DESTINED ENCOUNTER, part 3

Somehow, the darkness seemed to grow in the alley, denser, deeper than seconds before. Valeria almost felt herself screaming with rage just as another message came to her phone. This time it was a text:

<Don’t move and stay in the alley, you weak, nasty bitch, ‘cause I’m coming>

Valeria looked from one side of the alley to the other. How had that body-stealing girl located her? She couldn’t stop thinking about how the hell the other woman knew where she was, what her phone number was, and even her dark secret. There was no way some stuck-up skank whose boobs she had smashed on the dance floor could have figured out who she really was behind the mask. Or had her arrogance caused her to make a mistake one night?

<Who the fuck are you, cunt?> Valeria wrote as a quick, impatient response, but this time there was no reply.

But what if the person stalking her was not a woman seeking some kind of revenge, but a man who had faked a video and a photo? What if she was being lured into a trap? Valeria seriously thought about running out of there, perhaps to return to the nightclub or find a cab on the main street. If she was ambushed by a psychopath or an obsessed fan, she could be in real danger. And yet her feline curiosity and her sexual hatred kept her in the alley.

What if she’s real? she thought, that possibility blocking any idea of escape. I can’t let a second-rate bitch walk around with my face and my body. The young, hot model wanted, needed a confrontation, with or without a trap. So she stayed there.

<I’m here>

Valeria felt her almost before she read the message. Turning around, she saw a female silhouette in the darkest corner of the alley, away from the lights. But even in the shadows, Valeria could see her brown eyes and full lips behind the mask, her large breasts behind the dark top, her strong legs displayed under cut-offs, and heels as black and high as hers covering her feet. The woman on the nightclub screen and in the photo on the cell phone screen was fucking real.

“Dirty, repulsive copycat,” Valeria whispered. Putting her phone back in her pocket, she took a few steps forward, determined to take the initiative in this nocturnal ambush.

“Hi, Valeria Guerrebitch.” The girl’s voice sounded tremendously familiar to the model’s ears. Was she one of the girls she had humiliated? Perhaps, but then, how could she not remember someone who looked like her clone?

“Hi, unknown whore,” she mumbled, closer and closer to the other beauty. “Do you have a name?”

“You can call me AntiValeria,” the mysterious beauty replied. That name made Valeria laugh.

“Okay, AntiValeria,” the dark-haired social star grunted. “Who gave you my phone? And how do you know what I…like?”

“Is that what you really want to ask, bitch?” the other brunette said, her voice coming from her throat like a venomous snake hiss. “After the nice video I shot, is that what you need to know right now?”

A few steps away, a low grunt erupted from Valeria’s throat. In spite of herself, this young woman was taking control of the whole situation, something she desperately wanted to change.

“No, slut,” she snarled. “You cheap whore with no personality, what I want to ask is, do you want to do it here or on the dance floor?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Before Valeria reacted, the other girl’s body crashed into hers, slowly but firmly. “Here…”

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Choosen by USCISDDZTDD. Words: 602 words.

How should they start fighting? Titfight? Pelvis to pelvis? Hair pulling?

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USCISDDZTDD, you can choose from which text story you want the next part: from this story or from another one, and I'll put you in the queue.

Those of you who have not yet chosen which story/s you want, let me know so I can put you in the corresponding queue.

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TOMORROW: Discussion topic: "Favorite breast size in stories?" and EXTRA: an image recovered from the old Patreon.