Author's note: This story is has a companion piece, A Private Affair.
Reading both together is recommended.“Could I get your name, please?”
“My name?”
The front host was a very affable seeming young guy. He was well-appearing for his station; his manner projected geniality and an eagerness to please. All of these were admirable qualities for someone in his job role. And yet, the question he posed and his apparent lack of recognition was peculiar. Given what was in store on the other side of the entryway behind him, he shouldn’t have needed to ask her who she was. Maybe that was because he was simply performing his duties in the routine he was accustomed to. Or, it could be that he genuinely lacked familiarity with the world he was skirting around the edges of. Either way, it wouldn’t change the approach that she’d take to get past him.
“What do you need my name for?”
“There’s a guest list,” the young man politely informed her, “We’re closed for a private event tonight.”
“Oh, no need to check. My name’s not on it.”
There was a pause as he appeared to register the curveball being thrown his way. She could see the wheels turning on his face as he grappled to find a diplomatic response.
“I’m sorry ma’am,” he haltingly replied, “It is what it is. If you’re not on the list…”
“Then I’ll go in anyways,” she countered without missing a beat.
“I… I can’t make that kind of exception.”
“Yes you can,” she insisted with a smile, “And I’m sure you will.”
He seemed to be getting a tad flustered. Was it in any way on account of her looks? Not likely – there’d be no shortage of beautiful people passing through here tonight. Was it the first time anyone had refused to take no for an answer so blithely? Maybe. Perhaps some additional workplace education might be of benefit to him. In any case, that wasn’t anything that she personally needed to continue dwelling on.
“I’ve taken up enough of your time already,” she said, preempting him as she started to walk past, “I’m sure it’s going to be a lovely evening for all of us.”
“Ma’am. Ma’am! You can’t-”
Moving quickly, the young man stepped directly into her path to halt her in place. The look on his face was his best attempt to be authoritative and demand that he be heeded. She merely stepped up closer to him and gave him a catty look while maintaining the smile on her face. Despite his best efforts, it was obvious that this alone was not going to be enough to deter her.
“Go on. Go get help if you’re going to have me thrown out,” she coolly remarked, “You can tell them. Let them know that it’s
Helen.”
“Helen,” the young man repeated quizzically, “Helen who?”
The lovely redhead brushed past and turned her attention forward as she strolled past the entryway and walked out into the open air of the early evening. She had a surety in her step, a pride in her bearing, and an overabundance of self-confidence in her expression. Her outfit was a chic black midi dress, velvet in texture, with an asymmetric high cut for one leg and eye-catching sheer bands around the midsection. Her mannerisms and her appearance were all tremendously conspicuous, but that was the point of it, after all. Tonight, she was here for the express purpose of being seen and being taken notice of.
The “here” in question was a four star hotel somewhere in the Burbank area, or more precisely, a restaurant and bar that was located on the establishment’s rooftop. Somehow, this place didn’t quite jive with her preconceived notions of what the elite Los Angeles fight scene was supposed to be like – mansions and penthouses and all that – but she could still appreciate what the hosts had going here. The venue was roughly six or seven stories up and had a breathtaking north-facing view of the mountains. Squarish in shape, it was split maybe 20-80 between an indoor and outdoor area with a large overhang that stretched out above half of the latter portion. The furniture and seating had been cleared out of the center and replaced with a set of interlocking exercise mats that covered an area comparable to a large wrestling ring, while the perimeter around it remained largely unobstructed for guests. If there was a critique about the setup, it was the bare mat – they probably could have covered it up somehow to give it a more elegant veneer.
As she sauntered out along the perimeter walkway, Helen immediately sensed a plethora of gazes training themselves upon her. There was no need to look back in order for her to properly gauge just how unwelcoming of a reception it was, and instead she maintained a steady and conceited poise as she hewed to her path. Directly ahead, a small cluster of other guests gave her some frosty looks before moving off as if to shun her, and she continued onward through where they’d previously been standing. None of these reactions were in any way surprising. She was an uninvited caller, and not merely in the sense of barging her way into this one event.
It had been a week since the redhead arrived in town and made a splash with a
dominant showing over a local favorite and top contender. Her opponent had put up a dogged resistance, but hardly enough of one to sway the outcome; in return, she’d dished out a thrashing on the other girl that was not soon to be forgotten by anyone. The emphatic triumph briefly earned her a small amount of favor, but the euphoria of the moment had largely subsided as news of the result rippled out to the wider audience. Now, her presence here was making waves and stirring up a growing indignation from these people. They couldn’t countenance her intrusion upon their scene, much less her pretensions of gaining supremacy over it. Going forward, there was to be zero ambiguity as to where things stood between her and her hostile audience.
