The after-party celebrating the latest American Eagle Jeans ad campaign had left the hotel’s ball room and moved to a smaller conference room. It’s pretty quiet there, now, too. Many of the 30 or so hangers-on have already left. Waiters have cleared the high-top tables. Only a few chairs along the walls and a nearly empty serving table remain in the carpeted room.
Sydney Sweeney relaxes with a small group of remaining friends. She is still in high spirits, or rather, is still high from spirits, maybe one champaign toast to many? It’s been a hell of a month for her. She owns social media; she’s in all the ad campaigns and all the movies. And she is both keyed up and, not that she’d admit it, partied out. She sits barefoot on the floor with her legs crossed, wearing her unbuttoned Eagle Daisy Dukes. Her midriff baring shirt might as well be unbuttoned, her braless assets always pleased to be unfettered.
And then Dafne Keene, a mere 20 years old, storms into the private room. She is pissed off. Her agent has informed her that a major advertiser has decided to feature Sydney Sweeney in its new campaign rather than her.
Keene marches in front of her, standing hands on hips, she shouts, “You greedy slut! What’s enough for you?”
Sydney blinks up at her, “Who are you and why are you barging in here?” Sydney asks, yawning.
“I’m your replacement,” Dafne spits.
“That’s a laugh. You’re nobody, a wanna-be. Fuck off!” Sweeney retorts and she stands up.
Dafne slips out of her jacket and kicks off her heels. She wears a sleeveless, black, spaghetti strapped ,boob revealing top and a matching black microskirt. Dafne is a bit shorter than the blonde. While the two are pretty well-matched up top, Keene carries a good bit more junk in the trunk and her legs are less thin though equally toned. She steps right up to Sydney and thrusts her boobs forward, knocking Syd off-balance. She laughs as Sweeney recovers her footing.
“Go home, little girl, or I’ll beat your ass,” Syd threatens, poking a finger into Keene’s chest.
Dafne reaches out to grab hold of Sydney’s left tit. She gives it a squeeze. Syd yelps.
“Ha! Soft, over-exposed and kind of saggy without your push-up bra,” Dafne mocks. “Time for you to step aside and let young blood take over.” Keene continues.
Sweeney slaps Keene’s hand away and backhands the brunette across her face. Unimpressed, Dafne quickly slaps Syd’s face, hard. Bleary eyes wide, Sydney takes a step back, rubbing her cheek.
“You dumb bitch, you want to fight? You won’t last 3 minutes with me,” Sweeney retorts.
It’s late. Sydney is tired, but with her martial arts background and recent boxing and weight training, she is confident that she can take out this upstart. She might not realize that Dafne has been fight trained for many of her movie roles over several years. She is athletic, fast and ruthless—and hungry.
Dafne throws herself at the blonde She latches onto Syd’s hair and shoulder, snarling as she tries to twist her foe down. Sweeney drives a fist into Daphne’s belly and shoves her away. Keene spins around to again throw herself into Sweeney. Twisting the blonde around. grabbing hair and shirt collar, Dafne runs an off-guard Syd into the nearby wall, pinning her upright on it. Keene lifts a knee up into Sydney’s lower back. Sydney grunts, elbowing her way around to face her assailant. Keene slams a forearm across Syd’s chest, knees her belly and quickly buries a fist in her belly. Grunting, Sydney attempts to push Keene away, but Dafne leans her shoulder into Sydney as the two women exchange belly blows. Sweeney is out of position and taking the worst of the exchange.
Keene drives her knee up into Sweeney’s gut, with enough force to take her breath away. Keene smiles, takes a short step back, and then quickly unleashes a right cross that thuds sickeningly deep into Sydney’s left breast. Sydney cries out, eyes wide-- the impact visibly jarring her. She immediately spins away. Dafne follows, relentless. She grabs the blonde by her hair, runs her boobs-first into the wall and shocks the blonde with a brutal kidney punch.
Dafne spins Sydney around to drive her knuckles deep into Sydney’s midsection. Jerking up on Sydney’s hair, Dafne quickly follows up to bury her fist into the right side of the blonde’s chest. Sydney sinks to her knees.
“Is that three minutes yet?” Dafne mocks. “Can you last that long?” she jeers.
Sweeney looks beat up, but…she recovers to surge upright as she fires off an uppercut that nearly pops Dafne’s left boob out of its tee-shirt. Sweeney shoves Keene away and comes off the wall. Dafne rubs her boob, sets her jaw and ploughs forward. Sweeney raises her guard and stands her ground. She trips the over-eager Dafne to the floor and triple-stomps her side, then kicks her in the belly.
“Be smart and stay down,” Sydney threatens.
Sydney backs off. Dafe does not stay down and is once more on the attack. As her hands grab for the blonde, Sydny is poised and moving. She beats Dafne’s ribs but fails to stop her forward progress.
Boom. Dafne grabs hold of the blonde’s shoulders and headbutts her. Sydney is dazed. Keene’s fists drum a furious rhythm against Sydney’s ribs and belly as she forces the blonde back against the wall. Keeping her pinned up, Dafne’s knuckles land with increasing frequency on Sydney’s belly and vulnerable chest. Sydney’s breathing is ragged, her face flushed. Resolute, she unleashes a furious backhand slap, connecting the side of her foe’s face.
