I was wearing white cotton panties and nothing else. The younger girl was dressed in similar white cotton panties. We were both sweating and grunting as our bodies strained against one another. The more I strained against her, the more she began to overpower me. She forced me to the mat and straddled me. I could feel the warmth of her bare skin as her sweaty body pressed down against mine. Her breath was hot and sweet as she bent over my face and gently caressed my chin, lips and nose with her tongue. I could feel the coolness of her tongue stud as it crossed my clenched lips. The urging in my loins became too much to bear as I grabbed her long purple colored hair. Her blue eyes…lined with black mascara…stared deeply into mine as she pressed her lips to mine and whispered, “We have unfinished business….”It seems that no matter how hard I try I cannot escape these dreams I have been having. They are coming with more and more frequency, and no matter how hard I try, the images constantly fill my head. I have thought about contacting the university’s psychologist, but how would she react when I told her I’m tormented by dreams involving a wrestling match with one of my students? I’d probably lose my job. I can’t talk to my husband about them. Although I have introduced him to my new hobby of woman to woman combat, I haven’t told him of my first encounter…the one that haunts me.
But life is steadily going on. One afternoon I got a call from the woman who introduced me to the fight club I’m now part of. It seems the last girl I fought…and lost badly too I might add…wants a rematch. Of course being as dense as I am, I always thought the loser asks for the rematch. I guess things work differently in this group. I really didn’t want to fight this woman again...for some reason she really hates me...but I knew the consequences if I refused. I’d be labeled as a coward in the group and I’d never get matches that I do want. So I reluctantly agreed. A few minutes after hanging up my cell, I got an email detailing the location, rules (same as last time…none), and attire. I sighed and rolled my eyes as I read it. Whatever….
The days passed by slowly. My classes were becoming more and more boring. My students seemed to be getting dumber by the day. My frustration was starting to really wear me down. It didn’t help that the student who inhabits my dreams sits in the back of one Comp II class. It is so tough to concentrate in that class, I feel some students are starting to notice the tension. My stress levels were off the charts! I started thinking about taking a leave of absence the next semester. Of course my stress would probably go away if one particular student and I had our rematch. But I can’t come right out and ask her. That could cost me my job too.
So by the time my husband and I left for my rendezvous with the same opponent who beat me last time, I was wound as tight as a banjo string! We arrived at the same nondescript building we fought in last time, and the same smaller girl as last time escorted us to my locker room. She smirked a little when she saw me, and I really wished it were her I was fighting. I’d love to smack that smile off her damn face! I prepared same as last time…I showered and dressed. After thirty minutes, the smirking little bitch came and led us into the fighting room. Again it had the same padded carpets and padded walls. It was harshly lit and had no windows. My husband sat in the same chair as last time….diagonally across the room from a similar chair where my opponent’s husband or boyfriend sat last time. The hostess left and came back a few minutes later with my opponent and her friend. The bitch had the same mean look as list time. The only difference was that her 19 years old, 5’4” 115 lbs body was clothed only in white cotton panties. I hate this fucking woman! I hate her red hair! I hate her hazel eyes! I hate her small boobs! I hate her fucking Australian accent! I hate her long powerful legs (which she used to make me quit last time)! And I just plain fucking hate her! Just like she hates me!
She has this evil way of staring that really incenses me. She stands with one fist on her hip, her head cocked to one side, and she has a lopsided grin that just pisses me off even more! I can’t wait to get my hands on her! She continues to look at me as if she sizing me up. She smirks as she starts at the toes of my bare feet and works her eyes up my 5’2” 120 body (which is clad only in black cotton panties) finally stopping at my face, which is framed by my short-layered brunette hair. My only moment of initial satisfaction comes when I think to myself, “Ha! My breasts are bigger, bitch!”
The way she is looking at me is causing a red, deep burning rage to build in the pit of my stomach. It works its way all the way to the synapses firing in my brain and finally erupts as the hostess gives the signal to begin! I lunge and attack my opponent with a fury deep from the bowels of Hell! I want nothing more than to release all my pent up frustration in one moment! And she was my pressure valve. For the first time I see something other than confidence in her eyes as I unleash all my anger on her.
I rush her and drive my fists deep into her belly, chest, and head. Before I know it she is collapsing backwards and falling to the floor. I continue my onslaught until I am straddling her chest as she lies on her back. Angry slaps rain down on her face. When she finally covers her red cheeks, I punch her in the chest and bare breasts. Anger surges up within her, as well. She finally retaliates with wild punches and slaps of her own. One punch finally hits home, and I lose my balance enough for her to slither out from under me.
We stare at each other with venomous hatred from about 10 feet as we catch our breaths. She obviously came out the worse for wear in that exchange. Her cheeks are bright red and swelling. I also take satisfaction with the angry red scratch streaking from just beside her right eye all the way to her lower right cheek. But she is looking for a little payback, and she soon lashes out with an angry attack of her own. I briefly close my eyes to squeeze out some sweat. When I open them she is on my like a bolt of lightening!
