Florida Women, The Final Chapter

By Kim

My name is Kim, and I work in housing administration at a liberal arts college in South Florida. In my last story, I described my rumba with Leila, a smart and competitive young woman from Brazil. We put on a very stimulating show for Debleena, my significant other who had been feeling depressed, and after that Debleena had her own rumble with a woman she disagreed with at a Cuban restaurant. Afterward, I stayed in touch with Leila. She was a college student, an economics major at Miami. She had chosen the major to keep her father happy; he was a construction tycoon in Sao Paulo, and when she had wanted to come to America for college and he wanted her to stay close to home, they had settled on Miami. I found her to be a better conversationalist and better informed than the typical econ major, though, and we routinely had coffee or lunch. The more we spoke, the more I liked her and the more I trusted her. We might not have gotten off to the best start, but out of that conflict we were forming a tight, reliable bond.

A month later, my bruises and muscles had healed and I had worked myself back into shape. Things were going well with Debleena, too, and I felt comfortable with these two women I now had very different relationships with. My life was solid and predictable for a time, and when I mentioned to Leila that I wanted to settle my debts, she agreed to help me with enthusiasm. I sent a text to Claudia suggesting that we meet. I chose the Miami Boardwalk on a Saturday morning. I was in shorts and a bikini top, and she was wearing a collared shirt and jeans. We shook hands tensely and said nothing at all by way of welcome or inquiry. The air was heavy and wet, and frankly my hair and hers both looked awful. We walked in silence, thin pretty girls and thin pretty guys jogging past, the heat rising, old people and kids and dogs all around us. “It feels like we should be carrying flasks for that authentic Miami experience,” Claudia said at last.

“I hear that you have been speaking to Gemma,” I replied.

“She’s an interesting woman. Great sense of style, sexy, smart, energetic. And she has some interesting things to say about you.”

“I would love the chance to speak with her about it.”

“I could give you her number, if you don’t have it already.”

“I had something else in mind,” I said, and I stopped and turned to face her. “When we first met you took me to see Debleena fighting. Would you care to set up another event like that? Something to provide some entertainment for your well-off clients?”

“They aren’t my clients,” Claudia snapped. “They are people I’ve built up connections with who trust me.”

“And when you charge people you build connections with, they’re called your clients.”

“I’m not the one connecting my tits to every guy on the boardwalk this morning.”

“Brave talk about tits, given the way that you dress. And big talk about trust, too.”

“I’ve earnest the trust of people who deserve it.”

“I have a way that we can investigate this big talk of yours and add some spice to your clients’ evening, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I’m up for all sorts of things at the moment.”

“I thought you might want to involve yourself in this, too. You and Gemma, me and a new friend that I’ve made, a two-on-two catfight. I can send you a pic, but I guarantee that she will be what your clients are looking for.”

I put out my hand and we shook hands very aggressively, holding on and squeezing, testing each other. Over emails, we agreed that the match would take in three weeks, we would wear lingerie, and the fight would take place on Biscayne Bay in a penthouse owned by one of those who would be watching. Our audience would be a select group of Claudia’s clients, to whom Claudia had sent pictures of us and who would be willing to put up a sizeable purse. I had always thought of myself as a progressive, independent woman, and the life that I had found for myself in fighting with other women I saw as a natural extension of that independence and strength. But, I had to admit that the thought of the rich and powerful, men and women both, seeing the bikini pictures of Leila and me that I had sent to Claudia, evaluating our sex appeal as well as our combative potential, it aroused me. Being compared to Gemma and Claudia on my face and on my body. Leila and I being on one side and having the strong connection that we did and then our relationship with Gemma and Claudia on the other side and their relationship grounded in distrust, dishonesty, conspiracy. It was all deeply and permanently stimulating.

We would have our version of a round robin tournament: A series of four one-on-one catfights to submission, and then in case of a tie there would an all-in maelstrom to settle the affair. I sent these emails to Leila, and she replied that she was conditioned, sharp, and ready to go. It was harder for me to take all of this to Debleena, whom I had not kept informed of the conversations with Claudia or of my continuing to speak with Leila as often as I had. I felt torn apart inside. I wanted so badly to stay with Debleena , but I had to bring my affairs with both Gemma and Claudia to an end, successful or not. I wanted to feel confident enough in my relationship with her to share everything from the beginning, but I had to be respectful of her recent identity crisis. When I went to her house with the emails and the pictures in hand, I did so with a heavy heart. But, despite her somber voice, she smiled and hugged me and said that she knew that this was what I had to do and that she would come with me. Then she held my face in her hands, and I kissed her passionately and pressed her onto her back on the couch and opened her blouse and kissed her dark tight nipples.

The weeks went by as in a dream, time both halting and skipping forward. I trained as hard as I could, pushing myself until I was lying on the gym floor gasping for air. Leila and I met several times to talk things out, and I could see that she was in tremendous shape under the skimpy outfits that she wore. As much as I hated it, I stayed away from Debleena. And just as importantly, Leila and I went shopping for new lingerie at a boutique near the water. By some strange logic, we agreed that the expense was justified given the very short life it would have. At work I was distracted, making mistakes and forgetting things in meetings. I hardly cared. I could rehabilitate my reputation afterward. Or, perhaps the time had come for me to start sending out my resume. Neither Debleena nor I would have any ties to the place after this, aside from a love of eternal summer—excepting some intense memories.

