Barrel Racer’s Last Stand – Brooke Versus Allison
Final Chapter (3 of 3)
There comes a time when a woman should just leave well enough along and not try to challenge another female to a fight who’s well out of her league. Such is the case with Brooke Wilde, who works at Rodeo Cowgirl’s, a Coyote-Ugly-like bar in Central Ohio. Brooke is also a barrel racer who’s blonde, beautiful and slim at 5’5” and 118 pounds.
In Brooke’s first encounter with Allison, the head cheerleader at Madison High, who’s several inches taller and 25 pounds heavier than Brooke, didn’t like it when Brooke bumped into her at a teen bar 10 miles away. Brooke was trying to locate a friend, who may have left the area. But instead of getting any useful information, she turns around and bumps into this 18-year-old cheerleader. The girl says, “Watch where you’re going,” then challenges her to a fight. Brooke doesn’t fight her, but later gets slammed into the wall by the same girl at Taco Bell. Then she confronts the girl again at the teeny bopper bar, who grabs her beer and pours it down the front of her jeans. Brooke gets ready to sock her, when some big fat girl named Gretchen intervenes and punches her in the stomach. But that’s only after Brooke tries to slap the girl, and the barrel racer is fortunate the fight ended with one punch.
The second chapter is all about the pushing and shoving at Taco Bell. But Allison decides to follow Brooke outside, then sucker punches her after the manager told the girls to quit fighting. Allison then challenges her to a fight at the old park behind the school, but Brooke doesn’t show up. This prompts the high school cheerleader to go looking for her at the bar with her friends, and that’s where this disaster culminates. Allison and four friends, including Gretchen, have just driven into the Rodeo Cowgirl’s parking lot. They’re going to grab Brooke so Allison can fight her and put the entire mess behind her.
Brooke is dancing on stage like a Coyote Ugly girl, clad in tight jeans and boots. The little barrel racer doesn’t know what’s in store for her. Without any further ado, let’s get right to the action.
On Monday night Brooke worked the early shift at Rodeo Cowgirls with Brandy Corbett, Olivia Prescott, Randi Popp and Lexi Johnston. Lexi, a slim blonde who’s about five-seven, had just started working at the bar. She seemed a bit nervous about her first dance.
“You know the dance moves, right?” said Brooke, as she tucked her shirt in her jeans.
“Yeah,” said Lexi. “I’ve just never danced on a bar before.”
“You’ll get used to it, and if you lose your place, just follow the girl in front of you. Trust me, the guys will only notice your looks and ass, not whether you screwed a dance step up.”
“I know but I’m still kind of nervous.”
Brooke looked at the clock. “Everybody ready?”
“Yeah,” the girls replied in unison.
The women marched up to the main bar in their cowboy hats, tight jeans and boots. After they jumped up on the bar counter, "Love is Alive" by Gary Wright started playing.
Brooke swung her limber hips left and then right as she led the dance. She then grabbed her belt buckle, pursed her lips and started swaying her hips in a slow circular motion. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip as she pumped the front of her Levi’s before the crowd. The other girls did the same. The girls then jumped around and started gyrating their rear ends in a similar sexy manner.
“That’s it, Lexi,” shouted Brooke, as she watched the woman step forward, bite her lower lip and strut her stuff. Like the other women dancing, she had a great ass in her tight jeans.
Every guy in the place was hollering. Seconds later, dollar bills of various denominations fluttered through the air and landed on the bar. When the song ended the girls danced to Fly Away by Lenny Kravitz.
The women danced to several more songs, then took a break. They all congregated back in the breakroom and split the tips up.
Brooke was talking to Lexi when her phone rang. She answered it. No one said anything.
“Who is this?”
“Come to the back of the bar and find out?”
It was a girl or woman, but Brooke didn’t recognize her voice. But many people sounded different on the phone than in person. Brooke was a little wary about opening the back door, but what would a quick glance do?
Brooke opened the door. Lexi was right behind her. She saw the head cheerleader right away.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing, high school girl? You’ve got to be 21 to get in here.”
