15 Polenta - best served cold
“Vic, I’m truly surprised…and very happily so…by Wendy’s efforts.” I surveyed Emily’s beach bar, filled to capacity for the launch of our third CD. There was even a desk at the entrance where Wendy was doing brisk business selling our first and second CDs.
“I’m surprised too, Peter,” Kelly chimed in. “She’s done amazingly well, considering her lack of experience and training.” She sniffed. “She has some brains after all!”
I took a deep breath and the dangerous step of ignoring Kelly. “Vic, I take back everything I said…or thought…about Wendy being a fifth wheel. She’s done wonders.” I wasn’t going to confess that I’d thought Vic’s engaging Wendy as a part time office manager for our burgeoning sideline in CD’s was just a way of him paying off his mistress. My honesty didn’t go that far. It didn’t have to.
Vic smiled. “Even I’m surprised at how she turned Bethany’s idea…you saw her email suggesting a launch here…into a polished professional and…so far…very successful event. And she did it all in a few weeks!”
I nodded. I’d been surprised, when I’d seen Bethany’s sketchy ideas at the foot of an email chain, at how rough and unformed they were. That was unlike Bethany. I looked on them as a sort of conversation starter and expected Bethany to work them up once we’d given feedback. Instead it seemed she had handed the work off to Wendy, who had gone on and created the event single handed.
I’d said as much to Kelly earlier. She’d merely nodded, saying, “Bethany has some issues she needs to sort out.” Kelly’s tone suggested she was less than pleased with her junior colleague.
Kelly's displeasure might have been the real reason why Bethany had piked out; she'd rung earlier saying she had a migraine. I don't think she expected I'd believe that. I'd find out why Bethany was out of favour sometime– Kelly would tell me when it suited her or Bethany would sob on my shoulder. Just now wasn't the time to push it. If all else failed, I’d sweet talk one of the other staff.
My girl had come full circle in terms of her attitude to our CD business. That made me think, not for the first time, that her initial distaste toward the idea was a façade, adopted for some other devious reason. Indeed it probably was – adopting that attitude had allowed her to throw Bethany at me. That in turn had made me realise how much more I wanted than the sex that was all that Bethany had to offer – great sex though it was. Now though, Kelly was clearly irritated and I wondered if Bethany’s apparently cavalier attitude to the work she had done for Vic and I was the reason for that.
None of that mattered now however. Wendy had put on a great function. People were streaming in and many of them were buying the earlier CDs in the series. We would just about cover the cost of the event through sales alone. When I congratulated Wendy, she’d been modest. “The launch was Bethany’s idea. So was the venue. I built on it with Emily’s help."
“There’s a world of difference between conception and reality,” I argued. “Don’t sell yourself short. The credit’s yours. The guest list alone is a marvel. You selected just the right kind of people that we want to target.”
Indeed she had, and from many different circles. One group was our friends, people like the Tennant sisters, Bea and Gus Holst and Ivor and Marie Gurney, all of them well heeled young people who exercised regularly and – especially in winter – would like to do some more at home. Then there were young professional wannabes – people like Bethany and the other junior marketers at Kelly’s office, who were not as well off. Finally, there were people like Wendy herself, men and women who loved to parade up and down the beach meat market in the summer, knowingly flaunting themselves. They wanted to look good but struggled to find the money for expensive gym contracts. The CD with a lot of home exercises would help them. Wendy seemed to have successfully tapped into multiple market segments of the fitness craze – and had gotten them all here tonight.
Not that the groups were mutually exclusive. Elena Savoy was a cross over. Until recently I’d have put her in the ‘eye candy’ class, along with some of her friends she’d invited along to the function. But now that she was dating Malcolm Sergeant I had to revise my pigeon holing. The way she was marketing herself – to use an unkind but accurate description – she’d soon be in the first class as Malcolm’s partner or maybe even his wife.
I walked over to see her. She was standing with Michael and a plump buxom high cheeked blonde amid a group of younger people. Elena and the blonde stood out from the rest of the group by the way they were dressed. The ‘eye candy’ girls didn’t dress identically of course but their cheapish costume jewellery, revealing tops, short skirts and tight pants always distinguished them from the others – just like Elena, the blonde and even Wendy.
