Competitive to the End

Spoiler Alert! There are cheaters in this story; if that disturbs you DO NOT CONTINUE; DO NOT READ; YOUR EMOTIONAL HEALTH MAY BE AT RISK!

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All participants in this story in any type of sexual situation are over 18.

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As I sat in the courtroom watching my attorney and the prosecutor spare I started thinking about what got me here. Since I don't like to take responsibility for my actions I concluded that it was my mother's fault; after all it was she that made me enter that fucking beauty pageant when I was 15.

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At 15 years old I, Alicia Rankin, was tall for my age and had matured more than most of my classmates. Although I was only a sophomore I was the lead majorette for the marching band, and played varsity volleyball. For some reason I got enamored with baton twirling when I was a kid and developed some real skills which I polished at two summer camps when I was 13 and 14 years old.

When I got home from school one day in April my mother Joyce was all excited. "Alicia I just learned today that there is a Junior Miss pageant for our area in May that can lead to college scholarships if you're successful. I've signed you up?"

"What? Mom, I have lots going on in school and other things that I'd rather do that enter some beauty pageant."

"It's not a beauty pageant. It's a scholarship pageant."

"They just call it that so it doesn't seem sexist," I scoffed.

"Not so; I talked to Marjorie Waters about it and she said that it's a wonderful event and that she thought that you'd have a good chance at winning a college scholarship -- and in view of the fact that you have three younger siblings that could really help out your father and me in affording college," Joyce responded.

Once she had invoked the name "Marjorie Waters" I knew that it was useless to argue with her about it. According to Joyce, Marjorie is the smartest, most talented, most knowledgeable person in the greater Columbus, Ohio area, if not the state, or the entire U S for that matter. I will admit that Marjorie has her shit together (and is rich as shit too), but no one could live up to my mom's hero worship of her.

As I was formulating a reply Joyce continued. "In fact, Marjorie said that she'd sponsor you and get you an appropriate dress and an outfit for the talent portion of the pageant."

"What's my talent?" I chuckled.

"Why baton twirling -- you are the lead majorette as a sophomore; that's a wonderful talent."

Since Marjorie's involvement made this mandatory I decided to just get a nice dress and leotard out of it and not put too much time into it. If I sucked up to Marjorie maybe I'd even score some more benefits from it; I decided to give it a try.

Mom and I went to Marjorie's "house" (mansion, actually) the next Saturday. Marjorie really likes Joyce -- probably because she treats Marjorie like royalty -- and for some reason has always had an interest in me. I believe it is because Marjorie has four sons (all except for one older than me) and no daughters, and she was Miss Ohio when she was in college and wants someone to carry on her legacy. This was not the first time I had heard about "pageants" from Marjorie through my mom, but it was the first time that Marjorie had pushed it.

Mom and I had a very pleasant discussion with Marjorie. It was quickly concluded that Marjorie would take me to New York City to go shopping for outfits and would pay for a "coach;" I saw a way to really suck this for everything that I could.

I don't want to bore you with the details of pageant preparation but suffice it to say that once I got a complete pageant wardrobe from NYC more expensive than all the other clothes I had gotten my entire life, and my coach was a really hot woman who instilled more competitiveness in me than I had evidenced even in playing volleyball, I decided that I really wanted to win.

No brag, but I breezed through the Columbus area spectacle without serious competition. My baton twirling was by far the most polished talent in the pageant, I nailed the interview, I looked great in my NYC gown, and I ruled in general.

When I went on to the state competition after my Columbus area win was when my life took a turn.

It was clear from the start of the state pageant that my main competition was Brittany Compton from the Cleveland area, and Shirley Preston from the Cincinnati area. Although we all grew and matured as we got older our relative heights, coloring, and body types were set as of that time. I was tall with brunette hair and brown eyes; Brit was medium height with blond hair and blue eyes. Shirley was short with red hair and green eyes. I had an athlete's build; Brit a dancer's build; and Shirley a nymph's build.