The day was here. Debleena drove, and we picked up Leila. At the door of her building she and I shared a brief hug, and she smiled and looked me right in the eye when I asked her if she were ready. She was wearing a red silk blouse and blue pencil skirt, and she was carrying a gym bag with a change of clothes for afterward. Her black hair was in loose curls that hung down over her shoulders nearly to her chest and framed her pretty face very well. She really was a stunner. I wore a white blouse, tight through the shoulders and chest with a low neckline, and a black miniskirt. We both sat in the back on the way to the condo, silent, staring out the windows. As we moved through the city, the buildings became newer and brighter, metallic. The building was right on the water. A valet parked our car with barely a look at the oddity of three well-dressed women, all nervous, two carrying gym bags. The elevator ride to the top was silent, the clinks and whirs of the gears filling the cell, and I took hold of both of my women by the hand and smiled at them.

The owner of the penthouse met us at the door. His name was David, he was in his fifties and rather handsome, and he smiled and welcomed each of us and took a particular interest in Leila. He took her hand and guided her into the foyer. He was tall, in his forties, and he was wearing a crisp blue dress shirt and slacks with sandals, an Omega watch and a thin gold necklace. He seemed focused on everything that was happening around him at once. The floor was hardwood, the furniture metal and leather, and the paintings on the wall were modern art pieces of orange spheres or blue hazes, most definitely originals. But the view trivialized the polished splendor of the interior, floor to ceiling glass with an unobstructed view of the bay. David led Leila and us with a wave of his hand. Fifteen to twenty men and women, between thirty and sixty and all nearly dressed as well as David, were standing in front of the windows. They stood back from the three of us as we approached, and we nodded, smiled vaguely, I shook hands with one man standing nearby. None of them said anything.

“Would you care for anything to drink?”

“Water for both of us,” I answered, gesturing to Leila. “Are they here yet?”

“They should be here in just a few minutes. We removed everything breakable, secured what wasn’t feasible to move. We’ll discuss the specifics when Claudia and Gemma arrive.” He turned to Leila and asked, “Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous. And the view is stunning.”

“Thank you. I wish that I could get down here more often. But work …” he trailed off with a shrug. He poured himself a glass of scotch and returned the bottle under the bar. I noticed that everything had been cleaned off of the bar, including the glass from the wall behind it. There was an empty space for a television on the wall.

“What do you do?” Leila asked him, and she brushed her hair behind her ear as she did.

“I’m a partner at an investment firm on Wall Street. I identify places in the economy where a little push can yield significant rewards, and I apply that pressure.”

“And what has brought you into Claudia’s little circle?” Leila asked him.

“I’m not part of anyone’s circle. But, I love beautiful things, and I love aggression. This has proven a way to have both at once. Like adding peanut butter to scotch,” he said, looking at her across the top of his glass. They shared a look, and I was so happy for her. At that moment, though, his phone buzzed. “Looks like they’re here,” he said.

He went to the front door and escorted Claudia and Gemma inside. They were dressed as well as we were, Gemma in a green sleeveless sweater that clung to her chest and black slacks, and Claudia in a hot pink blouse and black skirt. Both were wearing heavy makeup, and Claudia had her black hair loose, Gemma’s blonde hair in a ponytail. By the time David brought them into the living room, we women had already locked a steady gaze on each other. Claudia shook hands or accepted kisses on the cheek from a few of her clients. David made comments introducing us to the group, but I barely heard them. Gemma was staring at me and I back at the buxom British wench. I could see the fabric of her sweater and the lines in her skin and each strand of hair as if they were outlined by some innate glow. The room was moving so slowly. In my imagination, Gemma and I were running at each other. Gemma winked at me, and I looked away and it all went back to normal. Claudia had taken special notice of Leila, who was still looking at David.

“So nice of you to host this event, David,” Claudia said, smiling and tucking her hair behind her ear. “The new condo is looking very impressive.”

“I should hope so,” David replied. “You charged enough to find it for me.” That drew a laugh from the audience.

“It’s a shame that you didn’t wait for the new building to go up on Collins,” Leila said. “It’s going to have an amazing view of the ocean.”

“I don’t think we talked about that one,” David said to Claudia.

“He needed something for this year, not to wait forever for a bunch of grabass developers to make up their minds.”

“They start work in a month. But, I guess you needed a big closure this year,” Leila responded. “Something to last for a while as you ease into the next stage of your career.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know how tough it can be as a female agent as you age. I remember my father going through a few when I was a little girl.”

“But you’re ready to prove you’re a grown woman now, right, darling?”

“I suppose so, darling.”

“You’re from Brazil?” Claudia asked.

“And you’re Mexican.”

“And on that note,” David said, stepping between them, “the time has come for the festivities to begin. We all know why we are here. Ladies,” he said, motioning us forward. Leila and I stood shoulder to shoulder, facing Gemma and Claudia. Gemma was eyeing my body up and down. “We are going to have four matches, one against one, until a tap or verbal submission or our Ref stops the contest. Only open-handed slaps to the face, all of the women have trimmed their nails down, and no use of extracurriculars. There will be a fifteen minute rest period between matches two and three. Ladies, if you will.”

We began disrobing, slowly, down to our lingerie. Their eyes were on us. I was halfway down the buttons of my shirt before I exhaled. The Referee was a fit, older man in black shorts and a black compression shirt, and he took our clothes. We were the four of us vulnerable before the audience and our exposed bodies taut violin strings, ready to perform our grand concerto. I was wearing English green bra and panties with dark stockings, and Leila was in plum. Gemma was in ivory, her mountainous pale breasts welling up out of her bra and her light hair matching well with the fabric. And Claudia was in a firehouse red set with black trimming. Her stockings were red and black as well on her shapely legs, and the depths of her cleavage drew the attention of many, including David and, I knew without looking, Leila following David’s attention.

