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Kelly 26 Blondes Battle at the Beach Bar

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Kelly 26 Blondes Battle at the Beach Bar
« on: December 03, 2014, 07:30:09 AM »

Chapter 26  Blondes Battle at the Beach Bar


“Hey Jimmy!  Brooke!  Come over here!” Vic Hely Hutchinson interrupted himself to wave at two people passing by. “I want you to meet some friends.”
 
Hand in hand they made their way over and Ivor introduced them.  “Jimmy Berwick, Brooke Harris...meet Ivor and Connie Gurney, Malcolm Sergant and Elena Savoy...and Peter Balfour.”
 
“Peter’s moping about on his own because his girl isn’t here,” Vic interjected.  He grinned at me.
 
“Kelly will be here soon enough.  Can we help it if we have busier lives than the rest of you?”
 
I forced a smile as I greeted Vic’s friends.  Vic’s ‘humorous’ taunts could get a little wearing at times.
 
Jimmy seemed vaguely Irish with dark hair, blue twinkling eyes and ruddy cheeks, though they could have been the result of the cold outside that had him well rugged up in a zip-up jacket over his shirt and dress jeans. They were both tall. Brooke would have been as tall as I was.  She was slim, even wiry, the kind of woman who’d never put on weight.  In her case though, she looked as though she worked out every day too. She had short, frizzy, dark brown hair and wore jeans and a white blouse with a jacket over it.
 
 “Get yourselves a drink and sit down with us,” said Mari Hely Hutchinson.  “We’re trying to solve the Iraq dilemma.”  She knew better than anyone how Vic could get on someone’s nerves.  She turned. “The president’s got another problem.  Judge Rizgar wants to retire as the head judge of Saddam Hussein’s trial.”
 
"What do you expect when Congressmen here and Iraqis there are complaining he’s been too soft on the former president?”  Malcolm took up the ball.
 
“It’s not looking good.  One judge has already resigned and the defence team has been murdered. I suppose you don’t have that sort of problem, Malcolm?” asked Ivor with a grin.
 
“No, I deal with property law.  Not too many murders…not this week, anyway.”  We
laughed.
 
Vic rejoined the conversation. “The congressmen are right.  That judge has been way too lenient toward Saddam.  He’s allowed him to take over the court.”
 
“No, he wants the world to see that he dispenses a very different kind of justice from Saddam's own courts,” Malcolm argued.  “This is a trial…like the Nuremberg trials were…not a show trial like Saddam or Stalin ran.  I might not go to court but I know what the rule of law looks like…and Judge Rizgar’s court looks like it complies with that rule.”
 
The conversation bubbled along.  Vic’s friends returned and joined in, but my mind was elsewhere. Kelly had promised to bring along someone from her roller derby team.
 
I’d been astonished by Kelly’s comment, after Elena had – quite justifiably – punished that annoying Heidi Foster, that she was going to take up roller derby.  I’d been even more surprised when she actually did so, and I’d said as much. That had gotten me an earful. Kelly had told me that I should have known her by now, and that when she said she’d do something, she’d do it.  
 
She was right – I should have known.  She would put all her effort into it, just like – as she reminded me – she did with sailing, just like she did with her career, with her family and with her charity work. I knew I’d been rightly admonished and did the right thing.  I took flowers home that night.
 
Kelly had forbidden me to go to her training sessions.  “I won’t have you see me making a fool of myself. You can come when I’m competent.”  And now she was bringing someone from the team, here to meet our circle of friends.  I couldn’t wait.
 
I saw her enter with another girl alongside her – as tall as Kelly, with a mass of red hair tumbling over her shoulders.  As they came closer to our table, the girl seemed to start suddenly and her step faltered.  I almost frowned but then Kelly was close enough for me to stand up, kiss and greet her.  As I did, I heard Elena say behind me, “Well hello, Mona.  It’s nice to see you.”  It clearly wasn’t – her voice dripped with bitter sarcasm.
 
“Hi people…meet Mona Nock,” Kelly smiled. “You already know Elena, I see.”  She went around the table, introducing the rest of us.
 
