The bills are starting to pile up. Things also became quite a bit worse when my husband lost his job. I know with his education and experience, he won’t have to wait long to find a new one, but it could be a couple months. My salary, and his temporary unemployment benefits, won’t pay all our bills. We will have just enough to make the house payment, pay the utilities, and feed the three of us. Fortunately, both of our cars are paid for. We were thinking about purchasing a new car when his plant closed. Oh well, we will have to make do with what we have for a while.
Since our child was born, we have found there is one activity we all enjoy. We love taking our little ski boat out on the lake and playing around on Sundays. Unfortunately, it is now one expense we can’t afford. We hate to give it up, but in this economy, we have no other choice. We don’t owe much on the boat, so it’s a shame to have to sell it now. But better to sell it than have it repossessed and wreck our future credit. We sat down one night, and after a long discussion, and more than a few of my tears, we decided to sell our little Bayliner. We would put it up for sell the following Tuesday. Since it is now Thursday, we are going to take it to the lake one last time for a weekend escape…one last fun in the summer sun trip before we have to give the boat up.
We pulled the boat to the lake early Friday morning. After a few hours of skiing, swimming, tubing, and other nautical fun, we decided it was time for lunch. My husband drove the little boat to the nearest marina with a lunch bar. We have been here many times, and we have never had any odd encounters, but today would be different. As we pulled up to the dock, I noticed an older man staring at us…but more accurately, staring at me.
Now I know I might sound a little conceited, but I still look pretty darn good in a bikini. I am only 25 years old, and I love to go to the gym. I don’t jog the hilly neighborhood anymore, but I still like to hit the treadmill. My body is still tight enough to surprise people when they learn I have a one and a half year old child. I was a cheerleader in high school, and I am proud to say that I can still fit in my old cheer uniforms! So, I guess what I am trying to say is that I am used to garnering attention around boat docks.
But this was different. This guy isn’t simply staring at me because I look good in a bathing suit; he’s looking at me like he’s appraising me.
My husband, God bless his heart, is oblivious to this man staring at me. He probably wouldn’t mind if he did see him. He’s used to it. He’s even used to the drunken college kids from up north hitting on me. The man currently staring at me has to be at least 65. So he wouldn’t be worried. Not that he would have any reason to be. I would never cheat on my hubby. He really is the love of my life!
Anywho, soon we are seated at an outside table dining on onion rings and hotwings. I just love fried food! I will have to hit the treadmill extra hard next week! Although I am now sitting with my back to the older man, I can still feel his eyes on me. The attention is beginning to make me uncomfortable. So much so, that I reach into my bag and slip on a terrycloth cover up. That makes the day a little more uncomfortable because it’s 95 degrees outside. But we will soon be back on the boat and have the spray of water and a cool breeze in our faces.
We finish our lunch, and just as we are starting to stand up to leave, I sense a presence hovering over our table. Before I could turn around, my husband says, “May we help you?” Turning to see who is standing behind me, I come face to face with the older man who has been watching me. He blushes slightly when I look him in the eyes, and like a true gentleman, he removes his fishing hat and says, “Sorry to startle you, ma’am, but I’m wondering if I might have a word with you and your husband.”
The older man definitely had manners. He was also very well dressed. He didn’t seem like a threat. Even today, I would consider him a friend. I think my husband does too. But when we first met him…and after hearing his proposal…I didn’t know whether to run screaming from him, or hug him! Fortunately, our daughter was asleep during th conversation.
The older man introduced himself and we exchanged pleasantries. You know…the usual “hot, ain’t it, kinda stuff. But then he got down to the true nature of his interest in me. At first, I was confused on what he was offering. Next, I was horrified. Then he mentioned money. At that point he had our whole, undivided attention.
As I said before, we still make just enough money to pay the house payment, the utilities, and feed the family, but there just isn’t much left over. But what this guy is proposing…as odd as it is…could pay for our boat and leave us a little left over to make it until my husband gets a new job. Also, according to him, we could double the offer if the venture is successful!