Despite the cold outside, Elena wore a bright red halter that stretched tight to just restrain her pert 36B breasts, and skin tight wet looking spandex leggings above calf-length stiletto heeled boots. The outfit displayed most of her tummy. Her blonde friend’s checked blouse was knotted just below her impressive rack and had several buttons undone at the top. Her short skirt clung to her hips and butt. Both girls showed plenty of flesh – arms, legs and body were equally on display.
Elena's attitude though, distinguished her from her friend. I'd noticed her when they first came in with a small group, Elena's arm around Malcolm's waist, her other hand gesturing, waving, her voice loud. No one missed her entry. She had pulled back her long black and white striped coat, holding it open with her free hand on her hip as she chatted with Wendy who was marking names off the guest list. As I looked again now, she was still standing with her hand on her hip and one leg slightly forward of the other, just like a model on a catwalk. She was flaunting her figure.
All the other girls in the circle were dressed differently. Their tastes were diverse but there was a pattern. Most were in jeans and sweaters – some of them eye-catchingly tight – while a few wore dresses or skirts with blouses. Jewellery was at a minimum, and none of their outfits revealed anything like the flesh that Elena and her friend displayed.
.
Elena didn’t seem happy, and smiled only briefly when I entered their circle. Still she greeted me warmly with a kiss on the lips and a tight hug. She introduced her blonde friend. “Peter, meet my roomie, Trudi Zoliski. Trudi, Peter is one of the guys running this party.” She smiled and quickly brushed my arm. “He wants you to buy his relaxation and exercise CDs.” She dropped her voice and added, “He’s seriously loaded.”
She turned her attention back to the group. “But like I said…Bethany didn’t do zip. You all know Peter Balfour…he’s behind this whole CD business. He’ll tell you…Wendy did it all.”
I could tell that her audience was sceptical. Many of the girls I recognized from social events that Kelly’s firm organized. They worked with Bethany and would support her against the likes of Bethany and Wendy. And so it proved. Elena became louder and more agitated as she tried to convince them of what I saw as no more than the truth – Wendy had built on Bethany’s foundation to be sure, but the edifice was substantially Wendy’s work.
The other women didn’t hesitate to disparage Wendy. Some of them already knew that Wendy was Vic’s mistress, and those that didn’t, knew in a few moments. “Shut up!” a blonde snapped at Elena. “That blonde slut Wendy has no experience or training. She’s just a piece of hot ass.”
“Crap!” retorted Elena. “You prissy bluebloods…you can’t stand a working girl getting the credit.”
“A working girl…oh yeah!” giggled the blonde, “What street light does Wendy work under?” Elena was speechless, her face red with rage as the others piled on.
“Bethany must have done all the work and Vic is giving his whore the credit.” I was amazed to hear Alison Baur defend Bethany. They had fought, not two months before, and I’d have thought they were the fiercest enemies.
“You’re right,” said another woman whose name I had forgotten, “Wendy’s no more than eye candy. She’s just sleeping her way to the top.”
“Snotty rich skanks, all of you!” Elena spat.
I realised that whether the girls at the agency liked Bethany or not, they disliked someone like Wendy – or Elena for that matter – far more than they may have disliked Bethany. They were like bison circling to protect the herd against outsiders, and they were succeeding, shouting down an increasingly angry and frustrated Elena.
“Elena, honey…please.” Malcolm had returned with some drinks. He tried to calm his girl down. “Forget it. You’re getting nowhere. You’re not going to persuade them. You’re just making a scene.” Indeed she was. Elena’s face was flushed, her voice was raised and she looked like she’d lash out at any moment. “Come on, I’ll get you and Trudi a drink.” He slipped his arm though hers and all but dragged her away from the group.
I spent a moment more trying to convince the women that Wendy had put the event together, with no more success than Elena.
“Peter, why do you bother?” I turned just as Kim Curzon slipped her arm around my waist. “Even if you
are right, you surely know that Wendy wouldn’t have gotten the job as office manager if she wasn’t Vic’s slut. What is she after all? Some hick from Freeport, that’s all.”
