Mom and Tonya - Part I
By KarmA
A mother and her daughter’s classmate test their strength.

				Part I

	I put down the book, and shook my head in mock disgust.  I glanced over 
at the bedside clock - 12:15 A.M.  I had last visited the girls’ room a 
little over an hour ago, admonishing them - in vain, it now appeared - 
to hold down the noise.  The squealing, screaming and giggling had died 
down for a while, but were now gaining volume again.  It was difficult 
to keep the reins on a group of 16 and 17 year old girls. 

	Sighing, I got out of bed and put on my bathrobe.  After stepping into a 
pair of bedroom slippers, I padded down the hall to Denise’s room.  I 
stopped outside her door, and listened for a few minutes.  I heard what 
sounded like words of encouragement directed at my daughter, at first 
softly, then gradually louder and more desperate. 

	"C’mon, Denise!  You can do it!" 

	"Jeez, Deenie, take her!  Come on!!" 

	"Go, Denise, go!  Put her..." 

	The shouts trailed off into exclamations of disappointment and disgust.  
Wondering just what the hell was going on in there, I knocked softly at 
the door.  A few seconds later, Valerie’s gamin face appeared, then the 
door opened wider.  I looked in at a tableau that would have made any of 
their male classmates grovel and drool. 

	Four girls, dressed (barely) in various forms of teddies, pajamas, and 
robes, were gathered in a semi-circle around the two remaining girls.  
My daughter, Denise, was on her knees, rubbing her right arm.  Lying 
flat on her stomach facing Denise was Tonya, her shining eyes and 
smiling face now turned towards me in the doorway.  Tonya was a new 
member of the swim team, who I had first met just that afternoon when 
she arrived for the sleepover. 

	"What’s going on in here?" I asked mildly. 

	"Ah, Mom!" Denise exclaimed, rising to her feet to face me.  "We’re 
just... uh... kind of messing around." 

	"We were just playing around, Mrs. M."  Valerie chirped.  "Denise and 
Katie were kind of arguing, and one thing led to another.  Before we 
knew it, we were all arm-wrestling." 

	"Yeah," Katie chimed in.  "Tonya kind of proved who was strongest when 
she just beat Denise two times in a row!" 

	"After she had beat all the rest of us," pouted Valerie. 

	I looked at Denise and raised an eyebrow.  I knew how strong she was, 
having arm-wrestled her a few times before, and had a hard time 
believing that one of her classmates could beat her.  As Denise hung her 
head, Tonya rose to her feet in one lithe motion.  She glanced at 
Denise, then back at me. 

	"She is really strong, Mrs. Madison," she said, almost apologetically.  
"I guess I was just a little bit stronger tonight.  Who knows, if we do 
it again sometime, it might turn out different." 

	"Hah!" Katie snorted.  "As if!  Tonya’s as strong... as strong as a.. 
a..." 

	"An ox?"  Valerie asked helpfully, earning glares from both Denise and 
Tonya.  "Hey, Mrs. M!" she continued, "Denise is always talking about 
how strong you are.  How about taking on Tonya?" 

	A clamor of agreement greeted Valerie’s idea.  I looked at Tonya, who 
stood patiently facing me, calmly meeting my gaze. 

	"No, I don’t think so, girls," I said firmly, still looking at Tonya.  
"It’s finally time for all of you to go to sleep.  Lights out!" 

	Muttering disapproval, the girls turned towards their beds - all except 
Tonya.  For several more seconds we stared at each other.  I sharpened 
my gaze, and her smile faded and she intensified her stare as well.  For 
a few moments all else in the room faded away as our wills collided 
through our locked eyes. 

	The moment passed, and Tonya tore her eyes from mine and turned away.  
Breath suddenly coming quicker, I went out of the room and quietly 
closed the door behind me. 

	Half and hour later, I again disgustedly put down my book.  This time, 
the house was quiet, but my mind was in turmoil.  I again slipped out of 
bed.  This time I eschewed the robe and slippers, and padded barefoot 
down the hall to the kitchen.  I poured myself a glass of milk and sat 
at the kitchen table, staring pensively off into the darkness outside as 
I let my thoughts run free. 

	It was hell being a single mother - especially when your sexuality is 
the talk of the school and the town.  When Denise and I had first moved 
here, I had spent much time fending off proposals - both lewd and 
otherwise - from every single man in town, as well as from a surprising 
number of the married men. 

	Eventually, even though I had been as circumspect as possible, I was 
eventually seen by one of Denise’s classmate’s mothers.  In a 
neighboring town, giving one of my lady friends a not-so-chaste kiss and 
hug.  Word got around town quickly, and, to my surprise, I received an 
embarrassing number of proposals - mostly lewd - from many of the single 
women in town. 

	So... Here I was, a 33-year old lesbian single mother, trying her 
damnedest to raise her 16-year old daughter.  And, not so incidentally, 
trying to keep her hands and thoughts off her 16-year old daughter’s 
nubile classmates. 

	I sighed, audibly. 

	"That was deep," a low voice murmured. 

	Startled out of my reverie, I looked up to see Tonya, also sans robe, 
standing in the kitchen doorway.  She motioned to my glass.  

	"I couldn’t sleep, either.  Too much snoring.  May I have a glass and 
join you?" 

	Nonplussed, I nodded, then watched as she retrieved a glass and got the 
milk out of the refrigerator.  Her tall frame was dressed, as was I, in 
only panties and T-shirt.  Her body was obviously fit, with swelling 
muscles in her arms, and long, firm legs.  Her shoulders were broad - as 
broad as mine, I thought suddenly.  She turned towards me, and, toasting 
me with her glass, she took a long drink, leaving a milk mustache that I 
suddenly wanted to lick away. 

