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Bethany Battles Life Chapter 10 Bethany in High Society

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Offline peccavi

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Bethany Battles Life Chapter 10 Bethany in High Society
« on: November 29, 2015, 08:36:26 PM »






Bethany in High Society.

 
“Yes Stewart, I’m furious.  I think I have a right to be, too. I thought you and I...” My voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to say, or to think. I tried again. “I was so pleased to see Jan Norman had a bouquet of flowers on her desk when I came back from lunch today. That was till I saw your name on the card. That made me furious...and yes, I’m still furious.”
 
I didn’t tell ‘Stu’ that I’d grabbed my colleague’s shoulder in a fit of anger and whirled her around. I‘d have slapped her face if she hadn’t begged me not to get angry, not to take it out on her. Being the office bad girl has its good moments – almost everyone was running scared of me then. So I recovered myself and was gracious.  I smiled at Jan and said something banal. It wasn’t her fault.  She was the recipient, not the giver. I couldn’t really be angry with her – or could I, I wondered as I walked back to my office.  Yes, I had an office in the spring of 2006, not a mere cubicle like I’d had the year before. I wasn’t just the bad girl at Donne, Herbert and Vaughan - I was the up and coming girl with my own clients, my own portfolios and I could – if I asked very nicely – have other staff assigned to work under me on my projects.
 
All of that was nothing, just then in the H H Richardson bar. I’d really thought – no, if I was honest I had to admit I’d really dreamed – that Stewart James and I were not merely hanging out but were on the cusp of dating.  I should have known better.  Emily had warned me that night in her bar a couple of months before that Stu had a torch for Kim Curzon. She'd said that Kim, stupidly, wouldn’t have anything to do with him. That made me want to steal the older actor away from her. It would complete what my fight – when I’d beaten the arrogant little tramp so bad she’d spewed her drink on Emily's floor – had started.  I wanted to ensure Kim’s complete destruction. I'd make sure she realised what she'd lost in Stewart. I'd wipe the floor with her. Stewart was way too good for that trollop.  Kim was no better than a high class call girl.
 
That night Stewart and I had danced and later he saw me easily beat that rude, wimpy Hannah. Later still, Emily told me that Stewart had been asking after me, checking on more than my fighting record, so she said. I knew I had a good chance with him.
 
Now though, in the H H Richardson bar where all the young professionals flocked on Friday nights, it seemed I had no chance after all. “I was so pleased for Jan.  She's such a sweetie. She deserves a nice guy. When I saw the flowers I asked her who her new beau was.  She reddened, mumbled and looked away. That was when I knew there was something wrong. That was when I snatched the card. That was when I saw your name on it.” And that – though I wasn’t telling Stewart – was when my heart sank.
 
I’d wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.  What was Stewart doing, buying flowers for another girl at my office – someone he hardly knew? Maybe I was wrong. Was Stewart a flirt – a Don Juan – as Emily’s barman Wayne had warned me?
 
“Lovely lady...” Stewart wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. He was surprisingly strong for a man in his forties. His swift move took me off guard. I was in his arms in a split second, and in another second he was kissing me.
 
I broke the kiss. I slapped his face hard! “Stewart James!  You forget yourself!”
 
“I only forgot to explain myself to a lovely lady.” He kissed me again.
 
“Stewart, this the Richardson!  It’s embarrassing!” I tried to push him back.
 
I'd been delighted when he had called me at work that morning, asking me out for a drink. I was even more delighted when he named one of the top bars in the Golden Mile. The Richardson was where Kelly Haldane and other managers from work went. Kelly's man Peter Balfour and his friends went there too. Stewart and I hadn’t met in such a prominent place before. It seemed Stewart was making a statement by asking me there. I thought this was a new stage in our relationship.  That was before I found out he'd been sending flowers to Jan Norman.
 
“Stewart!” I slapped his face again.
 
“Bethany, listen to me.”
 
“No Stewart!  I won’t!  I have a right to be angry!“  My voice was cut off as Stewart’s arm slid up to my shoulders. He bobbed down into a sort of crouch. I looked down at his upturned face. What was he doing?
 
