Fyre's Fight Journal, Chapter 38: That's the Spirit
This match refers to things that happened in Chapter 8, of Kiva's Fight Journal. Which can be found here:
https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=90742.75If you haven't read all of Kiva's work then get on it- it is excellent!
I hate working Saturdays and I really hate working on a Saturday for this particular reason. To put it bluntly, I got beat up. I had to stay home for three days after the ass kicking I received courtesy of Anna Chambers a couple of weeks ago and that has put me behind on this project at the convention center..... and in a bad mood.
The loss to her has seriously torpedoed my hopes of a rematch and another shot at Jolene's title. At least there is a silver lining to my fight with her... well sort of. Jake and I looked up Anna's resume after the fight and learned that she is very, very accomplished catfighter- probably out of my league and I hung with her. Hell, I even had my chances to win that fight. Billy had reached out to her trying to book a fight between her and Jolene. Turns out, Jolene backed out last minute. I have no doubt she would have put that red haired bitch down and that means I can too.
But all of that will have to wait. I have bills to pay and this is my day job.... even if this day happens to be on a weekend. The convention center's main hall is busy with a trade show of some sort, so I stick to the back areas and freight elevators. It cuts down on most of the traffic but for some of the event's vendors, special guests, and what have you. It's tolerable enough even if it's fucking cold in those parts of the building. That's another thing that is irritating me today- this cold ass, winter weather. Suffice it to say, my mood is rapidly deteriorating from bad to pretty shitty.
As I go about my business for the day I repeatedly cross paths with a strikingly beautiful woman that I learn is named Cynthia. She says she is here with her husband, Josh, as he does some promotional stuff at the trade show. She says not real interested in whatever is going on out there. Says it's all "old guys". I don't know what it is about this woman but I find myself gravitating to her. She is one of the few bright spots of my day.
Later in the morning, I decide I need to take a break while I wait for Jake to bring me lunch. I run into Cynthia again. She's been friendly enough, chatting with me off and on all morning so I decide to have an actual conversation with the woman since I'm really not wanting to get back to work.
Amazingly, we are from the same area. Our high schools were even rivals. Though, she is several years younger and I wouldn't have known her. I decide to indulge myself and talk about the glory days. All of a sudden, Cynthia's eyes light up and she stops me mid sentence. "Wait! Wait! Wait!...I know who you are.... Kelli Warner! Starting point guard for the Lady Tigers!"
I laugh. "I was once upon a time .... How...how'd you know that?" I'm not sure if I should be flattered or creeped out at this.
"My older sister was obsessed with you.... She played across from you.... I remember her going on about how you were the only player on the Tigers that she was worried about...." she laughs "Actually, she kinda hated you."
"You're Charlotte Powers' little sister?" I blurt out. Charlotte was the starting guard on the team that knocked us out of the playoffs both my Junior and Senior years.... that bitch ended my season-twice! While she was a good player, she also was dirty. The closest I ever got to getting into a fight was in my last game with her. It was the only time I ever got called for a technical foul. The feeling was mutual. I hated her too.
"In the flesh, Powers was my maiden name.... Charlotte was the basketball player, I was better at cheerleading. We both managed to get scholarships though. How about you? You must have played some where.... I know us Bearcats kinda shut you down, but you were pretty good if my memory serves me." Cynthia says playfully. I know it's not her fault but she just hit a nerve with the scholarship comment. It's all I can do to keep my cool.
I force a smile. Given my hobby and mood, I decide to find out a little more about my my old rival Charlotte. "Your sister and I did have quite a rivalry didn't we... How is she?.... is she still so ..... competitive?"
The woman's green eyes flicker. "Interesting choice of words, Kelli....and yes she still is- the Powers women all share that particular trait. How about yourself?" She replies, her voice trying to stay chipper even as we seem to be drifting towards.... something.
"I expected that she would be.... let me give you my number to you to pass along.... her and I should..... catch up." I say, calming down a bit. There's no way that bitch Charlotte doesn't have a Catpin. I dig into my purse and retrieve a pen and paper.... I also manage to grab my Catpin, nonchalantly making sure Cynthia can see it, though the uninitiated wouldn't think anything of it.
Her eyes go wide but she composes herself quickly. Of course, Cynthia knows what the 'pin is. "Oh... I'm sure she will like to have this information.... I'll make sure she gets...all of it..." The younger woman's eyes dart back and forth and she accentuates her already phenomenal posture. "But first.... since we both have one of those.." Cynthia points to the catpin in my hand. "I have to ask a few questions of you."
"Shoot" I reply back, my voice becoming steady. I wasn't really looking for a fight and was hoping that by the time Charlotte got back to me, I would be, but it looks like Cynthia might want a shot before her big sis gets one. Subconsciously, I begin to warm up.