Daphne cries out, her lip bloodied. Sweeney pops a fist into Keene’s ear hard enough to hurt her own hand. She grabs the brunette around the head, draws it down into her knee and throws Dafne down to the floor. Sydney leans back against the wall panting, assessing the damage she has dished and absorbed. Dafne rolls away, stands with hands on hips. Her ear is red and ringing as she glares, then motions Sweeney forward.
Hard-eyed and determined, Sydney steps towards her foe. It has become clear to Sydney that this bitch she faces is mean, strong and knows how to fight. Sydney shakes off any self-doubt and the effects of the headbutt. She sets her hands and circles. She bobs, weaves, slaps and kicks-- keeping Dafne at bay.
Keene charges in hard. Sydney slips low, wraps her arms around the brunettes’ left thigh to twist and shoulder her down to the floor. Two belly stomps and the blonde dances off. Keene curses as she gets up…and charges in again. Sydney steps between the brunette’s wide stance, drops to one knee, grabs Dafne behind her knees and powers forward, dumping Keene on her back. Sydney thuds her knee in the bewildered brunette’s gut and moves out of range.
“MMA baby, MMA! You don’t stand a chance,” Sweeney chortles.
Sweeney waits for the undisciplined Dafne to charge in. Keene does and gets rewarded with stinging counters to her ribs . Sydney shoves her back, fakes a right, then lands a beautiful left hook that crushes Dafne’s left boob. She follows it with a straight right that pancakes Keene’s right tit. Dafne howls. Sydney stoops to grab Dafne’s right thigh and drops her to her back. As she leans over her foe, Sweeney’s long blonde hair dangles down. Dafne grabs it, yanks Syd’s head down and rolls her over. The blonde lands hard.
Before she can respond, Daphne leaps astride the blonde and quickly and pins her down. Sweeney bucks up. Daphne keeps her balance, slips a leg behind Sydney’s waist and pulls the blonde into a waist scissors. Sweeney flails as her eyes water from the pressure of Keene’s scissors. Syd lies on her back on top of Dafne, trapped but reaching back to yank Dafne’s hair. The brunette rips open Syd’s shirt and digs her fingers into a boob. Sweeney shrieks, then slams her head back into Dafne’s face.
Cursing, Dafne wraps her a hand under Syd’s chin as she wraps the otherer hand into blonde hair. Keene locks her ankles, squeezes for all she’s worth. Syd screams.
“Gottcha, bitch!” Keene hisses.
Syd fights like a demon, all of her toned everywhere body struggles to break free. She twists herself around, but into a more precarious position, almost spooning. The women lie on their left sides, Syd’s tiny waist across Keene’s solid left thigh while the brunette’s right thigh pulses down on Syd’s waist. Dafne’s scissors is viced breathtakingly tight. The back of the blonde’s head is nestled between Keene’s boobs. In between pulses, Keene jerks hard the blonde’s hair as she digs her fingers into her chin.
“You know you can’t break free, Sydney. Just give up or I will break your ribs and crush all the fight out of you,” Keene warns.
Syd manages to stammer out a weak, “Fuck you.”
Growling Dafne let’s go of Syd’s chin. She straightens her hair entangled arm pushing Sydny away as she stiffens her own body out straight. The pressure of her scissors ramps up to eleven.
“Stop, stop!” Sydney screams, tears steaming down her face, She feels her ribs submit.
Dafne holds the blonde in place for a moment longer, then unlocks her vice and kicks Sydney away. Sweeney is trashed and miserable. Keene is elated but exhausted. Both remain on the floor breathing hard.
Dafne stands up , shakes out her thighs and walks over to the remaining refreshment table that still holds a few water bottles. She grabs a tall bottle, opens it and drinks. She looks back at Sydney who is still down, holding her sides and breathing only shallow breaths. The younger woman strides back to Sydney and empties the contents onto Sydney’s face. As Sweeney sputters, Dafne walks back to the table. Leaning her butt on the surface she watches.
Sydney slowly rises, rubs her ribs. She can feel that her ribs are badly bruised. She wipes wet hair from her face. She walks slowly to the drink table, takes a water bottle, drinks, her eyes focused on Keene. She takes a big gulp of water, then turns her head to spit the stream out onto Dafne.
“Gross! You bitch! You’ll pay for that,” Dafne curses.
Sydney is somehow still resilient, at least she believes that she is. She backs away from the table. Ignoring her throbbing sides-- forgetting the discretion is the better part of valor, she stands ready to rejoin this struggle. She sets her guard and calls Daphne out. Keene shakes her head turns and walks towards the blonde. Does Sydney have a secret ‘Crane kick?’ Nope. Just guts.
Sydney is determined to not let Dafne dominate her. She uses disciplined jabs to keep Dafne at bay, circling, somehow limber on her feet. Sydney’s experience shines: she knows how to manage distance, how to frustrate a brawler. Keene presses in. Syd shifts her body laterally, knees Keene in the gut. Dafne covers up and steps away.
