Dress Off: Sasha vs Tara (Part 1) - Sex Stories

Dress Off: Sasha vs Tara (Part 1)

... were sitting at a desk in a hotel room, in front of a laptop, steadfastly ignoring the other's existence. After several uncomfortable minutes of this, the laptop suddenly perked into life, and an incoming video call announced itself. Sasha clicked the mouse button next to her, and after a few more seconds, the audio kicked in. “Sasha Sinclair and Tara Tennyson. Gender: Female. Age: 23. Soundness of mind: we'll assume okay. So, I take it you two aren't each others' greatest fans?” The face at the other end of the video call was suitably hidden in shadow, but the voice didn't make any effort to hide it's amusement. “We were told you have a certain way of settling differences that leave no room for argument.” Sasha was in no mood to play around, having been forced to already spend five minutes next to her nemesis. “Yes, that we do. Revenge is it? Settlement of a feud?” “Let's just say that this city isn't big enough for the both of us,” chimed in Tara. “I want Sasha gone because, well, frankly she's a bitch. Sasha wants me gone because, well, frankly she's a bitch.” Sasha was about to retort when the voice kicked in again. “Okay, so, we have two ladies, both rather attractive if you don't mind me saying, both athletic, smart and capable, and both with a single desire to see the other get the hell out of town. The good news for you both is that our mutual acquaintance has pointed you in the right direction.” Neither Sasha and Tara responded, and instead grimly waited for the ...

... voice to continue. “As I see it,” the voice went on, “without doubt the best way of dealing with you situation is for your both to play a simple game we've devised over the years.” “I've had enough of her games over the years to last me a lifetime,” Sasha said. “The feeling's mutual sweetie,” Tara retorted. “And one of you,” the voice interrupted, “will have had more than enough of our game to last a lifetime as well, of that I can assure you. You see, the game is very simple. You both play, there are a few modest rules, a little bit of specialised equipment we happily provide, we take up a few scant hours of your afternoon a week or so from now, and there is a winner and a loser. The winner wins all the sweet revenge and closure they could ask for, and the loser wins all the motivation they could ever need to find some other city to live in, and some other life to lead.” Sasha and Tara looked at each other again now, and the first sense of trepidation and nervousness briefly overcame the mutual loathing. “So, ahh, how exactly does this work?” asked Tara. “As I said, you give us a few hours of one afternoon, and we play a little game. You're both fine athletes, and I'm sure you're familiar with what goes into games. As with any self-respecting sport, there is of course a uniform, and some rules transgressions against which we'll be taking seriously.” Sasha was feeling a mixture of anticipation, tension and nervousness as she leant forward to ask her next question, but already the ...