"I know you said you didn't get a scholarship, but you did go... to college... didn't you?"
"Of course.... proud Horned Frog here." I say giving her the 'Fear the Frog' hand gesture oft alma mater, TCU.
I can see a slight look of disappointment in her eyes. ".... Secondly, does your husband know about.... this?"
"It's kinda our thing..." I answer. This might buy me some time if she likes to fight in front of husbands.
"Umm.... where did he go?" She asks, she seems more interested in where we went to school than if we are a good match for a fight. What a strange woman.
"Oklahoma.... what's the deal with all of the college talk?" Her eyes light up immediately at my response.
"OU!... I don't have that one yet..."
"Have what?" I ask, frustrated, as she seems to be in her own world.
Cynthia glosses over my question. "Do you have plans for tonight?"
What is wrong with this kooky woman? "No... we don't have plans.... why?"
"We, my husband- Josh Garrison, and I have a ring. Consider yourself challenged!" Cynthia chirps like a perky cheerleader, her demeanor swinging completely back from the tense interrogating one she had moments ago. Wait... the Josh Garrison? That explains that ridiculous number '18' pin she is wearing on the red jacket with his alma mater's logo. I figured it was her kid's number or something. Obviously, I know who he is but I can't let a former Bearcat think she's all that just because she got lucky in life being a jock sniffing jersey chaser.
"The car dealership guy.... his commercials are funny." Which isn't a lie. Josh seems like a good guy.... and I'll admit, he is a handsome man, but I definitely can't let this bitchy Bearcat thinks she's winning- at anything.
"Don't you mean the Heisman Trophy winner?" Cynthia barks back. That seems to have hit a nerve. I probably shouldn't but hell, her sister caused me no end of aggravation years ago and I just can't help myself.
"Oh... that's the same guy?.... I almost forgot about that him. Anyway, it's good to know he's doing alright after not panning out in the 'pros'.... Good for him... and you." I say feigning sincerity.
Cynthia's green eyes are filling with rage... way more than I thought should after my dismissal of his career. "Listen, bitch!.... Josh was one of the greatest collegiate 'QBs' ....ever!" Whoa, that escalated quickly. The woman is now chest to chest with me her breasts pressing against mine with every breath as she angrily huffs. "His coaches just didn't know how to use him... he.. he..he-"
I cut her off with a finger poking her chest. "Did... you... just... call... me... a... bitch?" Somehow, I don't see us waiting until tonight to fight. "No fucking Bearcat... let alone a damn cheerleader- especially the little sister of that dirty playing skank Charlotte Powers calls me a bitch!" I growl back, unable to keep old high school drama from boiling up from the past.
"Well.... I ...just ... did..... Kelli Warner... former starting point guard for the Lady Tigers is... a... fucking... bitch! Now what are you going to do about it you... you... never was... loser?" She growls as we get nose to nose and chest to chest, her head wagging with every single word. How we haven't latched on to one another's hair at this point is a mystery.
"Fuck waiting until tonight, you jersey chasing sorority slut. Let's do it now- the loading dock is empty. Call your 'has been' husband and I'll call mine. I want everyone to see me kick your ass, cxnt." I snarl.
"Fine...I'll call him... you're so gonna pay, bitch!" Cynthia is absolutely seething, as am I. I'm not sure why but both of us are way more amped up than we have a right to be as we pound away in our phones to let our significant others know that we are about to fight.
"Meet me at the loading dock, babe.... I want you to see me wreck this bitch..." I don't even give him a chance to respond before I end the call and my focus returns to the green eyed brunette.
I know it's the reopening of an old wound that is fanning the flames of this fight. I am aware of just how ridiculous it is to hold on to something so petty for all of these years, but truthfully, I hadn't realized that I was. Now, with the little sister of Charlotte Powers in front of me and a my current habit of settling issues with violence, I just can't keep myself from wanting to take it out on her. I can understand why Cynthia wants to defend her sister and her husband, and why she wants to fight.
"It's done... Josh will meet us down there in five minutes..... ready to have a Heisman Trophy winner watch you get your ass kicked?" She barks as we both begin to walk towards the freight elevator. I cut her my best 'go to hell' look as I hit the call button.
We are both silent as we enter the elevator and I hit the button for the loading dock. I can already see our now visible breath, swirling with the falling temperature. The cold air clears my mind enough to focus on the task ahead of me, I begin evaluating the woman I'm about to cross claws with as the digital display above the doors shows the elevator rushing towards our floor, ready to take us to our makeshift battlefield for the day.
We are dressed similarly, in blue jeans and jackets- mine denim and hers a red warm up type jacket. We are both wearing sneakers as I was feeling lazy and didn't wear my trademark boots this morning. I have my blonde hair tied into a ponytail and she is finishing doing the same to her light brown hair. We are both tan, she has green eyes while I have brown. She does have larger breasts- a fact that is amplified by her perfect posture. She is close to two inches taller than me. Who would have guessed that the cheerleader would be taller than the basketball player?.. I guess it makes sense, though. Her sister was about the same height.