While we had to "play nice" in public, it was clear from the first few minutes that we interacted that we didn't like each other. All three of us were set upon winning the competition and we weren't going to let some other prima donna ace us out. Catty things were said, nasty things were done, attempts at sabotage of clothing or makeup were made, and in general we acted like feral cats toward each other. We developed unoriginal, but accurate, nicknames for each other. They called me BB (big bitch), Shirley and I called Brit PB (pedestrian bitch) and Brit and I called Shirley LB (little bitch).

The most rewarding experience of my life up until that time was when I won Junior Miss Ohio with LB as first runner-up and PB as second runner-up. The sobs coming from PB and LB in the dressing room after I was crowned were music to my ears.

Both Marjorie and mom were thrilled by my victory and the scholarship I won was not insubstantial. It was a good time.

During the national pageant there were many more qualified contestants than at the state level and there were no frontrunners that I had a visceral antagonistic reaction to. As a result I didn't have the same level of competitiveness that PB and LB brought out in me; plus some of the talents exhibited I had to grudgingly admit were beyond my experience or expectations so I didn't win the national competition. However, I was in the final five which garnered me another decent scholarship and Marjorie and mom were satisfied with that.

Somehow the Ohio Junior Miss pageant resulted in my star being crossed with PB's and LB's for the rest of my life all the way up to the time of this story. Not only when we were all 16, and then 17, did we compete in the Miss Teen pageant for Ohio but my High School band competed against LB's High School band (Shirley played drums) in state competitions for my junior and senior years. My High School volleyball team -- where I usually played outside hitter -- played against PD's High School team -- where she played setter -- in the state tournament during both my junior and senior years.

The results of our competitions were a mixed bag. PB won Miss Teen Ohio when all of us were 16 with me and LB the runner-ups, and LB won Miss Teen Ohio when all of us were 17 with PB and me as the runner-ups. Fortunately, neither finished higher in the Miss Teen USA pageant than I finished in the Junior Miss USA pageant.

My High School finished ahead of LB's band in the Ohio band competition my senior year, and one spot behind them my junior year. My High School volleyball team beat PB's team in the state tournament my junior year and lost to them in my senior year. However, my best time was during my senior year against PB's team (even though we lost) because on two separate occasions I spiked the ball in her face. My teammates were not happy with me at match point, however, when I was trying to do that a third time and hit wide, giving them the victory.

During all of the above competitions we were as nasty to each other in private as we could be while fake smiling at each other when in a public setting.

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I was hoping that once High School was over, and since I had no interest in competing in the Miss America Pageant when I turned 18, that I wouldn't have to interface with PB or LB again. I wanted to beat them so badly that it seemed to sap me of more energy than I should have devoted to the situations, but I just couldn't help myself. Imagine my disgust when I went to Ohio State (by then I had enough scholarships from the pageants and working for Marjorie during the summers that I could pay my way without stressing my parents) that PB and LB were in the same freshman class, all of us 18 at the time.

What was also disgusting was the reaction guys had to the little princesses too. While I refused to admit that they were hot, the reaction of guys belied my appraisal.

At 18 I considered myself hot stuff, although because of my height I didn't appeal to everyone. I was a little over six feet (184 cm) tall with round C-cup boobs and a firm bubble butt. Brit -- I mean PB -- was then about five feet seven inches (170 cm) tall with legs that even I had to admit were great, obviously from her diligently pursuing dance. Shirley -- I mean LB -- was still a wisp at five feet one inch (155cm) tall but unless she was wearing falsies her mammaries had doubled in size. I thought that she looked freaky with those big tits on a lithe frame but that wasn't the reaction than guys had. Both of them seemed able to charm any guy that they wanted to; I could only charm guys over six feet tall.

Because of how antagonistic we were toward each other it was a foregone conclusion that we were never going to pledge the same sorority. We made our best efforts to sabotage the possibility that any of us would pledge the sorority that each of us really wanted to pledge. Unfortunately that did not sit well with the members of what was considered to be the "best" (i. e. hottest girls) sorority so our cattiness got us all disqualified from getting bids to that sorority. However, we each got into a good sorority; at least I was happy with the one I pledged and I never heard any grumblings about them about theirs.

