There were plenty of admiring glances coming her way as she tended bar, but she wondered if she was generating the same excitement that Rhonda was as she swaggered out there on the floor, bending over and showing off those jiggling tits to every customer. Unconsciously she tugged her shirt waist down into her skirt, yanking just a little bit more cleavage into visibility for the patrons to view. Soon Rhonda was back at the bar, shouting out an order Christina could barely hear and leaning over the counter with her creamy, lightly-freckled cleavage spilling over the top of her blouse. Christina moved in and leaned down until her own boobs were touching the flat wooden surface, taking care not to get her front into anything wet. For a second she and Rhonda were nose to nose, glaring into each other’s faces until Christina slipped past her rival’s face and nestled in close to her soft ear again. “Why don’t you keep your big jugs off my counter, bitch?” she said, her lips brushing the other girl’s earlobes lightly. “There isn’t room for four tits on this bar.”
“I’m glad you’re full of big talk right now, baby, because I’m going to shut that smart mouth of yours for good in one hour,” Rhonda said.

“I said get your fucking tits off my bar, whore!” Christina practically shouted the challenge into Rhonda’s ear knowing the din of the customers would prevent them from hearing anything. This was perfect, she thought. They could say anything they felt like saying now.

“Why don’t you knock them off if you’re such a big woman?” Rhonda replied, even twisting a little to let her check and lips caress the side of Christina’s face.

Christina leaned in even closer and tried to avoid the temptation to take a chunk out of the redhead’s ear. The wooden bar between them felt like a cage now that imprisoned them both and Christina almost felt she could claw through the structure with her bare hands just to get at Rhonda. “Maybe I ought to just reach up and squeeze some of the milk out of those two melons of yours,” she said firmly.

“Maybe I should do the same thing and we can just find out who can take more pressure, pussy priss,” Rhonda countered. Despite the threat Christina doubted either girl could get away with that kind of move without someone in the bar seeing.

“Maybe I should do it and find out how much milk a cow like you can give, you fucking gutter trash” Christina said.

“Why don’t you just suck on my big ones and find out you big hard bitch,” Rhonda snapped back. Christina almost swooned at this flood of unrestrained gutter talk coursing between them.

“You know what?” Christina continued. “I don’t think I felt much nipple when you were titting me up back there. I’ll bet you’ve got nothing but weak little pink nothings on the front of those tits.”

“Well that’s funny because I was just thinking the fronts of your tits felt like they didn’t have any nipples on them at all,” Rhonda countered. “I’ll bet if I was to suck on you I’d have to look all night to find those things.”

“No you wouldn’t, honey, because they’d be poking your fucking eyes out first,” Christina snarled back at her enemy.

“Then maybe I’d just have to bite them good and hard first, Christina; what do you think about that? You’re going to find out what I’ve got up front and find out good pretty soon,” Rhonda said roughly.

“Then maybe I’ll just have to bite yours too, bitch,” Christina said. For what seemed like minutes the girls said nothing, just letting the sides of their faces touch, their soft hair mingle together. Christina felt a moment of uncertainty after all the heated bravado. What WOULD they do to each other back there? “Should I rip that blouse right off you after we close tonight, honey?” she said almost experimentally, wondering how the redhead would respond.