Even though we are still clothed, I can tell that we are close to the same weight. She exudes athleticism and I can see she is very fit, along with being stunningly beautiful. I hate to brag, I know I'm considered pretty by most but Cynthia is on a different level. As if I needed another reason to want to hurt this woman.
Suddenly, the elevator lurches to a stop and the lights go out momentarily before the emergency lighting flickers as it kicks in. Dammit, what an inconvenient time for a power outage and only one floor above the loading dock. "Ok, Bearcat bitch... since we're stuck here, should we discuss what we are about to do?" I inquire of my soon to be opponent.
"Again with the Bearcat nonsense... that nurse I beat not too long ago was right about one thing- people stuck in the past are annoying as hell." The trophy wife grumbles.
"Wait... what was the name of nurse you fought?" I ask.
"Kiva... Kiva Raines... Why? ... You've fought her, too?" Cynthia answers. This is the bitch that beat Kiva... I have to kick her ass.
"No. She's my friend." I answer, my eyes locking with hers again.
From the look on her face, Cynthia sees that she has found an angle she can exploit. "That makes perfect sense... two nobody losers would hang out with each other. I wonder if your husband will follow me around like a lost puppy the way hers did once she learned her place..." The taller woman says smugly, clearly quite proud of herself.
This must be what caused all of the issues between Kiva and Tom. No wonder she didn't want to talk about it and she's running around with Dr. McSteamy... er... Frank. I wonder if this bitch knows what kind of drama she has wrought in Kiva's life. The least I can do is be a good friend and get some measure of revenge for her.
"Bullshit!.. there's no way a cheerleader- especially a damn Bearcat cheerleader would have beaten her... You either got lucky.... or your a filthy cheater just like your sister!" I growl back nastily.
The oversized elevator seems to shrink as the tenuous ceasefire we managed to achieve in order for our husbands witness this conflict seems to be nearing its expiration date as we wait for the power to come back on and deliver us to the agreed upon battlefield.
"You take that back... you... you... habitual loser... just like your friend... neither of you able to finish the job.... not quite good enough... Charlotte went on to win a state championship that year.... I won a national championship in college and I am fucking a Heisman Trophy winner every night.... You. Are. Just. A. Nobody.... You're even worse than that arrogant bitch. At least she moved on from her mediocre beginnings ... You?... You're still stuck in your shitty past.... on your shitty team... in your shitty school... from your shitty little town." Cynthia sneers as we are nose to nose, our hearts pounding, our chests press against one another. The world stops for a moment. All lines have been crossed.
"Fuck you!" I scream as I grab her "18" pin and shove her backwards, ripping it off and tearing her precious team jacket. Cynthia smacks into the back wall of the elevator but stays upright.
She looks down at her ruined jacket and at her pin, now in my hands. "Give it back.... now, cxnt!" The former cheerleader shrieks. I glare back before dropping her beloved pin and stomping on it with my foot. The woman's beautiful face contorts hatefully and she lets out a banshee like wail as she charges me. I push off the wall and rush to meet her.
We collide in an explosion of curses and claws, quickly locking each other into a classic 'bitch clinch". Both of us screaming as we use the other woman's hair trying to control her as we fire punches at anything we can hit. We stomp around the small space, bouncing off of the walls in our efforts to seize the advantage. After the furious first frenzy, we realize that neither of us is going to overwhelm the other and we settle down, remembering how to fight.
I'm the first to change tactics, pulling Cynthia in tight, hoping to limit her ability to continue punishing me with punches. Neither of us release our grip on the other's hair and the fight moves to us trying to gain control in a kind of standing catball.
For the first time we get a feel for the other woman. Her arms and shoulders are muscular and firm. I can tell as we strain against one another that we are similar in strength. From her breathing, I can tell she is very fit- in better shape than I am and that's usually one of my advantages. From the wild look in her eyes as she charged me, I know she isn't afraid to hurt and be hurt. In this brief moment of our bodies colliding I know that I'll have to be tougher... meaner... more determined than Cynthia beat her in this fight.
As we bounce around the confined battleground struggling to out muscle the other woman, I begin to focus on slamming Cynthia into the walls of the elevator. I use the cold metal walls of our cage as a weapon and feel her body weaken as the impacts effect her like body blows in a boxing bout. The pretty, green eyed woman is soon more concerned with protecting herself from my slamming attacks than she is trying to hurt me.