I didn't pursue volleyball at OSU because I simply wasn't good enough to compete in the Big Ten, and I gave up band since I wanted to concentrate on my studies more than baton twirling, although I still did some baton shows in non-competitive settings.

You would think that at a large university like Ohio State that we wouldn't cross paths often. Unfortunately that wasn't the case. I seemed to come across them all of the time and even if the situation wasn't inherently competitive we'd make it so. I know that they also had a number of intense competitions with each other, although I don't know the details of them, but I know the conflicts I had with them.

Just to give you some idea of some of the competitions (a very incomplete list since a full rundown, if downloaded, would consume all of your computer's memory):

--LB and I both ran for class secretary our sophomore year. I guess that we didn't do ourselves any favors by denigrating the other because the third person running won in a very close race.

--PB and I had a class together which the professor made sure was graded on a curve. About half the grade was for a team project, with four students in each team. That shameless hussy PB flashed her sickening sweet smile while curling her long blond hair and fluttering her eyes at the smartest guy in the class and ended up on his team. On my team was a knuckle-dragging football player whose only mission in life seemed to be to get in my pants (he was VERY unsuccessful). As a result PB got an A, I got a B-. She was not gracious about it.

--I got back at PB in another class we had together the next year. Ben, the graduate teaching assistant that I had in that class, was not quite up to my normal standards in looks, but not gross either; and he was about six feet four inches (193 cm) tall; so, I seduced him. One night at his apartment after I had fucked him comatose I got on his computer and changed PB's numerical grades on quizzes and tests so that they were slightly lower. That, combined with the fact that Ben had to give me an A meant that this time I got the A and PB got the B-.

-LB and I were both on the pom-pom squad for basketball games our junior year. Poor dear, during one session when we were practicing a new routine somehow (cough, cough) the poor dear slipped and sprained her ankle and was out of commission the rest of the season. Of course I didn't snicker at her (again, cough, cough).

-The most dramatic competition we had involved all three of us during our senior year.

On an early Spring Saturday on campus an all-day charity event was sponsored by a number of fraternities. The event had been more-or-less innocuous the last several years but the social chairmen from three different fraternities who organized the event this year were more "out-there" than their predecessors had been. For the first time the last event, in a long day, was a "Talent Contest." Entry to the venue where the contest was held was limited to 500 people, there was a cover charge of $10 all of which would go to charity, and there were beer sales inside where the profits would go to the charity. The winner (determined by crowd reaction) of the contest would get a $250 cash prize and a big outrageous trophy and their picture in The Lantern (the OSU student newspaper).

About an hour before the Talent Contest was to start, as I was walking around to other venues for the event, Jim Greene -- one of the organizers of the event and a friend of mine -- tracked me down. "Alicia, I really need you to compete in the talent contest; we had only a marginal number of participants to begin with and now two have dropped out. You can do your baton twirling act."

I was reluctant but then Jim said something that got me interested.

"You know that Brit Compton is competing, don't you; are you afraid to go up against her?"

Jim knew about my antagonistic relationship with PB. I stared at him and growled "Who else?"

He handed me a sheet of paper with six other names on it besides Brit's -- I mean PB's. One of the names was "Shirley Preston." Jim apparently didn't know about my antagonistic relationship with her. "I'll do it if I go on last," I snickered; "and you don't tell anyone else about it until just before I go on."

"Deal," he grinned, and we shook hands.

I quickly went to my apartment to change clothes to a much different outfit (which I put a trench coat over) and got my baton -- although I wasn't sure that I would actually be using it.

The crowd in the talent show venue -- probably all 500 people allowed -- was mostly male and mostly semi-drunk since this was the last event of a long day and beer had been sold throughout -- including brisk sales at the Talent Contest venue itself.. Jim Greene acted as the MC.

The first five participants got mostly only polite applause -- and some catcalls from the more inebriated members of the crowd. Two did standup comedy, one played a fairly wicked guitar, one did slam poetry, and one did a gymnastics act with hoops.