“And now we’ll draw for order,” the Ref said. He produced a silk bag with tiles. We drew, and the order would be: Leila v. Claudia, me v. Gemma, Leila v. Gemma, and me v. Claudia. The guests clapped politely as the Ref announced the results, and out of the corner of my eye I saw some of them betting on the side. “And now, if Gemma and Kim would step to their corners and Leila and Claudia would step forward, we will begin. Ladies,” he finished, bringing his hands together. Leila and Claudia came forward quickly and were nearly nose to nose. Their breasts were touching, and Claudia pushed forward so that her large chest pushed against Leila’s smaller one. Both of them with dark brown skin, breathing hard, very dark and almost black hair, staring into each other’s eyes. Leila was two inches taller, but they were probably the same weight. The Ref asked if either of them had anything to say.

“I’m going to fuck you up,” Leila said.

“Little girl,” Claudia answered, tossing her hair back. “I’m going to humiliate you in front of your new boyfriend.”

“He’s looking at me because I’m younger and thinner.”

“Step back please, ladies,” the Ref said, gingerly pushing both of them back. They stood about four feet apart. We were in a large carpeted, open space between the living room and the dining room with bookcases lining the walls of one corner. A tall young woman near me lit a cigarette, and the stench bit my nose. The smoking girl told her older boyfriend that she wanted him to bet on the girl with the small boobs because she looked more focused than the older girl. The entitlement in her voice made the muscles on the back of my neck tense. Gemma was directly across from me, framed by Leila and Claudia. Leila and Claudia looked each other in the face, and then they simultaneously looked down at each other’s bodies. “Begin!” the Referee said.

Leila dashed forward and reached out with her hands for Claudia’s hair but Claudia ducked under her and got her arms around her torso. Leila tried to wrap her arms around Claudia’s waist. They grappled in a circle for some seconds, pushing and straining on each other, until Claudia sucked Leila’s hips in toward her body and with that leverage drove her to the ground. A hard thud as Leila’s back hit the carpeted wood. She was stunned, and Claudia got on top of her. She locked both of her legs around Leila’s one, and she locked her left arm around Leila’s head as she yanked on her hair with her right. Leila slapped on her back and pushed frantically against the floor with her free leg. The two women turned in a slow circle on the carpet. With each turn Leila inched her hips away from Claudia’s as Claudia tried to keep her close. Leila yanked back on Claudia’s hair, which brought their hips together, and then she pulled her head forward while bucking her hips up and away and then she was clear.

Leila was behind her and as Claudia rose she dove into her and the two of them fell back to the floor. Leila was on top now, with Claudia flat on her stomach, and she took advantage. She yanked her head up by the hair and slammed it into the ground, and then she lifted her head up again and snaked her hand under Claudia’s chest while it was lifted. From the moaning, I guessed that Leila had given Claudia’s breasts a good pinch. Leila smacked her on the ears with an open hand and then leaned forward to whisper something in Claudia’s ear. But that raised her center of gravity, which was a mistake. She had lifted the weight from Claudia’s hips, and she was able to thrust her hips up and throw Leila forward over her head. Claudia tried to pull out from between Leila’s legs, but Leila kept her grip on her hair and holding her head in place she locked her legs around Claudia’s head and squeezed. Claudia slapped and pinched at Leila’s thighs, but she held on tight and got her other hand into Claudia’s head. She squeezed with her legs and pulled tight on her hair with both hands, arching her back like a panther tearing at its prey. I could see the strain on Claudia’s face.

“Get out of there!” Gemma shouted. “Get some space! Make her give you space!”

Claudia heeded the advice. She got her hand behind her head and between Leila’s legs, and then she pushed it up farther and I could see her forearm twitching and turning, and soon Leila was squealing and she let go of Claudia’s head and her hair and she got to her feet backpedalling. Sweat was beading on her forehead and on her chest, arms, legs, and she wiped her brow and flicked the water off her fingers. Claudia pushed herself up to her feet and turned to meet her but Leila was already charging, and as Claudia got her arms up Leila was crashing into her. But Claudia was a strong woman, and she turned Leila and threw her across her hip and they fell to the ground with Claudia landing on top of her. Leila put her hand in Claudia’s face and pushed it away and to the side, but she could not get free. Claudia endured the hand in her face and pushed down Leila’s other hand with both of hers and soon enough had Leila’s leg trapped as well. Squirming and pushing with her thighs, Leila tried to get herself free. Claudia punched Leila in the side, not hard but over and over. In response Leila yanked on her hair, but to no avail. The punching continued, each thud soft but distinct on Leila’s hard flesh over the cheers and comments of the audience.

I yelled for Leila to swing her hips free. That was what Claudia had been waiting for; as Leila threw her hips up in one last burst, Claudia swung so that she was lying across Leila’s body in a crucifix. One of Leila’s arms was between Claudia’s thighs and the other the Mexican woman was holding to the ground. Panic set in for Leila. She heaved her legs up in the air and threw her head back and forth, but she could not go anywhere. Claudia was facing me, and she gave me a cruel smile and then went to work on Leila’s stomach. She punched her repeatedly, and when Leila tried to bring her knees up to contact Claudia, Claudia pulled down Leila’s bra and pinched and clawed at her breast. I saw her get Leila’s nipple between her fingers and roll it back and forth. Leila was howling now, but Claudia only told to shut up and take her medicine and then she went back to working on Leila’s stomach. Leila struggled to get free, and when she couldn’t do that she endured for as long as she could, but when Claudia started alternating between elbows to her ribs and punches to her stomach and pinches on her breast, she had to submit. They were up, 1-0.