With Cynthia's focus elsewhere, I see my opportunity and firing off a knee that sinks deep into her belly. I can feel the breath leave her body as she doubles over. I latch on to the collar of her jacket, nearly ripping it off of the brunette and slinging her headfirst into the elevator door with a loud, dull thud. The entire elevator shakes from the collision of Cynthia's skull and the steel of the door. "Weak ass Bearcat bitch..." I snarl as she slides down the door and into a heap.
I can tell she is stunned and hurt from the impact. She is crumpled face down, ass up in the corner and barely moving. She is still tangled up in her jacket. So I take a moment to get myself back together after the wild and furious beginning of the this fight. About that time she is able to extricate herself from her jacket, leaving her in a white t shirt, I pounce on the former cheerleader.
She is still disoriented as I pin her to the increasingly cold elevator floor. I sit straddling the woman's belly and begin raining down a hailstorm of punches and slaps. Cynthia bucks and wriggles wildly until she is in a worse position, trapped in the corner.
I slow the pace of the fight down and begin choosing my shots carefully. At first, it was to maximize damage, but then it became to keep from getting caught by her legs. This woman must be made out of rubber. I'm constantly fending her off from angles that just should not be possible by someone that I'm sitting on top of.
I hear the power come back on and the elevator resumes it's descent. Time to put this bitch's lights out now that the fluorescent ones have come back on, I think to myself as I clamp my hands around the cheerleader's throat.
"Give up... fucking Bearcat bitch..." I growl, throttling the fading brunette as she claws and pries at my arms. She doesn't answer, her continued struggle suffices to inform me of her defiance.
I hear the elevator bell 'ding' as it reaches the loading dock level. Oh please let there not be people standing outside when the door opens. I feel the even colder air rush in as the door slowly begins to open. Oh fuck... I can feel eyes on me and see shadows with the door open. I cut my eyes up to see Jake and the man from the car dealership commercials standing there with dumbfounded looks on their faces. "Kelli ?!?!" Jake blurts out. Oh thank God, it's them.
"I'm... fucking.... busy... Jake..." I say as I continue to try and choke the life out of the Heisman trophy winner's wife.
"I assume you belong to the other one." Jake says to the former quarterback. Who nods affirmatively as the two men back away, knowing that we need to finish this and neither Cynthia nor I would forgive them if they interrupted. I appreciate how well trained both of them are.
Cynthia takes advantage of the distraction and is able to buck me off and scurry out of the elevator. I stalk after her as she crawls on all fours across the cold, hard concrete of the loading dock, intent on continuing the beating I've been administering.
I snatch her by the ankle to keep her from getting away. With catlike quickness my athletic foe twists and fires off a mule kick that slams into my belly sending me backwards onto my ass- still holding the shoe from her other foot. For a few moments we sit and stare at each other before I throw it at her, narrowly missing her head.
Through her heavy breathing Cynthia barks as we both slowly get to our feet. "Josh... start filming.... I'm taking... this Tiger twat's ... panties...". She kicks off her remaining shoe. This skank wasn't so tough when she was gurgling with my hands around her windpipe. Then, in what almost seems like a dare, she pulls off her shirt. Oh hell no, this bitch is NOT going to upstage me now that the cameras are on.
"Jake... log this ... into the ... site..." I snap nearly as out of breath as Cynthia. "I want... it to be... official... when I... beat this... Bearcat... bitch's ass..". The men dutifully do as they're told while the former cheerleader and I go back and forth removing articles of clothing. Shirts, shoes, socks, and finally bras until we are standing barefoot and topless in the nearly freezing air of the loading dock in only our jeans.
The cold air stings and tightens my skin. I take in my opponent as we resume our fight by beginning to circle one another around the unforgiving bare concrete floor of the loading dock. All of my suspicions of this woman's athleticism from our altercation on the elevator are confirmed as I see her naked upper body and form fitting jeans. Even though I was clearly winning before, I can't keep the doubts from beginning to creep into my mind. She is leaner, fitter, has a bigger chest. Younger. She's just prettier. Maybe there's a reason I could never beat her sister on the court. Maybe these Powers women are just better than me.
That's bullshit! I tell myself as I refocus but my moment of doubt and hesitation gives Cynthia the chance she was looking for. One of her long legs smacks into my upper thigh with a hard kick the nearly takes me down and the sound echoes off the cold concrete. She follows the attack up by rushing in and grabbing my hair. The informal round two has begun in earnest.
Her momentum gives her the advantage and I am driven back several steps before I am able to sink a punch into her belly and stop her charge. She has the early advantage as we get into another bitch clench, using my hair and her height to completely control my head by twisting it at an unnatural angle.
She keeps me off balance by slinging me by my hair and continues to bully me with a furry of body blows across the cold concrete of the loading dock until we slam into the painted cinder block wall next to the open loading bay door. The air is downright icy as we continue our fight near the large opening, our topless bodies exposed to the incoming winter weather.
