Great story! Really well written, and amazing build up!
Hi everybody. This is my first time posting a story and would really appreciate any constructive criticism. Hope you all enjoy!
Part 1 – Having a bad day
People often say the worst part about London is the weather. Typically, they imagine gazing upwards upon a dreary tapestry of grey, feeling a soft but constant drizzle of rain. It’s as if the sky weeps gently so as not to distract its busy inhabitants, slowly drowning them in a freezing sea of loneliness.
However, there is one thing Londoners fear far more than the cold. The heat. And this Sunday was stifling hot. The cityscape, accustomed to a bustling pace, slowed to a languid crawl as the heat sapped the vitality from the very pavement. The air hung still and muggy, refusing to yield to even the slightest breeze. Breathing felt like an effort, each inhalation tinged with the warm embrace of the city itself.
Passersby in the urban labyrinth’s narrow streets felt the weight of the towering buildings around them, as if they were being leaned on for support. These brick and stone structures only absorbed and amplified the heat, the city transforming into an overcrowded sweatbox. The air, stagnant and heavy, was like a suffocating shroud. Still, it was better to be outside than in, since most homes lacked air conditioning and became incredibly stuffy.
Luna sought refuge on a patch of sun-kissed grass in Hyde Park. Her survival kit, aka her ‘Bratz’ tote bag, included her phone, a novel, an M&M blanket, and of course, a big bottle of water. Her dark brown hair cascaded in waves around her shoulders, her eyes a matching deep hue. With her Mediterranean complexion, she naturally enjoyed some added protection from the English sun. Dressed in a black crop top, purple juicy couture shorts and a matching pair of Jordan 1s, Luna stood out amidst a crowd of burnt skin and muted tones.
A subtle unease settled in as she felt the pressure of eyes drilling into her from all directions. The brunette’s fingers idly tugged at the hem of her crop top as her focus faltered. Rereading the same lines over and over again, she eventually decided to get up and move elsewhere.
As she walked through Speaker’s Corner, she passed a wiry, old man on some diatribe about how women have forgotten their traditional societal roles. His voice was deep, and he had a thick Cockney accent. However, severe dehydration led to a raspy delivery. He spewed forth in a torrent of words, weaving tales and arguments to an audience of none but the wind. His attire, a patchwork of mismatched layers, mirrored the eclectic jumble of thoughts that tumbled from his lips. With animated gestures, he punctuated his one-sided conversation, his arms conducting an invisible symphony of conviction and eccentricity. Suddenly, he pointed at Luna.
"Look at you, darlin'!" he hollered. Luna turned around and stared at him. "Yes, you, luv!" He carried on. "What 'appened to dressin' like a respectable young woman? Your minge is ‘ractically out for the bleedin' world to see. Clearly, you need a right bloke to put you in your place. Nasty slag!" He accused.
Shaken by the old man’s words, Luna's jaw tightened, and her hand clenched around the strap of her tote bag. For a moment, she felt a twinge of insecurity. Yet, all around her were hordes of men showing just as much skin. The double standard was clear. Luna turned back towards him, her voice cutting through the air, steady and unwavering.
“Listen here, I don't need your commentary on how I dress.” Her fierce brown eyes bore into his empty grey ones. “It's none of your concern, and I certainly didn't ask for your opinion. So why don't you do everyone a favour and keep your outdated notions to yourself?"
Unable to respond coherently, he resorted to wildly shouting obscenities in every direction. Thoroughly irritated for even bothering to acknowledge his presence, Luna marched off and out of the park.
Her heart still pounded as she left Speaker's Corner behind. “Who does he think he is?” she thought, her steps purposeful as the old man’s harsh words reverberated in her chest. As she walked through London’s busy streets, she couldn't help but mull over the encounter.
"Respectable young woman," she thought, shaking her head. The audacity of some people never failed to amaze her. Luna quickened her pace as her thoughts consumed her.
Soon, she found herself standing in front of a quaint vintage shop tucked away on a cobblestone street. The sign above the door swung gently in the faint breeze, inviting her in with a promise of hidden treasures. She pushed open the creaking door, the scent of old leather and mothballs greeting her like an old friend.
As she browsed the racks of eclectic clothing, Luna felt a sense of empowerment wash over her. Each garment she picked up felt like an affirmation of her individuality, a defiance against social conformity. “No one takes away my voice”, she resolved. She finally settled on a light blue corset and off-white cargo pants. Holding them up against herself in the mirror, Luna couldn't help but smile. These pieces felt like an extension of her own personality, a bold statement in a world that often tried to fit people into boxes.
With her treasured finds in tow, Luna couldn't shake the feeling that maybe this day wouldn't turn out so bad after all. Her tote bag not entirely full, she decided there was more shopping to be done. With a determined stride, she headed towards Green Park station, bound for Camden markets.
As she descended into the depths of the London Underground, she could feel the heat and humidity of the day enveloping her. Sweat coated her forehead, dripping in droplets onto her top. All the carriages were crammed.
As Luna stepped inside, she barely had space to breathe, worsened by the stuffy air. The train was filled with a peculiar mix of gasping expressions and distant gazes, of which Luna was now a participant. “Shitty Piccadilly line”, she ruminated to herself, jealous of the air-conditioning present on newer routes.
At the next stop, a new wave of passengers poured into the carriage. One in particular stood out to Luna. Curly blonde hair framed her pretty face as she sipped on her Starbucks iced coffee. She was wearing a pink crop top and black jean shorts, with matching light pink Converse trainers. However, it was the noticeable similarities between the two that captivated Luna. She started to scan this mystery woman’s body. They appeared to be the same height and looked to be the same age. They had the same frame, and both their outfits highlighted their wide hips, small waists and light cleavage.
Most notably, as Luna scanned back up to her face, she bore into a pair of dark brown eyes the same shade as her own. The mystery woman stared back intently. Their brief connection was swiftly halted as more people crowded onto the train. Each faded from the other’s line of sight into opposite corners of the carriage.