But there is a downside. Here, I’ll explain what the older man’s offer. I think you will find it as strange as I did. But hey! What do I have to lose? Well, besides my dignity and my sanity…..
The gentleman explained that he and some other summer lake dwellers have set up a club…of sorts…to make their stay in the area more interesting. He also said that the “club” has put a lot of money into the pockets of a few young women in this area. Not knowing exactly what he was talking about, images of the Demi Moore movie Indecent Proposal flashed in my head. The Older man just laughed at my misgivings and said that the club is nothing like that. Then he told us what it was about, and how it came to be. Here, I’ll paraphrase for you….
Several of their families used to get together and rent a large, multi-family houseboat for fishing trips. Of course it’s hard to have several families on a boat for long periods of time and not have your troubles. Their trouble started when two wives got into a drunken argument over who looked better in a bikini. One thing led to another. Drinks were thrown. Slaps exchange. Then an all out brawl erupted in the main room! The men were either too drunk…too aroused…too scared….or a combination of the three to intervene. Soon, one woman beat up the other. The next night, their daughters got into an argument and the scene repeated itself. After a few nights of back and forth bickering between the two sets of women, they decided to put and end to their disagreements once and for all. This time sober with all their husbands and friends watching. And they did so. After two hours of sweaty competition, they were all friends again, and their initial disagreements forgotten. The next summer, they rented the big boat again, and this time some of the other friends joined in the fun. After a few years, other family members and friends partook of the spectacle. A few years later, the friends were charging and entrance fee to watch “apartment style catfights” (whatever the hell those are) on the boat. The club members would find willing participants and pay them to fight. They paid a hefty fee just for participating….more than enough to pay off our boat loan….and they paid the winners extra bonuses. That is how we could possibly double what I would originally earn just for participating.
Then the older man explained how I came to his attention. It seems another member has a grand daughter who wants to fight. It also seems she and I match up in everything but age. When he saw me, he knew I would be the perfect opponent for her.
He explained that the club is choosy about who they ask to participate. More often then not, the initial response is a solid no. But then that quickly changes, sometimes, when money is mentioned. Several young women have stopped working in dock restaurants and bars and have supported themselves on what they earn from the club exclusively.
Of course, my husband and I were totally flabbergasted at the offer. But we could certainly use the money. I asked the older man to allow my husband and I a few minutes to discuss the proposal. He agreed and left us alone.
“Wow! That’s a lot of money! I exclaimed, looking at my husband. “We could pay off the boat and have some extra money to fall back on.”
‘Yeah, but it seems a little…extreme,” he says, nervously.
“Yeah. It sure does, but it’s only one time. Plus, I think it could be fun.”
“You want to do this?” My husband asks, a little perplexed.
I think about it a moment, and I reply, “Yeah. I think I do.”
He stares at me…but not with worry alone on his face…maybe there’s a little excitement there too. “It could be a little…brutal.”
“Sure it could. I couldn’t imagine it not being rough, but it still sounds like fun. I’m still young and in good shape. We need the money. What is there to lose?”
“Well, if you want to do it. I guess we could get my mother to watch the kid….”
And that’s how it went. We called the older man back to our table and we worked out the arrangements. We would meet him on this dock the following evening, and he asked me to wear the same bikini I am currently wearing.
The next day flew by and my husband and I waited nervously on the dock. At the specified time, a rather large pontoon boat pulled up and the older man asked us aboard. He told me to relax while he piloted us across the lake to the large houseboat. Butterflies bounded in the pit of my stomach and I was a bundle of nerves. But I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I was excited too! The prospect of wrestling another woman in front of a group of people is daunting, but it is also strangely erotic.
It took us almost half an hour to arrive at a secluded cover surrounded by willow trees. The isolated spot was just large enough to contain the huge, multi-family houseboat, but small enough to ensure this was the only boat around. We wouldn’t have to worry about drunks on jet skis or fishermen bothering us. The spot was perfect.
