No Parking on the Dance Floor
Tasha wasn’t having a good night. She was sitting on her usual stool at her usual bar and club, Whispers in New Orleans, eating cherries dunked in alcohol. The 5’7” 140 lb brown skinned Tasha had long curly black hair, a nice fair with narrow brown eyes, very thin eyebrows, high soft cheekbones, and she was dressed in a short white silk armless top, showing off her stomach, which was neither too toned nor too soft and large football shaped innie navel with a small scar on the inside of it. She had blue jeans to cover her large thighs and legs, and sneakers… not exactly club attire, but she didn’t care. Aisha, Jessica, and Mona, her best friends, were there with her, but they were dancing with guys while she sat in tears, ordering another round of cherries and shooting down any man who came near her. Tasha had grown up in New Orleans, but spoke with a sort of “valley girl accent,” something that many stereo-typists would say was uncommon for a Black girl… but what’s the rule about people who stereotype? (Pssst! They’re dumb!)
Aisha- Girrrrl, you should get out there and dance! The night is young and you sitting here wallowing over that bitch ass Jerome… fuck him.
Tasha- Chill out talking about him like that.
Aisha- He left you for his baby’s momma. Like I said, fuck him.
Tasha looked act her friend, but couldn’t really say anything in defense of her boyfriend’s behavior. The bartender put a tall beer and champagne combo in front of Tasha.
Bartender- Alright now, let’s not have any fighting in here, for once, Tasha.
Tasha- This is my girl, Allen.
Bartender- But you know how you get in here. Women go flying all over the place when you get swinging. We gonna start calling you “the brown bomber,” cause you hit like Joe Louis. And you kicked Bird is the stomach last week; she hasn’t been back since.
Tasha- Well, I was just saying hi to Bobby; I went to elementary school with him and I never would’ve thought her fat ass was his wife… or that she would assume I was trying to talk to him. He’s not my type.
Bartender- All I’m saying is relax. You’re a hothead; I hate to say it, but you’re a hothead. You’re a sweet girl and you’re very loyal to your friends because they start the fights with other girls and then, run away so you can finish them. But you know you’ve got anger issues.
Tasha knew he was right. She was picked on for the way she talked and for her high education when she was younger and got into all kinds of fights, beating up girls and boys Her favorite move was a kick to the stomach; usually, that ended the fight. The few friends she made, she was more than loyal to them and they were more than willing to let their mouths get them into trouble, but Tasha would rush to their aid, take on their fight, and win it. But tonight, the man of her dreams, the thug Jerome, was in the arms of the woman he swore up and down he had no interest in, other than that she was the mother of his son.
Tasha hung out with people who were thuggish and, for lack of a more politically correct term, “ghetto” because she was told she talked White and acted White when she was younger and she felt a disconnect from her African American heritage. So, she gravitated towards those who fit the stereotype and slept with Jerome, getting a venereal disease and having her navel cut open to remove it (thus, the small scar on the inside. And by the way, for anyone reading this… if you‘re not married or really deep into your relationship where you truly trust the person… use protection PLEASE. Busting a nut ain‘t worth burning one; I wouldn‘t know from experience, but I certainly can assume). But she stayed with him, agreeing to not touch his son’s mother, though she thought about going to her house and fighting her on countless occasions. She still kept her grades up, but she was slipping into a nightlife and a lifestyle that wasn’t who she was, or who she wanted to be. But for love, she bathed herself in intoxication, which only fueled her temper more.
Tasha chugged down the champagne and beer and started towards the dance floor. It was pretty crowded and she was pretty angry, shoving her way through it, when she came upon a tall blonde, maybe a little over 6’, standing with her back to her in a red top and black jeans with funny looking red boots..
Tasha- Excuse me.
No answer; the music was so loud, there was nothing to be heard. Not to mention, the blonde was doing these elbows and they were hitting Tasha’s shoulder. She clearly couldn’t dance and Tasha was getting more and more upset because the tall blonde was talking to some muscular guys in front of her and not even really dancing at all.
