Whitney and Gabriela rode south from Galloway for weeks before they hit a meaningful town. The ride was cold at first and they slept curled up together under their blankets and the snow. Some nights Whitney lay on her back staring up at the dark and empty sky above her, thinking of her fight with Kayley and wondering what would have happened if she had fought Diana. Some times she thought that she would have won and sometimes she thought not and then as they went farther south she thought more of the gold in the Murrell house and how it would feel to take it from them. And she thought of her last night in Galloway and what might have happened had she beaten Kayley, the fun she and Gabriela could have had with the other woman’s majestic body, her beautiful face. She would have claimed Kayley’s private room and held her there and brought in friends of hers to enjoy her much as Kayley had done to Gabriela. She remembered with both pain and longing the feeling of Kayley’s face and body under her hands as she had struck and grabbed her and the feeling of Kayley’s hands upon her, pulling her hair or striking her. Many times she looked at Gabriela sleeping next to her as she thought these things, Gabriela who at first had seemed as eager for revenge as herself but now as they put miles behind them on the road seemed disinterested. Their kisses at night had become less passionate and they found less reason to touch or ride close together during the day.
After two weeks on the road they reached the town of Stropshire. Careful planning, hunting, and some minor theft had allowed them to save their gold on the road, and to celebrate they got a room at the nicest saloon, The Royale. The first night they had steak and whiskey and when the owner found two new beautiful women unaccompanied at one of his tables he insisted he join them. The waitresses and female entertainment were all very lovely, they told him when he began explaining how well he paid and how well he treated them. They discovered that the saloon had what he described as “spirited athletic contests” among the female staff. The young women were all very attractive and none of them looked like a serious fighter and Whitney immediately decided that the contests were more show than go and she was not surprised at all that Gabriela was soon leaning against him and after a few drinks telling him some of her history. The owner offered them their room and meals for a week if Gabriela stripped down to her bra and panties and rolled around with a busty redhead. The girls tossed each other about, grunting loudly, to the delight of the men watching, and Whitney stood at the bar, drinking. At the end of the night Gabriela had a position at the saloon and Whitney collected her remaining gold and some from the bar and rode alone out of town.
She headed farther south for another week. She rode down out of the hills and into the hot flat plains and when she hit the red dirt of Arpiro she had gone past anything she had ever heard of. After another week of riding, in some unknown village, she met up with a small gang led by a woman named Selina. Selina had the blackest skin of anyone Whitney had ever seen and small white eyes that absorbed every detail of the room she entered and every person she met. Whitney drank with them in a bar, spending her last gold to buy them rounds and then when they rode out of town the next morning she was one of them. There were two other women and three men who rode with them. So far as Whitney could tell in her first days riding with them they slept with whomever they chose. The first night Whitney fucked the tallest of the men, a giant with long yellow hair and a broad jawline who smiled always but spoke seldom. But she noticed that Selina was watching her and Whitney knew that she was stepping on Selina’s territory but whether it was because of the beefcake or Selina saw her as a potential challenger she did not know.
At the end of their third day of riding west, Whitney had had enough. They were sitting around a campfire eating a deer the beefcake had shot and warmed beans from their supplies, the sun low and red on the horizon as if the entire world glowed. Selina and Whitney sat on opposite sides of the fire and their eyes continually found each other out and at last they sat staring hard at each other.
“I feel like you got something to say,” Selina said at last.
“Just wondering where the hell you’re leading us,” Whitney answered. She licked her spoon clean and tossed the cup and spoon on the ground and then pushed her hair back from her face. She was sitting with one leg tucked under herself, ready to spring to her feet should things begin between them.
“Told you all, there’s a job ready for us on the other side of this valley.”
“How many more days do we have to ride?”
“Until we’re on the other side of the valley.”
“I don’t think it’s a valley if you can’t see both sides at once.”
“Well that’s where it is, whatever you call it.”
“And what exactly is waiting for us there?”