The next station they arrived at was Leicester Square. Luna moved to get out, as she needed to change to the Northern line to reach Camden. Annoyingly, the exit door opened at the opposite side from where she was standing. Usually this would not be problem, but by the time she managed to push past the crowd of people to step off the train, a rapid influx of passengers blocked her path. Slowly she watched the doors close in frustration.
Resigned to her fate, Luna took a deep breath and shut her eyes. “It’s fine”, she whispered to herself, “I can just get off at Kings Cross and change there”.
Before Luna was able to react, the tube lurched into motion. Her eyes flew open as her body jerked forward, muscles tensing in surprise. The sudden movement sent her careening into the mystery woman from earlier. Luna clumsily crashed into her, the contact knocking the lid off her drink. Its contents splashed over the mystery woman, transforming her pink crop top into a splotchy, coffee-stained canvas.
Part 2 – Don’t cry over spilled coffee
Time froze for a moment. The blonde's eyes widened in shock as she processed the unforeseen assault. She blinked rapidly, praying that the unmistakeably ruined top would revert to its pristine state.
When she looked up to identify the culprit, recognition flickered in her eyes. It was that brunette. This was the same woman with whom she had shared that intense, yet brief moment. Something about this that unsettled the blonde. Instantly she was overwhelmed with a searing surge of anger and irritation. Her brows knitted together in a fierce scowl, and her lips pressed into a tight line.
Her dark brown eyes, now filled with rage, locked onto Luna’s. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she exclaimed.
Luna was still fixated on the coffee-coated garment as a tight knot formed in her stomach. She felt awful for what she had done. Her fingers twitched nervously at her sides, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within. On the other hand, a small part of her couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed that she had to deal with this. Her day had already given her enough problems.
“I, I don’t know…”, she stammered, caught off-guard by the blonde’s hostility.
“Don’t know?” the mystery woman interrupted. “You have eyes! Or are you just thick?” The mystery woman accused.
“Look, it wasn’t entirely my fault,” Luna blurted out, as she forced brown orbs to meet the blonde’s. “I was… I was pushed”, she continued. Luna’s pulse quickened in apprehension and her body tensed. Those same curious eyes from earlier now penetrated her soul.
“Look?” the blonde snapped. “You look! You’ve destroyed my clothes, and you’re not even sorry.
Luna opened her mouth to apologise, but it was too late. The blonde's eyes honed in on the fresh tags hanging from Luna’s tote bag. With deliberate intent, she upended the cup of coffee, drenching Luna’s brand-new clothes. Luna's hands extended towards her attacker's arm, a desperate attempt to halt the offensive. However, before she could make contact, the mystery woman swiftly pivoted, using her free arm to forcefully shove Luna's chest.
The sudden, unexpected push sent Luna stumbling backwards, her feet skidding on the slick floor of the train. The slight sway of the train's movement added an unsettling dimension to Luna's disoriented state. She careened towards a small cluster of passengers, her arms flailing as she tried to regain her balance. With a muffled gasp, Luna collided with them, the impact causing a ripple of surprised exclamations and shuffling bodies.
As Luna recovered, her insides churned with a potent mix of frustration and dismay. What she did was an accident, but the blonde acted purely out of malice. She looked down upon her blemished clothes in disbelief. For Luna, this day couldn't possibly get any worse. She felt she had nothing left to lose.
“I’m done being pushed around today”, she resolved. “If the blonde wants a fight, I’m game.”
Unfortunately, before the brunette was able to make a move the tube arrived at its next stop and an incoming flow of passengers pushed her further away from the blonde. Luna was aware that her petite frame couldn’t brute force its way through this human barricade. Instead, fuelled by a righteous indignation, she hatched a new plan.
Luna waited until the train slowed to its next stop. As the doors slid open, she subtly positioned herself near the exit. Then she started to scan the carriage for any sign of her foe. It was easy to spot the blonde target due to her distinctive curly hair and stained pink top. The woman appeared oblivious to her watching eyes, but Luna suspected the blonde knew she was being stalked. The lack of acknowledgement only stoked Luna’s rage.
It wasn't until they reached Holborn that she noticed the blonde finally making her way toward the exit - a different one from where Luna stood. This was her cue for action. Stepping off the train, Luna discreetly positioned herself to the side of the exit doors on the platform, patiently awaiting her new foe.
As the seconds ticked by, Luna began to wonder if she had miscalculated. But just as the doubt began to creep in, there she was – the blonde, emerging as one of the last passengers.
Luna acted swiftly, lunging forward, and grabbing the blonde by the shoulders. Powered by the force of the oncoming passengers behind her, she propelled the woman towards the far end of the carriage. Luna couldn’t help but revel in her satisfaction as the blonde gaped at her in astonishment.
“Leave me alone you psycho!” “Don’t act innocent bitch!” They hissed at each other. Terse words hung between them as they exchanged hateful glares. The train jolted back to life, sending ripples through the carriage. Metal against metal, the screeching and rumbling resonated in their bones.
As their world’s shifted around them, the blonde hugged the brunette’s waist for balance, whose arms lay firmly around her shoulders. Their bodies swayed in unison, a precarious dance on a moving stage. The movement finally ceased as they slammed into a metal pole in the corner of the carriage. Trembling in the blonde’s hand was the still half-full coffee cup.
A small stream of liquid escaped, coursing down Luna’s side, a cold and sticky reminder of their initial confrontation. Their faces pressed close as an unspoken challenge lay between them.
Both sets of eyes darted towards the cup of coffee. The showdown had begun. They lunged and wrestled for control, each refusing to yield. Even though the blonde already had a hold on it, it was positioned closer to Luna. With her right hand, Luna clutched the drink tightly, while her left arm blocked the blonde’s attempts to reclaim it. In an act of sweet revenge, Luna flung the contents of the cup directly at the blonde, drenching her from head to toe.