Now against the wall, I finally am able to gather my feet and, hopefully, mount some kind offense, because as of right now, Cynthia is kicking my ass. With her still clamped on to my hair and wailing away, I choose my shot carefully. Waiting for an opening before I send I knee into the woman's belly. I seize her hair as she doubles over and I send the next knee into the side of her head.
The beautiful woman is relentless and it barely stuns her but it gives me just enough space to get off the wall and force us back into a stand up fight. We circle one another, both of us breathing heavily and fighting cautiously.
Neither of us take the time to do any trash talk during this slight reset, we are both only focused on winning this fight against the other woman. Each of us is completely aware that it is going to take everything we have to do it. The cold air swirls around us as we begin exchanging punches in the opening of the dock.
It feels good to be back on the offensive. To feel my knuckles slam into her ribs and belly as she protects her pretty face. Driving her back and hearing her moan and groan. Hell, I'll even admit that I sort of enjoy the feeling of her hitting me. The endorphins, the adrenaline, the excitement and the anxiety of going toe to to with an equal, there's not much that can compare- or make you forget about the frigid cold, quite like it.
Cynthia and I battle it out until both of us are hurting. Our bare chests heave, our hair is disheveled, red blotches, dirt, grime and scratches mar our bodies as evidence of the brutality of the fight thus far. We are both now moving much slower and more deliberate. Choosing our shots wisely and looking to do maximum damage. I feel like I'm getting the better of the brunette but she just keeps coming. Her green eyes still glaring with the same determination and rage as when I ripped off her precious button.
We continue to trade a few jabs and miss a few bigger punches. While I may be landing more punches, neither of us are controlling this fight. Then, I land a hard shot to the cheer coach's jaw that backs her up. Smelling blood in the water, I follow up with a big hook to the belly that buckles her knees.
Cynthia is teed up perfectly, legs unsteady, hands dangling uselessly at her sides as I wind up and fling a tired, sloppy haymaker to finish my gorgeous rival off. I feel the familiar and beautiful pain as my knuckles collide with her skull solidly. The brunette collapses onto her back and I nearly fall from the follow through of the hard punch.
I steady myself and look down at my barely conscious foe as she slowly writhes next to the edge of the loading dock. With a renewed confidence, I stagger forward towards the downed woman. "Had enough... yet... bitch?" I growl as I get into range.
Cynthia glares at me with her one unswollen green eye. The look of rage still smoldering on her pretty face. She snarls "Cxnt!" as she kicks out at me. I try to dodge but her foot slams into my hip, taking my leg out and sending me tumbling down.
I land on top of her, but the Bearcat bitch locks her legs at the ankles and squeezes. "Oh... fuck!" I hear myself scream out as I feel one of the most brutal leg scissors holds I've ever been in begins to crush me. In an instant I've gone from having Cynthia beaten to nearly pulling my own hair out as I try to resist every instinct to give up and end this excruciating pain.
Cynthia latches onto my hair and pulls until she is on my side and I'm on my back. The scissors are locked in completely now and I can hear myself groaning. My rival hears it as well and knows she is close to finishing me off.
"Fucking.... Say.... It!" Cynthia shrieks as she flex's her legs and yanks my hair violently. I can't even answer as all I can do is focus on not screaming out my submission. The frozen, unforgiving concrete beneath my back echoes the dire, hopelessness of the situation I am in as my rival continues to crush the fight out of me.
Trapped in the hold, I try to think of some escape or counter but the agony is clouding my mind. I'm distracted knowing that Kiva was conquered by this woman. Did she get caught between these same two powerful legs? Did they squeeze her until she broke? Kiva is undefeated but for this woman. I have lots of losses. Not only did she beat one of the best fighters that I know, she beat her bad enough that her marriage is now in shambles.
Another pulse of Cynthia's thighs painfully brings me back to reality. I buck and squirm instinctively to try to escape but my situation goes from bad to worse as she uses my hair as leverage to slide to my back. The cheerleading constrictor has me trapped. The more I struggle the worse it gets and before long, I'm in some sort of a half nelson choke hold. It's all I can do to use my free arm to keep from allowing the brunette to lock in the choke hold as my feet flail in futility against the gritty surface of the loading dock's floor.
I try my best to block out the pain as Cynthia is slowly breaking me with her viselike thighs. I am able to see my husband. He looks worried but, unlike some other times where I've been beaten, he face isn't saying it's ok to give up. He thinks I am still in this fight, even if the other woman and the swirling, freezing air are draining the last of my resistance.
If he thinks I've still got a chance than surely I do. In a last gasp attempt to free myself, I begin to thrash around. I manage to roll and get my entire body on top of the brunette, but as I go all the way over she is able to maintain her hold. Shit. Now, I'm staring off the edge of the loading dock, into the clear winter sky. I can see the dumpster nearly five feet beneath me, lightly littered with construction debris from my project. I've run out of places to go and with my back towards Jake, my source of strength is gone.
