The woman crouched, her tight bodysuit pulling over her arse in a way that raised my pulse rate. She raised her gun, took aim and fired.
“Nice shot!” I said as her victim slumped.
She spun, swinging her gun towards me but it was too late. I fired.
“You fuck!” Joanne grunted as the target disk on her chest lit up disqualifying her from the game.
“Is that a question?” I said, “if so, the answer is maybe, depending on who it is.”
“'Fuck' is a noun,” Joanne said, resetting her target disc and holstering her laser as she pushed past.
That was when she first came to my notice. Aged about 45 with short dark hair, and pretty fit for a woman of her age, she was then on my radar. She'd just shot Sara, our receptionist, and I like women who make other women suffer, even if it is only pretend. She had recently landed a job as a sales... something or other... at our company.
The next day, on the pretext of needing some information for a company we were dealing with. I approached her desk. Someone was shifting some equipment so I had to slip through two partitions, which gave me a view of her computer screen that would not otherwise have been visible. She was leaning over chatting to one of her colleagues, and as she saw me, she turned quickly, punched something quickly on her keyboard and then smiled, a slight flush reddening her cheeks.
As well it might, as in the moment between me getting a view of her screen and her punching the keyboard I could have sworn that what I'd seen was the familiar blue layout of the fcf chat screen.
Of course being a perfect gentleman and consummate professional I mentioned none of this to her, and simply asked for the information I needed, which she gave me. Only towards the end of the day did I return and, despite having spotted her wedding ring, I asked if she was up for a drink or two. She was surprised at first, then suspicious, then I got the shit about being very busy, but... how about next Tuesday?
“Its a date. See you next Tuesday, Mr Fuck!” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
Cheeky bitch! But I took it as a 'promise' anyway. No way Tuesday was going to end without me turning the noun into a verb
So there we were, me making smalltalk as I sized up potential opponents for her from among the other women in the bar, while she selected expensive cocktails with which to drain my wallet.
“So where did your interest in fighting come from?” I asked, once I'd summoned up the courage.
She gave me a puzzled frown. “What makes you ask that?”
I shrugged, as if waiting for her to answer.
“I don't have an interest in fighting women,” she said as if explaining something to a child.
And there we have it. I had said nothing about her being a participant, or who her opponents might have been. I should really have been a detective.
“Fair enough,” I said. “Fancy a coffee at mine?”
Her mouth opened in a shocked O. “You don't hang about!” she said.
“Is that a yes?”
“No.”
So I was wrong about my seductive prowess but she was happy for another date, when she explained to me that she was in fact divorced, but that she couldn't get her ring off because her fingers were like sausages. They weren't at all, but they did look quite strong, which prompted me to ask again...
“How often do you fight?”
“I don't!”
Back in my bachelor flat I watched her strip as I dropped my pants to one of the quieter Led Zep tracks. Removing her bra, she scratched the red marks it left under her tits, while I took in the erect pink nipples and wondered at those little lumps on the surrounding areaolas. Pushing her jeans off, her panties remained at half mast, exposing the top of her dark bush and I noticed that although her belly was well shaped for a woman of her age, the luminous stretch-marks spoke of childbirth.
I know its wrong and a little strange, but I'm one of these guys who doesn't stop at the skin when it comes to undressing women with their eyes. I imagined her womb curled like a little scorpion beneath that bush, wondering how full the bladder that sat in front of it was.
She smiled at me. “I can read your dirty little mind, Mr Fuck!”
I smiled back ruefully. You can't, I thought. You really can't. At least I hoped not.
I've said before that as a younger man I'd gone for needier women who know their allure is fading, but as I get older I feed on the desperation. Women are more sensitive to those little blemishes on their bodies than men – well me at least – dark rings under the eyes, wrinkles at the corners of the mouth, grey hairs, and it makes them feel that no one will want to fuck them. They should come to me and I'll give them the reassurance they need. True to form Joanne fucked like she had just got out of jail.
Afterwards I asked her. “Is fighting sexual for you?”
“Jesus!” With a flurry of bedsheets she was sitting on the side of the bed with her back to me. Without a word she got up, went to the bathroom and locked the door. I heard the shower turn on, turn off, silence and then the lock go as she emerged fully dressed.
