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Kelly and her friends 25 A not so tame New Year's Eve

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Offline peccavi

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Kelly and her friends 25 A not so tame New Year's Eve
« on: October 23, 2014, 08:47:22 AM »

Chapter 25  A not so tame New Year's Eve

And featuring the lovely Connie, a true friend. This is the first 'request' story I have done in a long while. There will be more,  I ask you to be patient.

Bah!  That woman is full of it!” Heather West pointed.  “Connie Lauengram…or rather, if you want it in full, Constanza Flavia Lauengram von Hötzendorf, not that she ever uses the title.  She’s far too ‘modest’.  She‘s a modest woman man with much to be modest about.”
 
“I didn’t know you quoted Churchill,” I said.
 
“What?” Heather looked at me.
 
“‘A modest man with much to be modest about.’  That’s what Winston said about Clem Atlee…before Atlee and the Labour Party won the 1945 British General Election and bundled Churchill’s Conservatives out of office.”
 
“The trouble with you, Peter Balfour, is you know too much history.” Heather rounded on me. “But I’m not going there tonight. Whether Churchill said it about…who did you say?...or not, I’m saying it about that faux Kraut aristocrat, Lauengram von Hötzendorf.”
 
“But why, Heather? Connie’s a sweetie,” Kelly replied.  “She’s also an absolute dare devil.”
 
I looked  at Connie, a trim, shortish brunette in early middle age.  I’d have put her in her late thirties or perhaps even older.  She wore ‘sensible’ shoes, a not-quite-knee-length, sky blue skirt with a matching jacket and a cream blouse. I couldn't help comparing Connie to Heather who wore a low cut  red sheaf dress-so tight she must have had help getting into it -and the help would have needed a shoehorn. Whereas Connie apparently didn't mind looking mature and wore her ages well, Heather fought with every advancing year and from the growing creases around her face, wasn't winning many of those battles.
 
“Yes Peter!”  Kelly answered my unspoken doubts.  “She doesn’t look it, but she’s an extreme sports enthusiast.  Sky diving, white water rafting, rock climbing…you name it, she’s done it and she leads groups too. Some of the rafting expeditions Connie leads are for people with disabilities.  It’s some programme run by Volunteers of America…Kate and James Baldwin are involved in it too.”  Kelly named some friends I’d first met at an office garden party.
 
I smiled to myself.  I had a special reason for remembering that party.  That was when I met Bethany Beaverbrook, whom Kelly had thrashed later behind some shrubbery. That day was the first time I saw just how devious Kelly was.  She'd encouraged me to help the injured Bethany home, but hadn’t told me how insatiable the tall brunette was.
 
“She’s still full of shit!” persisted Heather.  “Lauengram von Hötzendorf vetoes any material from my show!  She’s trying to veto anything from the network.”  She was clearly angry. She quaffed her wine – one swig emptied half the glass.
 
I didn’t understand what she meant.  “Veto?”
 
“Yes!  She’s the commercial manager for a group of local papers…suburban and smaller cities around the Greater Chicago area…all the way up to Wisconsin and down to North West Indiana.  It’s a big group. She handles a lot of their combined advertising. She’ll get you spots in all the papers cheaper and it’s a lot easier than going to each paper in turn.”
 
“So...veto?” I was still puzzled.
 
“It’s all to do with Medici. That group of councils Medici runs, advertises in Lauengram von Hötzendorf‘s papers. So Lauengram von Hötzendorf won’t let anything critical of Medici appear in the papers. So she vetoes my show.  Not a mention!  It affects my ratings.  I don’t get any publicity…no follow-up stories.  She even goes to advertisers and tells them, ‘you advertise on West’s show and you won’t get any specials in my papers’. She’s a bitch. She looks like your middle-aged soccer mom with teenage kids…and she’s got them. She looks as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but she’s a scheming bitch.”
 
She pointed a finger at Kelly.  “You watch, Kelly Haldane…it won't be long before she'll make you choose between her papers and my network.”
 
I shook my head.  Heather West had an inflated ego – ‘my network’ indeed.
 
“I’m sure if you can come up with some proof about Ms Medici's complicity and the buying group's criminality, that you'll get all the publicity…all the coverage…you want,” replied Kelly, slyly reminding us all that so far, Heather was short on hard facts.  She had evidence to raise suspicions but that was all.
 
“These things take time!” Heather shot back angrily.  She looked at her now-empty glass.  “I'm going to get a drink.”  She flounced off.
 
“I think she’s had enough to drink already,” I said softly to Kelly.
 
“More than enough…but she can hold her liquor. Just as well too.  It wouldn’t do her any good to have a drunken episode here.”
 