I helped Leila to our corner. Debleena stepped forward from the crowd to take her other arm, but the Ref moved her aside. Leila replaced her breast in her bra. Her hair was a mess and her makeup was all over her face, and we hugged briefly and then I gave her a quick peck on the cheek as I went forward to meet Gemma. The Ref brought us together the same as the other two women had. Gemma pushed her chest and her nose into me and I pushed right back. We were breathing hard and staring right into each other’s eyes. The Ref’s words were like vapor, and when he asked if we had anything to say to each other, Gemma smirked and said that she and I both knew how our conversation would turn out. I said nothing. He instructed us to back up and ready ourselves, and we complied. Gemma was curvy, buxom, and impressive looking in her bra and panties, and she had a thin nose, high cheekbones, and sharp blue eyes. I looked just as good as she did, though, and with my light brown hair and splendid physical endowments I felt myself every bit the match for her in looks. I wanted this badly.

The Ref said, “Begin!” and Gemma came at me with a snarl. She slapped me across the face, but I took it and hit her back. The sound was hard and flat in the large room, and as her head rocked I seized her by her blonde hair and the strap of her bra and spinning hurled her across the room into the kitchen. The bra ripped open. She hit hard against the marble island and fell across it as the air rushed out of her. I ran after her and taking her from behind yanked her head up by the hair. I was going to pin her against the cold metal, but she elbowed me in the stomach, backing me off and giving herself time to regain her senses. Her bra torn open and her cheek bright red, cold blue eyes still intent upon me, Gemma raised herself off the island and I was ready to meet her. She came at me again, but as she reached for me hair I slugged her in the stomach and then hit her in the breast. As she covered up her chest, I drove my knee into her thigh, hobbling her, and then I shoved her back against the island. It struck her in the small of her back, and she leaned back against it with her mouth open, staring up at the ceiling. Leaping into the air I slammed myself into her, and as I came off she slid down to the tiled floor.

I felt the appreciation of the crowd behind me. Prostrate on the ground, Gemma was moaning. Her ruined bra slid loose from her shoulders as she pushed herself up to her hands and knees. I kicked her in the thigh and then I went to kick her in the stomach but she got hold of my foot and wrestled me down to the ground. The force of the impact shocked my body, but I was still in better shape than she and as Gemma went to climb on top of me I handled her. She got her hands into my hair and pulled, but I rolled her over and got on top. I slapped her face and then I put my hand over her mouth and nose. The fear came into her eyes, and as she waved her hands and slapped at my arms, I hit her in the side and stomach. Her eyes went bright with the blows, and I kept hitting her; I could feel the energy draining out of her feminine body. At last she got my hand off of her mouth and hit me right across the mouth and I rolled off of her and got to my feet.

My mouth was hot, and I found blood on my hand when I wiped it. “Foul, bitch!” I yelled at her. “Closed fist!” I yelled at the Ref.

“The fuck she did,” Claudia yelled back. “You’re just too much of a pussy to take a slap from a real woman.”

“Stay out of this or you will regret it,” Debleena warned her. That near-English accent of hers cut through the noise surrounding us.

“Or what are you going to do about it?” Claudia replied. “I’ll give you double the whipping that black bitch did.”

Everyone turned to the Ref. He looked small under the scrutiny. Gemma was on her knees, her breasts heaving as she gasped for air, and she still had that scared look in her eyes. “I didn’t see a closed fist,” he said at last. He called for Gemma and I to come back to scratch on our feet.

“How are you enjoying our little talk so far?” I asked Gemma before the Ref stepped back.

Her eyes narrowed, and as the Ref was backing up she put her head down and charged into me. We crashed through the audience and into the living room. I hit against a couch and she barreled through me and we went over the back of the couch. We both of us thudded to the floor and lay motionless. I opened my eyes and Gemma was on her side next to me, her blonde hair across her face and her eyes open, staring at me. Seeing me seeing her drove her to action, but she was lethargic. We came to our knees, but her hands were down and I hit her across the face with such strength that we both fell back to the ground. I was back on my knees as Gemma was rolling up onto her elbow and I threw my open hand back into her face with all I had and she flopped out. I landed on my hands and I stayed over her like that. Sweat dripping from my forehead and my breasts deep and full under me and my arms, hips and thighs tense and hot, burning with fatigue. At last Gemma rolled over onto her back. I sat on her stomach, trapping her arms under my legs.

“Now this is an open hand, you flaxen whore.” I hit her back and forth with open hands and then I started slapping her large breasts. The skin of her chest turned red and I grabbed the firm flesh in my hands and squeezed, and it felt so good to hurt the feminine flesh that she was so proud of. The audience had gathered around us by this point. “Please prove to me how tough you are,” I told her. “Please show everyone here how long you can endure this.” I took hold of her nipples and pinched, and at that she screamed that she gave up. Tears were rolling down her face as I pushed myself to my feet. They were all staring at us, and I smiled and put my foot on her chest and flexed my arms. I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. Claudia pushed her way through the crowd and with a fire in her eye she rushed at me as I stood over the woman I had wanted to humiliate nearly as much as I did her. Debleena stepped in front of her and the two women reached for each other. The Ref grabbed Claudia and another man Debleena, and I winked at her as I took my foot off of Gemma.

