Here’s another chapter with no fights in it, and to top that off the two girls that are going to fight in Chapter 4 aren’t even mentioned. So if you pass this one by I can’t say that I blame you. If you slog through it, you have my undying admiration.
THE GO-BETWEEN- CHAPTER 2
`
SIMONE
Excerpt from the unpublished autobiography MY FIGHTING LIFE by Simone Wilson……
It happened over 35 years ago, but I distinctly remember the first time I got inside another woman’s pussy during a fight. She screamed bloody murder while I had my index finger inside her pressed against my thumb outside. And I just started pulling. She was frantic and thrashing and yelling and I thought it was just wonderful. I was only 20 and she was probably close to 30, an experienced cat fighter, sure she could take me. Well, that didn’t happen. I asked her calmly if she was ready to give up, and she said “Yes, please stop.” I was a very happy girl that day. It’s so much fun to win.
But that was not my first fight…..
I was an army brat. My old man was a Colonel in the Army and we moved 7 times in 12 years. When I was 18 we were at Fort Bragg and I met First Lieutenant Bobby (all names here have been changed to protect the guilty) who was 22. We were married and almost immediately transferred to Fort Drum in the Adirondack Mountains near the Canadian border. Not much to do there in the long winters, but some of the officer’s wives did some recreational wrestling and they asked me to join. It was great fun and mostly harmless. It was then that I found out that Bobby was a catfight perv. He was always around on wrestling nights, keeping his distance with some of the other husbands who also liked to watch or referee.
I took naturally to the wrestling. I was strong and limber and had a drive to win that most of the other girls didn’t. Except for Joy. Joy was a Captain’s wife and she always gave me the toughest match. We split our matches pretty evenly, and I absolutely hated it the nights she got the best of me. One day the Captain approached Bobby with a proposition. Joy versus me in a private catfight with a bit of a wager on the outcome. Just the 4 of us there. Bobby tried to play it cool, and told the Captain he would check with me, but inside his heart was pounding. This would be a dream come true for him.
I needed no persuasion, even though I wasn’t quite certain what a “cat fight” exactly meant, but it sounded pretty exciting. So a week later the 4 of us were in a seedy motel off base where Joy and I were to fight. Having no clue about what was to happen I simply decided to follow Joy’s lead. When she stripped down to just her panties I followed suit. Captain said, “Good luck ladies! Go!”
In a second Joy had two handfuls of my tits, and I yelled, “Hey!”
“It’s a cat fight, bitch. Can’t you take it?” I lost badly and quickly. I went home a mess but Bobby was supportive.
“Call him tomorrow, and tell him I want a rematch.” And a week later we were back at the motel and this time I was ready to “cat fight.” And I beat her! And a week later I beat her again. And then the 4th time we fought was when I got inside her pussy as I described at the beginning of my story. That was the last time Joy wanted to fight, and we all went back to friendly wrestling. Whether the other women knew about the motel fights between Joy and me remains a mystery.
Not soon after, Bobby got drunk one night and smacked me upside the head hard, so I got one of his golf clubs and hit him over the head with it, packed my bags, got in my VW Beetle and headed for Vegas. That marriage was over. I will not allow a man to hit me. Ever.
When I got to Vegas I had no trouble getting a job as a cocktail waitress, and pretty much figured my fighting days were over. I told myself I only did it for Bobby because it turned him on so much, but I was lying to myself. I actually missed the wrestling and fighting, especially the cat fights. It was so primal and thrilling to fight Joy. It wasn’t hard for me to find mud wrestling in Vegas at that time. The money was decent, and although it was mostly fake at least I was wrestling.
One night after being in the mud, a wise guy approached me and asked if I’d be interested in something more serious…without the mud. I had heard of some underground catfights in Vegas, but nothing concrete. That night he took me off the strip to a warehouse where you needed a “secret knock” to get in. Inside was about a hundred guys (no women) surrounding a circular mat where 2 naked women were fighting. This was exactly what I was looking for. Good money and the thrill of the fight.
I stayed in Vegas for 8 years. By the time I left I was the manager of the bar I was waitressing at, and I fought any time I wanted at the Underground. Probably 20 times in all. Whenever I got the itch. Just called the mob guy and told him I was ready. I was reliable so they liked me. I always slipped one of the guys a grand to bet on me and since I won 2 for every one I lost the winnings were sweet. Then I met Roger.
Roger was rich. Really rich. He was a stock broker in New York on a Vegas vacation. He was recently divorced, a bit lonely and he fell for me totally. By the end of his vacation. He was proposing. I liked him well enough, and managed to keep him interested while still being non-committal. He returned to New York, but pestered me daily with phone calls and emails. I must have gotten flowers from him 5 days a week. My resistance crumbled and 6 months later I was in New York to marry him. I was 29, he was 47.
We lived in a $20 million home in Scarsdale, New York, just north of The City and one of the wealthiest communities in America. My new best friend was a gal across the street named Gwen. We could have been sisters. I loved her to death. One day she confessed that she was having a dispute with another neighbor who had been showing Gwen’s husband a bit too much attention.
“I’d love to beat the bitch to a pulp,” she told me.
“Well why don’t you do just that?”
“You mean fight her?”
“Sure. She hates you back, right? So fight her. I’ll arrange it if you want. We will keep it private and I’ll host it. Trust me, if you beat her in a fair fight you’ll feel great.”
“But what if she beat me up?”
“Well sometimes you gotta risk something to get the reward. And don’t worry, if you do lose, I’ll take good care of you.”