Keene raises her guard and advances. Sydney slips to one side and buries her knuckles in her foe’s belly. Keene grunts, her arms slip down. Sydney puts her shoulder and hips into a nasty backhand across Dafne’s face that spins her around on her feet.
For a moment, Dafne seems to be on her backfoot. Sweeney plays it cautiously, she waits, ready. But the young brunette quickly recovers. She narrows her eyes and sets her jaw. Keene’s resolve appears unwavering. She steps up to stalk Sydney, working to force an opening. Twice more Sydney backhands Dafne’s face. Still, the younger woman steps forward, slapping and kicking at her opponent. Dafne relentless campaign pays off. Sydney miscalculates a retreat, tripping for a moment. Dafne lunges-- her left fist connects with a sickening thud against Syd’s right side. Shooting pain from the blonde’s ribs stop Sweeney in her tracks. Dafne senses her foe’s pain. She rushes in to wrap her arms around Sydney’s chest to lock her into a bearhug. Syd’s arms are trapped. Her boobs are pancaked. Her ribs are on fire. Daphne is delighted.
“ Best tits in Hollywood? Your grandma is clueless. Flabby, saggy tits, sure. Best? Not a chance!” Dafne proclaims as she throws Sydney to the floor.
Keene advances quickly, prepared to stomp her foot down on Sydney’s chest. Sweeney rolls to the side, grabs Dafne’s leg and attempts to trip her down. Dafne hops, Sydney sits up twisting the captured leg. Keene’s balance prevails. She pulls her leg free and boots Sweeney in the back. Dafne stands behind the feisty blonde and jerks her to her feet by her hair. Keene marches Sydney to the water table. Twisting her left hand into Sydney’s long hair, ignoring Sweeney’s yelps, Dafne pounds her right fist into the blonde’s side, and then her kidney. Dafne grabs Syd’s hair and slams her down, boobs and belly first onto the table sending water bottles flying. Still holding Syd’s hair, Dafne grabs her foe’s Daisy Dukes to drag her across the table and fling her onto the floor. Sydney lands hard. Dafne walks across her back, moving away.
“Looks like you need a little rest, darlin’” Keene mocks.
Sydney’s breathing is shallow, dark bruises bloom on her chest and ribs. Ever the warrior, the blonde slowly stands.
Dafne watches, smiling, energized by the sight of Sydney’s painful courage. She marches forward, a predator scenting blood. Sydney tries to tie her up, to clinch and buy time, but Dafne is just too much for her. She muscles Sydney off, creating just enough space to land quick, brutal shots to Sydney’s ribs and chest. Sydney has little endurance left. She backs up, bent forward, hands on her thighs, panting as tears stream down her face.
“I’m coming for you, Sydney, are you ready?” Dafne jeers.
Struggling, Sydney straightens up, trying to defend herself. Dafne lands a pulverizing right hook to Sydney’s left breast that sent a visible tremor through her body. Sydney’s legs buckle for a split second, but she stubbornly refused to go down, instead retreating to the table, half sitting on it.
Dafne smiles as she follows. Sydney is a mess. But her pride stops her surrender. ‘No mas’ does not slip from her lips. Keene seizes blonde hair and throws her down on her back across the table. Dafne stands beside the table She knits her finger together to unleash a barrage of ax-handle blows to Sydney’s chest and midsection. Keene stops periodically to lock eyes with her target. Sydney’s eyes are teary, but she says nothing. . She absorbs the punishment, gritting her teeth, as the sounds of each strike echoes through the room. And then Dafne stops, yanks Sweeney off the table by her hair and throws her to the floor. Keene props herself up on the table.
“Take a few minutes, Syd,” ‘cause I’m not down with you yet, Dafne jeers.
Sweeney is simply splattered on the floor. After a few minutes, she rolls over, crawls to the table and pulls herself upright as Dafne watches and shrugs.
“Well you’re not a wimp, I’ll give you that.” Keene offers as she rushes forward to grab Sweeney by the hair.
Dafne marches Sydney back against the closest wall and belts her in the gut, in the boob, in the ribs. Sydney steams tears as she somehow throws an uppercut that catches Keen above the eye.
“Bitch!” Dafne shouts, as she throws an elbow across Sydney’s boobs and follows with a knee lift to her belly.
Sydney folds over, gasping, but somehow straightens up, standing on wobbly uncertain legs. Dafne walks all around her dazed foe, shaking her head.
Dafne continues her relentless assault. She is a pit bull. She slams a fist into Sydney’s left tit. And then again. And then hammers her right tit. Sydney somehow will not go down.
Dafne unleashed a final, brutal combination of three quick, bare-knuckle shots, all aimed precisely at Sydney’s sternum. The fourth punch was a short, powerful right uppercut, driving up into the solar plexus. The unrelenting attack is too much. Sydney’s eyes roll back, her legs give out, and she collapses in a crumpled heap on the floor, gasping for air.
Sydney is broken and defenseless. Dafne circles her fallen foe. She squats down, throws off her shirt and pulls Sydney’s face into her sweat-soaked boobs. Sweeney has no fight left. She drifts off unconscious at the hands of the younger, tougher woman.