But that was the point of it all, wasn’t it? To march in and run roughshod over the playing field? To forcibly demonstrate that she stood head and shoulders above the best this city had to offer? To parade around with her banner held high as she lorded over everyone? Inflaming local sentiments didn’t even require her to change tack all that much. If she just waited, then eventually someone was going to gather enough misguided bravado to stand up to her. And from there, it would just be a matter of doing what she did best all over again.
Helen opportunistically availed herself to a champagne flute off the tray of a passing server while eyeing up a spot to her liking along the outer railing. She felt no particular sense of urgency impressed upon her as she sauntered her way over – if there was any prospect that the hosts were intent on removing her from the premises, the possibility appeared increasingly remote the longer she was present. And so, she calmly took a slip of the sparking beverage as she started to cast her gaze outwards onto the rest of the venue. There was no shortage of sharp glares that were being aimed in her direction, and each of them she answered back with a look that was equally pointed. It went on like this for a good ten, maybe fifteen minutes. However, in spite of the many taunts and dares she handed out this way, those on the other end of it were demonstrating a great deal of reticence on taking up the offer.
But the night was still just getting started. She could afford to wait; she had all the time in the world. Sooner or later, practical wants and needs had a pesky habit of superceding any high-minded ideals standing in their way. Case in point: as she looked across the space again, she spotted a pair of other guests making their way towards her. One of them was a man, very sharply dressed and very easy on the eyes. His was a familiar face, and his demeanor as he approached was the first even remotely amicable sight she’d been met with here; the least she could do was hear him out. Alongside with him on his left was a black-haired girl in a silver dress, young and quite pretty, though still fairly plain by the standards of the guest list for an event like this one. In contrast to her companion, the girl’s expression appeared to be one of initial shock, but a glint in her stare suggested an attitude that was hardening rapidly. It was already pretty obvious to the redhead where that would be leading.
“Helen. What a surprise,” Elliot Carter said in greeting, “I had no idea they’d invited you here tonight.”
“Funny thing about that. I’m sure they were just as surprised,” the redhead answered in a dulcet tone. Pausing with a slight glance aside to the notable absence on his right, she continued, “Is our mutual acquaintance going to be joining us as well?”
“Erica, you mean? I’m afraid not.”
“Still shaking it off, huh? I sure wrecked her pretty bad, didn’t I?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Helen spotted a shift in the other girl’s face. Really, it was impossible to miss. The already present glower ramped up times a million in response to her words and started to bore into her with barely contained vehemence. Uncovering the raw nerve had come so swiftly; it wouldn’t do to simply leave it be.
“Were you planning on being in town for long?” Elliot asked.
Beyond the niceties was a more oblique question: the man was seeking to ascertain her intentions for their fight scene. The redhead readily absorbed his meaning.
“I’ll be in town for as long as I please. I don’t see anybody being able to do anything about it,” she boasted.
“Not for a want of trying, surely,” Elliot observed, taking a look around him, “If I were to read the room, I’d say that you were already well on your way.”
“That’s the idea,” Helen replied with just a hint of malice behind her pleasantness. After a moment, she inquired, “Was there something specific you had in mind?”
“No, not right this second,” Elliot said trailing off, “Though somewhere down the line, I imagine Erica is going to want to take a crack at evening up the score.”
“Sure she would. You know, I bet it’s gotta sting. Trying so hard against me. Giving me everything she’s got. And in the end, getting nothing out of it except the ass-kicking of a lifetime. That’ll keep a girl up at night, won’t it?”
The black-haired girl was positively roiling now. Rage and animus were being shouted out through every facet of her body language, even without any words being exchanged. It was enlightening to discover just what kind of a hair-trigger temper lurked beneath that lovely façade. The redhead hadn’t even so much as acknowledged her presence, let alone engaged her directly, and yet had managed to stoke so much out of her.
“You’ve really got me curious now, Elliot. How on board are you with making a rematch happen? Don’t you want to see us have another go at each other?”
“I think I’d have to get back to you on that,” the man answered, “And if we’re being real, that call probably wouldn’t be up to me.”
“Come on. It’s such a rare thing. You can admit you enjoyed seeing it for once. The way that I broke her? And how she screamed and cried like that?”