The older man pulled the pontoon expertly against the huge houseboat, and other guests helped us aboard. Several of them eyed me and gave approving nods. There were several women present, and I wondered to myself which one is to be my opponent. There was one in particular who matched me in size and appearance. I assumed it would be her, but then I remembered our host said my opponent was around 18 years old. This woman is probably my age. Oh well.
We were shown to a stateroom for me to shower and change. While I was preparing, my husband was escorted to the main seating area and treated like a king.
I waited for a few minutes and gathered my thoughts. I know this will be great for my family, but what are the chances I could get hurt? I am wearing a bikini, how humiliating would it be to lose? OMG! What am I thinking? Why am I here? But then there is a light knock on the door. In walks a beautiful woman of around 60. She introduces herself, and I recognize her name as being one of the first combatants. We exchange pleasantries, and she immediately puts me at ease. She explains the rules and makes sure I understand them. The one that sticks in my mind the most is that a winner will be determined only when one of us submits or can no longer defend herself. That last part really makes me nervous.
She asks if I am ready. I stand up and look in the mirror one last time. My 5’3” 130 lbs body still looks like it could take the rigors of a competitive cheer season. I just hope it holds up in a wrestling match. I make the necessary adjustments to my low cut, black and white checkered bikini. Since I wear my dark brown hair in a short bob, I won’t need to pull it back. My fingers and toes are freshly manicured. I look good. I just hope this goes well. I take a deep breath and nod that I am ready.
The older woman leads me from my stateroom and down a short hallway. I can see the main chamber ahead, and I see that all the wall space is taken with men and women in chairs. I see my husband. He smiles brightly as I walk into the room. He has a large white towel for me to use after the fight. I look around the room once more then begin stretching. The room was quiet when I entered, but then an excited chatter fills the air. It is almost electric! Then a hush falls over the crowd once again. I look up from my stretching and watch my opponent walk into the room.
I audibly gasp when I first see her.
The older man was right. We match up very well in height and weight. That’s about it. She is young…probably 18, or so. Her hair is cut in a bob slightly longer than mine. But hers is dyed platinum with black highlights. Like me she isn’t wearing makeup, except for thick black eyeliner. Her pale blue eyes look around the room and rest on me. She looks back at the older woman leading her into the room and smirks, “And why did I have to take my piercings out again? I know it isn’t because of her!” She nods toward me as she talks. The older woman simply tells her to “shut up” and focus on what she’s doing. The girl either didn’t hear her or she simply ignores the older woman. She continues to whine about her “piercings.”
I take a moment to inspect my opponent from across the room. She is the prototypical Goth girl. The piercings she is whining about have left little holes in her lips, nose, up and down her ears, and her eyebrows. Now I have a pierced bellybutton, but there is no way in hell I would wear my stem for this. She has removed her bellybutton ring too. She may be a spoiled, whiny little bitch, but she has an incredible body! Too bad it has probably never seen the sun! Her pasty, milky skin is accented by brightly tattoos on her arms, shoulders, lower back, and ankles. She would be beautiful without all of this, but with it she is still incredibly sensual. Her pale blue eyes are striking, as are her full, pouty red lips. Only the tattoos and her black string bikini… with silver skull and crossbones on the crotch…accent her smooth, silky skin. Her fingernails and toenails are painted flat black to match her eyeliner. If she was dressed to intimidate, it was working pretty well. But her constant whining contrasted with her appearance. I didn’t know whether to run and hide or fall over laughing.
A few minutes later and my opponent and I found ourselves standing in the middle of the room facing each other. I tried to keep a straight face, but she had a smirk on hers.