Expecting the blonde to step back to evade further splatter, Luna was caught off guard when she instead stepped forward, pushing herself firmly against the brunette. Foreheads, torsos, and legs pressed together, the physical contact soaking Luna in the same spots she had doused the blonde. The force of their collision smashed the drink between their chests. The cup over-flowed and a pop of liquid splashed down their cleavages.
Acting fast, the blonde seized the drink before Luna could respond, spilling the remainder of its contents over Luna’s hair. As the coffee blended with their sweat-soaked skin, it formed a sticky, viscous coating that lightly adhered the two women together. The contrast of the icy liquid against their boiling bodies sent a discomforting shudder through their spines.
In true London fashion, no one intervened. The heat seemed to exacerbate the usual melting pot of chaos. A rowdy group of lads in one corner shouted with exuberance, their laughter reverberating off the walls. Across from them, a Caribbean gentleman blasted his boombox, the rhythmic beats blending with the distant hum of the tube.
Onlookers either didn’t notice the escalating conflict, or simply chose to ignore the unfolding spectacle. The escalating conflict between the two women seemed to be just one thread, easily lost among the many absurdities of urban existence.
Their shared weapon discarded, they grabbed each other’s wrists to prevent further attacks. They stood there for almost a minute, their breaths coming in short gasps, the stickiness of spilled coffee clinging to their skin, the acrid scent of caffeine filling the air. Their clothes clung to them, damp and uncomfortable, and their hair was matted against their foreheads. Together they took in the aftermath, annoyed that they received as much as they gave.
Out of nowhere, the blonde broke the silence, “Don’t call me a bitch.”
“Don’t call me a psycho,” the brunette retorted.
“You are a psycho,” said the blonde, a hint of smugness in her tone.
Fed up, the brunette asked bluntly, 'What should I call you then, bitch?' The blonde gritted her teeth. 'Ava.'
“Luna,” the brunette replied.
For a moment, that mutual look of curiosity returned. However, the blonde couldn’t resist one last jab. “Short for lunatic?” she sneered.
Luna released Ava's wrists, her fingers sinking into her blonde curls. Ava mimicked the gesture. The coffee had transformed their soft locks into a sticky, tangled and unruly mess. With each forceful movement, pain shot through them, the knots in their hair exacerbating the sensation, causing involuntary winces and sharp cries. Due to their close contact, strands of hair started to coil together.
As Luna’s wavy dark locks weaved into Ava’s golden curls while their foreheads pressed tightly, they began to leave the world behind them. It was as though an emotional and physical cocoon had enveloped them, intensifying their focus on each other, and shutting out the surrounding chaos.
Startled by their newfound predicament, they frantically withdrew their hands from each other’s hair, attempting to create distance between them. Their efforts proved in vain, as their locks were so tightly intertwined any movement elicited cries of pain.
They recognised the futility of targeting each other's hair, fearing they might hurt themselves in the process. The air grew thick with the shared warmth of their breath, an uncomfortable intimacy that neither could escape. What made this ordeal even more punishing was the inability to turn away from a set of eyes identical to their own.
Ava was the first to act. She snatched Luna’s tote bag and sent it sailing across the floor, its final resting place hidden from both combatants. Luna’s surprise was palpable, and Ava capitalised on it, deftly manoeuvring to pin the brunette’s back against the metal pole. Furious at her disadvantageous position, Luna sharply dug her nails into Ava’s back. The blonde retaliated with rapid pinches and punches to Luna’s sides.
Sensing an opening, Luna delivered a powerful stomp to Ava’s feet, using the momentum to flip their positions. As her mind still stewed over the loss of her tote bag and new clothes, Luna snatched Ava’s purse and flung it out of sight. Now, they fiercely exchanged kicks, their trainers connecting with determined force as they vied for dominance.
They wrestled on, eyes locked. They continued to pinch, punch, slap, and claw at each other’s exposed skin every chance they could. Blows were exchanged rapidly, punctuated by girlish grunts and gasps. Luna's breath, hot and ragged, mingled with Ava's, creating a suffocating intimacy. Sweat streamed down their bodies, coursing along unfamiliar routes and emulsifying into the remnants of the spilled coffee. The areas where they pressed together generated the most sweat, forming literal pools congealing between them.
The air grew heavy with the acrid scent of exertion, enveloping them in a deliriously claustrophobic haze of heat and effort. Throughout it all, their eyes remained fiercely locked in a mutual, unyielding stare, waiting to see who would break first.
Engrossed in their battle, the two women were oblivious to their departure from central London. All of a sudden, the train ground to a halt at Finsbury Park. With fewer passengers around, and neither well-positioned due to the assault on each other’s feet, the girls were sent tumbling to the floor. The impact reverberated through the metallic and concrete surfaces.
They cohered to each other, their only hope of breaking the fall. But in their synchronised desperation, they both landed with a thud onto their sides. The unyielding floor met them with a cruel force, eliciting gasps of surprise and pain. It felt as though the very ground had risen up to meet them. Their tangled hair painfully separated with the abrupt impact. However, a welcomed rush of cold air from the open doors offered a brief respite from the stifling heat.
The impact seemed to jolt them back to reality. As they hastily clambered upright, they took in their surroundings and noticed two things. Firstly, their bags were nowhere to be seen. Secondly, the few remaining passengers in their carriage had hastily retreated to the corners, putting as much distance between themselves and the brawling pair as possible. All eyes were fixed on them, some even streaming the fiasco for the world to see.
Both girls were mortified as they took in the other’s appearance, knowing they must have looked just as battered. Their backs, arms, and sides stung from scratches and were covered in angry red welts from punches and slaps. Hair, once carefully styled, now hung in tangled disarray. Clothes, once neat and composed, were stained and rumpled, a dirty mix of perspiration, caffeine, and the grime of the underground. Ava's crop top dangled precariously, one strap torn loose in the scuffle. Luna's top bore a small tear in the back, likely caused by Ava's nails.
Each could taste the saltiness of their shared sweat mingling with the acrid tang of spilled coffee. Clumps of their tangled hair littered the floor around them. The onlookers' stares felt like hot coals, searing into their already bruised pride.