There was only so much verbal high-mindedness that could go unanswered. The rebuttal that interjected itself was as ferocious as it was emphatic.
“You fucking bitch,”
Whitney Morgan hissed, “You’re going to fucking pay for how you treated her.”
“Elliot, please inform your guest that she needs to restrain herself.”
Helen did not raise her voice. Her affect remained largely unchanged. Nothing about the way she bore herself hinted at even the slightest bit of alarm as she carried on with the exchange and declined to directly acknowledge her verbal assailant. Doing so only seemed to infuriate her opposite that much more.
“You think you’re so high and mighty?” the black-haired girl continued to seethe, “You think no one’s going to stand up to you?”
“Elliot, it’s imperative that she tones down her rhetoric.”
More of the same. The man’s companion was still not keen on deescalating. If anything, her attitude towards the redhead was hardening even more than before.
“Look at me,” the black-haired girl insisted with untold hostility, “I can assure you. You’re going to get what’s coming to you.”
Helen at last turned her undivided attention onto the other person. Affording just the slightest shift of her head and a flick of her eyes, she leveled a baleful glare in response. It was brief, but for the shortest fraction of a second, the black-haired girl looked as though she’d been taken aback by the sheer vehemence being brought to bear against her.
“If I can hurt someone like her,” the redhead malevolently posited, “then someone like you I would clap into next week.”
Elliot had largely been in the back seat of the conversation while the two women carried on with their row. Perhaps it was for a want of getting a word in past their barbs; perhaps he’d become mesmerized by a vision of them laying hands on each other. But whichever the case, the prospect of violence turning into a reality spurred the man to intervene as he put an arm around his companion and moved to escort her away from peril.
“Seems we’ll be seeing each other again before long,” Elliot remarked, “I’ll be sure to send Erica your regards.”
Helen tendered an insincere smile at the pair as she watched them take their leave. The black-haired girl was still in a huff, needing to be cajoled a bit into stepping away, and she shot back one last hateful glare over her shoulder at the redhead before her attention was finally averted elsewhere. Helen looked on for just a little while more, long enough to be satisfied that the younger girl wouldn’t be coming back for more. These jaunts were always ripe for trouble – or perhaps more accurately to say, they readily invited trouble to come calling. There was always somebody looking to get one over on her, to take from her what rightfully wasn’t theirs. And speaking of which…
Out of the corner of her eye, Helen glimpsed a fresh figure approach from the direction opposite that of the departing duo. She turned to meet the new arrival with a look that just barely satisfied the minimum pretense for social niceties. No introduction was necessary: not when it came to the identity of the other party, nor as to what it was that they likely were after. All of that made it seem as if accommodation was going to be a non-starter, but if they were dead set on forcing the conversation anyways, then perhaps here and now was as good a time and place as any.
It was difficult at first blush to discern if
Ari Canizales was seeing the situation in the same light. The brunette seemed to be a bit guarded, definitely not abounding with boldness. She might’ve been looking to strike a more conciliatory tone instead of a confrontational one – not exactly fitting the bill for someone whose entire success had come by brashly upending the status quo. Appearance-wise, she was obviously out to impress somebody in her chosen outfit – her dress was a velvety purple with thin straps and a low V-neckline just below her décolletage; accentuating it was a glittery diamond choker that was just as irrepressible at capturing the eye.
But as Ari drew closer, she finally gave away a tell. A furtive glance peered off to the side past the redhead and seemed to linger there for just a little bit too long. Helen conspicuously turned to follow the brunette’s line of sight, honing in as it pointed straight towards the couple who had just left. She then turned back and flashed a wicked little grin at the new arrival.
“Aww, poor baby,” Helen remarked snidely, “What’s the matter. Is a certain someone too busy with his date to notice you?”
The brunette did not deign to directly answer the barb. However, the pause as she stared back at the redhead and the touch of sternness that crept into her visage seemed to all but acknowledge its surety.
“So nice to meet you too,” Ari said with just the slightest hint of tart. Her tone became more entreating as she continued, “And away from home, at that. I’ve been hoping that I could make your acquaintance for a while now.”
Now it was Helen who talked past the other woman. “I gotta admit though. His friend’s kinda cute,” she mused while taking another leer at the man and the girl on his arm. Returning to the brunette, the redhead looked her in the eye: “Do you think, maybe later on, he’s going to be pounding her senseless?”
The mere insinuation stoked a surge of rage from deep within Ari’s core that roiled up and consumed her once-lovely face. The totality of her ire was directed at the redhead as her eyes burned with a dreadful glare. But just as quickly as her anger surfaced, so too was it tampered down as the brunette reined herself in. Helen merely smiled back at her.