The next thing I knew he’d risen, hoisting me over his shoulder. “Stewart James!” I yelled.  “Put me down!  Put me down now!” I slapped ineffectively at him as he held me up off the floor.  I was so shocked at him treating me like some kind of baggage.
 
Then he started singing.

Listen to my tale of woe,
It's terribly sad, but true.
All dressed up, no place to go,
Each ev'ning I'm awfully blue
 
Oh, sweet and lovely lady, be good
Oh, lady, be good to me
I am so awf'ly misunderstood

 
He kept repeating the line  Oh, sweet and lovely lady, be good, over and over.
 
I was stunned – shocked. I knew just how ridiculous I must look, here in the Richardson in front of everybody, but what could I do?
 
Fortunately, a moment later, he set me down.  “Now young lady, listen to me!”
 
I was still too shocked and half winded to do anything more than sit – when he’d hoisted me onto his shoulder, he’d taken my breath away.
 
He stared into my eyes.  “I bought Jan Norman those flowers as a thank you present – nothing more.. I was thanking her for helping me in my enquiries – enquiries concerning you, my dear.  Thanks to Jan, I'm well on the way to proving beyond reasonable doubt – yes, I’ve had a quiet word with Malcolm Sergeant – that Wendy did indeed steal all your ideas for the product launch at Emily's Beach Bar. I'm going to make sure that you – belatedly of course – get the credit for that event and for all the other good things that you've done.”
 
“But Jan – ” I started.
 
He kissed me hard again.  This time I didn’t resist.  “But nothing, sweet and lovely lady.  Jan is a witness.  She not only saw Wendy steal your file after that painted Jezebel took you apart, but she had a copy of your file. You'd given her one, all annotated, every bit of your plans written up to discuss art work for brochures, for the posters and everything else. Jan gave me a copy of the copy, and that’s why I gave her the flowers.”
 
I blushed.  I'd been so stupid.  I'd completely misunderstood this lovely man. I kissed and hugged him.  ”Enough tears, sweet and lovely lady,“ he said, dabbing my eyes with a handkerchief.  “Getting that was the last thing I needed. I'm going to tell your boss, Kelly.”
 
“But she already knows!” I blurted out.
 
Stewart looked stunned. I explained that my sister had told Kelly, or at least made sure she'd find out. “She knew, but I couldn't prove it to anyone else...and now I can.” I’d completely forgotten the copy of the file that I’d given to Jan.  Stewart had saved me.  “Thank you!” I kissed him.  ”Thank you!” Another kiss. “Thank you again.” A longer, deeper kiss. You did this all for me?” I snuggled up to him.
 
Stewart kissed me back.  ”So Kelly knows, but for her own reasons she hasn't told anyone. Perhaps she couldn't prove it – but I can, now. And now that I can, I'm going to publish it.” He looked around. “And why not start right here and now?”  Before I could say anything, he took me by the hand to a group of about half a dozen men.
 
“But Vic's there,” I whispered, “one of my clients...I did the plan for him and Peter Balfour. He was there when Wendy fought me. And he knows Wendy took the file. He saw her.” I didn’t add that Wendy was his mistress.  I don't blacken a girl's character – well, not unless I need to. I had some principles even if Wendy didn't.
 
Stewart stopped and slipped his arm around my waist. “Courage, girl.  You can't hide all your life,” he said softly and kissed me. “You’ve got to stand up for yourself.”
 
With my heart in my mouth we walked over. It was easier than I thought. I didn't do much talking; Stewart laid it all out – all the facts, all the evidence he had to support it. I sensed Vic didn’t like his mistress being shown up as a thief, but what could he say?
 
“Violet, you should hear this!” Ivor Gurney waved a brunette over. I thought I’d seen her before, but wasn’t sure where.  It seemed most of the group knew her well.
 
