It was seven in the evening in Southern California. Most people would be at home by now, engaging in their leisure-time pursuits. Some would be working out, or listing to music. Some would be watching television, cooking, or eating. The possibilities were, like they almost always are, endless.

There are those individuals, however, who are more driven. Sometimes, that individual's focus is necessitated by the profession that has been chosen. The real estate business is like that. Long hours, late meetings with clients, late showing of properties. Many times a quick dinner out before coming home and collapsing into bed.

Although she was driven by many things, Cathy had chosen that high-pressure world as a profession. She had never needed the money that her career had provided, but the force of her personality, combined with her beauty, and a keen mind for the job, made her perfect for it. And that was enough. Usually, her hours went much longer, but tonight, at seven, Cathy was getting an early evening at home.

The beautiful, athletically built brunette walked toward the front door of her house from her driveway. She had the grace of a panther, emanating a strength which innumerable men had found incredibly sexy. She was dressed in a black business suit with a short skirt, revealing a pair of perfect, muscled legs.

Cathy sighed when she saw the note stuck in her front doorjamb. It would be the third such note in the last six months. She recognized the handwriting the moment she saw her name on the envelope. Miranda. Looking for a rematch with her. She removed it from the door jamb, surprised by its thickness.
All the previous challenges from her brunette rival had been on a single sheet of paper, with language lending them an "or else" tone. She had ignored them. Those notes had been written with a tone of hysteria, as though the other woman were making an effort to regain something she had lost to Cathy. And she had.

Cathy opened the door and went into the house, placing her purse down on the table just inside the door and taking the envelope with her into the bedroom. She tossed the envelope on the bed and removed the jacket of her suit, revealing a pair of shapely, muscular arms, and a sleeveless silk blouse covering high, full breasts.

She opened the envelope and read the message. She smiled and reread the message, admitting to herself that she was intrigued by this one. It was quiet in tone, ominous and, much to Cathy's delight, challenging. So much different from the others. It began: "Your strength against mine, once more. Two women, alone on a snowy mountaintop, face each other in a test of strength, for supremecy. The site for our renewed duel is ten miles from anywhere. One wins, one loses, and the loser walks out."

The rest of the details were in the note. What the contest would be, the attire, what kind of weather conditions were expected for the day of the contest, how the two women would arrive, and that there was only one vehicle with which to leave. The more she read, the more the whole thing appealed to Cathy.

It had been an accident of fate which led her to the most intense test of strength in which she had ever engaged. When she and Miranda had tested each other before, it was over the matter of who paid for an automobile accident. The two women had studied each other long before the accident and each knew, subconsciously, if they ever met, strength to strength, it would be a long, hard struggle. And it had been even more intense and difficult than either had imagined. There had been a few for Cathy, both before and since, but the thing she liked most with Miranda was the intensity. This particular type of contest, with an all-or-nothing flavor attracted her greatly. She had won last time. If she won again, Miranda would be humiliated even more, walking through the snow to get home. Being proven the weaker by an older woman was obviously more than Miranda could bear.

Cathy began to strip off her skirt, walking into the bathroom and running a bath for herself. She might be the strongest woman she knew, but she was still the kind of girl that loved a hot bath.

A week later, leaving a light rain on the street, Cathy arrived at the downtown parking garage as she had been instructed in the note. A chauffered limousine was waiting for her in the next parking space. She got in, noticing that the driver was ogling her in her skin tight bodysuit, wrap-around denim skirt, and high heels over her black stockings. She carried a parka under her arm.

She crossed her legs in the back seat, enjoying the ride, and enjoying even more the way the driver kept glancing back at her in the rear view mirror. In her forties, she still enjoyed the attention of men, and she knew how to attract it. She knew from Miranda's note that he had been instructed not to talk to her, so he would have to suffer in silence.

The drive took a while. They headed into the San Bernadino Mountains, toward the popular Southern California ski resorts at Lake Arrowhead. Skiing would be substantially reduced this weekend, however. As they drove, the weather became worse and worse, until there was blowing snow and no sign of improvement. According to the note, the final destination was Miranda's mountain cabin, where there was no telephone. It was also in a dead transmission zone, where no cellular phone would work. Apparently, Miranda valued her privacy. But it also insured that the losing woman, who would have to walk out, would actually have to walk.