A sharp wave of embarrassment momentarily overtook Ava's all-consuming anger. She couldn’t bear the thought of being trapped with these prying eyes, witnessing the aftermath of their brutal clash. Quickly, Ava grabbed Luna by the hand and pulled her off the train. The doors immediately shut behind them.
Part 3 – A walk in the park
For Ava, this was a bad weekend gone horribly worse. It all started on Saturday, the day of her shift at the local Italian café. This job was mostly bearable, except for one challenge. Some of the male patrons had a tendency for making inappropriate comments. It wasn’t overtly hostile, but the casual use of terms like “honey” or “darling” carried a demeaning undertone.
They didn’t address 50-year-old, overweight Cathy this way, and they certainly didn't treat any of the male staff with such familiarity. Yet, she always kept her composure. She viewed this work as a necessary means for a dedicated university student to earn some extra cash during the summer break. Her law degree demanded rigorous attention, allowing no room for employment during the semester. Despite the discomfort, it was an otherwise tolerable job.
“Just stay calm and get through it,” she reminded herself. “It’s only three more weeks.”
One particular man, a well-to-do looking 30-something, was dining with his young daughter. As they finished, he insisted on giving her a large tip, gently brushing his fingers over hers and he handed her the note. Ava knew it was deliberate.
Thank you,' she said through gritted teeth. Although grateful for the extra money, she braced herself, knowing a comment was imminent.
“I bet you get a lot of tips with that smile.” And there it was, Ava thought. She nodded politely and began to turn away, hoping this exchange was done, but the man just wouldn’t let her leave in peace.
“I don’t know why you work here. With a face like yours, you’re pretty enough to model.” Ava fumed internally. This man knew nothing about her.
Ava's composure shattered, and words flew out in a white-hot rage. The specifics of her tirade were a blur, but she remembered condemning him for objectifying young women and instilling all the wrong values in his young daughter. The aftermath was far from pleasant. Her boss was far from pleased, deeming her outburst an unnecessary scene. To make matters worse, the man she confronted was a regular, one who likely wouldn't be returning.
Ava tried to defend herself, asserting that the man had no right to speak to her in such a manner. The manager, though sympathetic, coldly reminded her that this was a business. Employees were required to maintain professionalism at all times, regardless of customer behaviour. Regrettably, she was informed that she would have to be let go.
Despite plans to go out with her friends that night, Ava found herself lacking the energy and enthusiasm. She messaged them explaining she wasn’t up to it, instead suggesting a trip into London the next day since it was supposed to be good weather. Finding solace in her solitude, the evening slipped away as Ava endlessly scrolled through TikTok. Eventually her eyes started to feel heavy, so she glanced towards the top of her screen to check the time.
“How is it three in the morning?” Ava questioned in disbelief. “It’s okay”, she told herself. “You’re allowed this today.” She set her alarm for nine and went to bed.
The next morning, Ava awoke to find it was nearly midday. Realising she had overslept, she shot out of bed and hastily checked her phone. Of course, the group chat had exploded with concerned messages. Ava quickly typed out an apology message and asked where they were. Her friends informed her they were at Selfridges but planned to head to Holborn, as they had heard about a cute new pub that had opened and they wanted to grab lunch there. Replying that she could meet them there in an hour, Ava sped to get ready. She packed her essentials, including keys, tissues, sunglasses, and lip gloss, and stuffed them into her small silver handbag. Since her phone was too large to fit, she slid it into her bag pocket.
Despite her long sleep, Ava was still groggy. As she headed out the door, she felt the sun’s sweltering heat roast her exposed skin. Upon arriving at the station, the stuffy atmosphere exacerbated her lingering exhaustion. Desperate for a pick-me-up, she made her way to a nearby kiosk and ordered an iced coffee. She steadily sipped the cold brew as she boarded the Bakerloo line. After reaching Piccadilly Circus she switched onto the Piccadilly line.
Entering the carriage, Ava locked onto a pair of brown eyes eerily similar to her own. A morbid curiosity gripped her as they focused on one another. “Could the beautiful brunette relate to her experience from yesterday,” Ava wondered. The exchange was interrupted as the mounting pressure of boarding passengers pressured her forward. She scanned the crowd for the mysterious woman, but she was hidden beneath the throng of people. As Ava settled into the journey, she retrieved her phone to update her friends.
An unexpected collision caused Ava to bounce backwards. The blonde was distraught as her drink spilt over her top, which was now bound tightly to her skin. Looking up, she met the gaze of the brunette she had observed earlier. Whether it was intentional or not hardly mattered to Ava. She admonished herself for feeling any inkling of a connection with this stranger, reminding herself that London is full of idiots and crazies. Somehow their eye contact had invited this mishap, Ava was sure of it. And after her last 24 hours, the blonde wasn’t prepared to accept another loss. Thoughts of revenge consumed her and her actions thereafter. Never could she have anticipated how the remainder of her underground journey would unfold.
*As Ava dragged Luna out the train, her mind had completely forgotten about the plan to meet her friends. All she wanted now was to use Luna as a punching bag to release her frustrations. She sensed that Luna harboured similar impulses. Without a word, they walked in unison to the far end of the platform, seeking a private space to talk.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Luna snapped at Ava.
“You started this,” Ava shot back. Their words reverberated off the stone walls.
“What I did was an honest accident, whereas you chose to be a bitch,” Luna retorted, her hands balling into fists at her sides.
“Well, at least I’m not the psycho stalker that doesn’t let people get off the train,” Ava shot back, her stance defiant.
“I’m going to mess you up so bad,” Luna vowed, her voice low and dangerous.
“Not here,” Ava hissed, her eyes narrowed in warning. Luna reluctantly nodded in agreement.
“Where then?” Luna pressed. “Do you live nearby?” she inquired, her voice tense.
“No, and even if I did, I’m not explaining this to my parents,” Ava declared firmly, gesturing to their appearances.