Ari visibly bit her tongue as she picked up where she left off. “Let’s try not to get off on the wrong foot. I’d like for us to be able to get along with each other. In fact, that’s what I’m hoping to have a chat with you about: an understanding that’ll be beneficial to us both in the long run.”
“And what exactly would that entail?”
“I’m talking about Vegas. How things are playing out there. I’d like us to come to terms and find an accommodation for each other. Like what you had with Haley.”
Helen’s skin pricked at the brunette’s invocation of that name. “An ‘accommodation,’ you say.”
“Why not? Everything was divvied up; you had your half, and she had hers. Isn’t it easier to keep a grip on things that way? No one could even touch either of you the way it was all locked down.”
“Until you came along,” Helen curtly observed.
“Of course. That’s how these things work. I beat her, and what’s hers is mine now,” Ari stated matter-of-factly, “And now, I’m proposing that we keep that arrangement going if we can.”
The redhead didn’t budge. “I doubt it’ll pan out. Times have changed. And I’m sure there are people out there who don’t view the landscape in the same light as you do.”
“Haley’s gone for good,” the brunette argued, “and nobody’s waiting around to see where it all ends up; they’re out there scrambling to grab up everything they can. Why should you and me be squabbling in this situation? Don’t you think you’d be better off having one less competitor?”
Helen turned to set her drink aside on a nearby table. “And tell me again. Why is it exactly that we’re in this situation to begin with?”
“I beat her. That rightfully means that I’m on top now,” Ari insisted pointedly. Toning it down a bit, she added, “If everyone else is going to refuse to get the memo, then that’ll be on them when I beat them too.”
“Yeah. Funny how nobody’s taking you seriously.”
Ari’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean.”
Helen shrugged. “Let’s just say that I have strong opinions on certain topics. I’ll speak my mind when it suits me,” nodding as she watched Ari catch her drift, “And if it just so happens that some people in high places are there to listen to me, then maybe they’ll find that they agree with what I have to say.”
“Are you telling me… No fucking way.”
“As I said: people out there don’t view the landscape in the same light as you. And ‘how these things work” is that pouncers like you don’t get to jump to the top of the ladder.”
“You fucking bitch…” Ari growled.
“My advice? Stay here in LA. Keep chasing after Tall, Dark, and Handsome over there if that’s what you want. Because I’ve made sure that you’re never going to get anywhere in Vegas.”
In a low voice, Ari hissed a baleful omen: “You’re going to regret this.”
Helen kept her gaze fixed on the other woman while watching her stalk off. The brunette getting put in her place was a long time coming, and was very justly deserved at that. Still, getting to be the one to deliver that comeuppance somehow didn’t yield the sense of satisfaction she thought she’d derive from it; if anything, a bad taste lingered in her mouth that was not so easily dispelled. And then there was the matter of Ari’s avowed retribution. The likelihood that the brunette would seek to raise hands against her here was slim, given the very public setting and the optics that would surely engender. But it also was hardly an idle threat. The previous girl Helen scorned was volatile, but had been deterred from further folly with an appropriate redirection. Ari meanwhile had no such constraints; sooner or later, she was bound to rear her ugly little head and go for payback at the most inopportune moment.
The brunette had made her way over to join a coterie of other guests on the opposite side of the open space. Almost without missing a beat, her presentation took on a completely different tone as she introduced herself with her new conversation partners. Ari was carrying on in a lighthearted mood; her posture was open and seemingly carefree as she ingratiated herself with them and slid seamlessly into their little circle. It was as if her hostile run-in with the redhead had never happened. It wasn’t clear if any of them were previously acquainted with the brunette, but that didn’t seem to make any appreciable difference. Watching from afar, Helen wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all; it was still probably a safe bet though that the brunette wasn’t prepared to let bygones be.
Stealing a glance around the rest of the open air space, it looked as though everything was still much the same as before. The verbal altercation between her and Ari somehow seemed to have attracted little to no attention from the other guests, judging by the lack of change in how they regarded both her and the brunette. With perhaps a touch more prudence than before, Helen returned to casting her stares out in search of whatever reaction they might be able to provoke out. She only had to wait a short while before a new gaze emerged to meet hers, one that made its designs forcefully known.
