Fireworks: British Babe vs. All-American Girl Final
The bell for the final round had rung. Sweat rolled down the body of a British beauty I had believed never shed a drop. Her red-haired American enemy stood across from her absolutely drenched in sweat. Samantha’s breasts heaved, and her stomach sucked in and pouted out, as she fought for each breath. Neither woman could take much more.
The beauties sprang at each other like pouncing jungle cats and tore into each other in a blur of slapping, punching, choking, scratching, and hair pulling. The ferocious struggle ended with the low thud of Jackie’s knee against Samantha’s stomach. Sam reeled back on her heels, until her back fell against a tree. She slid half-way down, trying to prop herself up on spaghetti legs. Jackie stood with hands on hips. She kicked her bare foot up against the side of Sam’s face, using it to crush Sam’s face between her foot and the tree trunk.
Jackie mocked Samantha. “Oh no, Miss Bryant, don’t faint yet. You haven’t crawled yet!”
Eyes and mouth wide open in shock and shame, Sam looked at me. Face twisted out of shape under Jackie’s foot, Sam managed to shout, “I’d rather die than crawl for you!”
Jackie’s pose left her exposed. Sam kicked her long leg up, driving her heel into Jackie’s ribs. Jackie cried out loudly, spun, and fell to the grass. Sam slid down the tree. Jackie tried to get away, but Sam caught her by her ankle, pulled the foot that had been on her face moments earlier up to her mouth, and bit the bottom of the Englishwoman’s foot. Jackie’s eyes bulged and her mouth opened wide in utter disbelief. She let out an incredibly high-pitched scream, as shrill as a whistle. Jackie was able to kick free, but when she instinctively reached for her injured foot, Sam leapt up and kicked her in the forehead. The kick was brutal. Sitting up with her legs wide apart, Jackie fell first back and then forward, ending up with her head between her legs, face down in the dirt.
Samantha saw a chance to finish her hated enemy. She scooped Jackie up, presumably attempting one of those fancy finishing moves performed on televised wrestling matches. Unfortunately, Sam didn’t know how to execute an airplane spin. Instead of lying Jackie across her shoulders, Jackie hung down loosely across Sam’s front, legs up awkwardly over Sam’s head, Jackie’s hands dragging the ground. Always insisting on being in control, Jackie’s world had turned upside down. The proud Englishwoman was in serious trouble. Jackie cried out in fear. Sam spun her around several times. Then Sam body-slammed Jackie’s body into the grass under
her own.
Sam lay over Jackie, as if hoping the assembled witnesses would accept a quick count as proof she’d won. Jackie ended Sam’s hopes by bucking to her side and knocking Sam off. Jackie followed with a tremendous uppercut under Sam’s chin. The teeth-shattering punch sent Sam flying down. Snarling until the tiny gap between her front teeth showed, Jackie caught Sam’s ankle, rolled up onto Sam’s back, and put Sam in a reverse toe hold.
In an incredibly thick English accent, Jackie screeched, “Payback’s a bitch, Bitch!”
Jackie began viciously biting the bottom and inner side of Samantha’s foot. Sam let out a long, ear-piercing scream. Sam cried freely. The enraged Englishwoman threw down the American girl’s foot, seized her arm, and tried to twist it off. Sam’s free fist pounded in the grass.
As the Brit corkscrewed the American’s arm all the way around, I turned away, fearing Sam’s slender arm would snap! Jackie repeatedly demanded Sam beg her for mercy. Sam bravely refused, but my little redheaded cupcake was in agony!
Unable to force surrender, Jackie stood over her rival, leapt up, and brutally stomped both feet into Sam’s exposed lower back. Sam’s cry of absolute anguish was scary! She rolled over, back arched, belly high above her, one hand behind her on the small of her back, rolling from shoulder to shoulder in torment.
I couldn’t watch anymore. Although Jackie’s supremacy was amazing, Sam was in danger of being seriously hurt. I tried to stop the fight, but again, my fellow employees stopped me. The males in attendance simply wanted to see the fight finished. The women still looked to Sam to slay their dragon. When I looked down at Sam, I no longer saw an indomitable warrior. I saw a crying, freckle-faced girl, cut down to size by a superior woman.