The inevitability of my loss begins sink in. I'm fighting back tears thinking about how I've let Jake down. He believed in me and I failed. I've let Kiva down. I could have gotten some manner of payback for my friend towards this woman who has caused her so much strife, but I've failed. And finally, I've let myself down. While this isn't the woman who wrecked so many of my teenage dreams, she is the next best thing. And I have failed- . Wait, maybe it's just lack of oxygen to my brain as I'm being crushed, but like a bolt from that clear blue sky, I've got an idea. Maybe not a good idea, but an idea.
Cynthia feels me stop struggling. "Ready.. to give up... bitch?" She snarls.
She instinctively eases up to let me answer. Here goes nothing. "Go.. to ... hell... Bearcat..." I growl during the brief respite as I roll, sending us both tumbling off of the ledge. We fall a good five feet and I land on top of Cynthia with a loud clang as the combined weight of our bodies impacts with the frigid steel floor of the trailer length dumpster.
Neither of us are moving much, but the Bearcat bitch took the brunt of the fall and I'm free from her lethal legs. Both of us are pretty much lying on our backs slowly writhing in pain from the fight and the fall. I can see two shadowy figures above me. As the world comes back into focus, I realize it's Jake and Josh. Both wearing concerned looks as they peer down at us from the opening of the loading dock.
"Are you two alright?" Josh asks finally.
"Nothing's broken..." Cynthia groans as she begins moving her joints around to check for injuries. Her breath visibly swirling into the air while she lies on her back, panting.
I'm laying next to her, my legs draped over hers. "Not yet... but... I'm not ... finished with you... either.." I growl as we both feebly grab onto each other's hair again.
"Well... I'm not gonna stop them... they'll hate us if keep them from settling it." Jake says and I give him a quick nod in affirmation.
"Bitch!" I snarl as I try to hurt her. Though, as weakly as I'm pulling on her hair, I'm not sure how much damage I'm doing.
"Cxnt!" She snaps, reciprocating with an insult and an equally weak tug of my blonde mane.
I know I have to take advantage of the impact from the fall. I begin to will my strength back. I hear her gasp as my knuckles tighten and her hair is pulled. I feel my scalp burn as she does the same. The fight is back on. Albeit, at a much slower pace with neither of us having much left. We lay glaring at each other, talons buried into each other's scalps. Both of us use our free hands to latch onto one of the other woman's exposed tits. My nails sink into her flesh. I feel the searing pain as she does the same. We yank hair, we twist our claws, every breath utters a curse at the other woman or a wail of agony. We tiredly kick at each other's shins, like two untrained drunken sluts fighting in a bar restroom instead of two seasoned Catpin wearers.
The icy air burns my lungs with every breath without even the limited protection that the loading dock provided. I can feel my skin tighten from the cold causing every moment on the debris strewn floor of the dumpster to scratch and hurt more than it should. If I wasn't in enough pain from fighting this relentless bitch, the weather is taking it to the extreme. My entire body aches. I'm not sure if it is a strategic move or just a reaction to the sudden temperature drop from us now being outside and more exposed to the elements, but Cynthia and I pull each other into a tight catball. Any relief provided by the warmth of the other woman's body is quickly forgotten as we roll over the trash and dirt on the bottom of the trailer sized dumpster.
I shriek as she rakes her nails down my back but maintain enough focus to clamp my hands around her throat and pin my foe on her back. I feel her trying to escape but she is trapped against the dumpster wall and unable to find any leverage. I bear down even harder. This is the break I needed. This bitch is mine. "Say... it... cxnt!.... do... you... fucking.... give?" I roar as I see her eyes bulge and her face turning progressively more red with every passing moment.
Cynthia's answer comes when something slams into the side of my head and the whole dumpster fills with a cloud of fine, pale dust. I can't see anything as I fall of my perch. I'm gasping and coughing as I crawl along the ground trying to process what happened as the dust literally begins to settle. I hear my rival coughing as well and look to see her holding what's left of a vacuum bag. That explains the dust. Both of us are now completely covered in a grey powder as we begin to crawl towards each other once more.
We both simultaneously see a broken mop handle and reach for it. We grab it at the same time and begin to battle for it. Each of us knows that it's over if one of starts beating the other with a fucking stick. Again, we go rolling painfully across the floor, our hands clamped desperately to the weapon we both want to use on our rival.
I realize that she is trying to catch me with her legs again. That would end this fight in a hurry. I do what I can to fight my way back to my knees and away from that possibility. Again our focus returns to the mop handle as we struggle for it from our knees.
