“Phew! It’s almost midnight and still so hot and steamy,” Kylie Busstim exclaimed, stepping out of the La Jolla beachfront bar. “Just the conditions for a thunderstorm. I don’t feel like going home yet. Let’s see where there’s some more mischief.”
“You’re so bad!” Carissa Bernard scolded her with a grin. “The way you led that guy on!”
“Which one, Carissa?” Kylie giggled. “The one you had the hots for? Well, I gave him your cell number, so I can’t be all that bad.”
“You’re a flirt and a tease.”
“Guilty as charged…if guilty’s the right word. When you’re 22 and single, ‘guilty’ is not the right word. We’re only young once.” She laughed. “Use it or lose it!”
Kylie was used to the admiring glances guys gave her – and Carissa too – as they strolled along the sidewalk in the mild summer night air. Kylie‘s slim, leggy figure looked just as good in a bikini as she did in the low cut, blue floral print dress she wore tonight. Her breasts – pert 34Bs – jiggled slightly as she walked. She had a pretty face with high cheekbones and dimples, and she flashed a series of smiles at many of the men in return for their open admiration.
“You’ll go too far, one day.” Carissa was a petite, attractive blonde but she had always been more conservative in both dress and behaviour than her flamboyant friend.
“And if I do, this pair,” Kylie held her fists out, “will get me out of trouble. They always have in the past.”
“That’s what I mean.” Carissa shook her head. “Or part of it. You’re way too aggressive. You put that girl…Bailey?...in the hospital last month.”
Kylie tossed her head, making her long glossy brown locks shimmer in the streetlight. “That badass wannabe? She threw the first punch. She just couldn’t take it. Like they say...‘if you can’t take the heat stay out of the kitchen.’ She should have known.” Kylie laughed again. “She sure knows now!”
“She might have thrown the first punch but you goaded her into it. You taunted her, pushed all her buttons so hard you had her backed into a corner. What else could she do?”
“She could keep her hands off what…or in that case who…I wanted.”
“Kylie, you turned a little argument about a guy into a fight which…like I say…left Bailey in the hospital. Not just the emergency room either…she was admitted. It’s just wrong. You’re way too aggressive.”
Kylie concealed a smirk as she recalled the incident. The fight with Bailey had been over a guy named Tony. Kylie had met him only once before the night of the fight. He was a good looking guy in his late twenties, a sharp dresser, and Kylie thought they had clicked well. They’d danced, chatted and then moved out onto the terrace of the bar overlooking the Pacific where they’d made out in a gentle, exploratory way – kissing and gentle cuddling rather than anything more extreme.
She'd been unpleasantly surprised when, the next night, she saw Tony sitting at a table with some brunette. Always determined to take what she wanted, Kylie had immediately walked over and sat down with them. Tony introduced the two girls to each other and there was a strained conversation between them, though Tony seemed to like the fact that Bailey – the new brunette – and Kylie were at loggerheads.
Kylie had already been in a bad mood. Things had not gone well for her that day. Her bus had missed its connection with the trolley that morning, which had made her late for an important staff meeting at work. She'd had other work issues – she’d been assigned a mind-numbing yet painstakingly difficult job, cataloguing photographs of cancerous cells and loading them onto a CD for release to pathology labs. That had strained her eyes – she’d been peering into a microscope when she wasn't labelling, and then she'd been told off by her boss for being too slow.
Now the guy she’d been making out with last night – and with whom she hoped to go further tonight – was sitting here with some other chick. Kylie had relished the thought of putting Bailey in her place.
But Bailey had scored first. It had – Kylie reflected – been her own fault. She'd hoped to concentrate Tony's mind on sex, so she told a story of how a guy tossed an olive into her cleavage and asked for it back. Bailey, who had a set of DD’s that Kylie had to admit outshone her own modest bosom, had said with a smirk before Kylie got to the story's punch line, “What cleavage, Kylie?” Used to being one of the best lookers in any bar, Kylie had blushed furiously as Tony roared with laughter.
The verbal exchanges had gotten more and more pointed and unpleasant as the drinks flowed. Tony left to buy another round and Kylie told Bailey to back off. Bailey refused. Kylie threatened Bailey. Bailey called her bluff with a stinging slap to Kylie's cheek.
The fight was on.