I shook my head, thinking of the last ‘episode’ I’d witnessed in Heather 'Wild' West’s career. A brawl with Catherine Medici at the Beverley Country Club had been bad enough. Some drunken blunder at a New Years Eve party might have been forgiven except that this was no ordinary New Years Eve party. The Chicago Media Alliance was hosting this event instead of its usual Christmas Party.
 
I'd been surprised and disappointed when Kelly told me we were expected to go. A trade organisation of advertising agencies, press, radio and television media was not going to host the sort of New Years Eve party that I liked. But I went along, nonetheless. So far it had lived up – or perhaps down – to my expectations. There was plenty of food and drink but I wanted more excitement than talking to Henry McKenna about the Washington Naval Conference. I liked Henry and I liked talking about history with him, but a New Year's Eve party was meant to be more fun.
 
I saw him puffing on a cigar while chatting to his fellow partner and namesake at Donne Herbert and Vaughan – Henry Vaughan. Kelly insisted we go over and chat with them, so we did.  Kelly had an agenda.
 
“Henry, “she turned to Vaughan after a few pleasantries, “We need a new programme for the Lurie.”
 
“Yes, your uncle spoke to me at the last trustee’s meeting,” he replied Again I marveled at the Haldane family's tentacles.  I knew Henry Vaughan was a trustee of the Lurie Hospital's charity fund and that Kelly’s fundraising had been recognised when she was inducted into  the Lurie's ‘Circle of Friends’ but I didn’t know her uncle was also a trustee. “Connie Lauengram’s onboard. She promised me she’d get our press releases into the papers. I wanted one to feature the work she does through Volunteers for America but she wouldn’t be in it.”
 
“Hiding her light under a bushel.” Heather's voice was loaded with sarcasm. She'd walked past and overheard us.  “Lauengram wants you to think she's a quiet mouse minding her own business doing good to all, but she's a spider sitting still and manipulating her web of deceit, trying to control everything. See how she’s eliminated all negative stories about Medici…not just my show, not even just my network but everything from those papers. She's vindictive too.  See how she punishes my network for daring to challenge that family.  She's only the commercial manager, soliciting advertisers, but she has more control over what gets printed than the editors.” She stalked off, leaving us shaking our heads.
 
Henry McKenna puffed on his cigar again. “Typical West…jealous and paranoid.”
 
I couldn't disagree with him.
 
I wasn't surprised when, a short time later, Kelly introduced me to Connie by telling her about my family, our family business and our history in Chicago. She obviously wanted to show her boyfriend's family were almost as worthy of worship as her own or, indeed, Connie's.  Connie was suitably impressed, or at least made a convincing pretense.  “You ladies should carry Burke's Peerage and the Social Register around with you,” I suggested, tongue in cheek, after they had prattled on for perhaps five minutes. “Maybe someone will design an app for them.”
 
“It's snobbery, that's all!” Heather West had circled back and now she broke into the conversation once again. “You,” she pointed at Kelly, “have little achievement of your own to boast about. Born with a silver…or maybe a platinum…spoon in your mouth, you've been borne along by the golden conveyor belt of wealth and status…good school, good college, good job. Yes, you've worked at it.  You're not dumb at all. But you still had it easy. So with few achievements of your own, you boast of your family.”
 
Kelly went to say something.  “No!” Heather loudly talked over Kelly's protest.  “It’s not you I'm talking about.”  She turned to Connie, “It's you, Constanza Lauengram von Hötzendorf. Your family's about all you've got going for you. You've no talent of your own.  All you can get is some mediocre job as a commercial manager for suburban rags.” Her voice grew louder with each sentence. “And you use that to block stories about your cronies. You've gone too far.”
 
“Stories?  What stories?” Connie snapped back.  “All you’ve got is a tissue of innuendo, suspicions and rumours without any substance to them.”
 
“That's what your kind said about my mom when she exposed the Medici's involvement in the Hor-Mart scandal back in Sandbridge.”
 
That ancient story?” Connie was derisive. “What did your mother find out? That the Valois had helped finance a developer? Well yes, that's what bankers do. They lend money. Did she find out that they had done anything wrong? Did the DA put Henri or his father on trial? No.  As for you, your 'expose' of Catherine will have about the same impact as your mother's did of Catherine's husband's family. Zilch. Because there's nothing to it. You're all about your ratings, not about evidence. Your show's not news.  It’s entertainment, and it’s trash entertainment at that. Perhaps you should start being even more personal.  Why not tell your audience about your personal life?  You could call it ‘Around the world in 80 lays’.  Your mother could host a self improvement programme too…'Sleep your way to success'.”
 
Heather’s face went beet red and my response to Kelly, “That's a bit savage” was truncated as the blonde suddenly lashed out.
 
Her slap on Connie's face still resounded as she hissed, “You can say what you like about me, bitch, but you leave my mom out of it.”
 