I shook my head. I had no answer to that. Kim was right. Vic had arranged for his mistress to get the job all right, but it just seemed that she was more than competent. Still, that could have been said about countless other office girls. Wendy got the job by opening her legs.
“Elena’s problem is that she feels inferior- and she is. What education has she? Junior college at best. She lived on a typist’s wage, sharing some cheap apartment with some other girls- until she got her claws into Malcolm,” Kim continued. “She’s just like Wendy. Malcolm’s the best thing she’s got going for her. At least they’re an item, not like Wendy who will only ever be Vic’s mistress.” She sighed. “I feel sorry for Vic’s wife. I’d feel sorry for Wendy but she knew what she was getting herself into.”
I didn’t argue. It wasn’t going to do any good and anyway, I was the host. I had to mingle. After one last sales pitch for the CDs, I excused myself from the girls and went to speak with some of my friends.
It must have been about twenty minutes later when Vi Tennant nudged me. I’d been chatting to her and a few friends. “Peter, isn’t that girl –” she pointed “– Elena Savoy’s friend? They came together, didn’t they?” I looked. It was indeed Trudi Zoliski. “Surely you aren’t paying the bartenders to flirt with the guests…though to be fair I think it’s the other way around…she’s flirting with him.” Vi was right. Trudi had her hand resting on the waiter’s arm as she spoke to him. She dropped her hand and brushed his other arm with her shoulder.
Emily, the bar owner, stepped out from behind the bar. I didn’t catch what she said to her bartender but he flushed and went on his way. Elena went over to Emily. She was talking loudly enough that I could hear every word. Not only was she loud but her face was flushed too – I suspected from drinking. She sounded as though she was in that ‘in between’ state – neither quite sober nor really drunk. “Oh, lighten up! Trudi was just getting to know him. She wasn’t doing any harm.”
Emily turned on her. “If your friend wants to chat up Wayne, she can do so after he finishes work.” She smiled and added, "Of course, that’s if wants to pay the going rate for her services.” She turned her back and stalked off before Elena could say anything. “I’d be thinking Wayne’s got better taste in women.” She spotted me eavesdropping and said, “Wayne was the one who helped your friend…Bethany…after your girl and Beth’s sister clashed. He drove them home.”
Elena stood there muttering angrily with her hands on her hips, glaring at Emily’s back as she returned to the bar. Again Malcolm walked over to calm her down, offering her another drink. I thought that might be the last thing she needed, but I decided not to say anything.
As I wandered off in search of Kelly – I hadn’t seen her in a while and I thought I'd better see if she needed a drink or some food – I heard Elena raise her voice again. “But Malcolm…Trudi wasn't annoying anyone! She'd only been talking to him for a moment. It's always the same! Wherever we go, people sneer at me!” Malcolm went to say something but she cut him off. “No! I
won't be quiet! They sneer at Wendy too. Look how those snotty bitches whined and mocked Wendy, like she's dumb and couldn't plan this launch. It's not even like she’s trying to claim all the credit. She says…she’s always said…that she built on some marketing girl's ideas.” She downed her drink.
Again Kim approached from behind and hooked her arm through mine as I listened. What can you expect?” she asked. “Elena…Wendy…they’re just trailer trash.” She looked up at me, her tone less flippant. “But seriously Peter, you should do something. They’re beginning to spoil the night.”
I looked sharply at her, surprised. “They? Wendy's just selling CDs.” I looked across the crowded room to where Wendy was still sitting at the desk beside the door. Michael Tippett was sitting on the corner of the desk, chatting to her and some of the customers. I’d have to buy him a decent bottle of red for amusing the customers and keeping Wendy happy.
Kim pouted. “You don’t understand!”
“Maybe he doesn’t… but I do.” It was Kelly. “You can’t flirt with Michael when he’s chatting with Wendy. Why are you worried, though? You can flirt with any other unattached man. After all, you usually do.”
Kim flushed, her face as red as her hair. She stalked off.
“You’re a bit harsh on her, dear.” I ventured. “Kim might be seriously interested in Michael. They’d make a good couple.”