Helen’s eyes returned to a familiar corner of the roof. Standing there and smoldering straight at her was an Asian girl in a lustrous gold bikini, one of the night’s competitors out mingling with her audience. The girl was an incredibly attractive sight: she had a pretty face, short hair that was luxuriously done, and an incredible rack that defied her short and slim stature. But if there was any congeniality in her personality, absolutely none of it was heading in Helen’s direction. A glower was being bored into the redhead that was stern and decidedly unfriendly; there was a degree of resentment to it that felt disproportionate for somebody with whom she was completely unacquainted. It followed and tracked her intently, not letting up even for the slightest bit now that it was locked on.
And right there next to the Asian was none other than Ari. The brunette was standing off by her shoulder, looking at the Asian girl as she smiled, giggled, and talked into her ear; occasionally, her eyes would flick sideways to join in with a devious glance of her own. There was something to be said about the power of her persuasion if she’d found a way to instill such a profound reaction in so short a time span. And there was no mistaking it; Ari was bound to continue to be trouble.
Helen shot back at the two with an annoyed glare. But even as she broke off eye contact and turned away, she could still feel the indignity of the other two women directing their enmity towards her, each in their own insufferable way. She was rankled, but there was little she could do about it at the present. Scanning over the space once more, the redhead’s sights were drawn towards another small group that had formed up in the vicinity of the bar. At the center of attention was a girl in a red bikini, presumably the Asian’s opponent-to-be. Helen sized her up for a few seconds as her interest was piqued.
Perhaps it behooved her to go over there and make an introduction.
* * * *
The blonde wasn’t doing so hot.
That much was plainly evident by this stage in the fight. Regardless of whether one was rooting for her or against her, the general sense in the air was that she was slowly getting rolled up. Nothing seemed to be forthcoming to suggest that she had it in her to turn the tide before it was too late. Nor was the blonde’s own disposition doing her any favors. The way she thrashed and squirmed, the way her face pinched up and twisted, the way her aggrieved voice rang out over and over again – all of it pointed in a direction that only held one plausible outcome.
Helen stewed in silence as she watched the struggle playing out in front of her. It was true that this wasn’t her fight; there wasn’t any vested interest in it for her as to how things turned out. But that did little to lessen the sting of defeat, which seemed to impart itself with an unusual degree of vicariousness in this instance.
She’d liked what she’d seen from
Tiffany Cox before the fight. The platinum blonde girl was gorgeous and impressively curvaceous; her physique looked formidable and she held a modest size advantage over her diminutive opponent. Before the fight, she’d been quite amicable and seemed highly motivated; anecdotes from other guests touted her as a talented competitor. In practice though, the blonde’s qualities hadn’t translated into positive results. She had been on the wrong foot from the beginning, always a step behind and never seeming capable of catching up. But it wasn’t merely that, Helen observed, which set her apart from the other girl – simply put, the blonde lacked the meanness necessary to hold her own against a rival overabundant in viciousness. Both women had been bereft of their bikini tops by this stage of the fight as one unilaterally dictated the terms to the other.
Tying her up – Tiffany was in an awkward spot as she was getting smooshed against the mat. Lying on her side, she was being secured against her opponent’s torso in a headlock, the weight of the latter in turn pinning down her upper body. One of her legs had managed to hike up around the other girl’s hip, only to then get scissored up at the calf and immobilized. She looked petulant and weary as she tried fruitlessly to escape. Her position didn’t avail her enough strength to dislodge her opponent, while her free leg couldn’t get the purchase needed to wriggle or turn her way out from underneath.
Meanwhile from above, the other side of the story was being conveyed with an equal amount of vividness.
Sayaka Yuzaki’s face bore a radiant smile as she controlled the lock-up almost effortlessly, showing zero hint of worry that it might be overturned abruptly. She seemed most content to ply the hold out of an S-grip, periodically flexing and tightening her arm as she chipped away at Tiffany’s resolve. There was the occasional attempt by the blonde to grab at her breasts or at her hair, but these haphazard efforts weren’t able to gain any traction, and eventually Sayaka seized the loose arm by the wrist and pinned it to the mat as she rode out Tiffany’s fretful struggling. When at last the blonde seemed to run out of steam, the Japanese girl released the arm and started thwacking her foe in the face with open-handed strikes, compounding the latter girl’s misery that much more.
Wearing her down – The blonde found herself being besieged in the form of yet another hold. She was on top for a change, but that wasn’t helping her any. Quite the opposite in fact; as Tiffany was lying facing upwards, she’d had her back taken by the other girl who was beneath her and oriented in the same manner. Her head and arms were secured by a full nelson that looked solid; lower down, her midsection was under duress from a potent set of triangle body scissors. Sayaka had her right leg coiled tight around Tiffany’s body with the foot hooked in behind the left knee, and together in tandem they were ratcheting up the pressure on their trapped quarry.