“Fuck no; you’re not worth losing a silk blouse over, pussy,” Rhonda said. “You just meet me back there and you’ll see what I’ve got in mind.” With that Rhonda took her order and retreated again from the bar, but not before flashing Christina another deadly look, this time aimed directly at her boobs. Christina felt almost as if her quivering breasts had been slapped by the intensity of Rhonda’s expression. Now she was furious that it was Rhonda who got to circulate around the bar and come back to face Christina when she pleased; it was almost as if the redhead was controlling their entire conflict at this stage, a fact that made Christina even more determined to take the showdown to Rhonda when the opportunity arose. As she worked she drank in all her memories of the redhead, especially their working relationship. Now she could remember one other time Rhonda had worn a silk blouse to work, again somehow finding a day when Christina had worn the same thing. It had been the first time they’d been backed up back there in the storeroom, only this time it was before Christina had been promoted and they were equals. Rhonda had never been friendly to her but she had never been openly hostile either. But that one time she had silently tried to maneuver past Christina in the narrow aisle of the storeroom and Christina had been shocked when the redhead had dragged her big breasts right across hers, even seeming to take her sweet time as their four shaking boobs had somehow maneuvered laboriously around one another. For a second she’d been afraid the buttons of their blouses would tangle and tear the smooth shirts wide open, letting their boobs loose only in brassieres, clattering against one another. Maybe Christina had squeezed her eyes shut for a second at that thought…or maybe she had secretly wondered what would have happened if those loose blouses HAD ripped open.

And what if neither of them had been wearing a bra at all? Christina realized that yes; she had thought even this, even considered this unimaginable possibility during that brief second or two while they had maneuvered against each other chest to chest. She had always considered Rhonda’s chest to be enormous, invincible and intimidating—but for that one second her own big boobs seemed to be equals to the redhead’s pair, just as heavy, just as soft in repose and just as hard and unyielding when pressed—maybe even harder now when pressed against another big pair of breasts, against potential enemies. Had she always thought of the redhead’s heaving rack like this? Just hidden it from herself until the other girl had declared war? Maybe, she thought, she had even instigated some of the little duels in the storeroom aisle—maybe she’d waited a few times until she knew Rhonda was back there and barged into the cramped space to compete with the other girl head to head like two rams smashing horns. Her boobs were like that, she realized—just like ram’s horns, a signal to other competing females to give way or be crushed.

As she burroughed back into her own thoughts and memories the bar seemed to clear itself of customers. Rhonda fussed over a final table of drunks who stayed on well past closing, but that gave Christina plenty of time to balance her cash drawer and put things away. She didn’t want any responsibilities left when she and Rhonda were finally alone. She watched Rhonda tend the drunks for another fifteen minutes, handing the redhead glasses of water when she needed them. Even though she knew the drunks were too far gone to care it was too quiet now in the emptied bar for her to exchange words with Rhonda, and they only said what needed to be said to get the job done, albeit with voices thick with hatred now. Finally the last group wandered toward the door just as Christina was putting her drawer in the back office; she knew she would now have to lock the door behind them as a last step. She got up from the office desk just as Rhonda slipped inside the little room. The door was open but they were momentarily hidden from the departing customers. Rhonda stared coolly at Christina and then delivered a whip crack slap to her face; then she whirled around and stalked back into the storeroom.

Christina’s head rang from the slap and she had to fight off the urge to tear after the redhead and jump her to take her revenge. The bar door was wide open to the night and she had to close it before someone else walked in. She strode to the door, rubbing the stinging cheek where Rhonda had slapped her, then closed the door roughly and slipped the bolt into place. She stood for a second in the utter, dark silence of the bar, knowing that Rhonda waited for her in the storeroom, knowing that they were finally and completely alone with no one to stop them from consummating their hatred for one another now.

The brunette took measured steps across the floor towards the back room, steadying herself. She felt almost as if she were about to enter some witch’s lair in a fairy tale. As she got past the office she realized that the lights were out in the storeroom. Had Rhonda slipped out through the back door and escaped her? She felt a rush of fury at that thought, particularly since her cheek was still tingling from the other girl’s slap. In the darkness she could see the open windows at the top of the storeroom walls that led out to the street—the storeroom was sunk below street level and she could see the feet of a few stragglers walking past the windows above.

Something caught her eyes and she glanced to her left at the office she’d just abandoned. She saw Rhonda’s silk blouse and bra draped over the chair in the little room; all the lights but one fluorescent desk bulb had been turned off there, but it was light enough to see that the redhead’s skirt was neatly folded underneath the blouse and bra. Christina lifted the skirt but saw no panties or other underwear there…which meant that Rhonda was either dressed only in panties in the storeroom, or she was nude back there. Christina couldn’t resist the temptation to pick up the redhead’s black bra and slide it under the light just long enough to confirm what she suspected: Rhonda wore the exact same cup size as she did. But Rhonda wouldn’t know that, she thought to herself. Now maybe she had a slight advantage.