For a few moments the two women traded slaps and punches as though sizing each other up. Kylie soon realised that Bailey, while strong and athletic, had little fighting experience and – more importantly – no 'killer instinct'. Kylie had both, in abundance. She was used to fighting. She belonged to a gym that featured martial arts training. From wrestling and boxing to karate, Kylie practiced hard. She also fought often enough for real and she always fought to win. A mere win was seldom good enough for Kylie however. She liked to humiliate or break her enemy.
She set about doing just that to Bailey. She soon had the bustier brunette reeling, her nose and mouth bloody as she tried unsuccessfully to defend against Kylie's barrage of punches, kicks and karate-style stabs. Bailey fought back but she was way out of her league, though she tried hard.
As Bailey blundered forward to attack, Kylie saw an opening. Ducking and seizing Bailey's arm, she used her enemy's momentum to propel the brunette face-first into the wall. Just as the weeping Bailey turned around, Kylie pummelled her with punches from face to crotch until the defeated girl cowered into a heap, sobbing.
Kylie wasn't finished yet though. She grabbed her foe's hair, enjoying the look of defeat and terror on the girl’s face, dragged her up to her full height, then slammed her again into the wall, backwards this time. Her skull had slammed into the wall with a loud thud and Bailey collapsed like a burst balloon.
Kylie smirked at the beaten brunette for a moment. Then she turned to Tony who had returned from the bar. “So…who's the better girl, lover?”
Tony hadn’t replied. His attention was focused entirely on the bleeding, battered girl on the floor. He put down the drinks and completely ignored Kylie as he helped Bailey to stand up. When she fell again, he called for an ambulance.
Looking at the ravaged Bailey, Kylie had wondered if she’d gone too far. She wondered again now as she listened to Carissa, but she brushed those doubts aside with a laugh. “Maybe I am too aggressive…but maybe you’re a wimp. A cute, sweet, yummy, sexy wimp, but you're lucky I’m around to protect you. Come on…the night’s a pup. Let’s see what lies around the corner.” As they literally rounded a corner, she pointed. ”Well, well…look what is around the corner. The scene of the crime.”
“Kylie, you can't go back there!”
“Why not? Bailey badass won’t be there, but heaps of hot guys will be! They'll want to buy us drinks. Come on, let's do this.”
Carissa opened her mouth to say something but then shrugged and followed her friend into the nightclub where Kylie had fought Bailey, though the look on her face said she did so against her better judgment.
Kylie would never have admitted it to anyone – not even completely to herself – that Tony preferring the wannabe fighter Bailey over her had hurt her. But it had – deeply. She had wanted the man, she had fought for him, she had beaten her rival only to see him reject her and go to help her beaten enemy. Kylie was used to getting her own way, and if that involved using her fists so much the better. To be kicked to the curb after beating Bailey, as Tony had done, was a running sore to her ego. She was determined to redress that – tonight.
Even before she’d left home, she knew she was coming back to this club. She was sure there’d be any number of men only too keen to hook up with her. She’d play the field and – more importantly – be seen to play the field. She’d choose the guy she wanted from those who wanted her. Carissa would see it all and would be sure to tell all their friends. Kylie smiled to herself. It was useful to have a little gossip like Carissa along with you when you wanted your exploits boosted to the skies.
The duo headed straight for the bar.
“Oh no…here’s trouble!” One man raised his glass to Kylie.
“That’s unfair,” retorted a second. “Kylie didn’t throw the first punch. You can’t blame her for what happened. How are you, babe?”
“Yeah, Carlos is right,” agreed a third. “You shouldn’t criticise Kylie. That’s like saying an animal’s dangerous just because it bites when you poke it.”
“You guys have got it wrong,” argued the one who had spoken first. “You should have let me finish. Kylie’s trouble alright, and as the movie titles…yeah, there’s two of them…have it, ‘I Love Trouble’. Kylie, you’re the hottest piece of trouble I know!” He winked. “What are you drinking?”
Kylie grinned as the guys flocked around. This was how it should be. She introduced Carissa to some of the men but most of them had eyes only for the outgoing, reckless, spunky brunette. A few minutes later she was sitting on a bar stool, a cocktail glass in her hand, the center of admiring attention.
“Kylie, what did John mean when he said you were trouble?” one asked.
“Oh, a lady doesn’t like to boast,” she giggled.