I noticed Vic’s eyes give Mona an appraising once over.  She wore a short skirt, a tight top that barely contained her impressive bust – 34C, I guessed idly – and high heels.  Smiling shark-like, he said, “Hello, Mona.  I hear you’re in Kelly’s roller derby team.”
 
Mona nodded .Vic’s quick glance at me revealed his thoughts – ‘trash, but what do you expect from roller derby but a roller derby girl’.  Aloud he continued, “How do you know Elena?”
 
Surprisingly, Mona blushed deep red. “Err…” She looked uncomfortable, then answered, “We play volleyball together.”
 
“Roller derby, volleyball...what other indoor sports do you like?” Vic left the question hanging. "What do you do when you’re not playing games?”
 
“I’m a part time clerk and I waitress.”
 
Vic’s satisfied glance at me spoke volumes. “Well, sit down and join in the conversation.  We were talking about the mess the government’s in with Iraq.”
 
“It’s not just us,” she replied without hesitation.  “General Sir Michael Rose…the UN commander in Bosnia…called for Tony Blair to be impeached.”
 
I’d never seen Vic so taken aback as he was by Mona’s comment right then.  She went on to explain why the British general had called for his Prime Minister’s impeachment – that Blair had used what we now knew were false claims of weapons of mass destruction when he had some other strategy in mind, that the outcome of the war had been disastrous both for the people of Iraq and also for the west in the war against global terror.  Mona was clearly more than she seemed and I enjoyed the look of confusion on Vic’s face.
 
Kelly leaned over and whispered gleefully in my ear, “Mona nailed him.  Just because she’s a roller derby playing waitress doesn’t mean she’s dumb.  She’s got a college diploma but she’s just one of many people these days, who can’t get a job in their chosen field.”
 
“Some British MPs are calling for an investigation into why the British government went to war in the first place,” Mona added.
 
“We know why our own went to war,” Elena added. “More money for Halliburton.  Can anyone tell me how many contracts that company got without having to bid?  You know, Dick Cheney argued against invading Iraq when the first George Bush was president.  He said it would be vastly expensive, it’d result in civil war, we had no decent exit strategy...all true, as it turned out.  Then he goes and works for Halliburton, makes hundreds of millions of dollars…becomes their CEO. Next thing you know, he’s Vice President and suddenly it’s a good idea to go into Iraq.”
 
I smiled.  It was good to see the forthright Elena return.
 
“Crap!” Vice rejoined.  “We went to war because, as the investigators said at the time, Hussein had weapons of mass destruction.”
 
“Vic,” I entered the conversation, “what did it matter to us whether that was true or not? What vital US interest was affected? We’re not the world’s policeman. Douglas McArthur wisely said, “Never get involved in a land war in Asia.”  We should have remembered that…and the lessons we got in Vietnam.”
 
Vic opened his mouth to reply but suddenly looked past me and waved.  “Over here, Kim!” I turned.  Kim Curzon was one of a group near the door.
 
“Saved by the bell…spelt with an extra ‘e’.” Kelly’s whisper summed up my view. She stood up to greet her protégé. Kim was –for once – conservatively dressed: turtleneck sweater and jeans were a concession to the cold while showing off her well formed rack and stomach.  “Hello Kim dear…lovely to see you and your friends. Mona, meet Kim Curzon, one of our leading actresses.  This is Michael Tippett…well, to call him Kim’s boyfriend is almost reverse sexism.  He’s a friend of Peter’s and an accountant.”  She turned and smiled at Michael.  “But I guess from the way Kim’s arm is wrapped round your waist, Michael, that you’re here as her boyfriend?”
 
Michael smiled wryly. “Hello Mona, nice to meet you.” He managed to extricate his right hand from Kim’s grasp and shook hands with Kelly’s new friend. “I suppose I’d better introduce you to the rest of the group.  Odette Luke…another actress, she’s been playing the part of Lady Orryed in The Second Mrs Tanqueray.  Kim,” he added with a proud glance at his girlfriend, “is playing the title role.”  He gestured at another woman in the group of newcomers.  “This is Heather Moffatt, the back of house manager at the Stephen A Douglas Center.  She tries to keep Kim, Odette and all the others in line.”  He nodded to the final two in their group.  “Leo Amery and Annebell Holtman.”
 