We had a fifteen minute break. Leila and I sat in one bedroom, with water and protein bars, and Gemma and Claudia in another. Debleena had been forbidden entry with us. We were both wearing robes, lying on the enormous bed side by side. She congratulated me on my victory, and I told her that she had fought well and that Claudia was a very tough opponent. Both of them were tough opponents, and Gemma would come out angry and ready for revenge—as would Claudia, Leila reminded me. But we had proven that we were both competitive and tough women, too, both of us ready to stand against anyone. Leila said that she was sorry that she had lost and had cost us the chance for a commanding 2-0 lead. I looked her in the eye and told her that she had nothing to be ashamed of and that she was a beautifully fierce woman who was in the process of discovering herself, much as I had been a year ago when I first met Claudia that night I watched Debleena fight. She smiled and thanked me and we rested and waited in silence for the resumption of our contest. Our host David was clearly interested in her, and she had the talent to capitalize on that. She just had to go out there and do it.

Halftime ended, and we returned to the living room. Leila tossed her hair and made eye contact with David as she stepped forward with Gemma for the third match. We all dropped our robes. I had ruined Gemma’s bra, and she was the only topless woman. The results of the beating I had given her were showing on her cheeks and around her eyes as well as on her breasts. I winked at her, and she promised that she would have her revenge on Leila and then later on me. David called for us to be quiet, and then he asked if we would all be amenable to making the second two fights all topless.

“What’s the matter,” Leila asked, “worried that Gemma here won’t be able to get mine off?”

“I did pretty well on that end,” Claudia reminded her. “And I wouldn’t be too eager to show off what you have there until you’ve moved a few more cups above pubescent.”

Leila couldn’t get her bra off fast enough at that. She stared at Claudia as she took off her bra, revealing her firm, upright breasts, probably a large B or small C. She didn’t have the size to compare with the rest of us, but what she lacked there she made up for in quality. The audience clearly approved, David included. I took off my bra, as did Claudia, both of us D cups and still with an impressive shape, given our size, but neither of us could compare with Leila in that department. I noticed that Claudia was eyeing my chest just as I was hers, and there was no doubt in my mind that she wanted to get her fingers into my girls just as badly I wanted to with hers.

“In a little while yours bruises are going to match your partner’s,” I told Claudia.

“I’m going to beat your ass just as badly as your daddy got his beaten every night in the alleys behind the bars. You’re going home bald and ugly tonight, white trash.”

I was lunging for before I knew what was happening, and two men took hold of us. We were warned about our behavior, and the Ref called Gemma and Leila together. They were staring right into each other, and as he asked if they understood the rules, Leila bumped her forehead into Gemma’s and started whispering that she was going to take her apart. Gemma was about two inches taller than Leila, but the Brazilian looked like she was ready to tear through a mountain.

“Begin!” the Ref called. The two women circled. Gemma reached out to grab her hair, but Leila slid to the side and tagged Gemma in the side with a fist as she did. The blonde winced and got her feet under her again, and she brought her elbows in and her hands up, protecting her torso. Leila saw her hesitation, and she began her move. She started flicking out jabs with closed fists, hitting Gemma in the side, stomach, her big breasts, moving in and out too quickly for the larger woman to respond. Soon Gemma was grunting with each blow, and she started chasing the South American brunette. But as she came forward, Leila backed up and gave her a slap to the face or a fist to the tits for her effort. The two of them moved through the dining room, the study, then into the living room. By that point, Gemma’s entire torso was bright red and her face looked nearly ready to crack. Leila saw the same thing as I did, and she began taunting the British woman. “What’s the matter, slag, too fat to catch me?” or “It’s a right smart fix you’ve found yourself in, governor.” The bravado suited Leila’s style, and she winked at David.

But Gemma tagged her with a fist to her upper chest as she came in, and then as Leila backed off to gather her senses the larger woman leapt at her. She caught Leila was a slap to the face and getting a handful of hair slung her in a wide circle and tossed her down a hallway. We all pressed around as Gemma advanced on Leila, who was sprawled on the floor. My view had been blocked, but it looked like she had hit her head on the wall. Gemma was already dragging her up to a sitting position by her hair, and standing over her, she pounded Leila’s head against the wall. The grip on her head was too strong for Leila’s flailing to break. But Leila wasn’t done yet. She hit Gemma in the stomach, and as her opponent staggered back Leila drove her shoulder up into her and forced her back against the wall. She hit Gemma against the wall, making her face red with the blows, but Gemma brought both hands down onto Leila’s back with force enough to knock her down onto her hands and knees immediately. Her strength gone, Gemma fell on top of her. Both women were exhausted, and they lay in a pile on the floor for what seemed an interminable amount of time: hair askew, panting, Gemma’s face flat on Leila’s back and Leila’s face and chest down in the carpet. Members of the audience were cheering for one or the other to get up and finish off her opponent.