	She took the seat across the table from me.  For several minutes we 
talked, mostly about school and the upcoming swim season.  She leaned 
forward, resting her elbows on the table, holding her glass in both 
hands.  Big hands, I realized, with long fingers that curled almost all 
the way around the glass. 

	It was as if we both ran out of things to say at the same time.  We 
looked at each other across the table.  Neither of us moved.  
Expressionless, we stared at each other, until it was obvious that 
neither of us was going to look away.  I turned in my chair to face her 
head-on, and leaned forward a little.  She matched my pose, carefully 
putting her glass off to the side of the table. 

	A little gleam came into her eyes.  

	"Why didn’t you want to arm-wrestle earlier?"  She asked, her voice a 
little huskier that before. 

	I waited a few seconds before answering.  "Why do you think?" I finally 
asked. 

	She grinned.  "One of two reasons.  You either didn’t want to embarrass 
me by beating me in front of my friends, or you didn’t want to embarrass 
yourself by losing to me in front of your daughter." 

	I leaned further forward.  "Which would you guess?" 

	Her face was only inches away from mine.  "You don’t know me, so you 
don’t know how easy it was for me to beat her."  She shrugged.  "So, I 
don’t think you thought you would lose.  You were protecting me, and I 
appreciate that." 

	"What would you have done if I would’ve challenged you?" 

	"I would’ve claimed exhaustion.  I can’t lose on purpose - I’m too 
competitive for that - and I didn’t want to humiliate you in front of 
Denise." 

	I raised an eyebrow at that, but Tonya never flinched. 

	We continued staring in silence for a few more seconds, thinking about 
what each of us had said. 

	"What it all came down to," I said slowly,  "Is that we were both afraid 
of embarrassing each other in front of an audience, is that right?" 

	Tonya nodded slowly, her eyes suddenly aglow. 

	"So, if we were somewhere alone together, you’d have no qualms about a 
little contest?" 
	
	"None at all." 

	This time I nodded slowly, and matched Tonya’s growing grin.  She 
straightened in her chair, seating herself more solidly.  I did the 
same.  I slowly rolled my sleeve up to my shoulder.  She did the same.  
I extended my right leg out under the table.  Hers met me halfway, and 
we linked legs as a way to both gain leverage and keep the other honest.  
Her hard-muscled calf rubbed against mine. 

	Slowly we brought up our right arms and planted our elbows on the table.  
Our hands hovered close together for a few seconds, then gripped 
tightly.  I had been right about her having big hands, as they were 
nearly as big as mine were.  Without any signal, we slowly began 
increasing the pressure. 

	Our eyes remained steady on each other’s as we continued.  Soon we were 
locked in battle, arms trembling, muscles straining as we tried to force 
the other’s arms down.  The seconds ticked away.  I realized that I was 
exerting more power than I had ever used in a match with Denise, and 
Tonya didn’t seem to be tiring.  I cranked it up a little more, and was 
rewarded by a slight tremble in her arm. 

	She grinned at me through clenched teeth. 

	"You are awfully tough," she managed to say. 

	"You’re no slouch yourself," I retorted, trying not to let my voice 
shake. 

	There was no more talk, just the labored breathing as we kept battling.  
To my distinct amazement, I felt Tonya pour even more strength into her 
arm and hand.  Suddenly my arm was being forced back - not fast, and not 
a lot, but it was moving.  I gritted my teeth, calling on a little more 
of my reserve.  I stopped her, and this time her eyebrow went up, but 
she didn’t say anything. 

	I took a deep breath, and really poured it on.  Finally, as if my mutual 
consent, our heated staredown was broken, my head going down as I 
strained, and Tonya’s eyes gazing off past my shoulder as she 
concentrated. 

	For many more long seconds we remained there, locked with her at a 
slight advantage.  Millimeter by millimeter I began inching back, until 
we were back at even.  Then I started forcing her down, until she was a 
third of the way down.  My hand was almost totally numb from the intense 
pressure of her grip.  I watched her bulging bicep quiver and ripple 
from the strain.  A bead of sweat ran down the side of my face, but I 
ignored it. 

	I watched my hand, as if it were disconnected from my body, creep over 
to her until one finger touched her bulging arm.  At the touch, her eyes 
focused on me again, and a small smile crept across her face.  I felt 
her hand gently massage and caress my flexing arm.  

	I thought I had her.  Suddenly she grunted, and stopped me dead.  A 
quiver - then another one, and my arm was being forced back upright.  
Desperately, I threw everything I had at her in a last-ditch effort.  I 
was almost crying from the pain.  Tonya’s teeth were clenched so hard I 
thought they’d shatter.  

	For at least a minute we battled all out in an absolute effort to 
outmuscle the other, to prove our superiority.  The room was spinning 
around me, and all I could see was Tonya’s contorted face across the 
table, and our clenched, straining, quivering hands between us. 

	Finally - It was over.  Tonya’s hand was flat on the table.  I’m still 
not sure how I did it.  We were so evenly matched that we almost fainted 
at the same time.  Tonya’s head was down on the table.  I was drenched 
in sweat, every muscle crying out for release, not realizing that it was 
all over, and that they could relax now.  

	I laid my hand on Tonya’s damp head.  She raised her face up to me, a 
rueful grin now present.  No animosity, Thank God, I thought.  

	"I thought I had you right up until the end," she gasped, in a voice 
still weary from exertion.  "You never outmuscled me, you just outlasted 
me." 

	"A win is a win is a win," I managed in response. 

	She nodded.  She looked down at our still-clasped hands, then pulled 
mine to her and kissed the back of it, eyes on me all the while.  When I 
didn’t pull my hand away, her eyes gleamed again. 

	"How about a rematch?"