"I'm gonna... stick.. this.. up ... your... fucking... ass, whore!" Cynthia screams as she tries to pry the mop handle from the floor. She is just as tenacious as when we started, but I can feel myself tiring. I continue to fight over the potential weapon but I am coming to the realization that she is just in better shape than me, and I am going to wear out before her. I'm going to have to figure something out- soon.
With the mop handle pinned to the ground, I take a calculated gamble. I reach for a busted old school desk telephone that I see laying on the ground near us. My fingers fumble for it for just a moment before I get a good grip on the phone. Just as Cynthia is wrenching the mop handle free, I slam the heavy phone into the side her head. The handset and some buttons go flying while Cynthia is knocked to the floor of the dumpster. She is clutching her head, her feet slapping the steel like a drum as she rolls around in pain. Again, the momentum of this fight has swung wildly with Cynthia being the one in trouble now.
As my prey struggles to get her wits back she begins crawl away. I climb back up to my feet and stagger tiredly through the frigid air after her. "Had... enough... yet?" I grunt through my panting while I pursue her. She begins flinging trash at me during her retreat.
I dodge a broken, plastic wastebasket, a crushed lampshade and even what was left of the telephone that I smashed against her jaw. She did manage to wing me with a seat cushion from a broken office chair before I trap the brunette in the corner of the dumpster.
We engage in a brief stand off with Cynthia seated in the corner and me cautiously trying to find a way to get to her as she cocks her foot back ready to kick at me. As I get within range of the leggy beauty's lethal legs, she fires off a kick like she did before, but this time she is slower and I was ready. I catch her ankle. With a growl, I muscle her over on to her belly. She struggles furiously and I lose my footing. I manage to hold on to her ankle and some how end up in what seems to be a single leg Boston crab.
"Out of the fryin' pan and into the fire, bitch!" I bark as I begin to add pressure. Shit, this woman is flexible. I am all the way down to a knee and she seems more uncomfortable than in pain. "Wanna give, Cynthia?" I ask harshly.
"Fuck... you.... Kelli..." Cynthia groans out in defiance. She has to know she's trapped. Stuck in the corner, one foot being pulled towards her head. She's tough. I'll give her that, but I intend to make her pay for it.
I sit back even further- until I feel my ass resting on Cynthia's shoulders. I hear her moaning and whimpering. Her free leg dangles helplessly while I pull on the other. I look down and see that my rival has her hands buried in her own hair. Now, she's the one trying to resist the instinct to tap out.
Doing whatever I can to cause this woman more pain, I rock, arch my back, finally reaching back and grabbing a fistful of the tough bitch's light brown hair. Cynthia cries out in agony and I hear her furiously slapping the steel bottom of the dumpster. I tighten my grip and snap "Ya.. gotta... say it....Cynthia!"
"Ok!... Ok!... I give! I give.... Kelli... please stop!" My tearful rival blurts out as quickly as she can. I relax my hold on the pretty woman's hair, letting her head fall to the floor. Then, I let go of her leg. Her body crashes onto the steel floor as I stand up. Cynthia writhes in pain on her stomach, trying to massage the pain away. I stand over the conquered woman proudly, my body begins quivering as the adrenaline from the fight fades and the freezing air envelops my dust covered body.
I see Josh standing on the edge of the loading dock, still dutifully filming even though his wife just lost a fight- an insanely tough one. Much like when the elevator door opened and our husbands saw us tangled, these men know that the contest might be over but the ritual is not.
I use my foot to nudge the cheer coach's shoulder. Cynthia knows what has to happen now and rolls onto her back. "Alright, you Bearcat bitch.... you gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?"
The beautiful and beaten brunette begins to humiliating act of shimmying out of her jeans and removing her panties. I am reminded of just how wrecked we must look when I see her bare legs contrasting with the grey dust covered rest of her body. Even though her eyes are closed, she continues to make sure she faces away from me, denying me the satisfaction of seeing her wear a mask of all of the hurt and pain of this defeat. "On your knees.... give them to me." I command with a steady voice. I want to see it. I need to see it.
Cynthia, although now docile and submissive, somehow has regained her composure as she gets to her knees. She is no longer crying. She is downright stoic as presents her maroon undergarments to me. What the hell? Is that the number "eighteen" embroidered on them? This woman is gorgeous and can fight like hell, but I think she may have a screw or two loose.
I snatch the panties away from the defeated woman before I use my foot to nudge her against the wall of the dumpster. Next, I plant my bare foot on the, now totally nude, woman's chest before I raise my arms into the victory pose that we all knew was coming.
With my foot still between the taller woman's tits, I reach down and grab her chin gently pulling her face towards mine. "Look at me, Cynthia.... you are going to tell that loser bitch of a sister of yours something for me...." She submissively nods. "Tell her that her and I have unfinished business. Got it?" I growl, pressing a little harder with my foot.