The tight, firm brunette responded first. She slid out from under Gemma and pulled herself to her feet along the wall. She leaned against it, her chest heaving with each gasp for air, and then she kicked Gemma in the stomach. Gemma rolled into a ball, her hands out to ward off a blow to her face and her head turned away. But Leila yanked her up the by hair and standing behind her grabbed hold of one of her breasts and squeezed. Gemma yelped in pain and now rising of her own volition tore the hand free, but as she was distracted Leila snaked her leg in between Gemma’s and tripped her to the floor again. They landed, Leila atop Gemma, and the force drove every last bit of fight out of the blonde. Leila pushed herself up off of her and then dragged Gemma down the hallway by the hair to the bathroom. Once inside the enormous bathroom, Leila tugged and yanked on Gemma’s hair and finally coaxed her into the shower stall. She turned the water on cold, blasting Gemma right in the face. Soon Gemma’s hair was ruined and she was hitching from deep in her chest for air, from the shock of the water and the beating she had taken. She slumped against the wall, with her eyes closed, the water pounding her already beaten breasts.

“Now,” Leila said, herself leaning hard on the opaque glass door, “you can come out here and take another licking from me, or you can sit in there and admit that you’re done. Which is it, vaca?” Gemma never even tried to move, only shaking her head from side to side. “Say that you’re done,” Leila insisted, and as she stepped into the shower Gemma gasped, “I give!” and the fight was over. The Ref pulled Leila out of the shower before she could humiliate Gemma. I took a good, long look at her as she sat leaning against the shower wall, water splashing over her face and body. Then we were escorted back to the open area near the front of the condo.

Claudia and I were standing in front of each other, she in her red panties and I in my green, both of us with long dark hair framing our faces, buxom breasts jutting toward each other. She was a very pretty woman, as was I, and I knew that we were judged equals by our audience in our beauty and our femininity. The energy and strength that I felt in my legs and arms from these powerful people, deal-makers and life-breakers, all of them here to watch me catfight with a woman whom I so desperately hated and wanted to humiliate. All of them staring at me, taking me in every inch a proper and beautiful woman with a magnificent and capable body who would soon be as nasty and dirty as they had dreamed of seeing for the men—or of being for the women. All of those other women all jealous of me as their men looked on. And all of it, all the energy and power and Refinement, channeled through the violence I was about to commit with Claudia, the woman standing before me in all her own majesty. The equal to me.

The Ref called us to each other and we were face to face, our breasts touching together. I could feel her breath on me and her eyes locked into mine. So close to her skin and her smell. “I’m going to beat on those plump, juicy titties of yours until you’re crying, just like you were when Gemma here whipped your ass.”

“I think that your friend Gemma found out that I’m a different woman now,” I answered her.

“No, you’re still the same sad little girl, only now you’re a bit older and a bit fatter.”

“It must take a lot of time to put makeup on both of your faces each morning.”

I thought that she was going to rush me when I said that, but instead she just smiled. We stood like that, both of us smiling, and then the Ref called for us to step back and we did and he said “Begin!” just as he had for the other fights. But rather than dive at each other, she slowly crept forward toward me, leaning forward on her toes with her brown torso arched forward, breasts swaying gently below her as she moved. Still with a wry smile on my face, I backed away and circled, also crouched down and leaning forward just as she had been, my lightly tanned torso the equal of hers. She and I moved like this together through the dining room with its sweeping panorama of the bay. Then we were in a library and as we continued our slow erotic dance I bumped into the wall and she was on me. She slapped me across the face, and I hit her back but not hard enough to stop her. She took me by the hair and dragged me along the wall and although I pulled her hair in return she was in control of me and she flung me on the floor.

As I lay on the ground Claudia gave me a good kick on the ass. It was meant as a humiliation rather than injury, and as I climbed to my feet I glared at her over my shoulder and braced my weight on a pool table. She stepped forward to deliver a roundhouse slap but as she did I kicked in her the front of her knee and she tumbled into the table. I seized hold of her hair and pressed her face against the felt, grinding it back and forth, wanting every bit of the nastiness of the game to be in her. She pushed herself up off the table at last, and as she came around I hit her across the face with all that I had. The force of the slap put her back on the table, and I grabbed both of her breasts and squeezed, driving the tips of my fingers deep into her and curling my hands as if I were making fists. She screamed. First she grabbed my hands to pry them off of her but then she brought both of her palms up and slammed them into my ears with stunning force. I lost hold of her breasts and staggered away, falling to the floor and then regaining my feet falling through the audience that had gathered at the entryway into the gaming room.

I was leaning against the chest of a black man when Claudia yanked me by the hair back into the gaming room. Both of us were shouting, what words I knew not. She hit me in the small of the back and then flung me by my hair into a pinball machine. The machine crashed to the ground and the glass from the display went everywhere. Claudia pulled me up by the hair, but as I turned to her ready to be slapped again I saw disgust in her face. And then the Ref stepped between us and the fight was done. The broken glass from the pinball machine had sliced open my forearm, and I was bleeding on myself and the carpet.

Claudia stamped her feet and threatened, and then when she realized that our catfight had been called a draw she begged David not to let her grand event end like this. She feared being seen as a loser in front of prospective clients, and she pointed to me as the Ref was putting a towel to my arm and yelled that she had been beating my ass and deserved a chance to finish it. I said that was bullshit and that I would whip her given a chance. Leila came forward and said that she wanted another chance at Claudia and that she would kick her Mexican ass. Claudia replied that no Brazilian bimbo would embarrass her in front of her friends, and a lot of shouting and pushing ensued. Debleena led me into a bathroom and closed the door on the maelstrom that was developing outside. She toweled up the blood from the cut and she kissed me and said that she was so proud of me. She also said that she thought that my cut was a good sign that it was time to bring an end to all of this. I told her that her good sense was the reason that I loved her. I returned her kiss and with a fresh towel on my arm and a robe taken from the rack went back out to the excitement.