“The job.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
“It’s a fucking fist to your mouth if you don’t shut up,” Selina answered.
“Just want to know what I’m getting into.”
“You’ll find that out when we get there.”
Two days later they reached the other side of the valley. There was a cabin there on the edge of a lake of water so clear it was impossible to tell the depth. There was an old trail from one horizon to the other running past. They all bathed and drank and waited at the cabin, and while the rest of them were sleeping Whitney took the beefcake back into the lake and let him fuck her however he wanted. At the end of the next day a stagecoach stopped to water its horses there. They ambushed the driver and robbed the travelers and rode back into the empty dry valley again. Halfway back, they were at the same campsite again. The rest of the gang was in a better mood, but Whitney again sat glaring at Selina until the younger woman addressed her.
“Let me guess, you’re still pissed off.”
“I just don’t see the upside to this. We’ve spent a week and risked ourselves for no more than we could have gotten working at that shitty bar.”
“Shitty bar?”
“You remember, the one I found you all in.”
“They got good ale there,” one of the men said.
“Shut up, Earl,” Selina hissed.
“I’ve got a better score in mind,” Whitney suggested.
“I bet you do.”
“It’s a lot farther away, and it’s risky, but the reward is a lot better than this chickenshit.”
“Chickenshit?” Selina asked, now rising to her feet.
“I said it,” Whitney answered, rising herself now.
The women squared off next to the campsite and a few minutes later Whitney was lying halfconscious on the ground and the gang put her across a horse and sent her back toward the lake.
Whitney spent the next week riding alone in the wilderness, and as she did, Gabriela elevated herself to the position of manager at the Royale in Stropshire. Because of her looks and her willingness to use them, she had become close with the manager. Before Whitney had left her, she’d done one of the ‘friendly’ matches the waitresses and staff sometimes staged. And, as Whitney had surmised, she’d lost her interest in such things. Being beaten by Kayley and then by Natalie and leaving town with Whitney, as if she had been driven away, the humiliation had felt like it had soaked through her skin and entered her heart. The sex with Whitney had been passionless, her interest in the manager a sham. And then after her wrestling match with the busty redhead, while sitting in her new room, she sat staring at herself in the mirror. Her surveyed her curly brown hair, her beautiful face with her inviting eyes and full cheeks and her intelligent, devilish smile, her large full breasts and her flat stomach, her curvaceous ass. She turned one side to the other, evaluating herself and thinking of all of the attention that had been on her that night and all the attention she could gain for herself in the future. She had seen Whitney slip out of the bar and she knew that she was on her own at the Royale, and she had a new plan for her life.
The next afternoon, she sat down with the manager, Ross. He was a fat man who liked to smile and yell, although Gabriela had already noticed that he had a quick mind for numbers. He knew how much liquor they had in reserve and how much money each regular had on their tab or on their account. The bar also did a good business selling supplies and dry goods, and while sitting there at one of the tables in the middle of the day Gabriela saw that they were doing more business in that than in liquor or gambling. When Ross came and sat with her, he was drinking a cup of green tea rather than the whiskey she expected.
“You did well last night,” Ross said, smiling and saying hello to two men who entered.
“Well thank you,” Gabriela responded. The two newcomers went past the bar and the card tables and bought jerky and hardcake from the dry goods counter. “Did you?” she asked him, and Ross turned and looked at her quizzically.
“I enjoy the matches as well as the next,” he said.
“But did you make more money?”
“Happy customers drink more. And the ladies enjoy getting the extra pay. As I’m sure you did,” he added with a wink.
“It’s nice. But what I earned last night, while I’m sure was a fair portion of what we brought,” she hastily interjected, “wasn’t what it could have been.”
“Do you have some ideas in this area?”
“I think that with a more competitive atmosphere, some new ladies, and the proper publicity, we could make a lot more.”
“Is it we already?” he asked, laughing. “You’re making some big assumptions for someone who only just got here.”