Connie sneered, her hand to her reddened cheek.  “Like mother, like daughter.”
 
Heather didn’t reply but simply seized Connie's dress by the collar, yanking the small brunette off her feet. Connie only saved herself from falling by hooking her arm around Heather's waist, holding on to regain her balance as Heather's fist repeatedly pounded her back.  At last she shoved herself away from the blonde and stood there gaping, as if she couldn’t believe that Heather had just assaulted her.  The rest of us were having trouble believing it too.  What the hell was Heather thinking?
 
Words might have been Heather’s stock in trade but she abandoned them now in favor of physical attack.  She launched a flurry of hard slaps aimed at Connie's head. Connie seemed nonplussed, as if she still couldn’t bring herself to believe that this was happening.  She stood still as Heather's slaps lashed her, until finally she came to her senses and ducked.   Heather, overstretched and off balance, couldn't prevent Connie's rising head butt that struck her stomach. She retreated, gasping, but recovered quickly and stepped up to slap at Connie again.
 
Connie countered with slaps of her own. Heather neatly sidestepped and seized Connie's short hair, wrestling her foe, bending her over. Connie's arm snaked up, grabbing a fistful of Heather's much longer locks. She pulled hard and Heather was as bent over as Connie. They stayed like that – bent at the waist, bodies almost parallel to the floor, each with one hand buried in the other's hair, each punching or slapping with the other hand – for what seemed like a whole minute. They jerked each other around and at one point it seemed that Heather almost dragged Connie off her feet, but the smaller woman clung on.
 
They each hit hard – one of Connie's punches broke Heather's lip open – and they shoved and swung their hips at each other, each trying unsuccessfully to knock the other down. Connie grabbed a second fistful of Heather's hair and slowly stood, dragging the blonde up with her. Then she rammed her knee up into the journalist's belly.
 
Heather groaned.  Connie shook Heather's hair violently, then shoved her backwards. As the blonde staggered, Connie pressed her attack, firing punches at the taller blonde.  She drove Heather back further, slowly at first but as she got into her stride, she began mixing up her punches, aiming them at Heather's body, sides or face so the flustered blonde had trouble defending.  On the few occasions when Heather managed to counter attack, Connie would bob down to avoid the wild strikes, and use the opportunity to hammer Heather’s lower body.  Heather got a couple of punches in but only on Connie's sides or the top of her head. Connie just moved faster. She was all over the blonde. She made her smallness work for her, ducking, weaving around Heather's blows as her fists peppered Heather drawing grunts, groans, gasps and yelps of pain.
 
Heather only realised the seriousness of her predicament when her back hit the counter that separated the dance floor from the rest of the bar. She gulped.  Connie fired a left-right combo – her left at Heather's face which the blonde parried, her right at Heather's midriff which hit home hard.  Heather gagged and buckled as spit and air rushed from her mouth. Connie attacked again with a roundhouse punch that Heather almost avoided by stepping to her side. Instead of hammering her midsection, it hit her in the ribs beneath her right arm.  Again Heather grunted in pain
 
Having cut off Heather's retreat, she now went after her foe in earnest.  She fired another combo – this time right-left – into Heather's middle. The blonde showed her mettle this time, parrying the right and stepping back the other way to avoid the left, which just brushed her side. She countered, feinting at Connie's left side as if trying to push her enemy back and so make her retreat easier but then, as Connie deflected that blow and herself moved slightly left, Heather's right  thundered into Connie's stomach.
 
Connie’s half-executed punch at Heather's face stopped dead as she clutched her gut and doubled up instead. Heather's smirk was short lived however, as was her attempt to move to more open territory as Connie thrust her lowered head like a battering ram into the blonde's belly once more.  For the second time, Heather gagged and spit flew from her mouth over Connie’s back as the brunette shoved her hard back against the counter.
 
For a brief moment it seemed that Heather was finished.  Certainly Connie's fists met no resistance as they hammered into the groaning, gasping blonde's sides and midriff.  But Connie got too confident, and neglected her defence. As she stepped in close to deliver an uppercut to the reeling blonde’s chin, she didn't see Heather's knee until after it had sunk deeply into her stomach.
 
Connie staggered back a step, the pain evident on her face.  She recovered quickly and renewed her attack, but she was too slow to prevent Heather escaping.  Still, her fists landed several unanswered blows on the blonde before Heather broke away into the open area normally used as a dance floor.
 
Heather might have escaped Connie’s trap but she was still in trouble.  She seemed tired and stumbled as Connie came after her and pressed her attack.  Heather seemed content just to stave Connie off. She used her height and reach advantage, lobbing sparring punches and slaps that made Connie keep her distance. When Connie tried to squirm inside Heather’s reach, the blonde sidestepped or dropped back a pace.  It was obvious that, now conscious of how Connie had trapped her, she was deliberately circling, weaving, always keeping plenty of room between herself and obstacles which would limit her movement.
 