"Yes... I will..." I can see her fighting the urge to finish that sentence with the word 'bitch', but she knows that would only result in more of a beating. She's in no condition to fight anymore.
I know it's stupid but I can't help myself. "And one more thing, cheerleader.... I'm gonna need you to give me a convincing 'Go Tigers!' before I let ya up."
The look on Cynthia's face is priceless. She is nearly seething. She knows that I'm doing this to humiliate her. She's stripped naked, on her knees in front of the woman who bested her and now I'm twisting the knife. From her glare I know that the pecking order has been established. If she had anything left, we'd be fighting again.
I allow myself a quick glance up to our Heisman trophy winning cameraman. "Make sure you get this, sweetie." I say with a wink. After all of the aggravation her sister caused me and the strife that has befallen Kiva after losing to this woman, I think a little 'rubbing it in' is justified. My eyes return back to my prey and in my best cheerleader impression I say "Ready... O.. K!" Like I remember the ones on my school starting their cheers with.
Cynthia swallows and in a very flat, lackluster voice says "Go.... Tigers...". It's hard to tell if the tears welling in the corner of her eyes are from rage or humiliation. Probably both.
What my husband calls my 'skeptical eyebrow' makes an appearance. "Really, Cynthia?.... YOU... were a national champion?.... I expected better.... Convince me." I command again.
Cynthia slowly shakes her head as if to plead for me to let her go, but a little more pressure from my foot between her too perky breasts tells her my answer. I feel her take a deep breath. "GOOooo..... Tigers!" She says much more enthusiastically.
With a smile, I remove my foot from her chest. "That's the spirit!... good girl." I say like I'm talking to a puppy. With that, everyone knows this match is over.
I feel the whole dumpster shake and there's a loud crash. I realize Jake has hopped into the dumpster with us. He helps me to my feet. I feel the warmth of his thick chest pressing against my bare tits as he holds me. I don't think I've ever enjoyed a hug more. He wraps me in his coat before lifting me up to the extended hand of Josh Garrison. The legendary college quarterback helps me out of the dumpster. Solemnly whispering "That was a hell of a fight, kiddo."
I sit, wrapped in Jake's coat, near the edge of the dock and watch as my husband scoops up my defeated and naked opponent. Cynthia is filthy, her formerly beautifully flawless and tanned upped body covered in scratches, caked with grey dust and smeared with grime from the dumpster. The cheer coach's hair is wrecked, completely disheveled. She has finally lost her composure and sobbing as Jake lifts her to the waiting arms of her husband. Then Jake sinks out of sight for a second before reappearing once more this time with Cynthia's jeans in his hand. He hands them to Josh who takes them gratefully.
Jake climbs out of the dumpster and gives me a quick peck as he helps me to my feet. With the heat of the fight and the adrenaline completely gone, I become aware that I am freezing, shivering uncontrollably. Quickly, he goes about the business of finding all of my discarded articles of clothing as I stand there with my teeth chattering. I look down at my filthy and ripped jeans. At least I'm still wearing them, I think to myself. I feel the cuts and scrapes that crisscross my body beginning to ache. I realize I probably look just as bad as Cynthia does. Though, I'm sure I don't feel anywhere near as bad.
My whole body is beginning to stiffen as Jake helps me get dressed enough to go home. After this, I suppose I'll be working next Saturday as well, but I doubt I'll be as aggravated by it. It might even be somewhat uplifting to revisit the site of such a significant victory.
I watch as Josh does the same but Cynthia isn't standing. She is sitting, huddled with her head covered under his coat as she sobs. It reminds of how much of a toll one of these can take. Many times the Catpin results in just something competitive, but sometimes it leads to a real fight. A fight where things other than which of us is the better fighter get settled. I did more than beat this woman physically today. I took it further, I broke her spirit. What's more, is that I enjoyed it. I felt myself get my edge back. I think it's time to get revenge on a certain red haired bitch.
As Jake and I begin to leave, I continue to watch Josh take care of his defeated wife. I wonder what she will tell her sister. I wonder what Charlotte is like after twenty years. After what I've done to her little sister, I know her and I will fight. We have to. I'll have an answer to question that has bugged me for all of these years. My mind wanders next to Kiva. I smile when I think about telling her about Cynthia's defeat. How she was stripped naked in a dumpster. And finally, I begin to think about Cynthia and Josh. Will something similar happen to her after her loss. Will the Heisman trophy winner be following me around like a lost puppy? I chuckle at that. It hurts to laugh right now.
"What's so funny?" Jake asks.
"Nothing, baby... just happy to win that one. Do you know who she is?" I ask my husband, before telling him all about Charlotte, Kiva and all the other things lead into this fight. I'm not sure what adventure is next for me, Charlotte, Jolene, or some other surprise, but the one thing I am sure of is that I am ready.