She laughed with him. “Why do I get the feeling that rubbing up against your arm wouldn’t actually help me get what I want?”
“Because you’re smarter than you look. And you didn’t answer my real question, as you well know.”
“I’m being aggressive because I don’t want to wait a month for an answer I could get right now.”
“Fair enough,” Ross answered, now serious. “What exactly is your plan? And why should I pay for it?”
“I’ve only been here two days and I’ve noticed that this town has a lot of hard men passing through and some young, attractive women looking to capitalize on that. You’ve got the nicest bar in town, probably too nice. I suspect you are bringing in more money than your competitors, but only a little, and you have higher costs because everything here is nice. I think if you brought in some other women and had proper competitive bouts, sane but real, made them look stylish and hot, and you told everyone about it beforehand, you’d get a lot more people in here. You make the men think that they’re classy for coming here, while the bouts give them what they really want, which isn’t classy at all.”
“And you’d put all of this together?”
“I’d manage the ladies and fight in some of the bouts and handle the promotion. In exchange for being a partner.”
“Partner? For the bouts, I assume, not for the Royale itself.”
“Of course, that’s what I meant,” Gabriela said, and they shook hands, laughing.
Two weeks later, Gabriela was standing on a newly constructed stage on the lot behind the Royale. It was 20 feet on each side, with ropes strung between the corner posts, and the bottom was tarp. Ross had wanted to just clear out some dirt and have people standing around while the girls fought. But Gabriela had argued with him and then hired two men to start building it while they still argued, and now they had a proper ring with a “Battle Royale” tarp draped behind it. And there were wooden bleachers on two sides, now full of men and a few women who were all drinking and had paid an extra fee to enter, something else Gabriela had thought of. It was nighttime, nearly midnight on a Saturday night, and there were torches around the outside lighting the area.
In one corner were Gabriela and Trish, one of the girls form the Royale. She was the prettiest girl at the Royale who was also aggressive enough for this—other than Gabriela herself, of course. She was a buxom blonde veteran of the staged matches Ross had been putting on, and when Gabriela had first broached the subject of a real match, with the chance to earn more, she had made the kind of grin that told Gabriela that was a good choice. Both girls were wearing robes that covered them from neckline to feet, as were the two young ladies in the far corner. The opposing brunette was Amanda, a young beauty who worked at one of the other bars in town. Gabriela had asked around and spent a few days girl-watching, as it were, and then approached her. Amanda had agreed quickly enough that Gabriela thought perhaps she would have done it free with little provocation. The light-skinned black woman, who was quite pretty herself, next to Amanda was Jean, who worked at the same bar. The two opponents were attractively curvy if not as busty as Gabriela and Trish. All four women were of roughly the same height and weight, in the interest of fairness.
The published agenda for the night was for the ladies to compete against each other in two bouts, fairly refereed. But now, as she and Amanda had agreed on earlier, Gabriela stepped to the center of the ring and shouted, loud enough that everyone could hear, “Hey, bitch!” Everything from this point would be unscripted, although they had agreed to safety rules for the bout.
“You talking to me?” Amanda asked, taking a few steps forward.
“I was thinking about how much I’d like to get a touch on that ass of yours.”
With that, Amanda dropped her towel to reveal that she was topless, wearing a pair of tight and very brief leather shorts. Her medium-sized breasts stood proud and firm on her chest, but the swell of her ass, athletic and powerful but also feminine, the lines of her hips and thighs. She turned so that she was facing away from Gabriela and rotated to frame herself, looking back over her shoulder at her, and she said, “I can’t blame you. It’s so much sweeter than yours.”