“Well let me sleep on it, and I’ll tell you my decision tomorrow.”
The next morning Gwen was at my door reporting that she had not slept a wink, tossing and turning thinking about fighting that bitch, Carla (that was the neighbor’s name). But only if I handled all the details. “Piece of cake,” I told her.
Later that day I sauntered down to Carla’s house with a tray of fresh baked brownies for her. “Hi Carla, here’s some brownies I just finished baking, and I wanted to let you know that Gwen wants to fight you at my house on Friday.” She practically feinted right there, but invited me in. We had brownies and coffee and a 45 minute chat, and the following Friday Gwen and Carla went down to my basement where Carla beat the shit out of Gwen. (I’m glad to report that 18 months later Gwen got her revenge, but not in my basement. More on that in a bit.)
Between the 2 Carla/Gwen fights Roger had a massive heart attack while walking on Wall Street and died on the spot. He was only 50. Stressful job. I really loved the dude and miss him to this day.
And after the Carla/Gwen fight came off without a hitch I realized that not only was I a decent cat fighter, I was also pretty good at setting up fights between other women. I got some business cards printed up and just made it clear to friends that I could provide a service. I also needed a better venue for the fights; one that would make the women as comfortable as they could be under such a stressful situation. A basement would not do!
Since I was now all alone in this huge home and I did have a large spacious attic with a stylish mansard roof I decided to transform it into a classic fight room. Contractors were called in. At one end of the room were two small changing rooms and a bathroom between them. The fighting area was 25x25 where a dark blue wrestling mat was special ordered to fit snugly. A white circle with a 20 foot diameter was painted onto the mat. Gwen asked why that was needed and I told her, “When a woman steps into that circle she must be aware that she is going to fight.” At the center of the circle I had the phrase “MAY THE BETTER WOMAN WIN” painted in white.
I thought about a spot light above the mat, but that seemed to be so harsh, so I had 70 strings of tiny white “fairy lights” strung across the ceiling. The women would appear to be fighting under the stars. I tried to make the environment as calming as possible for the two women about to go through hell.
I named the place “THE STAR PAD” and over the years many women have fought there. In fact the very first fight at The Star Pad was the Gwen vs Carla rematch.
I call this endeavor of mine a “business” but it is far from that. It is really just a hobby. There is no profit to speak of. I charge a nominal fee because the woman can afford it, and it adds an air of legitimacy to the desperate nature of two naked women tearing at each other. It took over 8 months for the next fight after Gwen/Carla (two mothers fighting after their kids had a dispute). It is all word of mouth referrals. Most years I’ll have 2 or maybe 3 fights. Some years none. The Star Pad is there when needed.
And, of course, I have used it myself on occasion. There was a gal named Wendy from New York that I had fought for money in Brooklyn 2 times (we each one won one) and I invited her to The Star Pad for a non-money fight for pride. She loved the place and beat me fair and square. She is probably the only woman that I have fought more than once that I have a losing record against.
I’m 58 years old now, and I’m pretty sure my fighting days are over (although you never say never). Now I just give passionate women a safe place to fight one another without interference. My very last fight was 4 years ago. And that one is worth mentioning because I broke a cardinal rule and fought a client. It’s just not a good idea, but I did it once and I’m happy I did.
Her name was Barbara and she was a loud mouth 50 something bleach blonde with big tits and a bit of a belly. She had come to The Star Pad to fight her sister-in-law, a gal named Monica who appeared to be a a very good match physically for Barbara. But her heart wasn’t in it and Barbara handled her easily. In fact I thought Barbara could have ended the fight earlier but seemed to enjoy making Monica suffer. Just as Monica was about to give up, Barbara would break her hold and back off and urge Monica to get up and fight again. She did that around 3 times before Monica gave her surrender.
I rarely interfere in the fights. The women need to settle things on their own, and don’t want anyone bothering them while they fight. So I didn’t say anything to Barbara during the fight but I did mention afterwards that I thought she was a bit too cruel. She was toweling down her naked body and relishing her victory and didn’t take the criticism very well. The next day I got a text from her, “I want to take advantage of your service once again, and this time fight you.”
I politely declined, but she persisted, at least once a week I’d get another challenge from her. Finally, I realized this woman would never take no for answer and I agreed with two stipulations. First $5,000 to the winner (I thought that might scare her off) and a no-limits no-rules fight (I thought that might scare her off). She quickly accepted. Now I had done no-rules fights when I was younger. The wise guys paid good money for them but they are just damn dangerous. I have never allowed a no-rules fight at The Star Pad.
Gwen always comes over on fight days. But she rarely watches. She just drinks coffee down in the kitchen and be available if I need her. She will usually come up to the Pad after a fight to see if I need help with the loser. Well for this one she needed to be the 3rd person in the room, since I was going to be occupied. She agreed of course but told me “I’m not going to look.”
It was indeed brutal. More face punching than I had done or seen in years. My nose was bloodied and she had a cut over one eye. Our tits took an incredible beating. After a pretty even beginning I began to take control. I never ever ask a woman I give up unless I’m certain I’m going to win. It’s just disrespectful to the woman you are fighting. But I was going to win this one and I asked her a couple of times to admit that I was the better woman. She refused. So I worked my way behind her and choked her to unconsciousness. I extricated myself from her and Gwen came over to wake her up.
When she came to she said, “What happened?”
Gwen told her, “You got your ass kicked honey.”
So if that was my last fight, so be it. It was a good hard fair fight between women who wanted to fight each other. And I won! If I never fight again, I will miss it everyday.
And if you know two women who want to fight……
