The case of the missing model Episode 8
By the Masked Writer
The crowd is already booing me as I walk towards the ring. My opponent is already in her corner. She is a young, tall, blonde girl, probably in her late twenties or early thirties.
I get through the ropes taking care of not catch my high heels in them.
Yes. That is the gimmick of this match. It’s MMA type. We both wear fingerless gloves but see, we are in pantyhose (mine are black, the other girl’s are red) and high heels. With our bras (same color as the pantyhose).
Réal, the Master, takes the microphone. I can hear is oily voice announcing the fight.
-In the blue corner, a spy who has also raised her hands on our sacred Mistress. (Boooohs and Hisses) At 5 feet 5 and 130 pounds. The one with the big saggy breast (Scoudnrel ! My breast DON’T sag ! Well, not much) , the flabby ass (flabby ?) and the jelly rolls at the waist ( I don’t have jellyrolls… or they are small anyway) : Anika Cross !
More boohs and hisses. But the Master is going on :
-Her opponent ! In the red corner ! At 5 fit 8 and 132 pounds, Noemie Bryant !
The crowd cheers and I take a closer look at my opponent. She is not that much taller than me but really more athletic. Solid shoulders, bulging biceps, six-pack, long muscular legs. She makes me conscious of my body. I DO have a few jellyrolls after all, my ass is a not really flabby but not what it once was, my boobs may not be really saggy but hers are small and rock-hard. Beside hers, my arms seems to have no muscle.
What’s more, something in her demeanor, is it the steel-hard look in her blue eyes, or the way she wears her hair in a ponytail, or apparent stiffness of her back ? she has something of the military. Or a cop ?
I don’t have too much time to wonder. The bell rings. Then we walk hesitantly towards the middle of the ring. I advance stumbling towards my opponent. The elasticity of the mattress supported by springs is really not the ideal surface for walking with pumps. It actually is scary. I always feel like I'm about to break my ankle or collapse on the floor. No question of jumping or even running in these conditions! My only consolation is that blonde, in front of me, does not seem to be doing better. Rather less well, in fact. A real sportswoman, she rarely wears high heels, I think. It might be my only advantage.
As I said, it is supposed to be MMA style but kicks are basically out of the question. Neither of us is stable enough on our pumps to risk it. So, after a few seconds of going in circles and trying to gauge each other, I throw my first punch. A right aiming at the girl’s pretty face. She blocks it expertly and replies in kind. I narrowly dodge it by moving my head but I feel the leather of her glove grazing my cheek. Just enough to feel a glimpse of the force she has. This girl means business and knows how to pack a punch. Not good.
Having more of a background in grappling sports than in boxing, I figure my best shot is at grabbing her hand-in-hand and bring her to the ground but that is more easily said than done. Fighting on high heels is not ideal for lightning-quick moves. On the other hand she is even clumsier on those than I am. So I go for it and, ducking to avoid another punch, I try to grab her in a bear hug. But I underestimated her reflexes and she lands a few punches in my ribs. Not only does it hurt like hell and takes my breath away but it slows me down just enough for her to be able to back off, even while wobbling on her heels.
Except she gets her back on the ropes, so I dive forward towards her waist. But she is a smart fighter : she lies back on the rope, improving balance, so she can stand on one feet, lifting her other leg and sending her knee right in my lower belly. The pain literally blinds me and paralyses me for a second. She then sends an uppercut to my chin and, raising my head, dizzy and in pain, I quickly try to back off. Would have work with any other pair of shoes but my heels literally get caught in the canvas, the swing of the ring’s floor makes me lose balance, so when her next punch lands on my cheek, however at arm’s length she is, I just fall and spread myself out on the mat.
In normal circumstances she would have dived towards me but she is extra careful with her high heels, giving me time to make a sweeping motion on my foot, mowing her legs and hitting her behind the knee. She falsl on all four and I grab her right arms, pulling it so as to make her fall on her face. Only she was stronger than I expected and kept herself up on her left arm. I sit up to use both hands but she saw me coming and jumped on me. We hug each other, each trying to overthrow the other. She had a better balance on her knees than I did on my butt and I fell, with her on top of me. I roll over, dragging her behind me, she continues the movement and we roll, entwined, our legs sheathed in red and black nylon intertwined, on the mattress. I feel her muscular body against mine, both slippery and glistening with sweat. When she's on top of me, her breasts crush mine. Finally, our legs find themselves in the ropes. We're about to roll out of the ring when the referee steps in.
Let’s just say he is not being delicate :He grabs my opponent by the waist while she’s on top of me and lifts her up to throw her in the middle of the ring while I run like a mare, trying to hit her with my stilettos. He then grabs me an ankle and drags me a good distance from the tall blonde.
-Stand up ! Both of You! He growls.
So we both get on our feet. My opponent quicker than me. I begin to feel the fatigue of the fight. My legs are shaking, my breath is short and my arms are heavy. My opponent, by contrast, looks fresh as a rose. Barely a layer of sweat shining on her muscular body to indicate that she fought. I hate to admit it, but my 56 years are starting to weigh me down against her twenty-some. Nature is a bitch !
I must finish this quick or I am going to get a hell of a beating. I can’t go on very long like this. When I take my first step towards her, I feel like my legs are made of cotton.
Worse. She is getting better on her high heels. As we make contact, I can feel she is getting steadier while my legs are shaking. I try to grab her left arm in an armlock but she strong enough to resist and she then grabs me by the waist and gives me a hip twist which sends me heels over head again, landing hard on the mattress. Now she loses no time and, before I can move, she has her knee in my stomach, and starts punching my on the head, I try to protect my self with my arms but then she just gets her knee deeper in my belly while raining punches on my breast and ribs. She then goes for my right arm. Wiggling like a worm, I manage to slip out from under his knee and roll onto my stomach, folding my arms under me to give her as little grip as possible. She straddles my buttocks and starts hitting me on the neck, the back and the ribs. As I try to raise my head she folds her arms around my neck and lift me enough to wrap her legs around my waist, holding me in a choke hold and a body scissor at the same time. She rolls on the side and I find myself over her. I can’t breathe and I feel the singular pinch of the lack of blood in my brain. I struggle trying to elbow, try to shake the grip with my hands but she holds me firmly and her position is perfect. My elbows don’t reach any sensitive point and my hands are not strong enough to push back her muscular arms.
The the most incredible happens. She whispers to my ear :
-Don’t worry ! You’ll be out of her soon !
I am struck as by lightning. So much that I, for a second, stop fighting. What’s that suppose to mean ?
Then the choke hold gets me and I faint.
To be continued