“Telling the truth isn’t boasting,” John replied. “Kylie here was chatting with some lucky guy here one night but the next night when she came in, some other babe was all but making out with him. The two of them had what my congressman would call ‘a full and frank exchange of views’. In short time, Kylie laid the other girl…some big-busted bimbo name of Bailey…out cold.
‘Funny thing was, the guy had no taste and no brains. He preferred the bimbo to our Kylie. I wouldn’t make that mistake. Like I said ‘I love trouble’ and you, babe…” he slipped an arm around Kylie’s waist, “…are trouble in heels and on steroids! Scarlet O’Hara, Thelma and Louise…even Cleopatra had nothing on you. That fight...oh my...”
“John! Keep it down. That woman over there,” Carlos jerked his head, ‘is Bailey’s aunt. She won’t appreciate your recap of the fight.”
Kylie looked in the direction he had nodded. She saw a slender, tallish, dirty blonde in a black two piece dress – not much more than an upmarket black bikini top and a matching sarong – sitting quietly at a table a few feet away, though well within earshot. “That’s her problem, not mine,” she said archly. “John’s just telling it how it was.” She smiled and tapped Carlos’s arm gently. “I’m sure the truth isn’t a problem for you either, Carlos.”
Carlos shook his head. “No, I guess not.”
“Carlos, you don't sound happy. You were defending me before…not that I really needed it, but it was sweet of you.” Kylie brushed his arm again. “Can John continue? Let the others know what happened?”
“Yeah I guess so.”
John continued with an expurgated story of the fight, one that was firmly biased in Kylie’s favour and omitted just how violent she had been. Just as he finished, Bailey’s aunt looked over and interjected, “That’s not quite how it was.”
Kylie’s head snapped around to eye the older woman – the blonde had to be in her mid-thirties. She stood up and put her drink down. “Oh yeah? Maybe you’d like to tell us your version.” She smiled coldly. Let the bitch start something. She would love the chance to work her over in front of all these guys. She just had to play it safe though, and let the other woman make the first move. Kylie knew she’d come very close to a brush with the law when she’d beaten up Bailey.
“No, I don’t think so,” said the blonde. “I don’t want any trouble. But I’m sure if you ask the bar staff, they’ll tell you the whole story...the real story.”
Kylie grimaced. A bartender had called the police after she’d fought Bailey. She had had to do a lot of explaining. Thankfully, the two cops had both been young guys and they’d thought with their dicks. She had flirted and teased them, and they’d let her go, but it had been a close thing.
She didn’t want this woman spoiling her fun tonight. There was one way to make sure she didn’t. Her eyes locked on the blonde, she strode over. She waited until she was perhaps three feet from her target before she spoke, calmly and menacingly. “Out! We don’t want your kind in here.”
The blonde looked at her in silence for a moment, then calmly finished her coffee. “I’m Stana. You’re Kylie. And yes, Kylie, I’ll leave…so long as you follow me…out to the lane.”
Kylie managed to conceal her surprise at being called out, and she smiled slowly. This was exactly what she wanted. She was sure she’d beat up this older, skinny blonde. She all but licked her lips.
“But no audience,” Stana continued, “just you and me. Oh, I suppose you can have one friend with you if you like.”
Kylie bit back a pout. She’d hoped to do this here in the bar, to humiliate the bitch in front of an audience and impress the guys. Well, she could still do that when she came in again, victorious, leaving the hag a mess for the street cleaners to deal with.
*****
Three days earlier, Stana had sat in the same seat in the same bar, also sipping a coffee. “It's good to see you two,” she smiled, “and especially good to see you up and about, Bailey.”
“I'm pleased too,” her niece grimaced ruefully. “I don't like being in the hospital.”
“Then don't get into fights again,” Stana chided her gently.
“You can talk, Aunt Stana! You work out at a martial arts gym every couple of days.”
”That's right, I do…but I don't go looking for fights. You did, Bailey, and you lost. Badly.”
“That bitch should have been arrested,” Tony said supportively. “Winning wasn't enough for her. She had to beat Bailey to a pulp.”
“She would have been arrested, too, if you hadn't thrown the first punch.” Stana looked hard at her niece. “Still, there's one good thing that came out of it.” She paused and looked at Tony. “Yes, you made the right choice, Tony. Bailey may be badass enough to get into a fight, but she's no thug like that Kylie.”
“Aunt, the way you said that...” Bailey looked at Stana.
“Yes, honey. This time I might just break one of my own rules. For once, I might not be 'too proud to fight.'