She and I were dressed much the same – the professional woman’s spring and fall uniform of blazer, blouse and skirt. Hers were russet tones, a lighter brown for the jacket which set off her auburn hair and darker for the skirt which matched her calf boots. She wore a while pleated blouse beneath the blazer. I was in a navy jacket and matching skirt, heels and again a white pleated blouse.
 
Violet was about my age, perhaps a year or two older, but that was where the resemblance ended. She oozed confidence. It it wasn't just her job – one of the men told me she was an actuary, an associate in a merchant bank. Nor was it that she was smart, though you don't get that kind of job without a lot of brains. No, it was something else, something inside her. She was like Kelly Haldane.  She had inner power. She made me feel small.
 
Halfway through Stewart's narration, she threw up her hand. Stewart stopped in mid-sentence.
 
“You're always badmouthing Wendy,” Vi snapped. When she'd silenced everyone else too, she went on more gently. “Stewart, you weren't always like that. No, the first few times you met her, you were helpful, generous, like you are with most people. Of course you flirted with her, but you do that with most young women too. . But ever since Wendy crushed Kim Curzon...and Kim deserved everything she got from Wendy...you've never had a nice word to say about Wendy.  You've never helped her...and you could have.”
 
“She's not worth helping!” Stu shot back.
 
“You're a fool if you still hold a torch for Kim Curzon,” retorted Vi.  “Everything people say about Wendy...that she crawled out of the gutter, that she's got her eye on the main chance, yes that she's a hustler...they can say about Kim too and say it with more truth.”
 
“Don’t change the subject!”  Stewart’s face was flushed. “This isn't about Kim Curzon.”
 
Violet cut him off. “Isn't it? Why are you attacking Wendy? I’ll tell you why...because Kim stupidly tried to fight her and lost badly.  You're running Wendy down again, telling others that...“  She looked at me, “...err Beth, is that your name?...that this junior employee whom I've never met socially before, drew up the plans.”
 
Stewart growled, “Don't be such a snob, Vi.”
 
“Snob?  Oh no, it’s not me who's the snob.  It wasn’t me who insulted Wendy, making her boil with indignation.” I wondered how this woman had an answer for everything – an answer that seemed to convince all the listeners – except Stewart. She went on, “It’s Kim and all her set who are the snobs...and Kim's got no reason to be. But that's not the point.  Why are you helping Beth? Why are you running Wendy down? Because you still hanker after Kim, that’s why! Pfft!  You're like a school boy with a crush!”
 
Vi turned back to me. “Wendy never denied she got the ideas from somewhere. I suppose it was you.  I seem to remember you as a waitress somewhere...yes, that’s right...a coerced volunteer waitress at one of the functions Kelly Haldane put on. I figure that means you work for her. You and all your team did a good job too. You deserved some kudos for that success, but of course it all went to Haldane and her circle. That wasn’t right.” I was about to agree with her when she changed the subject again. “But I digress. Wendy got some ideas from you, but she turned them into something worthwhile.”
 
“But that’s the point!” Stewart snapped back.  “She...Bethany...had more than the ideas.  She had the whole thing all worked out.”
 
Vi answered him by talking to me.  “Did you have the menus designed?”  I quailed under her intense gaze.  Despite her words about the Christmas party at the Sailing Club, she'd already upset me almost to the point of tears. Was she right? Did Stu really care for Kim? Was he only trying to destroy Wendy's standing by helping me? “Not just the artwork, not just the actual food, but the whole thing put together ready for the printers?”
 
“No,” I replied in a small voice.
 
Did you have the advertising flyers ready for the printer?”
 
“Well...almost.”
 
“Almost is not ready, is it? There were more things left to do, weren’t there?”
 
I gulped and nodded. “Not much.”
 
“But some.”
 
“How do you know all this, Vi?” Stewart came to my rescue.
 
“Because Wendy asked for my help and I gave it to her. Unlike some, Stewart.”  She looked back at me once more.  “But I was addressing this young lady. Where are you from?”
 
“Kalamazoo,” I replied.
 
“What do your parents do?”
 
“My father ran a gas station, until he retired.  He was a mechanic. Mom worked with him.”
 