I greeted them all. As they spoke, it was clear that Heather and Leo were an item. Annebell looked even more like the stereotypical Cali beach bunny than my Kelly. She had the same shoulder-length blonde hair but she was taller – almost six foot – and athletic looking.  There were no bulging muscles, just a toned body as though she worked out regularly. Despite her strikingly attractive looks however, she seemed very shy, answering monosyllabically when we greeted her.
 
As groups do at bars, ours soon broke up.  Ivor and Connie went to chat with others, while Vic and Mari were engrossed with Vic’s new friends.  Leo and Heather clearly wanted to be alone so Kelly steered the rest of us to the bar – we all needed a drink anyway. She introduced Emily, who was behind her own bar, to a still shy Annebell.
 
“One makes one’s own opportunities,” Kim was laying down the law, apparently to Mona. “You don’t wait for them to be given to you.” She took a draw on her cigarette.
 
“It’s tough.  I have to hold down two jobs...waitressing and an office job...just to make ends meet.”
 
“So what’s new about that?  What makes you think you’re any different? Michael,”  Kim squeezed his waist, “and I have both been there.  We both had a hard time when we first came to Chicago. I waited on tables for years before I finally got a professional acting role. I networked. I got into amateur theatre and I showed them what I could do.”
 
“It’s hard to get into amateur journalism."
 
“It’s not hard to network.” She exhaled, blowing smoke in Mona’s direction.” You need to use your initiative. That’s what Michael did. Michael was an accountant in St Louis. He got transferred here, his employer went down the tubes and he had to drive cabs for a while. But he kept going, got a job...not much more than a clerk in an accounting office. He’s gone on from there. You can do the same.”
 
Elena joined in the attack. “Your problem, Mona, is that you’re always negative.  You never look for what you can do, just for what you can’t do, so you never see the possibilities. All you do is moan...yeah, your name’s just right for you…M O A N E R. You’re a sore loser, but maybe you’re still just plain sore.” She gave Mona an odd, indescribable look that made Mona go pale.
 
“Kim made the most of her opportunities.” Michael supported his girlfriend. “She used her amateur theatre contacts to become an understudy.  She got paid next to nothing, but it paid off. She was understudy to an actress who got sick just before opening night."
 
“So you got some lucky breaks...good for you,” Mona said.
 
“Yes I did. But if I hadn’t gotten that break, I’d have gotten another one.” Kim puffed cigarette smoke directly-and I am sure deliberately - in Mona’s face.
 
“You sound very sure of yourself.”
 
“The cream always rises,” Kim replied tartly. “If you had some initiative, you’d find that your part time job might blossom into something more.”
 
“Like it did for Wendy Armstrong?” Kelly asked smoothly. Kim choked  and turned scarlet. Kelly continued, evidently for Mona’s benefit, “Wendy’s an office girl, studying accounting.  She’s a close friend of Vic, whom you met earlier. Vic and Peter had a joint business venture and hired Wendy as their office girl. She grew the business and now she’s branched off into catering too. She’s made the most of her...talents and opportunities.” Kelly smiled at a still red-faced Kim. “Wendy doesn’t take crap from anyone.” Kelly’s smile changed to a hard stare – directly at Kim.  “And you shouldn’t either, Mona.”
 
Kim’s face went from scarlet to white as the blood drained from her face. Mona was probably the only person who didn’t know how Kim’s snide comments had led to her fighting Wendy at a party at Ivor and Connie Gurney’s, a fight that Wendy had finished by pounding Kim in the gut so hard that Kim had vomited up everything she’d eaten and drank that night. A shaky Kim stubbed out her cigarette.
 
“Mona, I’ll buy you a drink...then I want you to meet some more of my friends.” Kelly left with her latest protégé.
 
Kim’s fingers shook so much she could hardly hold the scotch Michael bought her to calm her nerves. He hugged her close.
 