Finally, the limo arrived at the cabin, which was larger than Cathy had expected. She put on her parka and opened the door before the driver could get out, stepping out into the weather. She walked carefully on the icy walk to the front door, opened it, and went inside. Inside, in the foyer, she closed the door and locked it. Then she took off her parka and hung it on a coat rack. She noticed three silver trays, with a set of keys sitting in the center one. The ride home. There was also a wristwatch and a ring on one of the side trays. Miranda's jewelry.

She took off her own watch and ring, placing them in the empty tray, then turned the corner and stepped into the great room.

Miranda sat waiting at a small ice cream table in the center of the room. She was dressed identically to Cathy, with her legs crossed, her chair turned slightly away from the table. From a distance, the two women could have been sisters, they were so similar in appearance. Each had black hair, Miranda's hanging nearly to her waist, Cathy's cut to her shoulders. But waist size, chest size, everything was the same. Had soemone been there with a tape measure to measure the size of their muscles, the similarities would have been astounding.- and they were very, very close to the same strength. Today, they would find out if they had gotten any closer.

Cathy sat in the chair across the table from her rival, crossing her legs, just as Miranda did. The two women sat, eyes locked. Miranda gave her rival a smiled which was colder than the air outside "It took you long enough to accept my challenge." She reached forward and stroked the back of Cathy's hand with the knuckle of her index finger.

Cathy returned the smile, measure for measure. She moved her hand to the center of the table, where Miranda kept stroking it. Her free hand came out and began to stroke Miranda's in return. Her voice felt hoarse to her as she answered. "This is the first one you offered that interested me."

Miranda could feel the tension building in her. "When we met each other before, it was exciting."

Cathy nodded. "Yes it was."

Miranda shifted her hand, sliding it into Cathy's and putting her elbow up, Cathy following suit. "And now?"

Cathy strengthened her grip on Miranda's hand, feeling the answering grip. "We're getting there." She knew that the two would not arm wrestle. This was designed to build the intensity between them.

Miranda looked at Cathy's legs, watching them flex, knowing that her rival was watching her legs as well. She slipped her right leg around Cathy's, feeling the flexed calf muscle tight against her own.

"You legs seem very strong, Cathy." Miranda was almost breathless now.

Cathy seemed in a similar state. "So do yours."

Miranda's eyes once more locked on hers. "Tell me, do you think my legs would be a good match for yours? I mean, muscle against muscle."

"I think that any muscle of yours would be a good match for the same muscle on me." Cathy could barely speak. They hands trembled in the center of the table, their legs trembled below the table. They were straining slightly against each other, but this was from excitement.

"They were last time." Miranda rose, slowly, sensually unwrapping her legs from her rival's. Cathy rose as well, so that the two were standing breast to breast. Miranda reached overhead with her right hand. Cathy reached up with hers and the two women stood with their palms together. "Arm against arm, leg against leg, breast to breast, stomach to stomach, and a one-armed bearhug. Are we missing anything?"

Cathy shook her head. The women were beginning to slowly interlace their fingers overhead. It was sensual, like everything else that had happned since Cathy walked through the door.

"It's ten miles to the nearest phone," Mirand said. At the sentence, each woman felt her nipples hardening against the other's. Each was increasingly excited by the prospect that there was a real penalty to pay for being the weaker woman. "Except for me," Miranda continued, "that limo the brought you here has been the only traffic for the last six months." Each woman slipped her right leg out, so that the inside of each thigh touched, near the crotch. There was thee heightened sensation to each as their nylon-sheathed legs rubbed together. Their nipples grew even harder and each woman let out a small gasp. "No one will come up here in the winter time." The left arm of each woman reached around the back of the other. "The loser will walk out of here in a skirt and high heels." The fingers were completely interlocked and beginning to tighten. Each woman's breasts hurt from the tightness. They began to grunt as each poured on all of her strength. Discussion was over. Their heads slipped to the sides as each woman crushed her rival against her. Their duel was underway.

In minutes, neither woman was wearing a dry stitch of clothing as each put all of her strength into the defeat of the other. Thighs worked higher and higher as each woman leaned forward more and more, pulled tighter together by the two opponants straining bearhugs. The cast-iron thighs rubbed together, heightening the feeling between them even more.