Christina unbuttoned her blouse and slipped out of it, then arched her back and undid her bra, laying each on top of Rhonda’s clothing. She unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it, then thought briefly about whether to strip completely nude. Until she had proof Rhonda was nude she saw no need to make herself any more vulnerable than she was. She took a look at herself in the office mirror one last time. Her body was lean and tawny, her stomach flat, rippling with muscle from her frequent workouts. The sheer nylon shorts clung to her curvy, sleek athlete’s hips and tamped down the black forest of fur between her limber, muscular legs. Shocking, stark white half circles marked the lower half of her perfectly round breasts, and her nipples and aureoles were an even darker brown than the well-tanned skin of her upper breasts and face. The creamy whiteness of her unexposed breast skin somehow made her boobs look even bigger and more threatening, she thought—or was that just wishful thinking? Whatever the case, she knew that at least for the moment, the appearance of her breasts didn’t matter. Whatever initial skirmish Rhonda had planned for them looked like it was about to take place in near total darkness.

Christina stepped slowly down the hall that led to the back room after extinguishing the office light. The few neon advertising lights that lit the abandoned bar faded into the distance behind her as she advanced into the storeroom. She felt her way along the walls and let the click of her high heels announce her presence to Rhonda.

“Come into the center aisle and take off your shoes,” Rhonda’s voice emerged out of the darkness. She spoke quietly, obviously pitching her voice so as not to be heard by anyone outside. Christina thought the chance of that was slim, but obviously they weren’t going to be screaming at each other in this dark storeroom. Christina reached down and slipped off her shoes, then tossed them back behind her one by one. She had no proof that Rhonda was barefoot but the redhead would not be able to move without revealing that, and Christina was ready to retreat if she heard Rhonda advancing on her in her shoes.

Christina felt her way to the entryway to the long, narrow central aisle. From the sound of her last statement Rhonda was somewhere well down the aisle, maybe all the way at the end. “Are your tits bare?” came the redhead’s low voice again.

“Yeah, my tits are bare,” Christina replied challengingly, before adding “Is your ASS bare?”

“No, my ass isn’t bare yet, bitch, so if you want to put your panties back on right now go ahead.”

“My ass isn’t bare either,” Christina said, swallowing. She hoped Rhonda couldn’t read the uncertainty in her voice. There was very little between the two enemies now: almost no clothing to hide behind, only a few feet of space, and clearly very little time. Christina jumped as she heard a sudden, mysterious and frightening noise that she quickly realized was Rhonda dragging her nails along the sides of the storeroom aisle as she walked toward Christina. It was like some primitive Zulu drumbeat designed to terrify an enemy, and in the sheer blackness of the aisle Christina had to admit the sound was harrowing. But she forced herself to bulldoze ahead and she too raked her nails along the wooden shelves and cardboard boxes so that Rhonda could read where she was along the corridor. The noise grew in volume and intensity and as Christina moved forward she realized there was another reason for the nail-dragging signal—to show that neither girl was advancing with those claws ahead of them. Christina’s pulse raced even quicker as she realized they were heading straight down this gauntlet towards one another on a collision course, their bare breasts exposed and leading the way. The raking noise continued until the brunette was almost certain the redhead would be on her at any second, then Rhonda’s progress sharply halted and Christina actually drove her nails into the wood to keep herself from going any further.