“Your girlfriend’s comment was totally uncalled for.” Annebell made her first real comment of the night. “Don’t let her worry you, Kim dear.”
 
We all clucked appropriate calming words, though I was glad Kelly hadn’t been there to hear that.
 
“Hello girls!  Hello Peter...Michael!” Stu James greeted us effusively. “What’s the matter with my leading lady? Kim, you look so downcast. The second Mrs Tanqueray should be bright, vivacious and happy at the start of the play.”
 
“Stu,” Kim replied , “I’m not in the mood for banter about that play...or for you trying to cheer me up.” Her abruptness shocked me. I’d never known her to speak like that to a man, especially another actor. As Kelly had said more than once, Kim would flirt with anything in trousers. Not, it seemed, tonight. Instead she snuggled closer to Michael.
 
Along with everyone else in the circle, Stu knew he’d been snubbed. His face whitened slightly. “Ok, I’ll get myself a drink.” He walked away.
 
Annebell broke another awkward silence.  “Who do you think will be nominated for the Academy Awards?” It was a topical question – the announcements were due the following week – and one on which everyone involved in theatre was sure to have an opinion. The conversation was soon flowing again. Even Kim joined in, in response to a comment by Heather.  “North Country is too gritty...great film but it’s too cIearly an ‘issues’ film to be an Academy Award winner.  I think the winner will be  Pride and Prejudice...great plot, not that Hollywood had anything to do with that!...and some great actors too.  Not to mention that super-studly Rupert Friend as Mr Wickham.”  I was surprised to hear Kim use such a term and chuckled under my breath.  She never ceased to amaze.
 
“You’re still harping on about that show.” Hildy Johnson loomed from nowhere. The tall reporter – she stood five feet seven in flats, as I knew from seeing her next to my Kelly on prior occasions – had her long, corn coloured hair loose, flowing over her shoulders. Slender but athletic, she was dressed in a patterned blouse and jeans that concealed what I remembered were strong calf muscles and biceps. I hadn’t seen her before in the throng and had no idea she was coming – or even that she knew where Emily's bar was.
 
Kim turned scarlet.  Again her fingers shook as she tried to light another cigarette. “I’m talking about the film. Nothing to do with you,” she said curtly.
 
“No? Then perhaps you’ve learned your lesson...you and your friends, though I doubt it since you’re here, where someone taught you a lesson.”  Kim reddened and Hildy went on, “Yes, I know what happened here...another ‘Kim episode.’  The way I heard it, Kimberly had already taken on quite a load.  Kimberly saw someone...let’s call her what Kimberley called her, ‘Bitch’...come in.  Kimberly sized ‘Bitch’ up.  Kimberly thought ‘Bitch’ was some lowlife...she may have been right by the way. Kimberly, from what I hear, already knew that ‘Bitch’ had quite a reputation for fighting. Perhaps that should have warned Kimberly not to go there, but you know what they say, fools rush in...” She winked at the scarlet Kim.
 
“So Kimberley, in that fuzzy state of mind that comes to us all, once in a while...at least to those of us who throw back a half dozen double scotches...decided she could take ‘Bitch’. Kimberley was wrong, of course. ‘Bitch’ took Kimberley...took her apart. It didn’t take ‘Bitch’ too long either, to end the fight and lay Kimberly out. Oh no...after just a few moments, ‘Bitch’ connected to Kimberly's gut with a brutal uppercut and Kimberley was left...yet again...barfing up everything she’d drunk.
 
“How's that, Kimberly?  Did I get it right?”  Kim said nothing.  “Pretty close? And yet you can’t stay away?”  She laughed, not kindly.  “And they say blondes are dumb...but not as arrogant as actresses.”
 
Hildy was clearly furious, though I didn’t find out the likely reason until the next day.  The Tribune revealed that Hildy’s show had such low ratings it was in danger of being axed  It didn’t help that someone had uploaded a video of Kim’s send up of Hildy to Youtube which – it seems hard to remember now – was just a few months old then.
 
Hildy turned to Odette.  “Yes, you too. I took you both apart last time and I’ll do it again.”
 