“Stana?” Bailey looked enquiringly at her aunt. Stana was Bailey’s mother’s much younger sister – there were two brothers in between and only twelve years difference in Stana’s and Bailey’s ages. They were more like sisters than niece and aunt, closer than Stana and Bailey’s mother were.
Stana was the one person Bailey always turned to when she was in trouble. Though
Stana told herself she was foolish to think she was responsible for the beating Kylie had given Bailey, she nevertheless did feel responsible. If she’d been there, she’d have stopped the fight before it started. Even if she couldn’t, she might have intervened and kept Kylie from beating Bailey so badly.
She turned to her niece. “Yes Bailey, I did fight. I still do…but these days, not for real. I was in two fights when I was your age.”
“Only two?”
“ Well...two that I’ll admit to, anyway. The first one taught me something I want to pass on.”
“What did it teach you?” asked Bailey.
Stana didn’t reply directly, but went on, “It was against a team mate…we played volleyball. Judita was some kind of Eastern European. I think her grandparents were refugees who came to America after World War Two. Strange thing was, she didn’t like migrants and used to run them down all the time. She’d call all the Mexican students ‘wetbacks’. She thought she was better than they were. Maybe she was. She always got the best grades…Deans List and all that. She was always getting selected in the top athletic teams too. Yes, she was a great all-rounder…except when it came to being humble or winning friends. She wasn’t good at those things.
“She was always bitching about something or another. We just weren’t good enough for her. Most of the girls in the team gave her a wide berth. Sure, we were happy she was on the team. We usually won, not only because she was such a good player but because we all wanted to compete with her ourselves, to prove her wrong, to prove we were as good as her. She pushed us to be our best…but we didn’t have a drink with her after a game or after training.
“So one day, Judita was bitching about just that…how she never got invited to do anything with the rest of us. She said we were cliquey. I told her a few home truths. That was my first mistake. The second was getting into a fight with her. I was fit, athletic and strong. I thought I could at least give her a hard time. I was wrong.
“To begin with, we just circled, testing each other out with a few punches and slaps. Imagine the scene…we were on the grass just beside the volleyball courts. I’d hardly ever fought before that, just a couple scraps with girls at school…all hair pulling and slapping. I thought that was what fighting was all about.
“I rushed Judita. I think I surprised her because I grabbed her hair and yanked it hard. For a few seconds…less than ten...it was all my way. I had both my hands buried in her hair and I was jerking her head all over the place. I kicked her shins a few times too. That made her yelp. I dragged her head down till she was bent almost horizontal.
“Any thoughts I had that this was going to be just another scuffle...and one I’d win easily...ended when Judita slugged me in the stomach. With all my training, I thought I had hard abs and maybe I did, but I hadn’t tensed them anywhere near hard enough and her fist sank in deep. It felt as though it had sunk in all the way to her wrist. I’d never been in so much pain. I let go of Judita’s hair and staggered back. It was me who was doubled over now.
“I’ll give her her due, she waited till I was upright again before she attacked. Not that it made much difference. We started trading punches. I was slower. Far too often I’d punch where she was, only to find she’d darted away and my punch just hit the empty air. Her punches were always directed at where I was. I parried with one hand and tried to hit her with the other. I didn’t do too bad at first, not that I hit her often. But she didn’t hit me often either. I brushed her blows aside. I dodged or sidestepped or broke the force of them with my fist or arm. I thought I was doing pretty well.
“But that changed. My stomach hurt worse than anything and I was soon panting for breath. She kept slugging away, mixing up her punches so some were aimed at my face, some at my sides and some at my stomach. I couldn’t parry them all...not even half of them. Judita just kept coming. I tried angling my body away. That gave her less of a target but made my defence more difficult. Anyway, a second or so after I’d move, Judita would move too and she’d be directly in front of me again, her fists out, hammering away at me. I stopped trying to hit her, using both my fists for defence. That didn’t work for long either. She just got bolder, punching harder and more often.
“I tried kicking her. That got me somewhere at first...it made Judita keep her distance...but then she started darting in, punching me and darting out again before I could fire a kick at her. Then started kicking herself. All this time, I’d been edging backwards without noticing it. I only knew I’d been retreating when my back hit the chain link fence surrounding the court.