The redhead literally dives at my midsection with such force that the wind is driven from my lungs. I was on my knees to begin with and when I fall back my calves and feet are folded under my thighs and trapped my both of our bodies' weight. She punches me directly in the right eye then starts clawing at my eyes. I can’t believe it! The crazy bitch is trying to blind me! Fear grips me and I start throwing wild punches of my own. Several land on both sides of her head, but she is still clawing at my now tightly clamped eyes. All the while she is growling the words, “fucking bitch!” I finally muster enough strength behind a wild right that lands directly on her left temple. The punch addles her enough to temporarily save my eyesight. As she staggers to one side after my punch, I am able to wrap one hand in her hair and pull her head all the way to the carpet. I push upwards with my hips and wrestle her completely off me. Now with the other hand free, I start punching her in the side of the head as hard as I can. Eventually, she falls completely to the floor, and too my surprise, she starts crying and begging me to stop!
With all the anger I have and all the built up frustration, I shout in her ear, “No way, Bitch! You wanted a rematch! Remember?” I pummel her to the floor. When she curls up into a near fetal position, I stand up and kick her with the heel of my foot until she rolls over onto her stomach and tries to cover her face and head. Seeing a new opportunity to punish her, I drop all my weight onto her back…causing to air to explode from her lungs with a “whoosh!” I yank her head upright by her hair then wrap my right forearm around her exposed windpipe. I tighten my grip and pull back with all my might. After a few minutes of struggling and clawing at my forearm, her body starts to go limp and her gasping becomes ragged. Her face must have been turning blue, because all of a sudden, her husband or boyfriend was on his feet shouting, “Stop! You’re killing her!” I look at him and flash an evil smile of my own. I now know what I want to do. My father is a retired cop. He taught me a nice little defensive move. I readjust my forearm where she isn’t being choked, and I press the flat of my thumb into her carotid artery...pinching it together. After a few minutes, she goes completely limp, but her breathing steadies. I release the blood choke hold but keep her head held aloft by her straight red hair. I put my lips to her unhearing ear and whisper, “You want another rematch, bitch?” I release her hair and let her head fall to the floor with a "thump.". Before it hits, her boyfriend is rushing across the room. I feel my husband’s strong arms around my waist pulling me away from the smaller girl as if to protect me from the onrushing man. But the man isn’t coming for me, he is soon cradling the beaten girl's head and saying to me, “You killed her, didn’t you?” Obviously he didn’t understand how I had readjusted the hold.
My husband literally carried me to our corner by the waist. Once there he asked, “Did you kill her?” Before I could respond, the hostess answered for me. Obviously, other women have been unconscious in here before. With a couple waves of a broken ammonia pack, my opponent was coming to. She sat up and looked at her boyfriend for a few seconds, and then looked around the room in glassy eyed bewilderment. Finally he eyes settled on me. She stared as if in a daze for a few seconds, then focus returned to her eyes and so did a red-hot super heated fury! With a primordial scream, she launched herself off the floor and was upon me before I could react! She punched wildly and cursed the day I was born! As she was telling me what she thinks my nighttime profession may be, a fist caught me flush on the bridge of the nose! I dropped like a rock. As I was falling, I could see her friend and the hostess grabbing her and pulling the kicking and spitting hellcat away from me then struggling to get her out of the room! Her wild screams could be heard for several minutes afterward. I held my hand to my face and it quickly filled with blood that was streaming heavily from my nose. My husband took me to the locker room, covered me, grabbed my stuff then got us away from there before my opponent could break free and come looking for me.
A few days later, I can’t honestly say that I felt better with myself. I had gotten my first win in the league, but I felt like I had been hit by a truck. My nose wasn’t broken…by the grace of God I guess…but it was swollen and bruised. Both my eyes were an ugly black. I had already gotten the call that my opponent was demanding a rematch. She said if I didn’t give her one, then she would catch me in my driveway and beat me in front of my child or destroy me at the university then drag my naked, beaten body across campus. So I guess I’ll have to fight her again. She honestly hates me. But I can’t say that I don’t feel the same way about her.
Later that day I was sitting in my on-campus office grading papers. My head still hurt because of my sore nose, and I was thinking about leaving for the day. I started daydreaming and was roused by a light tapping on my door. I looked up into the downcast gaze of the student I had my first wrestling experience with…the one who haunts my dreams. She comes into the office, quietly closes the door, and sits down across from me. After what seems like an eternity, she raises her soft blue eyes to mine and says, “God help me, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Author's Note....This story is the second in a series of three I promised for my friend BillEd featuring his lovely girlfriend Rissa. Rissa is the redhaired opponent of the main character. If you would like to see what the beautiful Rissa looks like, here is a link to BillEd's profile, on which she is prominently featured:
http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?action=profile;u=7532This story is also another in a line of sequels to my story "The Threat." I hope all of you enjoyed reading this story just as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Jonica
xoxo
