully who often seemed to terrorize the other cocktail waitresses, but so far she had never crossed Christina. But Christina had recently muscled her way into confrontations with a few other girls outside the bar, and she found herself more and more fascinated by the idea of goading the big redhead into a confrontation. She knew what it was like now to bully another girl and she wondered what the outcome would be between two bullying girls used to having their own way. Like everyone else Christina had been afraid of Rhonda and other girls like her in high school, but now she knew what it was like to have another girl fear her and she liked the feeling. All through school the fights she had seen had been very one-sided, bully-girls terrorizing other girls. She had never seen two tough bullies face each other down and she had always wondered what would happen in such a mean, evenly-matched fight.

To be continued