“What about you?” Ava asked.
“Same,” Luna admitted, her voice tinged with resignation. “Finsbury Park?” she suggested. “We can find a private area.”
“Are you an idiot?” Ava spat. “No, we won’t. It will be packed.”
“Well, I don’t hear any better ideas coming from you,” Luna challenged.
“Fine,” Ava conceded.
Neither had released the other’s hand since stepping out onto the platform. Instinctively they understood that letting go might lead the other to escape, and neither was willing to allow that. As they exited the station, a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions surged within them – rage, embarrassment, and a strange undercurrent of excitement. The chaotic concoction of emotions swirling within them limited coherent thought.
After turning out of the station, they briskly walked towards the park. Their grips tightened as clammy palms slipped in each other’s grasp. Concealed beneath the facade of unity, their claws dug into the other’s hand, engaged in a silent struggle for dominance. Upon entering the park, they continued to escalate their subtle warfare without drawing the attention of the passing public. Ava's arm deftly slipped around Luna's waist, her fingers finding purchase on loose skin and pinching at her sides. Luna reciprocated the gesture.
As they drew closer, their legs brushed against each other, igniting a battle of kicks. They stumbled and jostled their way through the park. Eventually, Luna emerged victorious when she successfully planted her foot firmly over Ava’s, causing her to trip. However, this win came at a cost. Bound together by their grips, Luna was pulled down alongside Ava, both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs and fury.
They fell through the foliage beneath them, as leaves crunched beneath their feet. For a brief but intense moment they rolled in a fierce embrace as the world grew dark around them. Subsequently, they emerged into a small clearing. Their eyes widened in astonishment. Before them stood an old, weathered gate, partially hidden by creeping ivy. It was a portal to a forgotten world, beckoning them with its eerie allure.
The two girls exchanged wide-eyed glances, their breaths heavy and laboured. The air around them seemed charged with a strange energy, as if the reservoir held secrets waiting to be unearthed. Without a word, they approached the gate, its hinges creaking in protest as they pushed it open. The entrance revealed a hidden passage, leading down into darkness. The cool air of the underground beckoned them, promising respite from the sun’s tirade.
Driven by a strange mixture of curiosity and reckless abandon, they descended further into the depths of the reservoir. The air grew cooler and carried a faint scent of dampness while the ground beneath their feet felt slightly slick due to lingering moisture. Drops of water echoed in the distance. Every step reverberated through the ancient structure, creating a low, haunting hum that seemed to resonate with the passage of time.
Neither knew, but this was the long-abandoned Hornsey Wood Reservoir. The ground bore a distinct pattern: a 5x5 meter floor section, bordered on all sides by short ledges that were barely wide enough to stand on. This was repeated as far as the eye could see. Each section held a shallow puddle, its surface a glistening mirror that caught and refracted any ambient light that dared to venture into this subterranean world.
At the terminus of these sections, the ground transitioned with a subtle grace. It sloped diagonally, leading to dry patches that stood like silent sentinels along the edges. Between these sections, a wide ledge extended, a bridge of solid ground, about 5 meters across and half a meter in length. It offered a stable pathway amidst the aqueous surroundings, its composition echoing the sections it joined.
This ledge bore its own distinct pattern, its centre rising just enough to evade the touch of moisture. Along its edges, it gently descended, merging with sturdy pillars that rose like ancient guardians, their stony forms bearing witness to the passage of time. Above, the ceiling arched gracefully, its expanse bathed in a faint, ethereal glow of purple. This surreal luminescence cast a gentle hue upon the reservoir's interior, a subtle reminder of the hidden wonders that dwelled within its depths.
The abandoned reservoir was a testament to the craftsmanship of those who had shaped it, an enigmatic chamber where the past and present intertwined in a dance of stone and water. It stood silent, its distinct pattern a testament to the ebb and flow of time in this subterranean world. Caught in a moment of suspended awe, they observed the grandeur vast chamber. The Victorian brickwork, meticulously crafted, told a silent tale of bygone eras. Every brick seemed to carry the weight of history, each imperfection a testament to the hands that had laid them with care.
Shafts of subdued light filtered through narrow openings, casting ethereal patterns upon the centuries-old surfaces. Dust motes danced in the gentle beams, creating an otherworldly spectacle. The air held a distinct, almost sacred stillness, broken only by the distant echoes of water dripping in unseen corners.
As they explored further, their fingers traced the rough texture of the bricks, feeling the imprints left by time and weather. Moss and ivy clung tenaciously, nature's attempt to reclaim what was once hers. The play of shadows and light brought forth hidden details, revealing the intricate craftsmanship that had gone into this underground sanctuary.
Their animosity, still smouldering beneath the surface, momentarily took a backseat to the sheer magnitude of the world around them. They found themselves inexplicably drawn to the details, their steps slowing to a reverent pace. It was as though the reservoir had cast a spell upon them, inviting them to partake in its history.
As their heads turned around the room, they inevitably re-entered each other’s lines of sight. The captivating surroundings, while momentarily holding their animosity at bay, could not smother the simmering hatred that still pulsed within them.
Luna and Ava found themselves facing off across opposite ledges. The tension between them crackled like electricity. Silently, they removed their socks and shoes. Outfits already ruined, their high-end trainers were too expensive to sacrifice. With deliberate care, they advanced towards each other, their steps breaking the mirrored surface of the shallow puddles, barely reaching their ankles. The water was cool against their skin. Slowly, inevitably, they closed the distance until they stood almost nose to nose, the weight of their shared enmity bearing down upon them.
Their movements synchronised, they lunged towards each other. Due to the simultaneous action, their hands met mid-air, fingers intertwining. The confrontation shifted from a direct assault to a contest of raw strength, as they strained against each other, bodies trembling with the effort.