Tiffany grimaced and groaned each time the Japanese girl’s legs cinched up the pressure on her torso. Her natural inclination was to bridge upwards or to rock from side to side, but even the most vigorous of fighting wasn’t amounting to any tangible sort of headway. Really, what she was doing was expending the greater portion of her flagging strength, while the scissors themselves chipped away at the rest of it for a fraction of the effort. Tiffany seemed to be too tired or too desperate to even realize it. Her last attempt to twist free was met with Sayaka choosing to roll with it, quite literally forcing her over into a prostrate position. The blonde whined as her face was now being shoved against the mat, growing ever louder as the legs that constricted her began to squeeze anew.
Breaking her apart – Tiffany’s torment had taken the form of yet another new hold. She was still lying on her stomach, now with her lower legs folded up and tucked in atop the back of her thighs. Her opponent had shifted to take a seat in close behind her between where her knees had been parted, and she looped her own legs over the blonde’s to clamp them down. Tiffany’s wrists were being held securely in the other girl’s hands as the grip on them was used to wrench her arms backwards with one grueling tug after another. The visual appeal of this novel surfboard variation spoke for itself, but had just as much to do with the victim that had been placed into it.
The blonde was absolutely beside herself while she suffered through the excruciating shoulder compression being forced upon her. She was regularly compelled to rear her head back and wail out loudly, a sight accentuated by the swell of her hulking breasts as they were pressed between her body and the mat’s surface. At other times, she would bury her face down into the rubber material as she sniveled, trying desperately to gather her flagging resolve before the hold was ramped up again. Both forms of reaction were highly emotive and lacking in any semblance of stoicism. Even if she wasn’t yet physically vanquished, psychologically she appeared to have run out of answers for the host of threats that were beset upon her. It would only be a matter of time until she eventually would be done in by one or another of them.
Anybody who was paying attention was bound to come to the same conclusion. But from where Helen was standing, there was more afoot than just the ebb and flow of the fight itself. Sayaka enjoyed playing to the crowd and had been taking spare moments to do so whenever she had the blonde tied up or pinned down; the sight of her posing pretty as she controlled the action was a strong visual that she was burnishing the image of in the hearts and minds of the audience. And with each instance of this, seemingly without fail, the Japanese girl would deliberately seek out the redhead to make eye contact. There was no mistaking the purposefulness of it – even after moving to a new vantage point, Sayaka’s gaze had managed to track her down all the same. The precise motivation behind this fixation was not clear, but suffice it to say that nothing good was bound to come out of it for the redhead.
Battering her – Sayaka had risen to her feet, and after compelling the same from the blonde, then proceeded to march the other girl off the mat and over to the bar. She bullied Tiffany back against the rigid edifice while the crowd clamored around them for a better view; having stacked her quarry upright, she then set about laying into the trapped girl with both of her fists. The workrate was slow, but the delivery was extremely methodical; Sayaka was loading up on each one of her shots as she drilled them into her opponent’s flanks, stomach, and tits. Tiffany looked absolutely sick about it as she soaked up the punishment, sputtering and groaning in the wake of every impact. The blonde brought her hands up as she tried to block the punches or roll with them, but her guard may as well have been a sieve; there was simply no denying Sayaka from taking anything and everything that she wanted.
A snappy right uppercut snatched at the blonde’s left breast. An identical punch landed squarely to her right breast. A left hook followed quickly after to pound the right breast again. Sayaka had Tiffany practically in tears as she went after the other girl’s chest with a dogged single-mindedness that appeared to be breaking her spirit at last. With little other recourse remaining, Tiffany choked back her tears as she lurched forward and swung out with a looping right, but the Hail Mary wasn’t able to find its mark. Sayaka ducked in beneath the telegraphed punch and bodied her back up against the bar; it took a second to sort her out as Sayaka thrust her leg up and rammed her thigh crosswise into the midsection. Tiffany gargled as the forceful blow loosened her up and left her easy pickings for what was to come next.