The audience around us had grown quiet, but the strain of excitement was still in the air. Our host introduced us…I learned my opponent is the granddaughter of the woman who led her into the room. After brief, polite applause, our host announced that we are novices to this game, and this is the first match for both of us. Then the signal to begin was given. I stuck my hand out to shake with my opponent, but she just smirked and drove her foot into my unprotected belly.
I never saw the blow coming. I never expected it. I’ve been in a few fights during my life, and I know the theory of landing the first punch. This was a total shock! One minute, we are staring at each other. The next, I am on my knees clutching my tummy and gasping for breath. But that wasn’t the end of it. As I’m on my knees feeling sorry for myself and wondering where the kick came from, her fist explodes into the back of my neck, and I am suddenly facedown on the floor in utter shock and pain.
It’s amazing what the brain focuses on when you are in trouble. Right now, I am lying facedown on the floor of a large houseboat gasping for air with my adversary circling like a vulture. Through the roaring in my ears, I hear laughter. Is the audience laughing at me? OH GOD!!! Why did I agree to this? But then it occurs to me, it isn’t the audience laughing. It’s one person….my opponent. She is laughing and saying how “weak” I am! OH GOD!!! My husband is in the audience! Then another thought enters my brain. She is going to kick me! My brain stats shouting for me to MOVE!!!
I push off the floor with my hands and knees and roll hard right. I got the impression my opponent was on my left. Maybe it was because of the roaring in my head. I was wrong. But I chose wisely. As I push off and roll, the younger girl was raising her foot to land a devastating kick to the back of my neck. Instead, she suddenly found all of my body weight slamming into her balancing leg. The Goth lets out a grunt and an expletive and staggers forward and lands on her face. I quickly roll up to my knees…my vision still swimming from her surprise attack. Now, it’s the blonde’s turn to roll on the floor in pain, clasping her forehead.
Anger surges in me as I remember how I fell for her surprise attack. Plus, can now see bonus dollar signs as she lies on the floor. I get to my feet and drive my heel down into the small of her back…right top of her strategically placed tramp stamp, which looks like a large X to me. The Goth girl cries out in pain and curses me as she tries to roll away, but another stomp stops her. Now she is cursing and blubbering into the carpet. She rolls onto her side as I try one more stomp. This one glances off her side, but she screams like a banshee again. I move to drop my knee onto her, but she rolls clear just as I drop. I hit the carpet and find that I am now face to face with my opponent. She has tears streaming down her cheeks, but she also has a primal look of hatred and anger that absolutely terrifies me! She isn’t crying because she’s hurt. The tears are from anger!
Streams of black mascara stream down her pale face as she lunges at me. Instead of recoiling, though, I lunge toward her and we tie up in the middle of the room. The only sounds are her feral grunts and my squeals of effort as we try to throw the other off balance.
I don’t know if my upper body is stronger, or my squeals were greater than her grunts, but I am soon able to wrestle her to one side and down to the floor. Lean over onto her upper body and start trying to pin her. In frustration, the blonde Goth starts flailing with her arms and legs. Her hips start backing wildly. I know my lower body is stronger than hers, or I suspect it is. I use her bucking against her….when she thrusts her hips and lower back upward, I slide one leg under her and one over her belly. She really screams and curses me when she figures out what I am doing. Her fists slam frantically against my thigh as I clamp down with my legs and steadily apply pressure.
The younger girl’s bucking becomes frantic, and her eyes now show fear of losing. For the first time in the evening, she isn’t whining or cursing. She is frantically trying to pry my thighs apart. The tears of anger she had earlier are now tears of frustration and fear. I am winning the fight and she knows it. I also know she isn’t strong enough to break my hold. This match will be over momentarily.
For the first time since the fight began, I look around the room and locate my husband. Behind him, I see lightning flash and the wind pick up. The temperature in the room has gone up. I am now sweating heavily, but I smile at him and he back at me. He knows the power in my legs. He says I have a nice round butt from all the years of cheering. I am now using every inch of my plump butt to squeeze the fight out of the Goth girl. I smile once again at my husband and I raise my hips completely off the ground so as to apply even more pressure. I can tell by the look on the blonde’s face that she is close to submitting. From the corner of my eye, I see an extremely satisfied look on the girl’s grandmother’s face. Apparently, this is exactly what granny wants. But then lightning flashes outside again…and lightning flashes inside my head as the younger girl’s fingers sink deep into my eyes.