For perhaps thirty seconds the two women circled, mostly defending.  Occasionally a fist or an open hand would break through and Connie or Heather would groan, but the blows did no real damage. Those were thirty invaluable seconds for Heather’s recovery and thirty wasted seconds for Connie.
 
Certainly realising this, and seemingly maddened by it, Connie suddenly attacked fiercely, ducking low under Heather’s guard with a barrage of punches and slaps to the ribs and stomach.  Those that hit made the blonde cry out but others – perhaps the majority – Heather deflected or dodged.  Connie attacked even harder but in so doing, she left herself open.  Heather saw her opportunity.  Her foot curved out and up, spearing itself into the pit of Connie’s stomach.
 
The little brunette seemed to rise to her tiptoes before falling back. She all but lost her balance and before she had regrouped Heather was around her side, ducking low and diving onto a football-style tackle, grabbing Connie's knees and toppling her backward. The startled brunette fell on her butt with a breathless cry.
 
The impact as they both hit the floor broke Heather’s hold and Connie rolled away.  Heather scrambled after her, crab-fashion on her hands and knees, and quickly caught up with her. She tried to roll Connie onto her belly but Connie broke loose, rolled further and got to her knees.  Heather launched herself at Connie and, kneeling, the two women traded slaps and punches as Heather tried to knock her enemy over and Connie tried to stay upright.
 
After perhaps another half minute, Heather got her arm around Connie's neck and pushed.  Using her greater weight, she managed to force the smaller woman's left side to the floor. Connie kicked her left leg out but it was still under Heather's body.  She punched at Heather’s ribs.  Heather, staring into Connie's face with a vicious smile, turned slightly to avoid the blow as she in turn tried to grab Connie's middle.
 
“She’s going to try to roll Connie onto her stomach. If she succeeds...poor Connie.  Heather’s going for her signature move that MMA naked choke.” I smiled.
 
“Come here, girl!” Heather grunted, trying to pull Connie forward. Connie pivoted on her butt, swinging her body further away from the increasingly frustrated Heather who now lunged, grabbing at her again. Connie punched out at Heather’s midsection but Heather twisted her body so it was almost side-on to Connie. Connie's punch glanced off Heather’s ribs.
 
Heather's arms groped after Connie's arm, seized it and began to haul the brunette's body towards her.  Then, with a surprising speed, Connie’s legs swung out on either side of Heather and, with even more surprising strength, Connie brought her feet together and squeezed Heather's midsection tight between her thighs.  Heather gasped with astonishment, then she emitted a much longer gasp as Connie slowly increased the pressure and her legs started to crush the air from the blonde's lungs.
 
Heather tried to punch, to claw, to slap, anything to break the scissors hold. She might have been able to do that if she was fresher, but she was tired and Connie was implacable. Heather couldn't stop those strong legs from squeezing the fight from her body. She hissed and squealed. Connie ended the fight when she swung her body, bringing Heather down, her head hitting the floor heavily, then swung her body back the other way, bringing Heather to an almost sitting position. Connie repeated her move, cracking Heather’s head down on the floor again.  When Connie released her grip. Heather just lay there.
 
Connie stood up.  She fetched an ice bucket from the bar and upended it over the still prostrate Heather.  “You’re as good a fighter as you are a journalist. Crappy at both!” She nudged Heather with her foot. “Well, I didn’t expect that at this New Year’s Eve party.” She walked off.
 
Kelly turned to me and, speaking for the first time since the start of the fight, she said, “Connie’s actions are as gentle as her voice…but cross her and both are savage. You’d better help Heather.”
 
I did so, finally getting the angry blonde to stand. She walked off towards the bathrooms, mouthing insults at Connie.
 
“She hasn’t learnt her lesson,” sighed Kelly.  “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.  It’s like Connie said in some ways.  ‘Like mother, like daughter’, though the story goes that in Sue Ann West’s case, it wasn’t that she bit off more than she could chew, but that she tried to shove more in her mouth than she could suck on.”
 
She smiled at the incredulous look I gave her.  “Peter, it’s time we were going home.”
 
*****
« Last Edit: January 18, 2015, 10:53:08 PM by peccavi »
Blondes are cool Brunettes are Hot!!

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Offline Anna the Marine Chick

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Re: Kelly and her friends 24 A not so tame New Year's Eve
« Reply #1 on: October 24, 2014, 05:19:14 PM »
Great action!!!! Love your stories!!!

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Offline Fw190 A

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Re: Kelly and her friends 24 A not so tame New Year's Eve
« Reply #2 on: October 24, 2014, 07:27:09 PM »
Still the best fight scenes around. And it's nice to Braveheart's Heather West back in action.