Part 4 – Alone in the reservoir
As they grappled, their bare feet skidded over the chilled, wet floor. The chamber echoed with the sounds of girlish grunts, punctuated by splashes of water that followed each forceful step. Each push and twist sent tremors through their bodies, the strain evident in the tense lines of their muscles. Somehow, they managed to maintain their balance as they engaged in this wild, improvised dance within their makeshift arena.
As their efforts intensified, their arms bent, driving their bodies forward. Their legs braced for stability, transforming their contest into a more measured battle. Slowly, their hands began to extend overhead, straightening out until their arms came into contact. Each inch of space was hotly contested.
Ava managed to leverage her weight forward, gaining ground as Luna momentarily lost her footing on the slick surface. Observing Luna edging closer towards the ledge, Ava mustered every ounce of her force. She planted her feet firmly and let out a guttural cry as she delivered a heavy push.
Luna cried out as she fell backwards. Though Ava managed to free their entwined hands, Luna was unwilling to go down alone. Desperately, she clutched onto Ava's forearms, bringing the blonde down with her. Luna landed with a painful thud on her backside, which was now damp from the shallow puddle. Ava landed on top of Luna, prompting a painful groan. However, the force of Luna’s pull drove Ava forward, her bra-covered breasts greeting Luna’s face.
Ava firmly pinned Luna's wrists against the cold, slick ground. The strain in her arms was evident as she exerted her strength, determined to subdue her foe. Luna struggled to free herself but was unable to break Ava's hold.
"Ready to give?" Ava confidently challenged.
Luna's response was not verbal. Instead, she lifted her head and sank her teeth into Ava's exposed breast-flesh. A high-pitched cry of pain filled the chamber. Desperate to end the bite, she released Luna’s wrists and grabbed her hair, yanking the brunette off of her and back onto the wet floor. Luna snaked her hands into Ava’s blonde tresses in return. Round two of their hair-pulling battle began.
Back and forth they rolled across the room, hands entangled in each other's locks. The movement caused their shorts ride up their thighs, exposing the bottoms of their asses to the shallow waters. Occasionally one of the girls was able to secure the top position, but not long enough to pin their enemy.
They rolled onward until they painfully collided with another stone ledge, Luna on top this time.She raised her right leg and delivered a sharp knee strike to Ava's groin. The blonde let out a piercing shriek as she doubled over in agony. It felt as if every nerve ending in her lower body had been set ablaze.
The world around Ava seemed to spin. Suddenly, her face was hit against the cold water. Still gasping in pain, her mouth hung open and some of the clear liquid seeped in, causing her to choke lightly. Ava strained to lift her chin above the shallow water, desperate to avoid swallowing more. The reaction had somewhat jolted her back to reality, realising Luna who had flipped her over.
On her knees, the brunette aimed to solidify her position. But Ava was determined not to be caught off guard again. Desperately, she reached out, hoping to take hold of Luna's arm and bring her down to the same level. However, instead of a limb, Ava's hand unexpectedly found Luna's partially torn top. With a swift, forceful pull, the fabric tore away, exposing her perky breasts. Her newfound state of partial undress momentarily disoriented the brunette. Ava used the upwards momentum to lift herself to Luna’s level.
“Fuck you for taking that cheap shot”, Ava mumbled, clearly still in pain.
“Fuck you for constantly destroying my clothes!” Luna shouted back.
“It looked cheap”, Ava replied. “That seems to be your style.”
“You don’t know shit about me”, Luna responded. “Now either run away or get the fuck over here”.
The combatants surged towards each other, locking into a brutal bearhug. Each exerted tremendous force in an attempt to squeeze the air from the other's lungs. Their breaths grew heavy and laboured due to the restricted air flow. Seeking revenge for her torn top, Luna's talons slashed through the fabric of Ava’s crop top with relentless fury. The already damaged material yielded in tatters, leaving the blonde's skin exposed to the damp air of the chamber. Now both fighters were topless.
Their heads found rest on each other's shoulders, the proximity allowing them to feel the other’s heartbeat pulsing against their flesh. In this stalemate, they resorted to desperate tactics, relentlessly bashing the corners of their heads together. The impacts reverberated through their skulls, causing their mutual squeeze to weaken as a slight delirium set in. Directionless punches targeted tender sides, evoking sharp gasps of pain. The two titans clashed in a symphony of violence, a raw display of primal instinct and unyielding determination.
The vicious turn the fight had taken drained their youthful energy at an alarming pace. Their once furious assaults began to slow, replaced by measured, deliberate strikes designed to inflict maximum pain. Heads tilted to the side and teeth sunk into the other’s neck. At this point they were more akin to feral animals in the throes of a territorial dispute than two wrestlers.
Ava's hands slithered down Luna’s backside, fingers hooking on to her velour shorts. She hoped that by destroying them she could distract Luna, aiming to recreate the effect from when she had ripped away the brunette’s top. Although Luna tried to retaliate, her efforts were futile. No amount of unbridled fury could tear denim. Still, she pulled with enough force to burst a button, sending it sailing through the air until it softly clattered against the rough stone.
Luna’s shorts clung precariously to her frame, frayed edges fluttering like tattered purple banners. Every strained thread bore witness to the relentless battle they had endured. The chamber's oppressive atmosphere hung heavy around them.
Exhausted yet resolute, Luna needed to level the playing field. She released their mutual lockjaw and lifted her head. With a resounding thud, her forehead met Ava's. The impact jolted their exhausted bodies as they toppled onto their sides, facing away from each other. The cool touch of the slanted stone floor provided a stark contrast to the searing heat of their battle-worn bodies. It was a fleeting respite, a brief interlude before the relentless struggle would inevitably reignite.
Ava tried to rise, facing forward. Yet, as she started to push herself up by her hands, Luna lunged, her torso landing on Ava’s legs. Seizing the chance, Luna hastily worked to remove Ava’s shorts, revealing the bruised skin beneath. The brunette succeeded in her mission, but failed to foresee she was in a vulnerable position. Ava summoned a burst of energy and swung her leg with precision, delivering a direct kick to Luna's left breast.