“Next Tuesday then?” I said.
She left without answering.
Sometimes I go too far, and I was beginning to wonder if I'd misunderstood what I'd thought I'd seen anyway. Perhaps it wasn't a fcf chat room I'd seen. I wondered vaguely what it was she might have been into, but I was beginning to lose interest. If I did see her on Tuesday I decided it would be for the last time.
Two days later I got a frosty e-mail from her, giving me more information about the client she'd been dealing with. No smileys, no flirtation, not even a 'kind regards' at the end. I was a little surprised, then to see a short P.S. 'I'm free tonight'.
I wasn't. There was a big Arsenal match on and I was supposed to meet Mike, a good friend, at 'The Albion', where they were showing it. I needed a bloody good excuse to cry off – to myself as well as him. But I needed it anyway, because I'd responded with a 'Thanks' and a P.S. Of my own. 'Doing Bolognese. See you at mine. 8.00'.
“I have an account at
www.freecatfights.com,” she said as we ate. “I like to imagine myself fighting and I sometimes 'play' with other women. God knows how you knew.”
“I have an instinct for these things,” I replied. “What's your name there?”
“Listen,” she said, leaning forward. “It's all fantasy and I have an iron rule that my fantasy life will never overlap my real life. You're real life, so you don't get to know. Okay?”
“Fine,” I replied. “So have you ever done it for real?”
“No.” She shook her head as she sucked spaghetti off her fork. “Apart from schooldays of course. Everyone has arguments. I bet you did too.”
I didn't actually. I got punched once and that was enough to put me off picking fights forever. And in any case this was about her, not me. I'd have to ask her how hers went at some point, but there were a lot of questions.
“So how did you get into it?”
“Watching the wrestling on T.V. I used watch with my dad as a girl. Of course it was all guys fighting then.”
“Did he suggest you try it?” The idea of a father watching his daughter fight piqued my interest.
But she shrank away. “Nooo! The idea of women wrestling would have horrified him, let alone his own daughter. Besides where would I learn? The closest I could get was judo and I did join a club, though I was never very good at it. There was a girl there, though, who also watched the wrestling on telly, and she'd come round and the three of us would watch it together.”
I imagined being Joanne's dad having two ready and willing wrestlers with him and not making any use of it. I'd have said the guy must have been gay, were it not for Joanne's existence. Bloody idiot!
“What about your mum?”
She froze. “I don't want to talk about her.”
“Okay, okay! Sorry I mentioned her.” I was curious though, sensing that there might be something even more interesting there, but it was probably best to leave Joanne's mother until we got to now each other better.
She relaxed. “Anyway, Fiona and I used to watch the wrestling with dad until they cancelled it. She was getting good at judo, though, while I seemed to spend most of my time flat on my back.”
“Just how I like you.”
“Fuck off, Carl.” She scowled. “Do you want to hear me out or not?”
“Don't let me stop you,” I said.
“Well Fiona suggested that she use me to practice some of her judo moves, and since we had a large living room, dad was only too happy to let us clear some space, moving furniture and stuff. He had no interest in seeing us practice, and made himself scarce.
What a dick! I thought.
“We did this a few times, then one Saturday I couldn't find my judo suit anywhere. It turned out that mum had chosen that day to get it washed.”
“Did that matter?” I said with a shrug. For me Judo had little interest. Too many clothes were involved anyway.
“Of course. It's tradition, Besides you need to get a grip on your opponents suit for some of the moves to work.”
“So practice the moves you don't need the suit for..”
“That was Fiona's idea, but she went a little further. She suggested we mix it up with some of the moves we'd seen in the wrestling just for fun.”
I began to smile. “I like her thinking! So did you two strip off?”
“Carl!”
“Panties then?”
“Stop it!”
“Okay, bra and panties!”
She scowled. “It was just a carpet and you can get a nasty burn on any exposed skin, so I went upstairs and found a couple of swimsuits and some tights. Sorry to disappoint you.”
I was a long way from disappointed. To tell the truth nakedness doesn't appeal to me so much, but a nice tight swimsuit that shows off the curves... “So tell me about Fiona, then. What did she look like?”
She shrugged. “She was beautiful. I believe she was half Indian – dusky skin, long curly jet black hair and a way of carrying herself that would have had you drooling Carl.”