“Like Kim says, we were talking about the Oscars.  You're welcome to join us if you like.” Annebell tried to make peace. “Pull up a stool.”
 
“Don't you condescend to me! You,” Hildy's finger jabbed a few inches from Annebell's face, “are as arrogant as the rest of them!”
 
“I'm trying to welcome you,” replied Annebell evenly, keeping her temper.  “You're making it very hard.”
 
I don’t need your welcome!” Hildy again waved her finger in Annebell's face.  This time Annebell quickly seized it.  “Let go!  Ouch!”
 
“When you learn some manners...OW!!!” Annebell squawked suddenly as Hildy's left hand hit her across the face.
 
“Manners??? I'll teach you manners!” Hildy yanked her right hand free from the shocked Annebell’s grasp and threw herself onto the taller blonde.
 
Her charge rammed Annebell back against the bar. While Annebell fought to regain her breath and stance, Hildy grabbed her by her shoulder length blonde locks, holding her tightly and drove a knee upward, aiming for the blonde's belly.
 
Annebell showed then that she was no stranger to a fight, pushing her own knee up to protect herself. Then, leaning back on the bar, she brought her knee up against her stomach and rammed her booted foot into Hildy's gut.
 
The kick all but winded Hildy who dropped back, doubled over, clutching her belly and breathing hard. Annebell swung an uppercut at her foe's face, catching her under the chin and whipping her head up. She followed that with a left right combo, sinking her fists into the journalist's stomach.
 
Hildy retreated quickly, her fists up defensively. For the next few minutes – and they seemed much longer – the two women traded punches to their enemy's midsection, chest or face. Both defended well to begin with. Again Annebell showed her skill.  She stood back, letting her longer reach – she was a good three or four inches taller than Hildy – work for her. She was able to dodge or step back out of range of the increasingly frustrated journalist, and to use both fists to hit back.  Hildy had to use one hand to parry and had to step forward – and so risk another blow or two – just to try to hit Annebell but at the start she did so, standing at an angle with her right side closer to the blonde.  Minimising her exposure, she parried many of Annebell’s blows with her left hand and dodged others while still striking Annebell more than a few times.
 
After a few moments though, Kim’s defender began to show that it wasn't just her reach that helped her.  Annebell proved that she was a better fist fighter than Hildy.  She kept stepping forward and to Hildy’s left, working around her foe’s flank.  She blackened Hildy's eye and struck blows that instantly produced red blotches on the journalist’s face that would be big bruises in a few hours, but it was her blows to Hildy's stomach that brought the loudest groans from her opponent and sent her scurrying or –more than a few times – reeling back.
 
Hildy landed fewer blows now, and those that did hit her enemy didn't do as much damage, at least not until she threw caution away. Ducking below the taller girl's swinging punches, Hildy darted in and bobbed up, mere inches from Annebell's face. Her fist crashed into her surprised foe's chin. Annebell's head snapped up and back. Before the taller woman could recover, Hildy had punched her hard in the mouth, drawing blood.
 
A chastened Annebell leapt back out of Hildy’s reach. Then, standing her ground but keeping her distance, she set about methodically pounding the journalist's body and face. There was little Hildy could do.  When she attacked, Annebell retreated. She found that bobbing down didn't work again – Annebell always kept one fist in close, ready to repel such an attack. Hildy's gasps when Annebell's punches hit her, soon changed to cries of pain.
 
“Annebell’s got her running scared,” Kelly whispered in my ear.  “Look at her white face.  It couldn’t happen to a better bitch.”
 
“You mean she’s saved you the trouble of teaching Hildy a lesson yourself,” I whispered back.  “A lesson you might have liked to teach.”
 
“Yes, I might have, but I can still enjoy watching someone else do my dirty work for me.”
 
Annebell shifted gears, stepping a little closer, accepting that Hildy’s punches might hit but obviously hoping to hit the journalist harder and more accurately. She proved she could do that with solid punches to Hildy’s midsection that left the smaller girl gasping for breath.  
 