Gabriela’s face went red and she dropped her own towel to reveal that she, too, was topless and wearing equally revealing shorts. Although her ass wasn’t in the same league as Amanda’s, Gabriela did have very large breasts, and she peacocked them out, her arms akimbo, and she stared at Amanda and let the moment draw out. She saw the other two girls drop their robes as well, to reveal that they too wore only the leather shorts. Amanda was very pretty, but Gabriela thought that she had a better nose and eyes and that overall she was prettier. And while Amanda’s breasts were nice, firm and tipped with large nipples, Gabriela knew that her own were larger—and she thought that they were more appealing in shape as well. She brushed her hair back from her face in a manner intended to draw the attention of the men in the audience to her face and body.
“Oh, look at me, I have big boobs,” Amanda said in a singsong voice. “Look how big my boobs are, everyone! Ow, my back hurts because of my big boobs!” she yelled to the crowd. And she puffed her chest out and marched in a circle dramatically.
And Gabriela charged into her. Both girls fell to the mat and they immediately grabbed onto each other’s hair and pulled with ferocious strength. They were both groaning and grunting in pain and the exertion and their honest anger with each other now. They rolled over each other across the mat and then Gabriela got on top. She planted her knees on either side of Amanda and pulled her head up by the hair and banged it on the tarp over and over and then she readied herself to take advantage and then a foot stamped down on the small of her back. Gabriela’s entire body tightened up and she rolled off of her and as she pushed herself up she saw that Trish and Jean were stumbling around the ring. They were shoving and pulling and slapping each other and they had gone over the top of Gabriela. Trish had tripped from stepping on Gabriela and now Jean had her bent over at the waist and she was holding her by the hair, smacking her head and toros. Gabriela was on her knees, readying to attack, when Amanda crashed into her. They fell lengthwise to the mat, bust to bust, hips and thighs pressed tight, and again sank their hands into hair and pulled with all their strength. Amanda was on top and both girls were pulling each other’s head back with all the strength they had, so that it was as if their chins were pivoted on each other. The strain on their faces. Gabriela got the palm of her hand against Amanda’s cheek and pushed her up and then eventually they rolled free of each other.
They both rose to their feet. Gabriela slapped her across the face and Amanda slapped her back. They stood there trading slaps, their hair whipping through the air, the hard thwack of each blow even over the shouts of the crowd. Gabriela’s cheeks and scalp both were on fire. She connected on Amanda with a mighty slap that started down by her waist and it spun her all the way around and then Gabriela kicked her in her ass and sent her stumbling forward. Then she looked up and saw that Jean had Trish down on the mat and had her in a headlock and was grinding her down. She stormed over and kicked her in the back and then grabbed her hair and pulled straight up. The girl let go of the headlock and screamed in pain. Gabriela pulled her head back by the hair and gripping her face she kicked her in the back again and then was getting ready to brace her knee against her back when Amanda attacked her from behind. Amanda hit her at a run and grabbing her by the hair pulled her along and drove her into the corner post. The force drove all the strength from her body and Gabriela hung there, braced against the post, face first, while Amanda pummeled her from behind. Then she turned her around and leaned her back against the post and readied her for more abuse. She pushed Gabriela’s head back with one hand and with the other brought down vicious chops onto the top of her chest. Each one felt like being hit with a club and it was like the life was being driven out of her. Then with the last one Amanda licked the palm of her hand and before bringing it down on her she froze, hand overhead, and the girls locked eyes for a second and then Amanda brought it down right on her breast like a whip. And she let go of her face as she did and Gabriela fell down to the mat holding her hands over her chest and gasping for air.
The other two girls were rolling on the mat, fighting, and Amanda turned her attention to them. When Gabriela looked up again she saw that Amanda and Jean were knocking Trish back and forth between them. With a surge of energy she forced herself up to her feet and running forward clubbed Amanda across the neck and upper chest with her forearm. The both of them fell to the mat near the edge of the ring and as they tried to come together again Trish and Jean were on their feet over them and all the girls became entangled. Trish and Jean were trying to pull hair and they tripped and went over the ropes and down to the floor outside the ring. Gabriela tried to get up but Amanda gripped her by the hair of the top of her head and yanking up slapped her across the face and put her back down on the mat. She lay there gasping for air and watched as Amanda got to her feet and leaned back against the ropes, staring down at her. And she noticed that behind Amanda, Trish had gotten the better of Jean and was reaching for Amanda’s feet. Timing it well, Gabriela motioned for Amanda to come at her and rose to her feet so that Trish tripped Amanda up as she was coming forward to meet her. And Gabriela smashed herself into Amanda as the girl stumbled.