Grunts turned to sobs, of both pain and passion as each was stimulated by the thigh of the other, now rubbing directly into her crotch. The duel took on a new dimension as sexual dominance became part of their battle. Each knew that, if she could cause the other to reach orgasm first, she might hold out as the other weakened. Then she would be the victor, twice over.

After three more minutes the two straining women were afraid to move, for fear that they would drive themselves into orgasm. Their duel of strength continued, but each woman was on the edge of orgasm each wanted to push the other over. Their sobs were in pain twice over now, as the agony was on both fronts. Heads rested on rivals' shoulders as the two women continued to test each other. Neither could move the other with her strength.

Two bodies acted of one mind, desparate to bring the other to orgasm. They turned their heads toward each other's, each still resting on the other's shoulder, and mouths joined hotly, each bringing the fire of their test of strength and sexual prowess to this new front. Tongues collided violently together, invisibly to the outside observer.

Suddenly, each realized that she was taking the wrong approach. Although the incredible battle between the strength of the two beautiful women continued as before, their kiss changed, softened. Tongues carressed each other now, and the women began to suck gently on each other's tongue. Tentatively, each lifted her thigh once more. And the orgasm overwhelmed them both.

For just a second, both women's strength increased to the point where neither could breathe in the grip of her rival and browken fingers became a real possibility. Then, after waves of pleasure passed over them and were finished, each fell to the floor, legs tangled, but heads in opposite directions.

Cathy was sure that a rib was broken, which was fortunately an error, but it took her some time to recover from the strength of her opponant's embrace. Not to mention the strength of her orgasm.

Miranda was flat on the floor, barely holding on to consciousness. She held on, fearing that she would lose all hope of victory if the welcome blackness enveloped her.

Five minutes later, the two women disentangled their legs and turned, on hands and knees to face each other. This had not been part of the scenario that Miranda had presented, but neither woman cared. Cathy reached for the top of the ice cream table with her right arm, as Miranda reached with her left. Their eyes were locked as they pulled themselves into the chairs opposite each other.

There was a long moment as each woman caught her breath, then, again with one mind, the two magnificent beauties wrapped their right legs together, flexing against each other. Each woman placed her elbow on the tabletop, nearly touching her rival's, and offered her hand to the other, who locked her own hand firmly around it.

Once more, slowly, the two women strengthed their arms against each other. Forever, they fought each other, again grunting, again screaming, each wanting nothing more than to prove she was the stronger. Arms quivered, faces were again bathed in sweat as their long duel went on. Their hatred grew as each grew more afraid of not being able to win.

Cathy began to force the younger woman's arm down. Miranda screamed and held the older woman for a few moments. With a matching scream from Cathy, the momentum resumed until finally, after five long minutes, Miranda's hand was pinned to the table. She sat there, in tears, as Cathy disentangled herself from her rival.

She walked out into the foyer and put on her parka, putting her jewelry in the pocket. Then she took the keys and walked out the door. The walkway was icy and slick as she got to the Range Rover parked in the driveway. The wind was blowing the falling snow so hard she could barely see. The vehicle door was locked, but responded quickly to the key and the engine turned over smoothly when she started it. She let it warm up for three or four minutes, then backed out of the drive.

She drove carefully on the icy road, covering the ten miles to a small caf#, where she went inside and got a cup of coffee. She was having an attack of conscience. The walk would be dangerous for the younger woman, dressed as she was. She knew that Miranda would not change clothing into soemthing more suitable for the hike because it was a matter of honor to them both. She debated whether to go back and pick up her defeated rival.

She sat in the caf# for half an hour, wondering what she should do. Part of her knew that Miranda would leave her, had the younger woman won the contest, especially after her defeat in their first meeting. But she was not Miranda, and maybe that was the difference between them. She was equally uncertain how Miranda would receive such generosity.

She made up her mind. She finshed her coffee, paid her bill and walked out of the caf#, a dozen pairs of eyes watching her every move. Especially as she climbed back into the Range Rover. Inside, she took off her parka, since the vehicle was still warm. She turned back the way she had come.

The roads were even worse as she drove back. With some bemusement, she realized that, had her duel gone on with Miranda past this point, it was quite likely that neither woman would have driven out. Her speed was down to five miles an hour when she saw Miranda, less than a quarter-mile from the cabin.

She stopped the vehicle, waving to Miranda to join her. Instead, her rival looked around and started walking away, ripping off her jacket. She walked through the calf-deep snow, carefully in her high heels, until she reached a spot where two trees were growing, very close together. She stepped between the two trees and leaned back against one, waiting, dressed in her skirt, high heels, hose, and sleeveless bodysuit.