“Don’t kid yourself. The only thing that tramp is seriously interested in is herself and her ambitions.”
I knew better than to press Kelly for an explanation. I’d find the reason for her hostility toward Kim soon enough.
Kelly went on. “She’s right about Elena, though you’d have to be blind not to see that there’ll be hell to play if Elena doesn’t pipe down. Malcolm needs to man up and tell her to shut her mouth. He should cut off her alcohol supply.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what Malcolm sees in that slut. She might make a good mistress like her gutter trash friend Wendy has for Vic, but Malcolm seems to genuinely like her as well.”
A few moments later, I was surprised to see Vi talking with Trudi. I detoured to catch a piece of their conversation and was even more surprised to hear Vi asking questions about Elena. I knew Vi despised Elena and disliked her for taking Malcolm from Vi’s sister Margot and then thrashing Margot in the alley next to the H H Richardson Bar. I couldn’t begin to understand why Vi would make Elena her topic of conversation. I shrugged my shoulders. It was none of my business anyway. I continued to work my way around the room, greeting people, thanking some for buying the CDs, suggesting to others they might like to do so, chatting and mingling generally.
Sometime later my attention was diverted by a small commotion at the bar. I looked over. Elena was lecturing Emily about the service. She had a point – the service had been slow. Emily’s excuse – that she hadn’t expected our function to be so popular and that she’d catered for our original estimate – didn’t wash. We’d updated her, so she should have been better organized. Nevertheless, the popularity of the event had surprised even us.
Elena snarled, “You’ll never make a success of this bar, all
terroni are lazy and they never work.”
I’d forgotten the animosity between northern and southern Italians. I knew Elena’s forbears came from Milan and that Emily’s haled from Pulia. I suppose they’d talked before and now Elena’s slur ‘
Terroni’ – the contemptuous word that northern Italians used for the southerners – was raising Emily’s ire.
“You
polentona whore! I worked hard to get this bar, harder than you at your office job! What did you do? If you weren’t fucking him –” her sweeping arm almost hit Michael “ – you’d be nothing! Get out of my bar!”
“Your bar?” sneered Elena. “It’s only
your bar because your biker gang friends gave it to you.”
It struck me that Elena might be right. Emily’s bar was frequented by a lot of rough types and Emily did seem more than friendly towards some of them. It was that sort of beach. Even in high summer, the beach changed character come mid-afternoon. All the families would pack up and leave the beach to the twenty- and thirty-somethings. The meat market would hot up with women like Wendy and Elena flaunting themselves. The bikers came into their own as the sun set, with beach parties and bands. . They didn’t completely take over the place – there were lots of others there – but there would often be scuffles and occasionally even a full-on fight. Not always between the bikers either. After all, this was the beach where Kelly had reduced that arrogant, strutting brunette Jenn Peccavi to a snivelling begging nothing – and then whored her out to a bunch of men who’d watched the fight. That was the sort of beach it was. No, it didn’t surprise me that Emily might owe the bikers something for her bar.
Nevertheless, Elena’s comment certainly made Emily furious. She was half-way into a stinging slap that looked like it would have taken Elena’s head off, but she pulled her hand back at the last moment. “This isn’t the place or the time,” she said, the struggle for control evident in her voice. “I got customers to deal with. But – ” she looked at her watch “I’ll be able to deal with you outside in fifteen minutes. That’s if you don’t run away beforehand.”
“You’ll want to run away before I’m finished with you,” Elena snarled. “Bring it on,
terrona slut!”
Fifteen minutes later we – or at least those who had stuck around till the end of the event – were standing outdoors on the beach side of the bar. I did a quick headcount. Immediately to the left of Kelly and me were Vic and Wendy and immediately to our right was Malcolm. Next to him were Michael and Kim. Kim held Michael’s hand tightly as if she was worried he’d fly away if she let go. She alternated between simpering soulful stares at Michael and looking daggers at Wendy
There were a few people – mainly girls from Kelly’s agency and men who I guessed were their boyfriends – standing between Michael and Elena’s friend Trudi, whose arm was wrapped around the waist of Wayne the bartender. The circle was completed by some people I didn't know. Perhaps they were some of the crowd that Wendy had attracted to the launch with her great work.