Leila had positioned herself next to David, and she was touching him lightly on the upper arm as he spoke with one of the guests. An older man with a pretty thin blonde who was also leaning on his arm, he seemed amiable but disappointed, although he was the first to see me exit the bathroom and a smile crept onto his face before Claudia and Leila both saw me and resumed their shouting match. A lot of angry women yelling at each other, Debleena standing in front of me and staring down Gemma and Claudia but also maintaining an edge toward Leila, whose allegiance I was becoming less sure of. David stepped forward and, with his hand in the air, announced that he was done listening to us and that the Ref’s decision to stop the catfight would stand. My injury was too severe for me to continue, and he would not let Leila fight in my place, as she had evidently been campaigning for while I was out. My match with Claudia was a draw, giving Leila and me the win at 2-1-1. Not how I wanted to end it, but she and I shared our hugs and our condescending looks in the direction of the two losing women. No one in the room was satisfied, but we had our bouts and now we were at our resolution. Claudia and Gemma were shown the door, and after a decent time and with some fanfare, Debleena took me to get stitches. Leila stayed with David and her new friends, where she seemed well at home.

Over the next month, Debleena and I shifted into a new normal. My forearm healed, and there had been no damage done. Soon enough we were spending the night together every night, and we talked about buying a new condo together. We went for walks in different neighborhoods, and one Sunday afternoon we bought ice cream and sat in a park, Debleena evaluating prospective neighbors on their choices in dog, shopping bag, baby, and I watching her evaluating so that we could have this new future together and at last I brushed the tip of my peanut butter-slash-chocolate against her nose. I loved seeing the instantaneous flash in her eyes and also the mellowing that followed and I kissed her on her ice creamed nose and leaned my head against her shoulder and said that I thought that we had found our neighborhood. “It even has a below-average number of drug-related murders for the Miami metro area,” I told her. She pinched my thigh in response and we sat watching a cream-colored cat swipe at a black cat and then chase it around the fountain. “We will fit right in here,” she said at last.

Two months afterward, I was sitting in my office at work, answering emails and staring at a pile of identical resumes for an assistant summer housing director when I received a text from a blocked number. It said, “Claudia thinks she is meeting a client at 2pm at this address. She will be stood up. The house is empty.” And then I got another with an address in a posh neighborhood in Coral Gables. I stared at my phone and the blocked number. It was noon. Two more emails clicked into my Outlook file. I realized that I could not ignore my heart’s racing forward as I compulsively reread the message and imagined a stranger typing and sending it for me to see. Someone who knew about Claudia and myself and our business. Leila, I thought with a smile. I checked myself in the bathroom: hair dark and straight, black skirt, and deep red blouse opened halfway down and showing a generous amount of cleavage. Excellent heels, too, I said to myself with a smile as I left the building.

The house was one of the thousands of Spanish-style half-mansions around Miami, with red tile, trees hanging over everything, and a semicircle drive and overhang. I took off my earrings and necklace and checked my hair in the mirror. Claudia’s Mercedes was parked in front of the house. I resisted the temptation to go into full high school mode and key the side of it, and instead I ran my finger along the hood as I went to the door. The inside of the house was very nice. The floor was hard tile, and I enjoyed the sharp click of my heels in the entry area. Claudia called out a “hello” from the back of the house, and I slowed down to enjoy the environment before I went to meet her. Never would I be able to afford a house like this, always in the condos and two bedrooms and car ports. Claudia probably would not, either, but she obviously was on the look for a husband she could maneuver into providing the type of lifestyle that she felt like she deserved—purely on the basis of her looks, of course. Thinking about her flirting with middle aged investment bankers at trendy bars, I slipped my shoes off and left them by the door.

She was standing by the back door in the living room, checking her phone, and as she turned toward me and the color first drained from her cheeks and then return in the full bloom of rage, my own heart leaped in my chest. She was wearing a loose blue skirt and a white blouse that was open to show just the right enough of cleavage for men and one button too many to be okay for other women. I could see her impressive chest rising as her breathing sped up. Mine was doing the same. We stared at each other, and then she smiled and without taking her eyes off of me she set down her phone, removed her jewelry, and slid off of her shoes. And when she was done, we ran at each other.

We collided and immediately were grabbing and clawing at each other. She got hold of my hair and yanked my head back and forth, trying to throw me to the ground. I stamped on her foot, hard, and she let go of my hair reflexively and reached for her foot. In an instant she realized her mistake, but I took advantage and slugged her in the stomach. The air rushed out of her, and she leaned over and slumped against me. I got hold of her hair, wrapping it around my hand, and I hit her in the stomach again and again. Her face twisted, her eyes were closed, and I held her up by the hair, ready to spit in her face. But she reached up and grabbed hold of my boob and squeezed me through the fabric of my bra and blouse. I gasped in pain and pried at her hand, and Claudia then switched strategy and elbowed me in the stomach. That got her free, and we were standing next to each other, hands on our knees, both sucking in air. Hoping to get control over her body and slow her movement, I threw my arm around her waist and stamped on her foot again. That brought a whelp of pain from her. I was feeling good about how the fight was going, and then she brought her elbow up into my face and I was down on the floor with blue lights dancing in front of me.