Luna's body shuddered from the impact, a pained gasp escaping her lips. As the battle raged on, Luna found herself entangled between Ava's legs, her face met by the cool touch of the puddle beneath. Water rippled around her as she gasped for breath, the taste of dampness on her lips.
Now it was Ava's turn to take charge. She descended upon Luna, knocking the wind out of her. Ava finished her destruction of Luna’s shorts, discarding them on the stone floor. The two fighters were left wearing nothing but their black thongs. Seeking retribution for earlier, Ava balled up her fist and punched Luna in her neither region.
The brunette’s head shot up in shock, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and defiance. With calculated a precision, Ava ensnared Luna's head between her thighs. In a display of unwavering determination, Luna lifted her legs and captured Ava's head, mirroring her adversary's move. Now, they had become trapped in a mutual head scissors.
Part 5 – Captured, but captive
For the first time in their fight, both girls felt a true sense of peril. They were trapped, their only solace being that their partner was captured alongside them. Therefore, the fight wasn’t over just yet.
When they inhaled, their air was thick and musty. Each time they exhaled, it was onto their opponent’s inner thighs. This caused warm tingles to run up their spines. Without warning, Luna delivered a hard spank to Ava’s backside, to Ava let out a small whimper.
“Make that noise again, bitch”, Luna yelled into Ava’s crotch as she smacked her again. This time, Ava let out a high-pitched yelp.
“You psycho”, Ava responded as she slapped Luna’s behind. Although prepared for the attack, a similar noise escaped Luna’s lips.
They continued this exchange, each slap gradually moving the other’s hips towards their face inch-by-inch. Now each could feel the other’s breath warming their pussy through the thin material of their last remaining garment. The musky scent grew undeniably stronger, and each realised its source. Now both girls were undeniably turned on, and knew the other felt the same. Yet, both refused to acknowledge the evolution of their fight. In fact, their anger had grown for they didn’t want to feel this way.
Desperate for a return to violence, Ava raked her nails over Luna’s ass. Luna set her claws on Ava’s in response. Their grips tightened as they tore into each other, effectively pulling their adversary’s pussy towards their face until lips lightly pressed against the thin material of the other’s underwear. The surprise contact caused each girl to squeal, only increasing their already hot desire. It seemed that the more the they tried to cause the other pain, the more it resulted in pleasure.
The girls couldn’t help but move their hips forward until the two alternate set of lips smashed together between the thin lace. They were no longer able to hide their arousal as they slowly ground their hips into the other’s face. Meanwhile, they loudly moaned in unison as each deeply inhaled the other’s wetness. As their mouths opened, they felt the other’s teeth lightly grazing their pussy.
Since neither had held back so far, each considered biting the other’s most tender region. Yet, neither did, knowing it would be mutually assured destruction. All of a sudden, Ava’s heart skipped a beat as she felt Luna’s jaw start to close in. However, instead of biting at sensitive skin, Luna’s teeth only caught the material of Ava’s thong. She tore into until a large enough hole formed. Subsequently, she plunged her tongue into Ava’s folds.
For a moment, Ava relinquished any resistance as her body convulsed in pleasure at the unexpected invasion. Luna capitalised on the opportunity by rolling Ava over and commanding the top position. She continued to eat her rival out, not lovingly and sensual, but instead like a wild animal.
As the blonde felt the brunette dominating her, her anger started to return. She used her teeth to rip at the lace wall preventing her from claiming her prize. The girls aggressively humped each other’s faces as they fed on each other. To allow for better positioning, they both used their left hand to squeeze the other’s ass closer to their face. Meanwhile, their spare hand drifted up the other’s torso until it found purchase on their right breast.
They routinely traded top positions as they continued the rough and rapid movement. The tears in their cheap thongs stretched and grew until their entire pussies were exposed. Ava was the first to slide two of her fingers into Luna’s love hole, but the brunette was quick to follow. The immense pleasure each was feeling skyrocketed as they sped in and out of each other. Luna twisted Ava’s nipple, while Ava pinched and pulled at hers. Both could feel an orgasm fast approaching.
Determined to make the other cum first, they broke their only unwritten rule. Simultaneously bit at the clit in front of them. Not enough to cause severe pain, but enough to send the other over the edge. It felt like a tsunami had hit them. They screamed into their rival’s pussy as they tightly squeezed her head with their thighs. Following their first wave of pleasure, they readily used their tongues to lap up each other’s juices. Finally, after nearly a minute they stopped moving.
As their muscles relaxed, their heads began to clear. Luna rolled off of Ava and they sat there for a few moments, each too tired to reflect on what just happened. Ava turned around and crawled over to Luna. They again peered into the other’s familiar set of eyes. Any sign of pure hatred was gone, replaced by the same morbid curiosity each had seen when they first met, albeit this time for very different reasons.
“What now”, Ava asked.
Luna stared blankly for a moment. “One more round”, she suggested.
Ava nodded, unsure whether the brunette meant fuck or fight.
Great story! Really well written, and amazing build up!
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Nice work. Good escalation of the conflict between the two. Interested in seeing where things go next.
Since you asked for constructive criticism, two small suggestions.
1) Luna's "I'm done being pushed around today" could be made to feel like Ava's shove was the final straw for her by emphasizing more her growing irritation with everything that bothered her (heat, man in Speaker's Corner, lack of air conditioning in the tube, overcrowded carriage, missing her stop). The points where she calms down (buying clothes, deciding to exit at Kings Cross) lessen the impact of that line. Maybe adding something about Ava's similar outfit irking Luna because now Luna's ensemble no longer feels like a "bold statement".
2) The transition into the reservoir felt a little abrupt. The two tumble through the woods into a clearing, then they stop fighting and enter the gate. If instead one of them had picked up a branch and attacked with it, causing the other to retreat and squeeze through the gate, making the branch holder drop it in order to pursue her, that's one way to have the battle progress into the reservoir somewhat naturally. Or, if some unusual power is what drew them downwards, which you seem to indicate (although your phrasing could be taken to be poetic instead of literal), then when their rolling fight breaks apart, you could have Luna wishing to avoid fighting in the sun followed by a strange urge that tugs her toward the gate (instead of going back under the trees), one that Ava also feels and heeds.