Now, the audience was cheering for them, some yelling Amanda’s name and others Gabriela’s. Gabriela had Amanda pressed into the ropes and she was pulling on the hair of the back of her head, yanking hard so that she was arched all the way back, her breasts pointing up at the sky and her face looking at the audience upside down. Gabriela held herself there for an instant. Four rows of men and women out there were watching her, smiling and cheering. Below them, Trish and Jean were rolling on the ground, pulling hair and slapping each other. It seemed like neither girl could maintain an advantage for long. Amanda’s hands were trying to pull on her hair and to free her from the vicious hairpulling. There was one great bearded man who was a head taller than anyone else and who was shouting Gabriela’s name over the rest of the noise, and she smiled at him and rotated herself so that she was pulling on Amanda’s hair with one hand, still pulling her head all the way over backward, and she was holding her in place draped over the rope by pressing her chest and face against Amanda’s and then she raised her free hand up in the air and slapped it down hard across Amanda’s breast. The young woman howled in pain and thrashed herself free at last, but she couldn’t get away. Gabriela held her by the hair with both hands and draped her over the ropes, face down, and then ran her down the ropes so that her breasts were dragged over them and then slammed her into the corner post. Amanda hit the post hard face first and leaned against it. Gabriela backed up and then charged forward into her and clubbed her across the upper back. Amanda collapsed against the post and then Gabriela turned her around and chopped her across the chest and then slapped her on the face and Amanda slid down the post to the mat.
Sweat was running freely off of Gabriela’s face and body and she was breathing heavily and she stood over Amanda in the corner, leaning on the post and resting. Under her, Amanda was holding her breasts and gasping in pain and exhaustion. The rough texture of the ropes under her forearms and the softness of Amanda’s hair as it sometimes touched her thighs as she sat leaning against the post, still holding her breasts. Gabriela stood there, feeling the moment and enjoying the eyes on her. And she put her hand on the top of Amanda’s head, just for a second stroking her wet and soft hair. And then when she was going to resume her attack on her, Gabriela saw that Jean had disposed of Trish and was climbing through the ropes down by the other posts. And she suddenly felt tired again. But she went down the ropes and clashed with Jean as she regained the ring. The girls took hold of each other’s hair and spinning slowly in a circle in their fatigue they moved to the center of the ring, bending each other over at the waist. Gabriela was going to try to yank Jean forward and knee her in the body when she was tackled by Amanda from behind. The two of them fell to the mat and Gabriela tried to get out from under her but soon enough there were two women on her, pulling her hair and slapping her body. And then they had her up on her feet. Amanda was behind her and she had her in a full nelson and she smartly backed herself and Gabriela backwards so that she was resting her back against the corner post. Gabriela tried to get free but she couldn’t.
With a wicked smile, Jean advanced on her. “Work on her fucking tits,” Amanda said, and then she pressed her cheek right against Gabriela’s. “Going to get you back, bitch,” she said.