“I’m not going anywhere, you are,” shouted Allison, as she grabbed Brooke’s arm and pulled her outside, knocking her cowboy hat off.
“Hey!” shouted Lexi, but big Gretchen stepped in front of her and said, “If I were you, I’d stay out of it. Otherwise, I’ll make you a permanent part of the pavement.”
Lexi’s throat churned. She didn’t know what to do, but finally shut the door.
Brooke stood amid the five girls – all of whom surrounded her. She recognized the fat girl who had punched her a while back. Suddenly a paroxysm of anxiety overcame her. She turned around and started walking toward the back door of the bar, but it was closed. Seconds later, someone grabbed the back of her blue and white western shirt and pulled her back.
“You’re not going anywhere, barrel racer,” said Allison, as she grabbed Brooke’s arm and turned her around to face her. She could tell the cowgirl was frightened, but she’s the one who’d been running her mouth the past few weeks.
Brooke winced. "Let go of my arm. You're hurting me."
"Like I care."
“What do you want?” said Brooke, as she stood with her arms at her sides, her legs trembling a bit.
“You didn’t show up for our fight last week, so I came to get you,” said Allison.
“Oh, that.”
“That’s right, barrel racer. “What the hell happened? You just chicken shit or something?”
Brooke gritted her teeth. She hated the cocky cheerleader who had sucker punched and bloodied her nose at Taco Bell.
“That’s it, barrel racer. “Get mad. You know you’re dying to fight me.”
“I’ll fight you,” said Brooke. “But I’m not fighting five high school girls, just you.”
“They’re just here to make sure the fight takes place. Right girls?”
“That’s right,” said Gretchen. She glared at Brooke, which sent shivers through her. She remembered how strong the fat girl was, and she was sorry she’d called her a fat high school girl. “Just kick her ass so I can get home. I’m hungry.”
Allison faced Brooke, who assumed a Tae Bo stance. She’d taken it for several years. The cheerleader started circling around Brooke – first to the left, then to the right. She waved her hands at the barrel racer, daring her to make the first move.
“Fight . . . fight . . . fight,” the girls chanted. “Fight . . . fight . . . fight!”
“Let’s go, barrel racer. Let’s see how tough you are, ‘cause you’ve haven’t shown me Jack shit up to this point.” She waved Brooke forward with her fingers. “Come on wimp.”
Brooke threw a front kick, which Allison evaded. She then jumped back into her fighting stance.
“Let’s dance, barrel racer, which really isn’t a sport, is it?”
“It’s a sport,” said Brooke, gritting her teeth. She snarled at the cocky girl.
“Cowgirls aren’t athletes,” said Allison. “All they do is sit in a saddle and let the horse do all the fuckin’ work.”
“We guide the horses.”
“You mean you abuse them.”
“Fuck you, cheerleader.”
Brooke knew Allison was just taunting her, but the girl really didn’t believe she was an athlete. Brooke finally reached her boiling point and charged the girl.
They both grabbed hands and started grappling. Brooke kicked the girl in the ass with a roundhouse kick – and got kicked in the ass even harder in return. Their hands were still clasped as they strove for dominance.
Brooke hit Allison with a front kick, breaking the girl’s grasp. She then delivered a skip side kick to Allison’s gut and knocked her on her ass.
“You fuckin’ barrel racer. I’m gonna wipe the pavement with your face and ass.”
“Bring it on,” said Brooke. “Isn’t that what you stupid high school cheerleaders say?”
“Allison stood up and raised her fists. She charged the woman but got hit the stomach with her boot again. But when Brooke tried to slam a right cross into her cheek, Allson blocked the blow and punched her in the mouth.
Brooke staggered as she felt the blood sluice down her chin. She threw a side kick and missed the girl. A back kick grazed off the cheerleader’s stomach, but it left Brooke in a vulnerable position. The girl promptly hopped on top of her back and took her to the pavement.
“Come on, Allison, beat the shit out of that bitch,” one girl said.
Lexi was now walking back with the manager. They confronted the group of girls.