Then PB appeared on the stage in a leotard -- and even I had to admit that she did look hot. She did an exotic and sensual modern dance, more sensual than when she competed in the Miss Teen pageants. She got big cheers.

Not to be outdone that fucking tart LB appeared in a hula costume with leis around her neck that did not fully cover her prodigious bare mammaries. The crowd hooted and hollered like madmen as LB did a very credible hula not being particularly careful if her nipples occasionally peeked out as she performed. She got a raucous applause at the end.

LB looked triumphant, and PB looked pissed, as LB sauntered off the stage. Then Jim said "Our last performer is Alicia Rankin. She's told me that she won't perform unless I collect at least another $1,500 for charity." The crowd groaned, but then he continued "However, it's with a guarantee; if anyone doesn't like the performance she will personally refund their money."

Jim was surprised when I approached him with that deal just before PB went on stage. Jim's announcement caused a buzz. I went up on the stage and took off my trench coat -- my outfit raised a few eyebrows.

Jim had his helpers go through the crowd and in about ten minutes they returned with collected cash. Jim counted it out and announced "We're still $145 short." I whispered something to him. He smiled and continued "If someone makes that up they get to stand in front of the first row right at the stage and Alicia promises that they won't be disappointed."

Just then a really big handsome well-dressed dude -- someone I had never seen before -- walked up and handed Jim $145 in cash. The crowd cheered.

PB and LB stared daggers at me, while I smirked at them, as the stage was set for my performance. Since I had my baton I'm sure that they thought that I'd be doing my Junior Miss routine -- they were wrong.

While waiting for the collection of the $1500 I had gotten with the guy who was the DJ to make sure that he had "Birthday Cake" by Rihanna, and "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails in his repertoire. He did.

I had only done strip tease before for boyfriends or at raunchy hen parties, although I had studied it as part of a much broader curriculum in one of the elective art classes that I had taken and some of the moves were similar to my most provocative baton twirling moves. I so wanted to waste those antagonistic bitches Brit and Shirley that I channeled all of my concentration so that mentally I was in an erotic trance. Then after the intro as the words "Come and put cha name on it" from "Birthday Cake" started to play I started dancing. As a ruse I danced the first minute twirling the baton, but then I discarded it and started removing clothing.

Even though the outfit I had changed into was the one I had best suited for stripping it obviously was not a real stripper's costume; however, that seemed to make it "more real" for the semi-drunk to drunk guys in the venue as they started chanting and cheering. I really was in a physic realm I had never entered before, moving with more fluidity and sexuality than I had any other time in my life. When as the last lines of "Closer," namely "I drink the honey, Inside your hive, You are the reason I stay alive," were sung I kicked my last article of clothing -- my panties -- into the crowd.

Maybe the last move wasn't the smartest because a fight broke out in the first few rows of guys trying to snag my panties. The reaction of the crowd was deafening and continued for five minutes. During the cheering I stood naked next to the MC except when I picked up my bra and handed it to the guy who came up with the last $145. I did have my clothes -- except for my bra and panties -- in my arms -- while standing next to Jim but whoever was running the lights made sure that I had a spotlight on me not only during my entire performance but while I was standing naked next to Jim.

Finally Jim calmed everyone down, announced me as the clear winner based upon crowd reaction, awarded me the trophy, and I put my remaining clothes back on. I got another round of applause when I donated my $250 winnings to the charity.

By then PB and LB were long gone -- having left disgusted by the time that I had removed my bra.

As I left the stage, absent-mindedly forgetting my trophy and baton, I felt hornier than I ever had before in my life. Guys were lined up to give me high fives as I walked through the crowd. After a couple dozen high fives the big handsome dude who had provided the last $145 stepped in front of me with a big smile and with my bra around his neck. My panties immediately got wetter.

"Can I take you to a late dinner?" he asked.

"We should go somewhere," I smiled and took his arm, "as long as you remove my bra from your neck once we get into public."

I don't consider myself a skank -- but what I ultimately said to him once we got outside might contradict that.