“Tony...Bailey...have you ever seen a wolf smile? I haven’t. I don’t need to. I saw Judita smile. She knew she’d trapped me. I was stupid...too proud I guess. I should have begged her to stop. Instead I put my fists up. Yes I was trapped but I figured that if she wanted to take advantage of that, she’d have to stay still and hit me. I was wrong. She weaved around me like a comet around the sun. She’d be on my left, then right in front of me and then somewhere else. Punches and kicks came at me from every angle.
“After what seemed an age but was probably less than thirty seconds, my legs gave out. I just couldn’t stand anymore. I slid down the wire fence to my knees.
“‘Don’t mess with me again!’ Judita hissed and walked off. I bet she was smirking, just like you told me Kylie did after you fought her.”
“So what was the lesson you learned?” Tony asked.
“Simple...don’t pick fights unless you know how to fight,” Stana answered.
“Was that when you started martial arts classes?” Bailey asked.
“You got it. And that’s what you need to do too. Next week, next month or as soon as your bruises and everything else heals.”
Bailey looked up. “You said there were two fights?”
“Yes. I had a rematch with Judita. It was a close fight...too close for comfort. I was sore for weeks afterwards...just like you will be...but I won. There were times when I thought she’d beat me again, but I won. And the thing was, Judita picked the fight that time. She thought she’d beat me again. So there’s another lesson for you...in the words of Teddy Roosevelt...‘walk softly and carry a big stick.’”
*****
“Well guys, I guess it’s time to take out the trash. I’ll try not to make any more trouble...even if you do like it.” Kylie kissed John lightly on the cheek. “Don’t go anywhere now.”
“Carlos, I don’t know who’ll throw the first punch this time but I do know two things. First, she – ” Kylie jerked her thumb at Stana, “ – wanted this fight. Second, I’ll be throwing the last punch. I’ll see you when I’ve done that.” She squeezed his arm and sashayed out.
Carissa, who’d almost been forgotten as Kylie claimed all the attention, looked at her departing friend. She wanted to ask her not to fight, or at least warn her to be careful, but knew she’d only get another put-down from Kylie.
Kylie followed Stana outside. The blonde stopped on a patch of grass between the side of the lane and a garden bed next to some condos. “You know what we gotta do,” the older woman said, bending over to remove her heels.
"Yes!" Kylie rejoined. Without hesitation she stepped close and kicked viciously at Stana's bent-over body.
“Ouuff!!!” Stana grunted loudly as the kick hit hard in her ribs.
Kylie hissed in frustration. She’d aimed the kick to land plumb in the center of Stana's stomach, but the older woman had reacted far quicker than Kylie had anticipated. She saw Stana, still half hunched over, rush forward with a snarl. Kylie knew that she'd angered her foe. That was precisely what she intended, and more – she planned to ensure Stana was too angry to fight well. That was the way Kylie had won some of her battles in the past.
She stayed rooted to the spot until Stana was too committed to her charge to swerve, then sidestepped quickly and brought her knee up, hoping to strike again at the blonde’s belly, hoping for more accuracy this time. Grunting as Stana's shoulder hit her breast, she nonetheless accepted the pain as she felt her knee pound into Stana's side. She enjoyed the older woman’s gasp as the air gushed from her lungs.
As Stana swung her body upright, Kylie launched a right-handed punch, hoping to slug the taller woman's stomach. Stana parried it with her forearm but not Kylie's knee which crashed into Stana's thigh. Stana hobbled backward a pace as Kylie pressed her attack with a left-right combo at her foe's face. Stana bobbed down, the smaller girl's fists missed and, as Kylie was stretched out, Stana drove an uppercut of her own into Kylie's chin.
Kylie's head snapped back and she grunted as Stana scored her first real blow, but it was Stana who backed away as Kylie continued to press her early success, fists up and punching at the taller woman's body. Stana parried most of the attacks but some still got through.
Stana realised now just who her niece had been up against – an agile, hard-hitting boxer who knew how to inflict damage and who enjoyed it. Already Stana's face was bleeding, already she had bruises forming, and she knew she'd done far less damage to her enemy. That was something she was determined to change.
Kylie wasn’t making it easy for her however. She pressured Stana, closing slightly to get inside the taller woman's longer reach, firing light jabbing punches, always ready to defend against Stana's few counterattacks. She dodged, ducked or parried almost all Stana's punches and she moved lightly and nimbly, breaking through her foe's defences more often than not. She scored blows on the taller woman's face and upper body but increasingly she focused on Stana's stomach and ribs. A wheezing Stana retreated a few paces to regroup. She brought her fists closer to her body as Kylie's punches began to hit home more and more often.