She could see only an indeterminate, dark shape ahead of her, possibly Rhonda’s big mane of hair blotting out the rest of the darkness. She could feel the other girl’s breath on her face, smell all the sweet, erotic girl scents pouring off the other woman, even the slightly rank smell of an unshowered body after an 8 hour shift of work, and the miasma of smoke and liquor that Christina knew hung over her almost naked body too. And she also thought she could sense something else, a hint of displaced air rushing about her bare breasts, the feeling of another pair of lightly quivering, heavy, naked mammary glands hovering dangerously close to hers. They might have been a centimeter away or a foot, but there was a tangible sense of their presence almost as if the twin orbs were enemy planets with their own powerful gravity wells tugging at Christina’s celestial spheres. Christina remembered the horrible excitement she’d felt years ago at a summer camp when she and another girl had compared breasts in secret and pressed their nascent, bare breasts together just to see what it felt like. She had never had the chance to do such a thing again and now it seemed unavoidable that she would very soon undergo the very same experience but with a harrowing new twist. There would be nothing friendly about this contact between her breasts and Rhonda’s, if that was what was about to happen. She couldn’t imagine what touching the bare skin of a girl she hated would be like.

After a long, terrible silence in which she heard only the muffled sounds of the street outside and Rhonda’s and her own soft breathing, Rhonda’s low voice emerged from the darkness. “Stick out your tits,” she murmured.

Christina swallowed a second time, her throat dry, and said “You stick out yours.” She didn’t have to add the word “Bitch” to the sentence—the raw hostility in both girls’ voices was all that was needed.

“I’m just one step away from showing you whose are best,” Rhonda said firmly. “You think you’re ready for that?”

“Don’t make me laugh, honey,” Christina said. The tension of waiting to see who would strike first and how was making her nervous as hell, but the adrenaline rush vibrating through her body was still very pleasurable. She had loved all the bitchy talk that had passed between them this evening, and now that they stood almost naked in near pitch blackness, all that stood between them for the moment was talk. Christina knew that on that level at least she could give the big redhead every bit as good as she got. “Don’t think I didn’t check that body of yours out the first time I saw you even in high school. You always shook your ass like you were some big whore. Well I’ve never been impressed.”

“Oh, don’t you think I haven’t had my eye on you for a long time too, Christina,” Rhonda assured her. “You always thought you were such the big tall bitch shoving her knockers in everybody’s face until I came along. And you gave me twice as much attitude after they made you bartender. Well you’re not my boss now, slut; you’re just a nice tall bitch in her bare feet with bare tits, no better than me.”

“Oh I’m sure this is all about finding out who’s boss, baby, but you just might be surprised by who comes out on top of this,” Christina said.

“Don’t worry; I plan on coming out on top, all the way,” Rhonda retorted.

“And just how do you plan on doing it, Rhonda?” Christina demanded.

When Rhonda spoke again, it was with an even chillier tone, barely above a whisper: “I told you I’d beat your tits tonight and I meant it.”

Christina matched her tone decibel for decibel: “And I told you I’d beat yours, bitch.” The brunette struggled to control her own quivering body. At this point anything could still happen, she realized, and with the intensity behind each girl’s voice she wouldn’t be surprised if Rhonda lashed out at her with hands, claws or fists right now. But she still kept her arms down and back behind her, left her tingling breasts exposed and vulnerable. If Rhonda really wanted to do it this way, she was ready.

“I want to fight you with just tits,” Rhonda said thickly. Her voice trailed off as if there might have been more, but lust or fear had choked it off.

Christina too could barely croak out her reply. “If that’s how you want it I’ll fight you that way, any time.”

“I mean now, you bitch,” Rhonda said. “You stick out your tits and touch ‘em against mine.”

“If you want to touch tits than let’s do it,” Christina said back. She could hear Rhonda’s respiration quicken a little and a flutter of air, a sensation of warm proximity kissing at her nipples and aureole. The brown, kneaded skin at those points was tight with tension and she could feel the dark circles of flesh tightening in around her nipples, but the brown little points were still shrunken back as if protecting themselves from whatever was to come. She knew Rhonda was close to her, very close—she could smell the other girl’s sweet breath, maybe even a whiff of shampoo from her hair now. Another inch, maybe less, and they would be touching each other.

To be continued