Ravaging her – Leading by a tight grip on her hair, Sayaka brought Tiffany back over to the mat and sent the ramshackle girl hurtling down onto it with a firm heave. She rolled the blonde onto her back while descending upon her in the form of a reverse facesit. It was not the cleanest or most proficient implementation ever seen, but the finer nuances seemed beside the point as the Japanese girl directed her attention and energies elsewhere. Reaching down in front of her, Sayaka ran her hands across the breadth of Tiffany’s tits; after a few moments of indulging herself like this, her grip on the sizeable pair tightened sharply as she began to tear into them with a degree of savagery like no other.
Fingers and nails ran roughshod over every available inch of skin. Hands viciously twisted and squeezed as much as they were able to hold. Forceful yanks and wrenches tugged the beleaguered orbs as far as they would go. Sayaka reveled gleefully in every ounce of pain and suffering that she inflicted upon the other girl; each dreadful reaction she coerced out of her opponent visibly emboldened her that much more. Meanwhile, Tiffany had been completely swept up in her anguish. Her screams and her sobs were fully audible, even in spite of the Japanese girl planted atop of her face. And though her head, arms, and shoulders were immobilized, her hips and legs remained unpinned as they thrashed and kicked on the mat in an equally vivid show of her distress.
Ending her – At last satiated, Sayaka ceased her attacks on Tiffany’s chest and backed herself off of the other girl’s face. On all fours, she maneuvered into her desired position while also reaching her hands out to cup them under the blonde’s chin; she then brought her tits down onto Tiffany’s face as she laid flat atop of her in a north-south orientation. The Japanese girl’s impressive pair engulfed her opponent’s nose and mouth completely, and combined with the handhold and the weight of her body bearing down, she had the breast smother secured straight away.
Just the same as before, the blonde’s lower half was still unrestrained. And in much the same fashion, her legs pushed and slid on the mat’s surface as she desperately yearned for her freedom. The difference this time was that her exertions were bereft of their prior vigorousness, and they were dwindling even further as the smother persistently denied her of air to breathe. Tiffany was still audibly protesting, but none of what came out was decipherable from beneath the stifling snare of the Japanese girl’s bosom. Snuggling up tight as she pressed in with small grinding and mashing movements, Sayaka was closing out the show with the most vivid display of dominance she could conjure. It wasn’t long before she was able to send the other girl into a thoroughly jugged out slumber.
Helen pursed her lips as she bit back a curse. She’d already resigned herself to expecting this outcome, but it nonetheless still stung to have to watch it come to full fruition. The winner released the hold and was starting to rise up in order to take a pose over the girl she’d just defeated – Helen averted her eyes from the spectacle and instead turned her gaze to take stock of the other guests. By and large, they were all firmly pro-Sayaka now, even those who’d favored Tiffany in the beginning – the LA crowd could really be fickle like that sometimes. But that was something she wasn’t going to have the chance to dwell on for long. Swiftly, and from every corner, Helen sensed the collective attention of the entire venue being trained intently upon her person.
Looking back towards the center of the mat, Helen was confronted with the figure of Sayaka marching straight towards her. Despite the clear signs that she’d just emerged from a fight, the Japanese girl’s appearance with all of her scuffs and her sweat still exuded an air of magnificence that was impossible to deny. Equally remarkable was the boldness that seemed to abound with every movement she made while advancing on the redhead’s person. Helen felt every bit of the other girl’s antipathy as the latter struck a defiant posture in front of her and taunted her with a beckoning stare. Barely missing a beat, Sayaka then uttered out a bold invective in her native tongue – the words themselves were unintelligible to the redhead’s ear, but the venom with which they were imbued was impossible to miss.
As if the point couldn’t be made any more unambiguous, Sayaka then extended her hand and motioned with her fingers for the redhead to come out and face her. Helen looked back at her incredulously. This girl had just gotten out of one fight; no way she was raring to start another one right there on the spot, right?
“You can’t be serious.”
Sayaka’s reaction was to promptly step forward even closer and invade the redhead’s personal space. Her eyes blazed fiercely as they drilled into Helen’s; the expression on her face was vehement as she maintained this stare for several increasingly tense seconds. At last, Sayaka gave voice to her feelings in accented but concise English:
“You fucking bitch.”
The Japanese girl’s open hand lashed out at her like lightning and resounded with the crack of thunder as it smacked into her cheek. It wasn’t so much the force of the blow but the speed of its delivery that stung her as her head was snapped to the side. Startled, Helen reflexively moved to get her hands up in front of her, but they were no impediment to a second identical slap that landed and rocked her back a couple of steps. Her head was still throbbing when she felt the other girl’s hands sink into her hair, seizing a tight grip on the red locks as she was dragged kicking and screaming out onto the mat.