And Jean did indeed go to work. She slapped her bare breasts with rights and lefts, making Gabriela gasp in pain. But then, before it could get any worse, Trish got back in it. She grabbed Jean by the hair and the two of them were soon on the mat on the far side of the ring, with Trish on top, banging Jean’s head on the tarp. But Gabriela wasn’t saved. Amanda reached around and grabbed hold of her breasts, squeezing and digging her fingers into the firm flesh. Gabriela howled in pain and tried to pull the hands away but she could not. Then, desperate, she plopped down onto her ass, freeing herself. And then as Amanda reached down for her Gabriela yanked on her hair with one hand and hit her across the back of her knees with the other, causing her to lose her balance and fall forward toward the center of the ring. Gabriela rolled with her and came out by her side with her legs locked around Amanda’s waist. She had strong thighs and she squeezed with everything she had. Amanda moaned and tried to pull her legs apart, but Gabriela rotated so that she was behind her and pulled her head back by the hair and then when Amanda tried to reach behind her for Gabriela’s hands she clamped onto her breasts and squeezed. Now Amanda was groaning in pain and writing trying to get free. Gabriela switched from attacking her breasts to smacking her face to pulling her hair and Amanda could do nothing about it. At last she was doing little more than moaning and gasping for air with her hands on Gabriela’s thighs. When she thought Amanda was done, Gabriela let go of her and rolled free.
Amanda was lying on her side, a sweat mess, her hands over her waist, and Gabriela stood over her for an instant, looking down on her, then went to where Jean and Trish were still fighting on the other side of the ring. Jean was on top and Gabriela pulled her up the hair and they traded slaps. But then Trish grabbed her from behind and she and Gabriela both shoved her out of the ring and to the ground, where she lay, finished. Then they turned on Amanda, who was trying to get to her feet. Gabriela waited, gesturing upward with both hands. The two ladies squared off one more time, both of them smiling through their exhaustion. They each slapped the other with a right and a left, standing toe to toe, and the blows could scarcely be heard over the cheers of the audience. And then Gabriela charged into her and knocked her to the mat. Amanda was completely exhausted and Gabriela mounted her and immediately slid up so that she was sitting with her ass planted on her chest. She sat on top of her and bounced up and down, compressing her chest, and after struggling to free herself Amanda was done and Gabriela rose from off of her. Somehow Amanda rolled over and tried to push herself up but Gabriela stamped down hard on her back and she lay motionless. And Gabriela put her foot on Amanda’s spectacular ass and raising her hands stood poised over her in triumph.
Well to the south of Gabriela and the Royale, after a week on her own, Whitney was standing at the entrance to the bar where she had first met Selina and her gang. “Looks like you’ve come back for seconds after all,” Selina said to her. She was leaning against the bar with several other members of their gang.
Whitney stood framed against the door, her shadow cast long across the floor, and then she slowly stepped inside. “I’ve come to give you the beating you deserve,” she answered.
“Well come at me then,” Selina answered, gesturing for those with her to stay back.
The rest of the patrons cleared out of their way. Whitney and Selina circled each other warily. Both wore leather pants and shirts that hung open across the chest for the heat. The bar was quiet and still now but for the neighing of horses in the street outside and the soft thump of the steps of the two women. The Black woman Selina was at the end of her teenage years, a few years younger and an inch shorter than Whitney and Whitney felt like she could hear her slow deep breathing with the rise and fall of her buxom chest, the swell of her breasts showing through the open shirt. The hair of both women hung down straight and loose, one’s a caramel color and the other a deep mocha. Selina had a pretty face, but without the fierce beauty of Whitney’s. The young woman was large and full through the shoulders and hips and she looked strong. Whitney felt her own strength of her tight and sleek thighs and across her back and she also felt the gentle sway of her own breasts, smaller and firm, under her shirt as she circled and she felt from the deepest part of her herself her desire to fight this woman and to take her place from her. The room and the two women circling each other felt to her like a perfect stillness and then they rushed at each other.