Hildy gave ground, trying to dodge those devastating fists. She didn’t succeed. Annebell kept the pressure on, mixing her punches up – some to her enemy’s face, some to her chest, making it harder for the puffing, wheezing Hildy to defend herself.  She tried to duck under Annebell’s blows and counter attack, again without success.  Annebell simply stepped back, waiting for Hildy, then dodged her foe’s left fist. Hildy’s right struck Annebell’s side and Annebell stepped back again.  Encouraged, Hildy pressed her attack only to be met by Annebell’s knee crashing into her thigh, stopping her completely and almost dropping her to the floor.  Limping, she retreated.
 
Annebell resumed her attack. She was now moving faster, dancing round the journalist on the balls of her feet as she punched – a little less forcefully than a moment ago – and struck Hildy’s nose hard.  It burst blood.  Instinctively, Hildy put her hands up to her face.  Annebell stepped in and slugged her foe’s stomach with a heavy left right combo.
 
A spluttering, teary Hildy doubled up.  She knew she was being battered and she knew too she had little answer. Despite her bleeding mouth, Annebell had regained control of this fight and she kept it, scoring seemingly at will with solid punches, none of them enough to win the fight by themselves but each designed to hurt Hildy and to sap her will. They certainly seemed to be having that effect. A gasping and now sobbing Hildy retreated, her hands up defensively, seemingly no longer able to attack.
 
“Maybe it’s me who’s going to teach you some manners after all,” Annebell sneered. “You won’t be so mouthy again.”
 
In desperate frustration, Hildy charged in, slipping under Annebell's defence, apparently trying to tackle her foe. Annebell stepped back out of the journalist's gasping arms – but not quite. Hildy had grasped Annebell's jeans. She clung on, even when Annebell took another step back, jerking Hildy off balance and dropping her to her knees. Annebell's mistake was to try to wrestle the clinging hand away for Hildy's head swung back, then forward – straight into Annebell's stomach.
 
Clearly unprepared, Annebell folded like laundry, clutching her midriff as she stumbled away, doubled forward. A revitalized Hildy grabbed Annebell's hanging hair and yanked hard. She pulled the taller woman over and Annebell crashed to the floor.  Rolling quickly, she only just avoided Hildy's attempt to knee her gut but not Hildy's next grab for her hair.
 
Hildy yanked Annebell's head towards her with her left hand and punched her foe's face with her right. Held tightly by her hair, Annebell couldn't get away and Hildy scored a half dozen savage, unanswered blows before Annebell bunched her legs up against her middle, then thrust them hard and into Hildy's side. Hildy wailed and fell back, still clutching a fistful of Annebell's long blonde locks.  Annebell pivoted, swinging her legs toward Hildy, one on either side of the journalist's rising body. Annebell locked her legs around Hildy's waist and squeezed.
 
Hildy tried to free herself.  She yanked at those strong legs, she hit at Annebell's side, she reached for the blonde’s hair again, but all in vain.  The implacable scissors move crushed the air from her lungs.
 
As I watched Annebell begin to take control, I was joined by Vic and his two friends. Vic spoked softly to Kelly, “I'm only surprised you're letting someone else do your dirty work.”
 
Kelly turned and looked at him coldly.  “Why have a dog and bark yourself?”
 
“Are you calling that tall girl a dog?” Vic tried to save some face.
 
“No, it’s a metaphor, Vic.  Grow a brain,” his friend – Jimmy – chuckled. “Does this kinda thing happen here a lot?”
 
Before Vic could answer, the struggling Hildy had given up slapping and clawing at her enemy. She looked as if she was at her last gasp, red faced, mouth lolling open as she tried to suck in air when she punched at Annebell's stomach, twice. The first blow didn't do much damage but the second seemed to weaken Annebell just enough for Hildy to prise the blonde’s legs apart a short distance, enough so she could twist her body, get a breath of air and then twist some more until she worked her way free.
 