“Big tits?” I just needed to complete the picture.
“Carl, for heaven's sake! A little bigger than mine if you must know. You'll be pleased to know that she had trouble staying decent in the suit I lent her. It was fine for me.”
I was pleased. “I wish I'd been there.”
“At first it was all a bit silly. Proper judo was all but impossible without tearing clothes, so we had a go at some of the pro style moves we'd seen; boston crabs, camel clutches and the like. Then we thought we'd ham it up a bit like they did on telly, screaming and yelling at each other, calling each other names and pretending to be in pain, squirming and writhing...”
I had to cross my legs. This was getting too much. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Oh yes, and you'll like this bit Carl. At the end of that first session I held her upside down ready for a piledriver. She was screaming and begging, waving her arms and stuff, and when I dropped to my knees her boobs fell out!”
“Really?” I pretended not very well to be far less interested than I was.
“Of course she didn't land hard, but she pretended she was hurt, rolling and groaning while she held her head, making no attempt to put her boobies away first. I stood over her claiming victory, yelling and screaming. It was great.”
She was smiling, remembering, and I just wished I could see what she was seeing. “Tell me more. I want to hear everything.” I would have preferred a real fight, but this was pretty good.
Her smile faded. “We only did it one other time after that. I should have realised really.”
“What?”
“At the time I was getting attention from the boys and it was becoming hard to find free time to 'play', but I noticed that despite her looks she didn't seem to have any boyfriends. I just put it down to studying too hard. She was a bright girl. But when we did eventually get together it all came to a head.”
I knew where this was going and I couldn't believe my ears. This Fiona was clearly a dyke, I just needed Joanne to fill in the details for me.
“Firstly we were trying a cross knee backbreaker. I was the victim in that one, kicking and screaming, but I was aware that my suit needed adjusting, so I straightened it. 'Oh no,' she said. 'That's not the game!' and she yanked it again.”
“Yanked what, where?”
She rolled her eyes. “My suit, at the crotch, you idiot. It had... pulled in!”
“Hmm, I can't quite see it. Could you show me?”
“Carl!”
“Sorry, sorry!”
“Anyway, I went with it and carried on screaming, but my back was beginning to hurt and I sensed she was simply watching me, so I told her that was enough and could she let me up now, which she did. But as I got myself up and straightened myself out I thought she was looking at me strangely.”
“Oh?”
“Like I was some kind of prey. It scared me a little. 'We're still playing, right?' I said. 'Of course,' she replied. Then she moved in and slammed me onto my back with a hiptoss that really did knock the breath out of me. That living room floor was pretty hard you know. Before I knew it she was on me, pinning my shoulders under her knees, looking down at me. Normally we start a pin count, but she didn't do that. I jerked my shoulders lifting one anyway, at which point I expected her to roll away, but she didn't do that either.”
“So what did she do?”
“I think you can guess Carl.”
I shook my head and did my best impersonation of an idiot.
“Fine. Well she lifted slightly, grabbed my hair and forced my face... well you know where. I was almost sick. She was aroused like a bitch in heat.”
I just loved the way she said that. “Umm, how could you be sure?” I wanted more of it.
“Carl, you know how to tell when a woman is aroused, surely! Her gusset, the gusset of the swimsuit I'd lent her was soaking wet!”
“Oh!” I feigned surprise. “Were you turned on too?”
“Carl, I'm not a lesbian. If I was I wouldn't be here with you.”
“OK, so what happened then?”
“I threw her off me and screamed at her to get out. I never attended that judo club again and that was the last I saw of her.”
I had to take a deep breath. It wasn't proper fighting, but it was pretty hot.
“Another drink?”
She accepted another glass and I suggested we watched some Youtube wrestling videos.
About ten minutes in, she took a breath and climbed astride me as I sat on the sofa, hitching up her skirt and popping the gusset of her tights with a fingernail. She was breathing hard, eyes hooded, and I needed no further hints.
As I fumbled with my zip and my 'Rod of Iron' popped out to see what was going on, she yanked her panties aside and dropped down, blinding him to everything except his true purpose, which he fulfilled almost immediately.
At that point I resolved that I would find her an opponent and I would then use all my charm to get her to fight her.