Encouraged by Stana's defensive posture, Kylie moved up a gear. She began to aim harder, heavier blows, trying to pound her foe into a quick submission. She might even accept Stana’s surrender – but then again, she thought, maybe not. It would be such fun to batter the aunt even more than she'd battered the niece, to make Stana grovel and beg for mercy. Kylie's fists hammered the taller woman’s stomach and ribs.
Then, as she continued to defend grimly but resolutely, Stana began to recognise a pattern in Kylie's ducking and weaving. As Kylie came in to attack again, Stana stepped to her right, just as Kylie moved the other way. Kylie's blow went nowhere. Stana fired a punch of her own, which landed hard on Kylie's face. Stana counterattacked, her fists hitting hard and keeping Kylie, with her shorter reach, away.
Kylie bobbed down. She tried to get within Stana's fists. Stana kept her out by retreating. She kept hitting at Kylie, landing blows far more often than she'd done a moment ago and not just with her fists. She started to kick out, forcing Kylie to evade instead of attack. A few of the kicks got through and Kylie seemed to stagger. Stana began to think her younger opponent was tiring.
She was wrong on both counts. Kylie was baffled, not tired, and she'd slipped on some wet grass rather than stumbled. Still, she knew that Stana had the advantage. She shook her head, stepped to the side as Stana advanced and tried to grab her foe's leg when Stana kicked out again but failed when the taller woman quickly withdrew.
Kylie was even quicker, darting inside and grabbing at Stana's top. The women clinched. Kylie groaned when Stana punched her in the gut. Stana reeled back in fear when Kylie's fingers, spread in a ‘Y’, stabbed at her eyes. She stepped back quickly knowing that Kylie had tried to poke both her eyes. She was surprised at her foe's savagery and her defence faltered for a moment. She gagged and stumbled when Kylie slugged her in the stomach. Kylie followed that with a kick to Stana's thigh. Stana gasped and Kylie closed again, resuming her systematic attack. Stana countered however, blocking most of Kylie's punches.
For all the older woman ably defended, she was still being hammered. With Kylie so close to her, she couldn't leverage her reach advantage. She'd been far more hurt by Kylie's initial kick than she'd let on – from the pain in her ribs, she feared she might have broken one. She parried another attack and then, determined to make some space between her and her attacker, she clapped her hands on Kylie's shoulders and shoved hard.
Surprised by Stana's action as much as by its force, off balance because she'd been delivering a punch, the smaller girl stumbled back a couple of paces. She smiled as she saw Stana step back as well, thinking that her foe was retreating. Kylie stepped forward confidently. “Play time's over. It's time to finish you off, just like I did to your niece,” she sneered, and fired a forceful punch aimed for Stana's face.
“Ugh!” Kylie suddenly grunted hard, a rush of spit expelled from her mouth as Stana’s foot crashed into her belly and forced the air from her lungs. She felt her own fist hit hard, an instant before the pain from the kick sank in. Before she'd had a moment to recover, before the kick had really registered, Kylie was doubled over by a second. She clutched her stomach and backed away hurriedly, groaning in pain.
Stana knew she'd bought herself some time. She knew too that she was a long way from turning the fight around. Kylie had proved to be an experienced and – more importantly – a vicious fighter.
Stana pressed her attack. Protecting her left side, still aching from Kylie's earlier kick, with her left fist held close in, she fired a solid right punch just as Kylie straightened up. It hit the smaller girl's chin, once more snapping her head back. Stana unleashed another kick with her right leg. Kylie tried to dodge but Stana’s foot still stuck her a solid blow on the right side of her right ribcage. Stana bit back a smile – Kylie really was tiring now. She had moved too slowly to evade the kick entirely. Before Kylie could resume her attacking stance, Stana launched another kick, this time with her left foot. Kylie stepped back successfully this time, and the kick only brushed her thigh lightly.
For the next half minute or so, Stana attacked with kicks aimed at Kylie's midsection and thighs, at the same time trying to parry Kylie's punches which were aimed at Stana’s upper body. Kylie was still panting to regain her breath after Stana's brutal kicks had all but emptied her lungs of air. She found that she was no faster than her opponent. The older woman had a stamina that surprised her.