Violet nodded. “So Beth, did you come to Chicago to further your career?” I nodded.  “I suppose you had a hard time at first. You had to struggle a lot?”
 
“Not really.  I lived with my older sister who moved here few years earlier.”
 
“So...no waiting on tables, no cleaning jobs, no living in a garret?”
 
“No.” I struggled to see where this was going.
 
“So unlike Wendy, or even Kim Curzon for that matter...” She suddenly snapped her fingers.  “You’re Bethany Beaverbrook aren’t you?  Yes, I’ve heard Kelly mention you.  You’re another one of her protégés, just like Kim.  So you didn’t have to struggle much. I’ve heard other things about you too. ” Vi fixed me with a stare that made me flush deep red, then turned to the crowd.
 
“Why have you all got it in for Wendy?” Vi asked.  “This non-entity here,” she pointed at me , ”just like that other non-entity Kim Curzon, comes to Chicago from nowhere to better herself. Good for her. So did Wendy.” She raised her voice. I was sure the whole bar could hear her, her speech still precise, clear and sibilant; her carefully chosen words flowed limpidly. They were like liquid fire, burning me inside. “But unlike Wendy, one...and after a while, that other one Kim Curzon...attracts a powerful patron.  Yes, you all know just how influential the Haldane family is.”
 
“You can't compare the girls,” argued Stewart.  His face was almost as flushed as mine, though for very different reasons.  “Wendy's a vicious thug!  Look at what she did to Kim...Beth and Kim to be precise.”  I flushed even deeper.  Yes, I was furious that Vi was comparing Wendy to me, but I was equally furious that Stewart mentioned my name along with that slut Kim – after all, it was Kim who’d picked a fight with me. Memories of my convincing victory over Kim would have made me smile any other time, but not right now.
 
Violet interrupted him again, once more holding up her hand. “You say Wendy’s vicious...you mean she fights. So does Kim...maybe better than I do, but not as well as Wendy.“ Vi's arrogant mask slipped just enough for her to giggle , “But unlike Wendy, Kim is an instigator. Kim provokes fights.  So does this young woman.” Again she turned her eyes on me. They were like searchlights. She was exposing my whole life to these people. I squirmed. “How many fights have you had in the last year?” she asked.  “A half dozen? No, more than that, isn't it? How many more did you provoke, manipulating others into fighting?”
 
 I felt like I did when Kelly Haldane was chewing me out – angry, ashamed and scared. I wanted to lash out but I was too frightened of the consequences.
 
“She didn’t sleep her way to success...not like Wendy did!” Stewart had lost his temper.
 
“Show some manners, Stewart.  Remember who’s here.” Vi flashed a glance at a red-faced Vic and turned back to me.  Her smouldering eyes bored into me. “In any case, Is that really true? I heard you had a couple of affairs with ‘influential’ people, Beth...your boss Henry Vaughan for one, and Peter Balfour for another.”  She regarded me icily.  “Well?”
 
I just lost it. I couldn’t take this so superior woman’s snide insults any longer. “I am not Wendy Griffiths! I am not like her!” I grabbed at Violet Tennant’s arm, yanked her toward me and slapped her face with my other hand.
 
It didn’t stop her lashing out verbally with “No, you’re not!  Wendy fights when people are rude to her. You just smacked me for telling you some home truths.”  She pointed behind her.  “Outside, in the alley.  I want satisfaction.  Now.  Do you hear me?”
 
For a second I was shocked.  This woman wanted to fight me? Then, as it always does at such times, the adrenaline surged in me. “Yeah,” I replied, “I’ll give you ‘satisfaction...though I don’t think you’ll be too satisfied when I’m done with you. Come on Stewart; watch me clear my name...trial by battle.”
 
I marched outside, following Vi, trying to surreptitiously size up my new foe.  She was probably three inches shorter than I was. I knew I’d have a height advantage and I wanted to keep it throughout the fight.
 