If I had been looking at her, as I should have been, this desperation move would have failed, and she would have quickly submitted. But I wasn’t and now I am clutching at my eyes and shoving the pale girls’ body as far away from me as I can. I scream in horror as her fingers dig into my eyes and scratch viciously. I am finally able to free her fingers, but not before she is upon me slamming her fist into my exposed bellybutton. I begin flailing at my tormentor with both hands but she wraps one hand in my hair and slams my head hard off the floor several times. She follows this by driving the tips of her fingers on her freehand into my throat. I gasp in shocked pain and an awful gargling sound comes from my throat. But she isn’t finished with my neck. Her pale forearm slams into my throat and crushes my windpipe closed. I frantically struggle, but her hand is still in my hair and she bangs my head off the floor several more times…until I am completely still.
Finally, I am able to open my eyes. Light floods back in and I see flashes of lightning through the boat’s windows. Each time the lightning flashes; it highlights the pale blonde’s body with a magnificent blue-white aura that sends shivers down my spine. Her forearm leaves my throat and I gratefully suck in much welcome, refreshing air into my lungs. A flash of lightning fills the room again, and slaps start raining down on my face. One hand still clutches my hair and the other stings my cheeks with palms and backhand slaps. Each time she makes contact, the younger woman screams an obscenity. After a few slaps, tears are streaming down my face and I am trying to figure out how to submit. How can I go from certain victory to heartbreaking defeat in such a short period of time?
However, each time I try to say, “I submit” through my dry, injured throat, a slap stops me. Tears now flow openly from my eyes and the older woman’s words come rushing to mind, “…until one of you can no longer defend yourself.” Surely they will stop this soon if I can’t verbally submit.
The blonde stops slapping me and sits back on my belly. I am completely at her mercy and she knows it. She pulls my head aloft and closes my mouth before I can say I quit. She smiles as she sees the tears stream down my cheeks. Then to my utter horror, she leans forward and licks each teardrop off my cheeks. She releases my hair and my head flops back to the floor with a thud. I think to myself, “my God! It’s finally over.” However, the Goth girl stuns me once again. She leans forward. Cups her fingers under my chin and forces my jaws open. Her lips move in to kiss mine, but instead of kissing me, she spits into my mouth.
I gasp and gag as she sits back up laughing. “Are your tears salty, bitch?” She asks while laughing. The occupants sit in stunned silence as these events play out before them. Never in my life have I been so humiliated! My cheeks burn hot red, and I just want to curl up and die.
My tormentor leans forward once again and places her pale forearm on my throat. She leans all of her weight onto it. Her lips are only an inch from my ear when I feel her warm breath on my sweaty cheek. “Time to go to sleep, cxnt,” she whispers and leans all the way forward. Her forearm cuts off my air and her smooth, sweaty pale skin closes around my face.
I awaken later in a soft bed in the stateroom in which I changed. Rain is falling against the bulkhead and streams down the windows. Lightning flashes and I see my husband sitting in a chair next to the bed. His face creased with concern. I sob and try to hide my face, but his hand calms me. “Are you alright? Do we need to get you to a hospital?”
I cry for a few minutes and finally say, “No.” I think he understands that the only thing hurt on me is my feelings. How can I ever look at him again?
He leans over me and says, “The old man paid us in cash. He gave you a bonus for nearly winning. They are very upset she cheated. His wife said she would understand if you never want to see them again.”
Tears stream down my face and I nearly gag when I think of the Goth girl’s saliva in my mouth. But I say aloud the first thing that comes to mind.
“I want a rematch.”