Stana, still nursing her ribs, ducked and weaved and lashed out repeatedly with her feet, using her long legs to strike at Kylie while keeping the smaller woman at bay. For all Kylie's effective defence, Stana began to hit Kylie’s stomach with increasing frequency. Kylie countered with punches that broke through Stana’s guard occasionally, but not as often as before. Kylie found it difficult to regain her advantage. Stana was taller, able to hold Kylie off while still hitting her, even with one hand held defensively to protect her ribs.
And her kicks were devastating. Kylie had never felt so much pain as when Stana's feet smashed into her midriff, as they did far too often for Kylie to continue her attack. She had to drop an arm down and interpose her shin to try to parry or divert those sweeping strong legs but even then, Stana’s blows – punches and kicks – hit home. Kylie soon realised that it wasn’t a matter of regaining her advantage – that had been conclusively lost – but simply of stemming Stana’s onslaught.
Stana smiled grimly as she saw her enemy take a defensive stance. Pain blazed in her side with every move – she was surer than ever that she had at least cracked a rib – but she overrode that pain. She had had to reach deep inside as her masters had instructed her and that had taken some time and deep concentration, not an easy thing when she was fighting someone as ferocious as Kylie. But she found a way of confining the pain and pressing the fight home. It would not last – the pain and fatigue would eventually set in – but for now she was in command. She continued to pound a now gasping, groaning Kylie with a barrage of fists and feet.
Kylie realised that she was facing a more skilled and more experienced foe than she had ever fought. Many times her victories had been against weaklings or girls who, like Bailey, were strong but lacked fighting skills. Stana had those – in spades.
Kylie’s fury mounted with each blow Stana inflicted. She threw herself on her attacker, her hands reaching out and seizing Stana’s neck. Surprised, Stana lost her balance and fell heavily to the grass. For a long moment the two women grappled on the ground, rolling over and over, firing kicks and punches, knees and elbows at each other. Effective defence was almost impossible and most of each woman’s blows hit.
Stana cried out in pain as Kylie’s fist struck the rib she’d kicked at the outset of the fight. The older woman rolled away. Kylie got to her knees and seized Stana’s hair, pulling her enemy toward her. Stana thrust her palm under Kylie’s chin, forcing it back, and tried to follow that with a punch to Kylie’s middle but with Stana still on the ground and Kylie on her knees, the younger woman seized her enemy’s hand, driving it to the ground.
Kylie struggled to pin the rolling, twisting Stana down but at last she managed to lock Stana’s left arm under her own knee and then to straddle the taller woman. She smiled.
Staring up into her eyes, Stana paled. Never had she seen a more vicious, more sadistic smile. She threshed at Kylie with her right arm. Kylie seized it and wrestled it to the ground. Stana’s desperation mounted as Kylie hissed, “I’m going to kill you, bitch.” Kylie slammed a fist into Stana’s face, driving her head back hard against the firm ground. Then, as Stana struggled fruitlessly to free her arms, Kylie fired a second. Stana’s nose burst blood. Kylie laughed out loud.
Desperately, Stana swung her legs up around Kylie’s body and locked them in front of the smaller woman’s face. Almost before Kylie knew what was happening, Stana pushed hard, straining her thigh muscles. Kylie tried to brace herself by putting her left hand, palm downwards, on the grass behind her, her right hand on Stana’s shoulder, but the force of Stana’s powerful legs was too much to resist. Kylie was forced off and rolled to the side before getting to her knees.
Stana wiped the back of her hand across her face, smearing blood across her cheek. “Not if I kill you first,” she growled, scrambling to her feet.
“That’s not going to happen, bitch!” Kylie snarled. She could see the pain in Stana’s eyes, the exhaustion in every movement. The older woman’s breath rasped audibly. Blood frothed in her nostrils every time she took a deep breath. She defended her damaged side and her body and face was a mess of cuts and bruises. Kylie closed with a grim smile, confident that she could destroy her enemy now.
Still Stana met her with a flurry of fists, knees and heavy kicks that hammered Kylie and kept her at bay. Knowing that her enemy could still damage her only increased Kylie’s rage. She took some more punishment, especially to her belly. Her abs were no longer the strong, taut wall of muscle that impressed men on the beach. Indeed – and this made her even more angry – she knew she nearing her limits. Yet Stana still kicked and punched at her, and time and again broke through Kylie’s defences.