I slipped off my heels and jacket and gave them to Stewart. Vi handed her coat to someone I didn’t know. I stepped forward and, staying carefully out of range of Vi’s shorter reach, started to slap her. I’d learned from my sister how to swing from the hip. It worked, as it usually did, at least when I had a longer reach. I was able to hammer Vi with strong, repeated blows to both cheeks.
 
She retreated but that did her little good. I stepped forward and kept slapping her, rocking her head to one side, then the other. When Vi tried to close, I'd step back or sideways, keeping her from counterattacking. I wasn't going to surrender my advantage.  In a few moments, Vi's face was red.  She was wincing when I hit her – and I did that often.
 
Stewart's shouted warning made me glance behind me. I was pounding Vi hard but somehow she'd succeeded in driving me back toward some tables. They were covered by plastic sheets, and I guessed they must have been stored in the alley.  I’d been too concerned with keeping out of her reach to notice.
 
Now I needed to change tack. I stepped sideways quickly – but not quickly enough.  Vi's punch hit hard, over my kidneys. I gasped as pain shot up my side.  I brushed Vi's next punch aside and countered with a punch of my own.  She avoided it, turning sideways and toward me. Her next punch hit me, but I deflected it slightly and the impact was only light.  I wasn’t so lucky with the following one though, which hammered my gut. I groaned. I replied with a blow to her head. Vi turned her head and instead of my punch hitting her chin, it rocked her cheek. Again I deflected her next blow.
 
We stood and fought close together .Both of us defended well, deflecting, dodging, ducking to avoid the other's blows. Still, some hit. Hers were hard and well aimed. She fought smart.  She was hurting me. I hoped I was hurting her too, and I guessed from her gasps and groans that was true.  Good! That's what I wanted. I could take the pain. It was part of the thrill I got from fighting. So long as I was inflicting more on my enemy that she was inflicting on me.
 
I feinted with my right fist at Vi's head. She blocked it, but not the hard left that I fired to her stomach. She groaned and bent forward slightly. I grabbed her hair. I wanted to drag her down, to bend her double. I seized her blouse with my other hand. As I dragged her down by her hair, I yanked the blouse up. I wanted to foul her in it. She struggled but I kept at it and succeeded. She tried to pull back out of my grip but that only helped me to get her blouse up.
 
She worked her way loose but quickly realised her arms were tangled in her top.  That hampered her defense and I hammered her with slaps and punches for a good twenty seconds or more. I must have hit her a dozen times while she just stood there, trying to get her arms free. Each blow was hard, each blow hurt her. I was going to hurt her a lot more before I finished too. The adrenaline surged inside me. It was not just the thrill of the fight, though that vivid sensation that made me tingle with excitement when I fought.  It wasn't even knowing Stewart liked to see me fight – and win! No, it was her suffering that I enjoyed most as I hammered her relentlessly. I was about to make that a whole lot worse. 
 
I focused on my spluttering foe. I kept hitting her. She gagged and gasped after each impact. Some made her stagger. She started backing away. Again I kept slapping and punching. I struck at her face, her upper body, her stomach. Her expression told me she knew I was messing her up. Suddenly she surged forward. I stepped to the side. I didn't want her to head butt me.  She reared up and tugged her blouse down. It was torn, it hung loose around her waist but she wasn't fouled in it any more.
 
We traded blows. I kept the pressure on with slaps and punches but it wasn't the same. Violet was fighting back now. She stood her ground, not dodging or weaving much but deflecting far too many of my punches. She hit back hard too with solid blows. I parried or deflected or weaved around most. We were both burning energy without damaging the other a lot. Good! I'd hurt her bad when I'd fouled her in her blouse. She'd be that much more tired, more worn out than me. I knew I'd outlast her. We slugged it out.
 
Suddenly she bobbed down and my next blow skidded over her head. I was stretched out, unbalanced. She slugged my stomach with a brutal left-right combination. My gut churned. I staggered back. She followed up with a high kick. Luckily I turned and it hit my side, not my stomach where it was aimed.
 