Tasha- Excuse me.
Once again, the blonde’s back was still to Tasha. Then, the blonde turned and bumped right into Tasha, the tall glass of clear liquid in her hand wasting on Tasha’s white top.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the blonde said, her large breasts bouncing in her top and her round face and deep blue eyes shining with the reflections of the strobe lights bouncing off of them. “It’s just water,” the blonde continued, “It’ll dry. I really am sorry; I’m so out of place here. Blame it on my being from up north and not having any southern hospitality. I‘m stupid.”
Tasha looked the tall blonde over as she walked by, bumping Tasha due to the crowdedness of the dance floor as more people were packing in, and apologizing again. Tasha was furious at this woman, with her large breasts, flat stomach with a deep oblong navel showing from the shortness of her top and those hip hugger jeans that covered her thick legs.
Tasha- Excuse me! You can’t just walk away like that.
“Why not?” the blonde said, “It was an accident. It was just water.”
The blonde didn’t understand the way things work and needed to be taught a lesson. Tasha was already fuming and I guess, she came into this looking for trouble and for someone to beat up. The bartenders and her girls knew it. She shoved the blonde right in her chest, sending her down on her butt. Some of the blonde’s male friends seemed to be whispering to her. Tasha couldn’t quite hear what they were saying as she waited for the tall girl to get back up. The blonde didn’t look happy and she moved towards Tasha, but the men grabbed her.
“No Kara!” one said, “If coach finds out about this, you’ll be kicked off the team.”
“You won’t make the Olympics or even this competition tomorrow if you throw it away on a dumb bar fight,” the other one said, “just walk away. You know you’re better than that.”
Tasha wasn’t finished though. She grabbed an open bottle of cheap champagne, covered the top with her finger, shook it up, and sprayed it at the blonde. Kara looked down at her soaked red top and wet blonde hair and shook her head from side to side.
Tasha- Now you know what it feels like, you stupid bitch!!
Kara- You know, one day, somebody’s going to teach you a lesson in humility.
Tasha walked right up to Kara and looked up at the blonde. Before Kara’s friends to step between the two, the Black girl slapped Kara right in the face, then as Kara went to pull her hair out of her face, Tasha spit in her face and backed up a step.
Tasha- Why don’t you do it?
The music stopped and everyone was watching. Tasha was known for fighting in clubs and bars and in neighborhoods. No one had ever seen Tasha lose a fight except once, and that was when she agreed to fight a biracial redhead named Samantha in a boxing match after Samantha promised her a guaranteed three grand for it and taunted her into it. Tasha didn’t train for the fight and was a lot softer in the middle than she was now; she ended up quitting in the third round after taking a beating, but did knock Samantha down in the second round from a body shot. Samantha would go on to success in the female fighting promotion known as OPW as Queen Samantha, while Tasha used that loss to get herself in better shape, though the drinking, the attraction to men with rap sheets as long as they are tall, and the street fighting continued.
The scholar street fighter put up her fists and waited for Kara. Tasha knew that once the blonde rushed in, she would be open for the kick to the gut. Kara came forward, but stopped, raising her fists, so Tasha came forward and once she planted her feet to throw the toe kick, Kara threw a kick of her own, the toe of her boot slamming into Tasha’s large navel and forcing an ear-shattering “OUUGGGHHH!!!!” from her as she doubled over and was lifted off her feet. Tasha had never been kicked in the stomach before and dropped to one knee, then rose, staggering back and clutching her stomach, sitting on a stool at the bar, her long black hair all over her face as she coughed furiously. Kara approached Tasha cautiously, but once Tasha looked up, Kara drove an underhanded punch a decimeter above Tasha’s navel, forcing out a high pitched “guuggghhh” as she doubled forward again, but fell backwards off of the stool and to the floor on her back. Tasha was hurting badly as she looked up at Kara, who looked back down at her menacingly.
Kara- I don’t know what got into you, but now, you’re a lot worse off because now, you’re on the floor covered in wood cleaner, spilled beer, wine, and whatever else is down there. Seriously, I didn’t mean to waste water on your shirt.