Kylie’s fury was at a white heat. She’d never had to fight so hard. No one had ever tested her like this woman. She had never suffered so much pain. Her body ached. She feared her legs would give out. That, she scolded herself, could not happen.
Stana scored another punch. Kylie’s mouth bled again. Kylie parried Stana’s next blow, a punch to her side, but not the kick that crashed into the smaller girl’s belly. A frothy spray of blood, spit and air rushed from Kylie’s lips as she doubled over, groaning. Her legs nearly buckled.
At the cost of a long rip to her dress, she just evaded Stana’s attempt to seize her neck and drive Kylie’s head into her upraised knee. Regrouping, gasping for air, Kylie reminded herself that she was indeed going to kill this bitch and dump her corpse in the drain a few yards away. There was a grate but even in her weakened condition, she’d have little trouble lifting it if she used a lever. She knew where she could get one – a crowbar – from a construction site the two women had passed as they walked down the lane. She was sure the drain was an ocean outfall and by the time Stana’s body was swept in by the tide, it would be unrecognisable.
She smiled grimly at her plans and steeled herself to attack, knowing that this might be her last opportunity. She’d rely on her foe’s very successes, hoping that they had made Stana overconfident and that she would not expect Kylie to attack again so soon.
As the taller woman kicked out again, Kylie grabbed at Stana’s leg. Stana hastily backtracked but Kylie was already inside Stana’s reach. Her fist ploughed into Stana’s face, snapping it to one side. A second later she’d spun Stana side-on and had her arm locked around the older woman’s throat. She was about to grasp Stana’s head in her other hand and twist it, hard enough to crack her neck, when she suddenly screamed in agony. Stana had stabbed her fingers into Kylie’s shoulder socket and, at almost the same time, shoved Kylie’s encircling arm at the elbow. Pain flooded Kylie’s arm as felt the bone grate. Her arm felt frozen, a dead weight. She fought back a rush of panic as she feared what Stana might do to her now.
Stana was nearing exhaustion. She breathed in gasps through her mouth because her nose was blocked by blood. The injury to her ribs was beginning to restrict her movement and she was aching all over. She turned and looked at Kylie, seeing not a woman who was also at the ragged edge of exhaustion, her arm probably dislocated, but instead a vicious enemy who had put her niece in hospital, who had tried – and indeed was still trying – to kill her and who had no doubt fought and hurt many other women along the way. Stana feared her enemy, this cruel woman still sadistically smiling in front of her despite the fact that her arm hung limp at her side,. Kylie’s torn dress hung at her waist, her upper body all but naked. Her body was bruised and red with cuts, she bled in a dozen places, but she was still attacking.
Kylie lashed out with her other hand in a sweeping chop sweep aimed at Stana’s throat. Stana swayed backwards and evaded the blow, but she didn’t evade the kick that slammed into her stomach and left her gagging. Kylie’s follow up, an attempt to trap Stana in another headlock, was far too slow and the taller woman wriggled free with little effort.
Staggering, hunched over, her chest heaving with each breath, Stana gathered her waning strength and kicked out again. She hit Kylie and air exploded from the smaller girl’s lungs in a mist of blood and spittle. Stana whirled around and sent another kick, higher, that connected again. Kylie’s good arm flew up in shock as she stumbled back. Stana was onto her immediately, shoving her back against the wall.
Stana seized Kylie’s neck, her body pressing her enemy up against the unyielding concrete. Kylie slapped at Stana’s arm but Stana was too strong for her. “What are you gonna do?” Kylie hissed, her voice a choked whisper. She stared into Stana’s eyes, only inches from hers, and her own eyes opened wide in fear as she saw the intent written on Stana’s face. “You’re gonna kill me!” In sudden panic she thrashed in Stana’s grip, but the older woman’s hands only squeezed ever more tightly around her throat. Then a terrible stabbing pain surged through her neck as Stana crushed her windpipe.
Kylie’s bosom heaved as she vainly tried to suck air through her now blocked trachea. Her body jerked and twitched. She stared into Stana’s eyes in horrified realisation as her eyelids fluttered. Her mouth opened silently, then lolled open as she sank into unconsciousness and slid down the wall.
Stana too slid down into a crouch. Staying close, she picked up Kylie’s wrist and waited until she could feel no pulse in her enemy’s body, then walked away. She found her cell phone in her purse and dialled 911.
Based on a poll between Kyliesubmits and Stana Kat. Sorry it's taken a long time to write.