Jackie rolled Sam over, sat hips on hips, snaked her arms under Sam’s and onto the front of Sam’s shoulders, and pulled Sam’s upper body up and back, while pinning Sam’s lower half down. Jackie’s textbook-perfect clutch put terrible pressure on Sam’s injured lower back. Sam cried out, hands flailing as if she dreamed of flying away like a bird. She looked right into my eyes, tears trickling. Her lips silently formed the words, ‘I’m sorry’ several times. She’d done the same thing months earlier, when Jackie gave her a tongue lashing for going behind her back and sending the wrong artwork to the printers. At the time I had assumed she had tried to apologize for potentially getting me into trouble. As I watched Jackie delight in rubbing Sam’s face in the dirt, I realized that Sam was apologizing to me for not doing better against Jackie, for not living up to my expectations!
Jackie pulled Sam up to one knee by her hair. Sobbing uncontrollably, Sam raised her hands, as if to beg. Jackie smiled at me, posing with the helpless redhead. Then Jackie scooped Sam up and slammed her lower back down across Jackie’s bended knee. Poor Sam couldn’t even scream. For a split second she looked up with a confused, stunned look. She lacked the ability to express a pain beyond any she had ever known before. She jolted off Jackie’s knee, did a complete headstand, and then rolled out awkwardly. She ended up upside down, hips up against a fence, legs wide apart in a split, while her back lie flat on the grass, arms straight out. Her body formed the letter I, bent in the middle. Jackie sat on Sam’s belly, leaned back, and casually ran her arms out along Sam’s outstretched legs, using Sam as her lawn chair! Jackie then bent her knees, again using Sam’s face as her footstool. After gloating for a moment, Jackie turned Sam over and spanked her. She then dragged Sam to the middle of the yard by her ankle, let her go, and mounted her.
In her most condescending British tone, she said, “The better woman has won. Look at you. How pathetic! You had a man who worshipped you half your life, but you only wanted to string him along, wallowing in his praise but always waiting for someone better to come along. You wanted all your friends to see him praise you, filling your fat head with pride. You thought you could do better. Ha! You had your chance. Someone better has come along, but not for you! I want you to spend your nights imagining of your former lover with me, knowing that he’s spending his nights with a woman far better than you!”
In spite of all the pain she’d endured during the fight, that was the cruelest blow. That was the moment I saw Jackie truly break Sam. Sam looked up at me, hyperventilating, tears rolling. She shook her head, whining, “I didn’t mean to… I never… I’m sorry! I’m so sorrriiiieeeee!”
Sam burst into tears, crying like a baby. She looked up at Jackie, crying, “Stop it! Stop it!”
Jackie proceeded to rip away every shred of Sam’s pride. She rolled Sam over onto her front, pulled back Sam’s head and her foot until they touched, and began beating the top of Sam’s head with Sam’s own foot. She twisted Sam’s long, trembling body into a pretzel. Jackie followed with a series of humiliating pose pins, including one where she sat nearly bare-hipped on Sam’s face. Sam’s lovely body could only squirm, helplessly. Despite her torture and humiliation, Sam held on to her last drop of pride by refusing to beg for mercy.
Perhaps frustrated by Sam’s heart, Jackie decided to break it. She scooped the bigger woman up, spun her around, and then drove Sam’s body into the ground under her own, executing a near-perfect body slam. Sam simply couldn’t take any more. Her long legs slid out. She looked up glassy-eyed in tears, as Jackie stood triumphantly over her.
Jackie looked at me and smiled, wickedly. She took two cupcakes off a nearby table, giggled, and said, “I told you that I know what to do with cupcakes.”
The Englishwoman chewed up the first cupcake and then spat it in Samantha’s face. She put the other on Sam’s lips, forcing poor Sam to look up and watch as Jackie’s bare foot lowered over her face. Jackie then ground the cupcake into Sam’s face and into her mouth. Sam let out the most heartbreaking cry I’ve ever heard, fully appreciating the symbolism.
I had never imagined anyone could be as broken as Sam was at that moment. Crying helplessly, body shaking in violent spasms of grief, Sam cried, “I can’t take anymore! I’m begging yooooooou! No More! Mercieeeeeeee!!!”
Sam couldn’t get up. I moved to help her, but Jackie stopped me.
“Oh, no, Samantha Bryant, you’ll get no more help from him. He’s mine now. Crawl away, loser! Crawl at my feet!”
I never thought anyone could cry as hard as Sam did, as she crawled slowly, sometimes on hands and knees and other times on her belly, some thirty yards through mud and grass to reach her car. She fought with the door and eventually slid onto her car seat. The engine started. Due to the dead end she had parked at, Sam was forced to turn her car around and circle back past us. As her car drew near, I saw her face. She didn’t look at me. Her blazing, emerald eyes were lasers, burning into Jackie as she gloated about her victory. I knew the redhead had only one thought in her mind…REVENGE!