“Stop this fighting now or I’ll call the police,” he said. That’s when a tall girl named Jaye pulled out a knife and approached him.
“You call the police and I’ll cut your nuts off. Better yet, I’ll stab your little dancer Brooke over there.”
Dan held his hands up. “Don’t do that.”
“I won’t if you get the fuck out of here now.”
“Okay, we’re going.”
The two turned to leave.
“Not you, cowgirl,” said Jaye. “Just the dude.”
Lexi’s eyes widened.
“That’s right. You just bought yourself a fight by ratting on us.”
Dan said, “Let her come back inside. She’s got a dance coming up.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jaye, who was at least 6’1” reached out with her long arm and grabbed Lexi by the arm, knocking her cowboy hat off. She then pulled the chick against her and placed the knife at her throat.
“Go back inside, manager boy, or I’ll ice this bitch.”
The manager turned and walked back down the alley toward the front of the bar. Jaye released her grip on Lexi and put the knife back in the waistband of her pants. “You’ll fight Sue here. Lexi looked at the gothic chick, who was about her size. “But . . .”
Allison had Brooke on her knees. She was trying to shove her forehead to the pavement, but the cowgirl resisted by pushing her hands against the cement. Allison raised her right fist and hurled it into the woman’s side. Brooke moaned. The second punch buckled the cowgirl’s arms and sent her face-first to the pavement.
“Get her!” shouted Gretchen.
Allson grabbed the back of Brooke’s hair and shoved her forehead into the concrete. She then dragged the woman’s face to the left and scraped it up. The barrel racer screamed as Allison repeated the punishment in the opposite direction.
“That’s brutal, Parker,” said Gretchen, as fists flew behind her. Seconds later, the punkster struck Lexi in the jaw and knocked her to her knees. She then kicked her in the stomach, which dropped her face-down.
All hell was breaking lose behind the country bar as two fights stewed. Then several dancers, all clad in tight jeans, stormed through the back door and started rushing toward the high school girls.
Six cowgirls – not including the unconscious Lexi -- versus five high school girls. Not really fair, in reality, but these school girls were members of a merciless gang and knew how to fight. And several of the cowgirls didn’t. This became obvious when a short girl decked one of the women, then slapped a headlock on another. Jaye then bloodied some blonde named Olivia’s nose, which sent blood spilling on the front of her halter top and Wrangler Daisy Dukes. A second punch snapped Olivia’s neck around and dropped her to the concrete. She lay splayed out for the taking.
Meanwhile, Allison now had Brooke on her back. She punched the barrel racer in the face, then grabbed the front pockets of her western shirt, giving her tits a tight squeeze. Brooke screamed as blood poured from her nose down her cheeks to the pavement. She then gritted her teeth and grabbed the girl’s arms.
Allison tried to sock Brooke in the nose again, but Brooke blocked the blow. She had just swung her right fist toward Allison’s jaw, when the girl lurched back -- with her hands still clutching her shirt – and ripped the front of Brooke’s shirt. She pulled the shirt so hard, she ripped the pockets off, exposing Brooke’s pert tits.
Cussshh!
A punch rang out in the night air, which sent another Rodeo Cowgirl chick to the pavement. The girl who’d punched the brunette kicked her in the ass, then jumped on top of her. She was soon unconscious like two of her friends. There were now five high school girls and four cowgirls left. The teens were kicking these women’s asses, and it was brutal and bloody.
Brooke pushed herself off the cement, attempting to stand, but Allison kicked her in the face, sending her to her back. The cheerleader then jumped on top of her and started pounding her face.
Brooke held her hands near her face to protect her nose and mouth, as the blows thudded off her cheeks, neck and shoulder. Allison then started screaming.
“You stupid barrel racer. I’m going to beat the living daylights out of you.”
Keeping her left fist near her face, Brooke hooked her other fist around and hit Allison in the jaw. The two traded punches some more as Brooke tried to scoot out from under the cheerleader.
Allison grabbed Brooke’s hair and started pounding her in the side. Brooke retaliated with a few weaker blows. But the last punch sent Allison tumbling to her right, giving Brooke time to get to her feet.