Helen scowled as she was being jerked to and fro. Each wild wrench on her head made her stagger; she stumbled as she struggled to keep her balance, but it was no easy task in her high heels. Sayaka’s assault was artless and almost maniacal, and it showed no signs of abating on its own. Helen finally found the wherewithal to latch her own left hand into the Japanese girl’s dark hair as she began to pull on it in return; she swung her right hand out and struck her attacker several times in the head and upper body, but too clumsily to do any meaningful harm. One of Sayaka’s hands released and swiped at her face with clawed fingernails; it latched back on lower down as it started to tug and rent at the fabric of her dress. This determined effort was finally enough to overcome Helen’s resistance, and she was sent tumbling to the ground with the Japanese girl on top of her.
From all directions around her, Helen could hear the shouts and rancor of the audience. They were just as caught up in the action now, with no indications forthcoming that anybody meant to intervene and halt it. And from the sound of things, no one had any interest in rescuing her from whatever malevolent objectives the Japanese girl had in mind. Sayaka roared and cursed while wrestling against her; her likely aim was to pin the redhead down before proceeding to whatever she had in store next. Helen screeched as she tugged furiously on the other girl’s hair and shoved back with a hand on Sayaka’s chin, enough to topple her off to the side.
Immediately, Helen felt a sharp yank on the back of her scalp as Sayaka attempted to reverse their momentum with renewed hairpulling. Aiding this was a brace of crudely thrown punches that caromed across her face and brow. Scowling, Helen pushed her hand harder against Sayaka’s face, trying to stall and stymie for as much as she could. She’d felt one of her shoes come off in the scuffle, and she promptly started shaking her leg to try and dislodge the remaining one from the other foot. For her trouble, her movements provoked out several knee thrusts from Sayaka that painfully banged into her thigh. Helen writhed and struggled as she warded off the Japanese girl’s efforts to subdue her, until at last she was able to shuck the other shoe off.
Thinking quickly, she released Sayaka’s hair and darted both of her hands to the other girl’s face. One of them firmly pinched the nose shut, while the other sealed itself to the mouth and held fast. Right away, this succeeded in flipping the entire momentum of the conflict on its head. The Japanese girl squirmed dramatically and tried to extricate herself from the hand smother; her efforts to impose herself forcefully upon the redhead were supplanted by the new peril that was right in front of her. Helen kept her hands pressed tight and even pushed with some force as she threatened to worm her way on top of her adversary; Sayaka’s struggling escalated sharply as she shoved at the redhead and flailed out with her fists. Eventually, Helen was repulsed as the two women separated, but she’d managed to buy herself the breathing room she needed.
Helen darted up as swiftly as she could to her feet. Her eyes tracked onto the other girl who was coming up as well, albeit just a little bit more slowly. She planted her feet squarely and launched herself into a booming right cross that found its mark right on the jaw. Sayaka was instantly undone as she reeled back groggily on shaky legs; Helen marched after her with mean intent and unloaded an identical second punch that sent her crashing to the ground. In the blink of an eye, the conflict was brought to a decisive end as one girl got herself knocked the fuck out.
Helen caught her breath as her gaze lingered over the unconscious figure sprawled out at her feet. Slowly, her eyes lifted up as she surveyed her surroundings. The crowd’s excitement had cratered once their desired outcome was no longer forthcoming; in its place was an array of harsh glares, low murmurs, and hostile jeers that were all being leveled against her. And there wasn’t much reason to be coy about it either; in her tattered and disheveled state, she was decidedly brought low from whatever queenly pretensions she might’ve put on when she first arrived. A myriad of stares were scorning her as a reaffirmed uninvited interloper, and Helen reciprocated a look from one end of the space to the other to let them know that the disdain was mutual.
Scouring with her eyes, she located Ari at the back of the assemblage. All of this was unequivocally the brunette’s doing; even if it hadn’t achieved all that she could’ve hoped for, the trouble she’d been able to make for the redhead had nonetheless put her in high spirits. Seeing her grin and cackle like that made Helen want to go over and wring her neck right then and there. The hostile glare was finally answered when Ari looked back and flashed her with a glib smile. This final exchange left absolutely zero doubt as to who the redhead’s next target was, all other considerations be damned.
Helen scooped her shoes up from the floor and turned in a huff to storm out of the place. If tonight’s episode had made one thing clear, it was that the redhead wasn’t here to make any friends. And soon enough, by the time she was finished in this town, she vowed to make these people recognize precisely what that entailed.