Annebell’s grab at Hildy’s hair was too late to stop the smaller girl rolling away and scrambling to her feet. Annebell was a little slower – her attempt to restrain Hildy meant that she was still getting up when Hildy fully regained her feet.  Hildy capitalised on that with a hard kick aimed at Annebell’s middle.  Annebell, hunching down, caught the blow on her left shoulder. She grunted with pain and stumbled, but got to her feet nonetheless.  
 
“Vic would be almost right if he did call that tall girl a dog,” Jimmy’s girl hissed.  “She’s a bitch…but so is that Hildy Johnson. Any woman who flights like that is a bitch…gutter trash.  Disgusting.”
 
“Come on, Brooke dear. Don’t sound so shocked. You’ve seen women fight before,” replied Jimmy.
 
“Yes but there’s a difference between seeing it and liking it.” She sniffed.
 
“Brooke!”
 
I shifted focus from the couple on the sidelines to the couple fighting as Hildy closed on Annebell. The’d been circling for a moment or two but now Hildy pressured Annebell with sharp kicks and punches.  She seemed to have gained the edge.  Annebell favoured her left arm, keeping it bunched up instead of – as before – using it as effectively as she used her right.  
 
“That kick hurt.”  I looked at the speaker – Jimmy. He stood arm in arm with Brooke, watching the fight intently.  Despite what she had said earlier, her face was flushed with excitement.  So was Jimmy’s.
 
He was right- the kick had hurt Annebell but still she used her longer reach to both stave off Hildy’s punches and to deliver her own. Despite her damaged arm she began to recover, at first firing lighter punches with her right hand as if testing Hildy’s defences. She found them wanting.  Hildy was breathing with difficulty.  Every breath she took brought a small froth of blood from her nostrils.  She was moving sluggishly.
 
Again Annebell changed gears – going into overdrive this time.  She lashed out with a barrage of hard punches aimed at Hildy’s face and upper body. I counted six unanswered blows before she hissed, “Give in bitch!” Without pausing for an answer however, she sent another barrage, repeating herself every half dozen blows.  After perhaps five such demands, Hildy, who was by then a battered wreck, propped upright against a pillar, finally croaked out her surrender.
 
Annebell grabbed Hildy by the ears and shoved her toward the bar. “Emily, when’s your next trash collection?”  She left her beaten foe slumped on a stool and walked over to us.  “I need a drink. Come on Kim...Odette, Michael...let’s celebrate.” She wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth and laughed.  “‘Ding dong, the wicked witch is dead’...or at least she won’t bother you for a while.”
 
The group walked off, all smiles.

Kelly and Mari helped Hildy to the bathroom.
 
“Your wife’s being a good Samaritan again,” Jimmy remarked to Vic.
 
“Uh huh...she was a little shocked at the violence.”  He turned to Brooke. “You sounded shocked, I’m sorry.  This isn’t always a charnel house.”
 
“Oh don’t be so naïve,” laughed Jimmy.  “Just like you, Brooke’s an aficionado of catfights.”
 
She smiled at him, then at Vic.  “Like the report of Mark Twain’s death, that’s a gross exaggeration,” she replied.  “I’ve seen a few...maybe half a dozen in total...and they were just scuffles.”
 
“Scuffles?” Jimmy laughed again.  “I know better. Remember, I was with you watching one of them. That was hardly a scuffle. That obnoxious blonde got her ass handed to her, and you loved every second of it.”
 
“Watch your mouth, Jimmy Berwick!” Brooke shot back with mock severity. “Those girls...those trashy fighters...what did they do when they finished? The winner took the cloak room trash off to the showers.”
 
“Well at least they didn't do it in public. Not like...” Jimmy smiled and stared at his girlfriend.
 
“Jimmy Berwick, if you’re saying I've done anything like that slut did in the showers...in public...then...”
 
She didn't finish her sentence. Jimmy caught her in his arms and kissed her. “Come clean, Brooke hun.”
 
“I told you, that place disgusted me.  I was watching girls fight, girls spank each other, girls fondle each other. I told you I wanted to leave!”
 