The grass was brown, sparse and interspersed with sandy patches. Emily had stripped off her work clothes and stood in a loose top and shorts despite the cold. For the first time I had a good look at Emily. She was probably an inch or two taller than Elena, though it was hard to tell when Elena wore heels and Emily was in flat shoes. I’d say Emily was about five foot seven, close to my own height. She was bigger than Elena too in just about every respect – broader across the shoulders with better developed arms. I wasn’t surprised to hear she was a competitive swimmer. She had broader hips and a bigger, though still shapely, butt. She was also much better endowed – I’d have given her a 38DD bust. Sure, like many Italian women she might run to fat later, but for now she was a very sexy package.
Emily’s casual attire gave her the advantage on Elena, who was still in her party gear though she’d shucked off her jewellery and her coat. She stood now in her halter and leggings, her spike heels digging into the sandy ground.
The girls wasted no time circling, instead charging straight at each other. Each grabbed a clump of the other’s hair. Elena tried to punch at Emily’s chest. The slightly taller Emily yanked the blonde backwards, swinging her to the side and Elena’s punch hit the air. Emily brought her knee up trying to pound Elena’s side but Elena shoved the knee away. Again Emily tugged on Elena’s blonde mane, again yanking her foe sideways. Elena stumbled, remaining on her feet only because of the mutual grip both girls had on each other’s hair. Elena slapped at Emily’s face and hit hard enough to elicit a hiss of pain. Emily slammed her fist into Elena’s cheek. Elena’s head rocked back. Elena gasped.
Emily followed her blow with another punch. She drew back her hand quite deliberately, then slammed it forward. The punch was clearly telegraphed but Elena, held tightly by her hair, her body bent awkwardly, couldn’t move in time. The powerful blow struck home on Elena’s bare belly with a loud thud. The blonde groaned even more loudly. Her knees buckled.
“Hell, I thought she'd put up more of a fight.” Vic said what I'd been thinking.
I nodded. “We've both seen Elena fight twice. I know Margot wasn’t her first fight either. No one but a seasoned fighter would have shown the aggression she did that time.”
“Yeah…so I'm amazed to see her falter so early.”
“Guys, it’s not over,” Malcolm retorted, clearly stung by Vic's comments. “Remember that skill and determination she had when she took on those rednecks at Wrigley Field. She came back several times to beat them both. She had hardly any help from Wendy.”
He was right, but what he didn’t say was even more to the point. Elena was accustomed to winning. She was confident – but was she overconfident, this time?
“You may be right but just now, Elena’s in trouble.” Kelly spoke no more than the truth.
Elena gagged, she spluttered even as she stood up again to face her foe. Emily brought her fist back for another blow
Even with Emily’s grip on her hair however, Elena was able to swing her head. She dropped slightly then sprung forward and upwards, cannoning her head into Emily’s rack. Emily gasped and as she lost her grip on Elena’s hair, Elena released her own hold and scurried back, breathing hard.
Emily pursued her. Taking advantage of her slightly longer reach, she swung from her hips, her arm extended, slapping hard at Elena’s face. The first slap hit hard on Elena’s cheek with a smack that could be heard yards away. The second slapped home equally hard, rocking Elena’s head sideways. Emily followed that with a hard punch that Elena couldn’t quite avoid by pivoting on her left foot. The punch hit her side, not the knockout blow I suspect Emily hoped for, but the groan that it elicited from Elena told us all that it had nevertheless damaged the blonde still more.
Elena scurried away to regroup. Emily’s charge toward her was stopped when Elena kicked high. The kick just kissed Emily’s side as she hurriedly swerved to avoid what might have been a nasty blow to her midriff. Unfazed, the tall brunette swung to her left, closing the gap between her and Elena. She swung her left fist at Elena's head. Elena bobbed down and the punch missed.
Elena seized the chance while Emily was stretched out to fire a counterpunch at Emily's midsection. The blow hit – hard – and Emily reeled back spluttering. “I told you the fight wasn't over!” Malcolm said proudly. “Indeed, it’s only just begun.”