Minor things, though. Please keep writing!
Last edited by Catharsis; September 28th, 2023 at 10:13 AM.
Thank you very much!Originally Posted by Anubisx
- - - Updated - - -
Really appreciate the thoughtful feedback! Those are both brilliant ideas that definitely would have improved the pacing. I need a break from this story, but I may go back and edit it at some point to reflect these changes. More likely, I will try keep these thoughts in mind for future projects.
Excellent start! Really well written.
JB
JB57
Very good, especially as it was your first posted story ! Well written, building tension between the two women !
Constractive criticism, as you asked : the tension between them turned to something more, including erotic feelings at first and then erotic action. You could describe more this turn. You mentioned it but rather in short. The description of their sexfight was good but rather short also.
Of course my personal taste speaks. You have all the needed talent to be a very good writer, really !
I hope your next chapter (or your next story) to also include tribadism. Sexfight without tribadism... naaahhh... Most of us we love to read / write erotic scenes full of tribadism without to underestimate they other erotic actions which are also present.
I hope to read the second chapter soon.
Absolutely amazing! I really enjoyed it.
Your vivid and vibrant description of London, from the insanity that is Hyde Park's speakers' corner to the apathy of the grubby and grimy underground had me really immersed in the world of this story! Even more, you took the time to build up their respective bad days adding some insightful commentary on the unacknowledged frustrations of many women (which in turn endeared me to both Luna and Ava).
I don't share Catharis' issue about the transition to the reservoir. I really enjoyed those quieter moments of their conflict, pressing their coffee soaked skin together, gripping hands because they didn't want to let the other escape, restraining themselves to silently remove their shoes and socks. The transition felt right to me because they'd been looking for a place to fight, both wanting to go further (and naturally believing it would work out in their favor in the end), so they didn't need to chase each other further down or anything like that (in my opinion ofc!) If anything, maybe the tumble down the grass bank and through the bushes could have been extended slightly, marking a clear divide between two parts of the story.
I loved how equal the duo were, going tit-for-tat at every opportunity. Any advantage either girl had was immediately equalised and the story ended in a draw, but with both girls getting to vent their frustration and return to their mutual curiosity.
I do agree with Giannis-CB, however. Whilst I was turned on by how similar they were and was ready for the fight to go sexual, why were Luna and Ava ready to take that step? Were they attracted to each other? If so, why?
Or maybe it was the fighting that turned them on? Their persistent stalemate?
I would have like to dig into this aspect of the conflict a bit more, rather than just knowing it was two girls who were having a bad day that then got carried away. Similarly, the sexfight (or sexual aspect of their catfight) felt quite short. After such an amazing build-up, I was ready for a bit more. If your writing process is anything like mine though, I can definitely empathise with the desire to just finish a story rather than dragging it on and on.
Those points aside, I really loved this story, and would love to read more from you in the future (Hopefully more equal fights, hehe)
Thank you!
Thank you for the feedback!
In regards to the point of tribadism, I do think it would have made the story better. Throughout the writing process I had a very strong visual for this story in my head and I fell in love with the idea of Ava and Luna bringing each other to orgasm for the first time orally. However, reading it back I have noticed two key problems:
1) There is a significant drop in quality in writing when it comes to the actual sexfight, which is unfortunate because that is the part of the story everyone looks forward to most. There are a lot of little details I pictured in my head during the sexfight that I don't think I described in much detail.
2) Given the amount of buildup in the first few parts, the sexfight is way too short. Originally I planned to be done with these characters but I think part 5 needs a rewrite and continuation so that the actual sexfight takes up a significant portion of the story, and yes, features tribadism.
The detailed feedback is very much appreciated! I'm glad you liked the transition to the reservoir. The piece from your story 'Mutual Obsession', when Megan and Paige walk while barely conscious, was a strong inspiration for my depiction of Ava and Luna's walk through the park. But yes, it is specifically the tumble that I believe I should have extended. The way I had written it I don't think it is very clear how the two girls magically ended up in a reservoir when they were just in a very large and busy city park. Surely if it was so easy for them, this would be a common issue? So that at some point I will hopefully edit.
Some of your points regarding the sexfight I do address in my response to Giannis-CB. Importantly though, you do raise that their sexual motivations towards each other are quite ambiguous as I never really explain how they arise. The idea I had in my head was that it was a mix of their proximity (being trapped by one another in a compromising mutual head scissor + the sensations of each other's bare skin and breathe on each other's most sensitive area) and being the frustration of neither being able to one-up the other evolving into a sexual frustration. I don't know if that in itself is a clear motivation. I wanted to convey that the sexual attraction was rather unintentional. In many older stories this is often done through projection (i.e., when the two fighters call each other lesbians or other slurs but refuse to admit their sexual attraction) but in today's social climate I couldn't imagine the average 21-year-old female Londoner saying such a thing. I still think this is an engaging idea but I should have found a way to explain it better.
I too have a penchant for equal fights. I do enjoy a winner too (and sometimes even prefer it), but only if there is a clear reason for it in the narrative. For example, in kingofdapirates1's 'Maggie Saga', the consequences of every win or loss always heavily impacts the subsequent story but simultaneously never makes one character feel lesser than another.
Also in relation to the shortness of the sexual component of the story, I think since this was my first time writing an erotic story I was a bit overwhelmed on what to actually write. So maybe subconsciously instead of trying to push myself, I instead emphasized writing what I knew I could write well. But like everybody here, I read sexfight stories for the sexfights so I will certainly try to put more of a focus on that in what I write in the future.
Last edited by Nero_Germanicus; October 3rd, 2023 at 09:54 PM.
I like how the story has generated more than just good words towards the story, but has been filled with positive comments that help the author of the story (and the rest of us) to improve for the future. A really good community we have here!
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