Tasha was really in a lot of pain, but she got to her feet as Kara was turning to walk away. Tasha picked up the stool and sat it down correctly, then rushed the blonde, grabbing her by her shoulders and spinning her around as people stepped back for round two. Tasha dug two uppercuts into the middle of Kara’s stomach, forcing the blonde’s fat cheeks to fill up with air, then hit her with a right cross to her jaw, staggering her, grabbed her by her shoulders and kneed her hard in her stomach, doubling the blonde over with an “ULF!” but as Tasha got ready to punish the blonde’s back, Kara wrapped her arms around Tash’s waist and drove her back into the bar.
Tasha- Ah!
Tasha winced and grabbed her back with her right hand as Kara lifted the Black girl up, sitting her on the bar, then spun, slamming Tasha down hard on her back.
Tasha- Wuuuuhhh!!!!
Tasha’s eyes had a vacant look to them as Kara mounted her, but she quickly came to her senses as Kara grabbed her left arm and started twisting it and pulling it up. Tasha felt Kara’s left knee on her right arm, pinning it down, and then Kara hooked her left arm around Tasha’s left arm, turning her slightly on her right side. Kara started punching Tasha from her armpit to the ribs on her left side, to the vital organs under the ribs, throwing in hammer fists to her stomach and solar plexus. Tasha had lost her breath and she was losing her confidence. She knew that the best way to beat her was to knock the wind out of her and Kara had succeeded in doing that. Tasha was in so much pain, she didn’t even remember what got her in this position; she just knew that a big blonde girl was beating her up as Kara forced an “OUGH!!” from with a hooking punch to her stomach and rolled Tasha over onto her stomach, wrapping her legs around Tasha’s waist in a body scissors and squeezing her tightly while hitting the sides of her head. Tasha could only cry out in pain and frustration as Kara stopped and tightened her legs even more, then put on a rear naked choke, rolling onto her own back and cranking Tasha’s neck to the extreme left.
Tasha- I quit… I quit…
Kara was so caught up in tightening the hold, that she didn’t hear Tasha’s submission, but her two male colleagues did as they pulled her off the beaten brown skinned beauty. Kara stood up and looked at Tasha, who’s friends pulled her to her feet.
Kara- Had enough or do you want more?
Tasha- You beat me…
And with that, Tasha went back down on her hands and knees coughing, while Kara was rushed out of the club. Tasha would take two weeks off from going to any clubs to let her humiliation subside, but she went back into the clubs and started drinking again, once her boyfriend ended up in jail for armed robbery. Tasha turned on her television one day and saw Kara. It turned out, Kara was a national champion in female Olympic style wrestling and studied the martial art of combat sambo made popular in Russia. Turns out, Kara was on some reality show with a bunch of female fighters living in a house and competing for a contract. The show was called “The Ultimate Catfighter” and because there were so many girls in the house with names that started with the letter “K,” Kara was being called by another name and was dressing the part… Supergirl. After taking the beating she took in the club that infamous night, Tasha couldn’t agree more with the name change. She decided that she was try to put down the bottle and the stupid guys; she had seen that the only two women who’d ever beaten her in a fight had gone on to much bigger things because they were trained to fight.
Tasha knew that “Cutter’s Club” had it’s primary base of operations in New Orleans. Cutter’s Club was a gym and training team that features the undefeated, undisputed number one ranked female fighter in the world “The Nightmare” Allison Payne, unbeaten mma prospect and wife of yours truly, Shakena Sexy, and once a top mma and boxing star and the heir apparent to Siena‘s throne, now trying to get back to the top, Alexia Paige, were all being trained by General Cutter or his apprentice and the man who trained Samantha for her fight with Tasha, the offensive strategy guru Steve Dunn. Tasha vowed to learn how to fight the right way and make her cut in the business as well. She would get herself into shape as best she could, and then, she would start training. She already had a brilliant mind and the natural ability, but she just needed the guidance and the heart.
The End?