Allison stood and faced the barrel racer. They circled each other.
Cussshh!
This time one of the high school girls went down at the hands of Brandy, Brooke’s friend. Eight females were still standing – four high school girls and four cowgirls. The even-steven status of the rumble soon ended as Gretchen grabbed two Rodeo Cowgirl chicks by the hair and slammed their heads together. They both dropped like dead fish.
The remaining cowgirl, besides Brooke, took off running, ass cheeks oscillating in her tight jeans, bootheels churning like pistons. The high school girls laughed, then they cheered. No one messed with these girls.
Brooke threw a sidekick at Allison but got kicked in the ass with a sweeping cheerleader kick. And before she could regain her balance, Allison tackled her and took her to the pavement again.
“Come on, Allison,” shouted Gretchen. “Fuck the little bitch up.”
Allison delivered a barrage of punches to Brooke’s face and body, bloodying her mouth and eyebrow, bruising her ribs. She then pulled the woman up by her shirt and slammed the back of her head to the pavement.
Brooke grew woozy and felt ready to vomit. The cheerleader picked her up again and slammed her head against the cement. Seconds later, as Brooke felt herself losing consciousness, Allison rammed her knee into her crotch of her jeans, causing her to scream bloody murder.
Allison stood and watched Brooke writhe in agony, both hands clutching her denim-covered pussy.
“I told you I could kick your ass, barrel racer. But no. You had to go running your little mouth.”
Brooke, whose loins felt ready to explode, raised her head and said, “Fuck you, high school girl.”
“What did you say to me?”
An intense anger boiled inside Brooke, despite the pain in her face, upper body and cxnt. She managed to get to her feet and point at Allison, staggered like a drunk wino. “You’re still nothing but a stupid high school cheerleader.”
“Yeah, one who kicked the shit out of you, barrel racer.”
Brooke gave Allison the finger.
“Oh, yeah.”
The girl charged Brooke – and the woman took off running. Allison grabbed the back of her shirt as she reached the back corner of the building. She then flung her around and slammed her face-first into the back wall, ripping more of the cowgirl’s shirt. She shoved Brooke in the back and slammed her forehead into the building, then jerked the barrel racer around to face her.
Allison released her grip on Brooke’s arm. Brooke just stood there – jaw slackened, right eye blackened (nearly shut) and legs wobbling like skinny warped tires. With every ounce of energy she could conjure up, she lunged at the girl, stuck her arms out and tried to tackle her. But Allison kicked her in the gut, then drove her against the wall again.
Cusssh!
“Ohhh!”
Cusshh!
“Oh, God.”
Cusssh!
All three punches struck Brooke in the jaw – this time without any retaliation. Allison then slammed her fist into her jaw one last time as Brooke collapsed to the pavement, thoroughly beaten, battered and humiliated by the brutal high school cheerleader.
“If you ever try to challenge me again, I’ll kill you,” shouted Allison. “You hear me, barrel racer cxnt?”
Allison kicked Brooke in the side as the woman lay on her stomach.
“Get the fanny pouch,” said Gretchen.
“The what?”
Gretchen walked over to Brooke, reached her massive body down and unhitched the fanny pack from the waistline of her jeans.
“Money,” said Gretchen. She opened the bag up and fished her hands around inside it. “And apparently lots of it. All for shaking that little tight-jeaned ass around.”
The girls walked toward the alley, leaving seven cowgirls battered and beaten. They were in a gang called the Fiends, and no one better forget it.
I think most of you saw in advance that Brooke was no match for the ruthless head cheerleader. She gave it her all, but clearly got beaten and destroyed doing it. Don’t fret for those of you who like good girls to win. Brooke will be fighting in the future, as soon as she heals up, and will fight a girl more in her league – not some super athletic head cheerleader who’d been raring to punch her lights out.
As for math, it's late and I may have miscounted the number of cowgirls who got beat up. Nevertheless, the high school girls whipped their asses pretty good.
Until next time.
BMR