Vi pressed her attack.  She kicked again and this time she hit my thigh just above my knee. I gasped.  My leg stung and it felt weaker.  I retreated, trying to give myself time to recover, to walk it off.  She didn’t give me time though, as she came after me with hard solid blows. I wasn't moving as well as she was now. It was harder to dodge and for the first time, she began to hit more often than I hit her. I was still defending well – less than half her blows found their mark – but those that did hit me harder and I gasped in pain. Like every good fighter - and I was quickly realizing that she was good – she mixed up her punches to make it harder to defend. 
 
She focused on my breasts. I winced in serious pain the first couple of times she hit them. I'd rarely, if ever, had an opponent who hit them that hard. The pain was awful. She began hitting them more often. I blocked her blows with my arms up high.  I kept her at bay, that that was all I did.  I realised the tables had turned – she was controlling the fight and I was on the defensive.
 
I counterattacked, hitting out at her face and stomach.  That drove her back and restored the balance a little.  We swayed around trading blows. Vi stayed in close, frustrating my attack and negating the advantage of my height and longer reach.  I was reduced to short jabs, not full strength punches.
 
I blocked her blows at my breasts. She kicked out again, finding my thigh. I limped for a few seconds. She capitalized on that, weaving around, firing blows from multiple angles at my body, that I found hard to block. Again she favoured my breasts.  I had my hands up, defending pretty well but also exposing myself to lower blows. 
 
I edged back. I wanted – no, I needed – to regain my reach advantage. Then, out of range of her blows, I could regroup and press my attack again. I fired an uppercut at her chin.  She avoided it, but she didn't close on me. I stepped back as she sent a left-right combo at my belly.  I brushed the first blow aside and the other just kissed my stomach, doing no damage. 
 
Vi growled. She realised I'd stepped out of her reach. She tried to close with me again but I stepped to the side, turned and sent a sparring punch back. She dodged it but not the second, harder blow.  She did manage to twist her body a little and I hit her side, not her stomach.  Still she groaned.
 
Again and again she tried to close in. Each time I stepped away and I kept hammering her relentlessly. She was reeling now. She tried kicking me. She tried punching. She tried slapping. Nothing worked.  She tried kicking again and she managed to hit my shins and thighs several times.  The kicks hurt and they slowed me down.  I couldn’t move as freely as before, but it didn't matter.  Adrenaline was racing through me.  I was hurting, but I didn’t care.  I felt alive, my body tingled. Every sense was fully alert.  Fighting was truly my drug of choice. 
 
Still I kept hammering her, punishing her. She was gasping, gagging. She was weakening.  She kept trying to edge forward but she was slow and uncoordinated.  It was easy to stay out of her range.
 
I knew that I'd run out of room soon, though. The stored tables and the wall were close by.  I kept hitting her, but now I tried to edge away to the side.  It didn’t work. I was amazed how, despite the damage I’d done to her, she kept on fighting. I knew I’d be close to giving up if I’d taken the punishment I’d dished out to her. I might have already given up – just like I had in my first fight with Jo St Leon. I told myself Vi must surely be almost at the end of her resources. Still, I needed to break out into more open territory in order to keep pounding her. I was going to finish her. Stewart was smiling from the sideline. Yes, being a bad girl was good!
 
I fired another uppercut.  It hit.  I stepped back and to the side. I wanted to keep that reach advantage, but not get pushed to the wall.
 
“Ugggh!” I groaned suddenly, spluttering and staggering forward. Vi had kicked me in the stomach. Before I had a chance to recover, she punched me in the same spot.  Her left and right fists hammered my stomach in rapid succession. I felt the air rush from my lungs.  Spittle gushed from my open mouth. A moment later I felt the pain. It started at the surface. Then it sank into my abs and my stomach wall. I felt nauseous.
 
Vi attacked again. Her fist crashed into my face. I reeled backward. I tried to regroup but she kept pressuring me. She denied me the time I so badly needed. I was hard pressed to defend against her hail of punches. She hit repeatedly, all over me. But defend I did, grimly, resolutely.  My breath rasped in my throat.  My movements were slow and painful but I told myself if I hung on, I'd get my breath back and then I’d have a better chance.
 
