I missed seeing a bar fight once because a girl was flirting with me. The bartender, Peaches, looked like Jone Jet, wore a black leather bra, black leather choker around her neck and black leather hotpant shorts. Black fishnet stockings and some sharp little boots. She and another girl had been fucking the same guy, and Peaches told me to stick around and I could watch her "clock the shit out of that cxnt." She had a clevis in her hand like a brass knuckle...its piece of ringed steel that connects pieces of chain.
The other girl was a dark ash blonde, same height, little heavier. Peaches had nice b cup titties, the blonde had melons. She had on jean shorts and a very loose T-Shirt. After I finally got rid of the flirt, I looked around and Peaches had one red cheek bone, her choker was gone, and her gorgeous belly button had a fist sized red mark around it. Her stockings at the knees were torn from the gravel.
While I was detained, the blonde had called her outside and they had started punching each other and grabbing their tops. The blonde grabbed the choker with the left hand and belly punched Peaches hard with the right. Peaches tore the blondes t shirt off by the neck line as she pulled her down with her. They rolled in the gravel and Peaches took the clevis around her fist and beat the blonde in the face, opening up her cheek and knocking her out. When Peaches told me, all I could say was, "I don't believe that shit," She cocked her fist on her hip and tilted her chin up and told me to go look out the back door. There the blonde was, belly up on the gravel, face covered in knots and blood, and the two most perfect titties laying on either side of a torn t-shirt...I promised to kill "flirty girl" If I ever saw her again.