Elena attacked again, just as hard, just as ruthlessly, just as confidently as she had against the two girls at Wrigley. She didn't leave Emily any time to recover as she pressed forward, slapping just the same way as Emily had, swinging from the hips for maximum force, striking repeatedly as Emily retreated. Half a dozen clearly damaging slaps hit home on Emily's face and each drew a gasp or a groan, each rocked Emily's head before the brunette rallied. But rally she did and started slapping back solidly. For perhaps thirty seconds the two women stood face to face, trading blows. Neither defended, each just hit the other as hard as she could. Somewhat to my surprise, it was Emily who weakened first. She started defending. Elena continued slapping hard. Maybe one in three of her slaps landed, but they continued to wreak the same damage as her earlier blows.
“Two strong powerful women fighting, and don’t you just love it, Peter Balfour?” Kelly whispered in my ear. “I’d be ashamed of you as my boyfriend…if I didn’t like watching it just as much as you do.” She squeezed my arm tightly. “Watch them trade blows. Watch them…strong, experienced, determined. Both alphas. But one will win and one…well, she won’t be an alpha any longer.”
I squeezed her arm in return, just above the elbow. That never ceased to make Kelly all but whimper with sexual desire. But that could wait. We had a fight to watch.
Emily kicked out. Elena, committed to a slap, faltered but managed to turn and avoid her foe's foot. She stumbled, then retreated as Emily counterattacked by firing light jabbing punches at the blonde’s midsection. Elena defended doggedly, twisting, parrying and dodging so that few of the blows hit home, but it seemed that she couldn't find an opening to attack herself. Her attempted punches were brushed aside and while few of Emily's punches hit, none of Elena's did.
Emily applied more pressure, her punches becoming full roundhouse blows, not the lighter jabs they had been. While still few hit home, those that did took an increasing toll. Elena grunted, groaned and gagged. She began to breathe heavily, her chest heaving as she sucked in air and even in the poor light we could see her reddened face and the sweat staining her top.
Emily pushed harder still, mixing up her punches – some aimed at the blonde's chest, some at her sides, some at her middle. Elena’s defense began to disintegrate and the big brunette’s fists thudded home more often. Elena broke away. She was weakening before our eyes.
Emily came after her confidently, her arms firing. Elena kicked out hard and missed but suddenly Emily faltered, stumbling back screaming and bringing her hands up to her eyes. “Your bitch kicked sand into Emily's eyes!” Vic was furious; though I’m sure he'd have cheered had it been Wendy doing the kicking.
“An accident, that's all,” Malcolm retorted. “It's a beach! There's sand everywhere.”
Accidental or deliberate, the kick's results had given Elena some respite and she quickly turned that respite into a counter attack. She kicked again, this time landing her foot in the pit of Emily's stomach. The brunette folded, her hands clutching her tummy. Elena grabbed her foe by the hair and tried to slam Emily's head down onto her own upraised knee but Emily shoved with her hands on Elena's pert breasts. She forced the blonde – unstable with only one foot on the ground – backward and foiled her attack. Emily retreated several paces, rubbing her eyes and spitting out sand. The two women resumed their stance, each more wary now.
Careful not to give Emily a good target, Elena danced around the still blinking, coughing brunette, firing jabbing punches. Now it was Emily who grimly – and not very successfully – defended. Elena's punches hammered the brunette's midsection, her chest and flanks. Emily stumbled. In less than a minute she gave up trying to stand her ground and parry or dodge Elena's attacks. Instead she retreated, scurrying to her left.
Elena followed, firing punches, most of which missed as Emily kept moving. “Elena's tiring,” Vic said. “She needs a quick victory.”
“Maybe…but she'll get it. She's outthought Emily,” Malcolm replied.
They both seemed to be right. Elena was moving more slowly and puffing even more, but her light persistent jabs were shepherding a still disorientated Emily back towards the brick wall of the bar. The brunette didn’t realise her plight until her back actually hit the wall. She gasped and turned slightly, opening herself to the pile driving punch that Elena hammered into her midsection.