Whitney hit her squarely across the face but the Black woman took it and hit her back. She was strong and she hit hard. Whitney skipped backward as she came at her, reaching out with both hands, and then they reset and circled each other. Selina threw another punch and Whitney blocked it with her arm and stepping into her and clamping down on the arm she threw hard shots into her side and stomach. They went in circles, Selina grunting with each blow. Then with a surge of strength she wrapped her free arm around Whitney’s torso and now gripping her with both arms lifted her up into the arm and slammed her down onto the floor. All the air and strength rushed from Whitney and she lay under the Black woman, staring up at the ceiling. The feeling of the buxom female body on top of her. And then Selina was rising to her feet and pulling her up by the hair. Whitney was still stunned and she swayed on her feet as Selina measured her and then threw a roundhouse slap. The side of her face exploded in heat and Whitney was sent spinning around. She landed against the bar, slumping against it, and in that brief moment she was glad for the opportunity to lean on it. But then Selina pressed her face down against the wood and holding her there she leaned over and punched her in the back.
“Not gonna be quick about it this time,” she said in her ear. “Make you pay for thinking you could try me again.”
She hit Whitney in the back again and again and then at last Whitney whipped her elbow back with everything she had. She got lucky and felt the point of it sink into Selina’s breast. The other woman stumbled back, cupping her breast, and Whitney slugged her across the face and then as she lay sprawled on the floor she dove on top of her. She landed squarely atop her and then the two women were pulling hair and churning back and forth on the floor, their faces, breasts, hips pressed together. Whitney’s scalp felt like it was on fire as the other woman pulled at her hair and she pulled in return, twisting the black hair in her grip. She was on top and then she was on the bottom as they rolled over each other on the floor. Selina got on top of her and Whitney could feel the woman’s tremendous strength but she made the mistake of getting too high as she reared up to deliver a knockout punch to the woman under her. Whitney slid her hips to the side and soon enough she was out from under her and bringing her feet up she was able to kick her in the chest, knocking her over backwards. The kick had not had much power behind it though and Selina was getting to her feet at the same time as Whitney. Selina threw a looping punch that had no power or speed as she was still rising and Whitney made her pay. Whitney hit her in the sides with a left and a right and then threw an uppercut into her enormous breasts. But even that was not enough to impair the larger woman and Selina despite the blows clamped her arms down over Whitney. Whitney struggled against it but Selina pulled her in and then buckled her legs and slammed her down to the ground.
Whitney lay on her back. She was badly hurt and for an instant that seemed like it was forever she stared up at the exposed beams of the barroom’s ceiling. But the place seemed nice regardless and it seemed strange to her that Selina’s crew had been holed up in such a place. She wasn’t sure where the thought had come from but it struck her as something she should have noticed before she walked in. The next time you do this, she told herself, you should be more thorough. And then the other woman was leaning over and grasping her by the front of her shirt and pulling her to her feet. Whitney pulled weakly at the hand that she was still holding her shirt, wrapped into a tight fist now, and so she was unready for the fist that crashed into her face. The force sent her flying backwards into the bar and ripped her shirt off. She stood topless leaning against the bar, her hands braced on the edge of the top and her unsteady legs spread wide. Selina came forward slowly with a smile on her face but in those precious moments Whitney’s fantastic condition helped her recover. When the Black woman was in range she threw a kick into her stomach. It didn’t hurt her too badly but Whitney followed it up with punches at her head. One connected, rocking Selina’s head back, and then both women were throwing. Fists and open hands connected with faces, stomachs, and breasts and the two of them were spinning and tumbling around the space in front of the bar. After the wild exchange Whitney had Selina up against the wall and she slammed fists into her stomach doubling her over. Then she pulled her shirt up over her head, trapping her arms, and she took advantage and hit her every way she could. Finally after taking the abuse Selina pulled the shirt all the way off and then they squared off topless. Whitney threw a punch but Selina stepped inside of it and gripped her around the torso and then with a tremendous surge she spun her in a circle and tossed her toward the bar. Whitney slammed into it, badly hurting her side, and as she stood there gasping and holding her side she found herself being lifted bodily and rolled onto the bar itself and then shoved onto the floor on the other side.