"You did, but it was all pretense...admit it, Brooke. I know how watching girls fight gets you hot.  I pissed you off by feeling up that trashy Melissa Windeyer.  Admit it, Brooke. I had you jealous.  It was all part of my master plan.  You've dated other guys...some real losers. So I wantedto make you jealous...and I did.  My master plan worked like a charm.  You realized I was the man for you.  It was that simple. Then I promised you a payoff...and I delivered.”
 
Brooke giggled.  “I had no idea what you planned.  I thought you were just going to show her up as the empty headed piece of trash she is. But you had a deeper scheme.”  She hooked her finger in the front of his shirt, pulled him close and kissed him.  “What you did, lover...turning her inside out ...was amazing. She actually thought she had a chance of scoring with you.”
 
Jimmy chuckled. “She spreads her legs so often, she probably thinks every guy wants her.” Then, looking round at Vic's face which showed interest and mine showing a little confusion, he went on, “We’re talking about Melissa Windeyer, a big boobed sexpot in the Marilyn Monroe style.  She’s easy on the eyes but dumb as a box of rocks.  She's from some black hole in the burbs that you've never heard of, with some kind of nothing job, but she thinks she belongs in our circles.”
 
Brooke took up the story. “She'd just pounded some much better girl – a young lawyer – in a fight. Yes, she's an aggressive bitch. Then, after a steamy,” Brooke giggled at her own double entendre, “session in the shower with the cloak room attendant, she sashays up to the bar like a model, hand on swinging hip, and looks around the room expecting everyone to be admiring her figure.  She was eavesdropping on Jimmy and me talking and as they say, eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves.” She smirked. “Not that there’s anything good to say about that slut.”
 
“That’s not the whole truth,” Jimmy interrupted, “on two levels. She’d be a good fuck and we weren’t talking about her...not at first anyway. You were still pretending to be shocked by what had gone on. You kept telling me you wanted to leave.”
 
“Jimmy, I did want to leave...with you. How obvious does a girl have to be? You were right.  Yes, I was excited, aroused and I wanted you...alone and in private...not a ‘session’ like everyone knew that slut had just had in the showers. But of course she thought we were talking about her...with people like her, it’s always about them.”
 
“Soon enough we were. I’ve never heard a better, more apt, more descriptive put-down than yours, hun...you called her a ‘rancid brunette Pamela Anderson.’” He laughed again.  “You got her going with that.”
 
“Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves.”
 
“So how did Jimmy turn this girl ‘inside out’ as you put it?” Vic asked.
 
“She was flirting with me,” explained Jimmy, “so I slipped my arm around her waist. Then I narrated a pretend fight between Melissa and Brooke. I had Melissa starting well. She liked that but I turned the tide.  She didn’t like that.
 
“I played her. I knew her self-confidence was fragile...brittle.  I knew she liked sex. I’d heard she had a tummy fetish. I guessed she was still sexually charged up from her fight and what she’d done in the showers with the hired help.  I also guessed that deep down, she wanted to lose. So I played her...mind games, and working her tummy till she melted.”
 
“Melted?” echoed Brooke. “You made her cum on your fingers, dear. Then I finished her off with a couple of punches to her belly and we left her to the crowd.” She squeezed Jimmy tightly.  “I heard they had a lot of fun with her after we left.”
 
Vic smiled wolfishly. I knew he wished he’d seen that – so did I, for that matter – and that he’d like to meet this Melissa Windeyer.  It was unlikely of course.  It was a pity, because I’d like to see Kelly take her in charge.  Still, there was no harm in dreaming.  
 
I shrugged.  It was time to find Kelly and go home.
 
This introduces two lovely new ladies to my stories -Mona and Annebell. I thank them for their willingness and their suggestions on improvements and as always I thank my friends the Scribbler and Elena for their help too.
« Last Edit: January 18, 2015, 10:53:48 PM by peccavi »
Blondes are cool Brunettes are Hot!!

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Offline Kayla

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Re: Kelly 25
« Reply #1 on: December 03, 2014, 08:35:47 AM »
Kelly turned and looked at him coldly.  “Why have a dog and bark yourself?”

Tee hee!  ;D Very good, and so's the story!  ;)

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Kayla
Naughty - but oh, so NICE! :-)