Cathy watched in amazement, then got out of the vehicle, leaving it running, and made her way over to her rival. She left her parka, thinking she would only be out in the cold long enough to get Miranda. The walk was trecherous and cold. The snow fell down into her shoes and the ground was slick.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "You'll freeze to death!"

Miranda smiled slightly at her. "Join me!"

"There's not room for both of us between those trees."

"Sure there is. The stronger woman gets to breathe, that's all." Miranda's eyes locked with Cathy's, and there was a terrible intensity in both women.

Cathy looked at her rival for a long moment, caught between the irresistable challenge and the freezing weather. Miranda stood waiting, her arms extended to her sides, breasts outthrust at the other tree.

Cathy moved into the narrow area with her rival, each woman compressing herself to make room for the other. Breats were flattened against breasts, but the nipples were hardened with the cold and their excitement, and each could feel the other's boring into their breasts. Each could feel the heaving chest and stomach of the other as she struggled to breathe. Their fingers interlaced and each struggled to push the arms of the other back.

There was very little sound. Neither woman could afford the air it took to scream, or even grunt. Soon, despite the freezing temperature, each woman was bathed in perspiration. Yet neither worried about the illness that they risked. Each was fully engrossed in their conflict, to the exclusion of everything else. Thigh was pressed against thigh, in a wide stance. Neither could press the arms of the other back and their efforts slowly changed direction. Soon the arms were extended up and out from their bodies, and the wrists strained to bend the other back.

Slowly, the younger woman began to force her rival's hands to bend back. It was agonizing for both women, as the cold now began to take its toll. Cathy began to sink, as the strength of the other forced her down. Her face was pressed between Miranda's full breasts, and then down, first to her upper abdomen, then into her stomach. She turned her head to the side, screaming as the cold snow covered her knees, her lower legs and about halfway up her thigh.

The cold was a terrific motivator. Cathy changed the direction of the test of strength again and began to stand up, pressing Miranda's hands backwards once more. By the time Miranda could force their hands back to the "mercy" position, Cathy was on her haunches, straining mightily to stand again. Slowly, the older woman came up, overcoming the impossible to do so. Five minutes into this new contest, Cathy was back on her feet, chest to chest with her rival.

Now Miranda began to sink, her hands being forced back, her head between Cathy's full, firm breasts. After another long two minutes, Miranda was on her knees in the snow. The cold was having a terrible effect on both women now. Miranda turned their hands slowly, just as Cathy had done, and Cathy now saw how she had been successful when she was in the position that her rival now occupied.

Slowly, Miranda rose. It was agony for both women. Miranda stood and the two were now locked more in the struggle for air than to overcome the other's arm strength. Fatigue, increased by the cold, set in. The hands dropped limply to their sides, still locked. Each pressed her chest into the other's as she breathed, trying with all her might to keep the other from taking in air.

The agony and the anoxia was apparent on the face of each. Each cried out a little as she tried to breathe. Chest matched chest and held. Stomachs were pressed together, diaphragms compressed together. The need for air was now greater than when they had started, and neither was getting enough.

Unconsciousness set in, twelve minutes after they had started, and each fell to the side, still locked body to body. The cold snow and renewed air intake revived each immediately.

Cathy rose and helped Miranda to her feet, grabbing her rival's coat, then helped her to the Range Rover. She left her rival at the passenger door and ran around to the driver's side. Miranda was weakly sliding in as Cathy closed her door.

They sat there for a moment, warming up. Miranda had her face buried in her right hand, her elbow resting on the top of the door frame, inside the window. Cathy was slumped over the steering wheel. Both women were breathing deeply, straining to take in all the air they could.

After a few minutes, Cathy sat and put the verhicle in gear, moving it slowly down the icy mountain road. Miranda looked over at her, pain still etched on her face. "This isn't over, you know. Not by a long shot."

Cathy glanced her way, then turned her attention back to the road. "It is for today."

Miranda nodded. "There have never been two women so equal in strength and desirability as you and I. We both hate each other for the same reasons. We have a long way to go to settle it."

"We may never settle it."

"Maybe one day," Miranda said.

Cathy didn't look at her rival. But she did wonder what that phrase meant.