And so it proved. I defended with slowly growing success. Vi's attack slowed. I pushed her blows aside more often, and I began to strike back.
 
Vi tried to punch me again. I parried and struck back.  My fist hammered her stomach. She edged back. I pressed her with another punch. She parried that one and counterattacked, hitting me in the side though not hard.  I could tell her strength was evaporating like a puddle after a summer shower.
 
I hit her again with a left-right combo – the left at her face, the right in her gut. Both landed.  Her mouth snapped open, air and spit pouring out. I hit her again, my fist slamming into her cheek. Her head whipped sideways and she stumbled back. I closed on her. Again she stepped back, further and faster this time. Her face whitened. Her eyes widened. I realised her last attack – the kick, the punches – had been her last desperate effort. She'd failed.
 
My blows hit home more often. Each one drew a harsh grunt, a groan or a cry of pain.  That and the panic in her eyes told me she knew I was softening her up.  She was retreating but she was running out of room. Soon she'd be up against the alley wall.
 
And then she was. Her back hit the hard bricks and she had nowhere to retreat.  Her face lost the rest of its colour. Her eyes bulged. She tried to speak. I smiled. Once again – just as I'd done with Kim – I was about to put away an arrogant rich snob. 
 
”No...I'm not Wendy Griffiths,” I said. Her earlier sneer had cut deep. I didn't sleep with men to get ahead. I wasn't Jo St Leon either. I didn't have casual sex. But I was a 'bad girl' and I'd proved that when I beat St Leon. And Stewart liked bad girls. He'd shown that when I beat that annoying brat Hannah.
 
“And I don't use Wendy to fight for me.” I'd heard Stewart, Peter and Kelly – and others – talk about Wendy and Kim's fight. It had been a hot gossip topic. I'd heard Kelly say someone had wound Wendy up. I was sure Vi had been the instigator. “You did though, didn't you?”
 
I didn't wait for an answer. I slammed my fist into her stomach. She groaned. She turned greenish. She shook on her feet. “And I see why you did!” I punched her again. She sank to her knees. I grabbed her hair. I yanked her up. I drove my knee into her stomach. She groaned again. “Because you can't...” I drove my knee up again into her belly. She croaked something. “...fight yourself!  Can you, Violet?” I rammed my knee into her stomach a third time. She went limp.  I let her hair go and she slumped to the ground
 
I forced a smile as I stepped away from her. I tried to ignore the pain. I'd beaten Violet Tennant. I'd be a mass of bruises and cuts tomorrow – even now I was stiff – but she'd be in worse shape.  I looked down as her as she lay there – proof enough that I was the victor. “Next time,” I said, though it hurt to talk, “be more careful who you insult.”
 
“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice little more than a sob, “the truth hurts.”
 
I flushed. Her words right then, cut deeper than any of her blows. I wanted to beat her all over again. But I couldn't. People would stop me.  I turned away.
 
I tottered over to Stewart. He gave me a perfunctory hug. ”Beth, why did you knee her like that...three times...at the end? You'd beaten her already. You didn't need to do that.”
 
I couldn't answer him. I wanted support, encouragement, especially from him, but instead I was getting criticism. I tried to pull myself together. But it was all I could do to walk unsteadily to the bathroom before I burst into tears.
 
 As always my thanks to the Scribber for his help and thanks are also due to Rorke for help, to the late Braveheart for the ideas for the character Stewart James and to many others who encourage me.
 

Blondes are cool Brunettes are Hot!!

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Bethany Battles Life Chapter 10 Bethany in High Society
« Reply #1 on: November 29, 2015, 08:50:06 PM »
Missed the signature Peccavi girl-on-girl kissing.

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Offline peccavi

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Re: Bethany Battles Life Chapter 10 Bethany in High Society
« Reply #2 on: December 04, 2015, 08:42:40 PM »
Sinclair, not all my stories have the girl on girl kissing, I hope they all have girl on girl violence and realistic characters who fight for understandable reasons
Blondes are cool Brunettes are Hot!!