The floor behind the bar was sticky with years of alcohol and Whitney could feel the grime under her fingers as she lay on her stomach. She looked up in time to see the feet of Selina standing before her and then she was being lifted up by the hair to her feet. Selina hit her and Whitney went stumbling backward the length of the bar. She caught herself, one hand on the bar and the other on the wooden rack behind it, and she looked up at the other woman through the dark hair hanging over her eyes, breathing deep and preparing herself for more. And Selina now screaming ran at her and with a dull thud collided with her bodily and the two women went crashing through the back door into the alley outside. When they hit the door they flew apart and they landed both of them sprawled in the dirt of the alley. Both lay on the ground panting. Topless, the sweat glistening on their skin and now smeared with the dirt, bruised and exhausted. Their breasts and flat stomachs rose and fell with their fast breathing. The sky overhead was dark and near to emptying itself. After what felt like only an instant and also an eternity to Whitney she forced herself to roll over and get to her hands and knees. Selina was rising faster than her but she looked tired despite the fact that she had unquestionably dealt out more punishment to Whitney than Whitney had inflicted on her. Whitney came to her feet and stood ready and she watched closely as Selina steadied herself on the wall of the bar as she matched her.
“I thought you were going to make me suffer,” Whitney said, motioning with her hand for her to come at her. Taunting her.
They stood eyeing each other and then Selina rushed her. Whitney had no desire to match blows with the stronger and heavier woman in the confines of the alley. She jabbed her in the face, taking the force of Selina’s blows on her own arms, and backing up as she did. The first fat drops of rain splattered on her arms and the top of her head and the dirt around her as she stepped out into the street in front of the bar, the Black woman in pursuit. Selina was grunting with each swing. Whitney clipped her with a right and stepping inside she pounded her ribs and breasts with both fists. Selina took it though and she slammed her fist into Whitney’s stomach and then while she was bent over she clubbed her across the back of the head. Whitney fell to her knees and Selina gripped her by the hair of the back of her head and tilted her face up into what was now a pouring rain. The dirt under her knees was turning to mud and then Selina crushed her face with a heavy right, spinning her around and putting her face down in the fresh mud. But with some drive from deep inside her Whitney was climbing back to her feet and skittering away from the outreaching hands of the larger woman. Then she turned and began peppering her face with punches, getting back out of range just before Selina could react.
It went on like that. The rain fell on them and soon enough both women were covered in a film of mud and sweat and their own strength and drive. Their steps were slow and heavy, their arms hung low in their exhaustion. Selina was sometimes standing with her arms down she was so tired and Whitney would hit her in the face or her large breasts until Selina could bring them back up. And sometimes Selina would lunge at her but Whitney would shove her away or dodge her and punish her again, maybe with a jab to the face or a punch to the back as she went by. Whitney would step inside and land shots and get back out again and only occasionally could Selina catch up with her. But on and on they fought, hitting each other in the face, the stomach, the breasts. At last Selina guessed right and she caught hold of Whitney but at this point she was tired that Whitney was able to outmuscle her and she got her in a headlock and hit her repeatedly in the face. And then when Selina tried to power out of it by lifting her up she gassed out and fell to her knees at Whitney’s side. She still held on to her thigh, now leaning her face against Whitney’s hip, and then Whitney spun free of her. She stood close and holding her by the head kneed her repeatedly in the chest, which produced a hideous groan with each blow, and then she let go of her head, Selina on her knees, staring blankly up at her, and then measured her and slugged her across the face with a wild right. Selina spun and landed face down in the muck. Still she writhed and braced herself and then rose to her feet. Whitney stood watching her, amazed, and then she laid her flat on her back with a roundhouse right. Whitney looked up and saw for the first time Selina’s gang watching them from under the bar’s porch. She sucked in all the air she could, her proud firm breasts standing out from her chest, and she planted her foot on Selina’s chest.
“I’m in charge now,” she yelled over the thudding of the rain and commotion of the street as the rest of the town still rushed out to watch the fight. “Now, who wants to come with me and steal a lot of fucking money?”
