At meets the two were often called “The Wonder Twins” by adoring fans, trainers, and assorted media. It was easy to see why. Both Leslie and Trisha both were 18, black-haired, 5’0” and 85 lbs of energy and personality. Whatever event one didn’t win, the other did, and in public they seemed the epitome of perfect young ladies, the proper successors to Olga and Nadia and Mary Lou and all the other female gymnasts that have captured the world’s imagination. That is what the world saw.

In the practice gyms, they were known by less flattering names--”Bitches from Hell” probably being the kindest. They hogged the equipment, forced other girls to change schedules, pulled strings to get other gymnasts removed from the team if they crossed them, and in general made it clear that they were the star and everyone else was a bit player. They never even showered or changed with the other girls, always demanding and getting private quarters. The only solace the other young women had was that as much as they hated the pair, the two hated each other even more.

That hatred had been fueled by years of competing and beating each other at meets around the country and then the world. While always maintaining the pretense for the media of two friends cheering each other on, each passionately wished for the other to fail. Leslie had once spiked Trisha’s water bottle with a diuretic at one meet, while Trisha had added an itching powder to Leslie’s talcum bar used for retaining grips. It had been bad enough when they trained elsewhere; now, in preparation for the World Championships, they were forced to share a gym and a coach; why this was intolerable, the other thing they shared was what finally led to open warfare.

His name was Doug; he was 22, an expert on the Parallel Bars, muscular and handsome. While he hardly noticed the two, they couldn’t keep their eyes off of him and tried to talk or see him at every chance. As with many gymnasts, they had developed late in life, and this was their first taste of love/lust. Both also knew her rival desired him and the only thing that kept them from attacking each other on sight was the constant media presence and the knowledge if they mauled each other neither would win the Championship they both so desperately wanted. So the tension and the rivalry and the hatred kept growing and growing.

It was 9:30PM when Leslie used her special key and entered the gym. She had just found out that due to a revolution in the country that was to host the Worlds, the championships had been pushed back by two months and might be cancelled altogether. Angry at this set back to her long-anticipated triumph, she went to the gym to work out her frustrations with a few routines. Flipping on the light switch, she stood barefoot in her electric-blue bodysuit. Her tiny frame was perfectly proportioned, powerful thighs and hips leading to a narrow waist, thin but wiry arms, and a round, full face that made her look even younger than her 16 years. She had just stretched and was preparing for the uneven bars when the click at the door noted another late arrival with a key. As the door opened, Leslie found herself staring into Trisha’s smoldering eyes.

For a brief moment they held each other’s eyes; then with a toss of her head, Leslie turned her back and began working on the uneven bars. Tricia in turn ignored her and barefoot in her bright gold bodysuit loosened up and went over to the jump. for the next twenty minutes not a word was spoken as the equipment creaked and feet thumped on mats; then both began to work on the large center mat on their flips and moves for the floor exercise. Each tried to outdo the other while trying at the same time to ignore her hated enemy.

Perhaps it would have started another way; perhaps it might not have started at all. But as Leslie completed a set of back flips into the far right corner of the mat, Trisha arrived at the same time from her set of cartwheels. As they stood up, Trisha found herself eye to eye with Leslie, their bodies so close that the material seemed to be meshing without touching, their breath lightly moving the other’s hair. For one second, then two, they stood motionless; then the hatred and bitterness and jealously and anger welled up and with loud screams they lunged together, four hands seeking grips on hair as bodies smacked together. At this moment, neither cared about medals or Championships; destruction of her foe was their shared thought.

The two tiny teenagers grappled, yanking each other around the mat, to full of anger and adrenalin to scream at the pain they were inflicting. Trisha pulled hard had found her left hand free with a clump of Leslie’s hair; Leslie screamed and pulled and her right hand came away with some of Trisha’s locks. Leslie dug her hand back into her rival’s scalp, this time clawing with her nails at the bald spot. Trisha gasped and returned the favor, both digging furrows into the others’ scalp and drawing small amounts of blood. All this time the two wandered across the mat, locked in a macabre and savage dance.

Leslie removed her right hand and forming it into a fist, punched Trisha in the stomach. The punch did not have much power behind it but it was hard enough to make Trisha give up her hair hold and take a step back. Emboldened by this, Leslie advanced, arms flailing and more by luck than skill caught Trisha with a punch to the side of the head. Moving backward to get her bearing, Trisha tripped and fell back onto the mat. With a savage cry of triumph, Leslie leaped to fall upon and finish off her enemy.

But Trisha had been more surprised than hurt and was ready for Leslie’s attack. She brought her legs up as Leslie came down and trapped her rival in a scissors about her abdomen. Utilizing her powerful thighs, she began squeezing her opponent, now on her knees and moaning as the scissors began to crush in on her stomach. The pain was intense enough to bring tears to Leslie’s eyes and she might have quit except for the arrogant gleam in Tricia’s eyes. I’ll never surrender to that bitch, she thought and began to take action to free herself.

Leslie opened her attack by digging her nails into Tricia’s thighs; her rival screamed but would not release the hold although the pressure did lessen. Balling her fists, Leslie then punched downward, directly into her foe’s pubic area; while not contacting her rival’s cunt directly, the blow connected with sufficient force to cause Tricia to groan and release the scissors. Falling forward, Leslie landed on top of Tricia, the girls resting for a moment face to face.

“Bitch” snarled Leslie “I going to fuck you up good.”

“Whore” jeered Trisha “there won’t be enough of you for Doug to fuck when I’m done.” And with this Tricia reached up and bit Leslie on the shoulder, her hands going back to pulling hair. Leslie bit back, to Trisha’s neck and also began pulling hair. the two lithe teenagers slowly rolled across the mat, legs tangling and leaving behind a trail of dark hair and drops of blood. Trisha was on the bottom when she let go of Leslie’s hair and punched her in the side with both fists. It was enough to make Leslie let go and both girls rolled away from each other, coming to their knees gasping for air and examining the damage done.

The hair on both heads was disheveled and shone with a combination of sweat and blood. Trisha’s neck showed several “hickeys” from Leslie’s less than loving bites and at least one oozed red; Leslie’s left shoulder showed the effects of Trisha’s gnawing and blood also seeped from that site. The initial adrenalin rush was wearing off and both were becoming aware of their bruises and aches; but to see into their eyes was to see that this fight was nowhere near over.

To Be Continued