Emily gagged and lurched forward, spittle spraying from her mouth. She just avoided a second punch to the same area. Instead it hit her side, hard enough to elicit a gasp and another spray of spittle but not enough to end the fight. It made Emily retreat though and again her back hit the wall but this time her fists were up. She jabbed hard with her left while keeping her right close to her body in defense. Then she used the wall to her advantage. Bracing herself against it, she kicked high and her foot sank deep into Elena's stomach. The blonde reeled back, gagging, her face crimson.
What was worse for Elena was that Emily had escaped from her trap and the wide eyed, horrified stare she fixed on Emily told us she knew it. Emily darted to the blonde's side, punching hard. A tired Elena dragged her body a round to face her attacker. Emily attacked with quick jabbing punches again. She was soon breaking through her foe's defenses with increasing frequency. Each punch elicited a gasp and even in the half light cast by the lamps, I could see the puffs of frosty air drawn from Elena's lungs with each punch as Emily started slugging in earnest. The gasps became groans. Elena retreated and Emily followed, giving her no time to regroup. She kept firing increasingly hard punches at the blonde, mixing them up, giving Elena no real chance to defend herself. The punches hit home on Elena’s face, her shoulders, her upper body and her belly. The blonde wilted visibly. Her face told of her shock and horror. She knew she was being hammered. I’m sure she knew by now that she was outclassed. She broke off, scurrying back quickly.
“Elena's shot her bolt!” Vic sneered. “She’s had it.”
Again Emily pursued her. Elena tried to kick out again and Emily, wary now of the sand, stepped back a couple of paces. Elena tried to advance – still plucky, or perhaps just hoping for a miracle. Emily fired a solid punch that smacked into Elena’s face with a loud thud. “That’s because you were annoying my guests.” Elena’s head snapped back. Emily brought her fists up for a second punch. Up – slowly – came Elena’s hands. She was clearly running on empty.
In went Emily’s left fist – low – crashing into Elena’s stomach. “That’s because you abused my staff.” Elena reeled backwards.
Emily’s right fist pounded almost the same spot. “
That’s because you abused me…
polentona! “Elena doubled over. Her ass jiggled slightly in her tight leggings. Even in near defeat she was a sexy bitch. She evaded Emily’s attempt to grab her hair and stood upright, panting.
Emily launched a punch at Elena’s face. Elena blocked it but Emily’s other fist crashed again into her belly. “And
that’s because you’re a loudmouthed, bad mannered whore.” Emily’s fist seemed to sink in almost to the wrist. Elena doubled forward, she turned greenish. I thought she was going to vomit up her drink. But by some miracle of willpower she stood up again. She tried to fire another shot. Emily evaded it easily. She fired another shot, once more at the blonde’s jaw. It hit. “And
that’s because you’re a drunken slut.” Elena tottered then crashed to the sand, knocked out cold.
Emily stood there. She smiled momentarily.
“No, I won’t! She deserved it.” Kim’s voice was raised, I guessed in answer to some comment from Michael that I hadn’t heard. “I helped those girls at Wrigley because Elena and Wendy picked the fight. Let Wendy help her if she cares to. I don’t care to, and I don’t see Wendy helping either.”
I looked around, expecting to see Trudi rushing to help Elena. Instead she stood with her back to the bar wall necking with Wayne.
Malcolm went over and knelt beside Elena, murmuring something. He helped her to stand and then, with his arm around her waist for support and her head leaning on his shoulder, they made their uncertain way towards the parking lot, Elena stumbling every few steps.
“So now she knows the bitterness of defeat,” Kelly said to no one in particular.
It was something Kelly had never known. Nor did I expect she ever would.
My thanks to all manner of people, Emily and Elena the two contestents who agreed to me writing about them and to how the fight should go and who gave me lots of suggestions; to Kimberleythesp and Blondiecatfights the originals of Kim and Wendy respectively who also agreed to appear and who help me with ideas too; to Braveheart who read this and helped me with ideas, to Golden Girl who was a wonderful sounding board and to the Scribbler who edited this and helped suggest the title. And of course to my readers. Thank you all