Out of the swirling blue lights Claudia dove into me. Her knee hit me in the stomach and her forearm cracked me across the face. I felt a new rush of panic as she was lying atop me, my brains still rattled and her controlling my arms and my body. Having her on top of me was like being tied to a puma. I got my right arm free and started hitting her in the back, but I couldn’t get any strength behind it. She slapped my side and my face, and then she suddenly reared up off of me to where she was nearly sitting up and then slammed her forearm down onto my upper chest. It felt like my ribcage had been broken open. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. With one last burst of energy and without knowing what I was doing I bucked my hips and shoved her to the side. I rolled over onto my hands and knees, my chest hitching and my stomach and head both spinning. She was getting to her feet, and I turned and kicked her in the stomach, buying myself a few more seconds. Backing off, I forced my chest and sternum to slow down, and I started getting oxygen into my lungs again. She got to her feet with a smile on her face, and she waved me to come forward.

I threw a wild slap that she took right across the face, and then she came back and hit me across the face. I threw another slap, but I missed, and she rabbit punched me in the chest and then as I was stunned taking her time she slugged me in the stomach and as I was leaning forward she kneed me in the chest. I crashed backward into the wall and fell to the floor. My chest was on fire. Claudia seized hold of my blouse and pulled me up. The tearing of the fabric was like my skin being shredded. She slammed me against the wall and holding me there with her hand wrapped up in the loose material of my blouse she slapped me across the face. I moaned, and I put my hands in her face and pushed her head back. At last I got her hand out of my shirt, which now hung loosely on my upper body, and I slid out from her and staggered down the hallway, bracing myself with one hand and still gasping for air. Behind me Claudia grunted and I heard her running at me, and at the last instant I turned and hit her in the side of the head as she crashed into me. We landed on the floor, side by side. She had her arms around me in a tackle, but she was just as stunned as I was. We both lay panting and moaning on the floor, arms and legs intertwined. The revulsion I felt with her stray hair across my face and her breast against my ribs.

The entire house was still and quiet except for our breathing. I moved first, and as I got to my feet she tugged at my skirt, ripping it open as I held it up with both hands. I stumbled and swore under my breath, and I gave her a short kick to the chest as I backed into the master bedroom. The room was large and nearly empty except for a king-sized bed and dressers . She turned onto her back, holding her breast. Before I could take advantage, though, she was getting to her feet. With my skirt torn open I was able to spread my legs and get a broader, more athletic base for myself as we faced off. We circled each other with our hands up in front of us. She came forward confidently and threw a punch at my face that missed badly, and I tagged her with a left in the chest and then a right in the mouth. That backed her up. She shook her head, and I pressed her and threw two more punches that landed ineffectively on her arms and shoulders. The second left me open, and she nailed me with three quick blows to my ribs and breasts. I got away from her and reset. The smirk returned to her face, her hair wet with sweat hanging over her brow and her piercing eyes and her sharp cheekbones. I put a jab in that face to distract her and then as she held her arms up to block it, I got her in the stomach again. It took her by surprise, and as she groaned and clutched at herself I took hold of her blouse with both hands and flung her into the dresser. The shirt tore open. She collided hard against the dresser, and she stood with her back to it holding her hip. I grabbed her by the loose collar of her shirt ready to pound her, but she brought up both of her palms hard into my breasts and shoved me away. I stumbled back and fell on the bed.

With a snarl she leapt upon me and we were rolling back and forth pulling hair and scratching flesh. I felt myself growing weaker, as if my arms and legs had lead in them. Both of us were slowing down, and I could only hope that she felt as badly as I did. At one point she got on top of me and ripped open my blouse and then squeezed my breasts through my bra. I tried to roll her off, but I was too tired and it felt like I was pushing a stone wall. At last I yanked down her bra and grabbed her breasts, driving my fingers into her soft flesh as deeply as I could manage. I made her whimper, but my own breasts felt like there were ten nails being driven into them. With one hand I yanked down on her and with the other I pinched her nipple, and wrenching her head by the hair and rolling her nipple between my fingers I convinced her to let go of my chest and to defend herself. She pried my hand off of her nipple and then slapped me across the face. My arms flopped on the bed, and although I could still see everything and think about what I wanted to do, I couldn’t move. She was little better off than I was, sitting astride me and leaning with both hands on my chest, resting. We were staring into each other blankly.

At last we pulled each other off the bed. Our shirts and bras were ruined, and we slid out of them and faced off in our ruined skirts. Our breasts swung freely as we circled each other. Our hands were curled into fists but we both held them down by our waists. Even that made my arms ache. She hit me on the cheek and I hit her back, sending her staggering. She came toward me and I popped her in the face. That rocked her head back, and she put her hand to her face and turning away from me. I took advantage of that and hit her in the side and the lower back and with a final burst of energy I hooked my arm under her shoulder and around her neck, bringing her face in next to mine, and then I rammed her into the wall, pinning her there. I hit her in the face and in the stomach, back and forth, no one blow hard but enough to overwhelm her. Then I seized hold of her breast, squeezing and kneading and scratching, and soon enough I had her sobbing and I felt her slumping against me. I let go and backed away and she fell to her knees. Catching her eye at last, I flung my wet hair back out of my face and gestured with my hand for her to get up and finish it standing. She pushed herself up and came at me, hands down, and I hit her across the face. She swung a wild right that had no strength behind her, and I took it without thinking of moving and hit her again. That turned her all the way around and put her in the wall. She stood there, flush against the wall, her hands braced against it and her breasts swelling out under each of her arms. I seized her by the hair and pulled her away from it, and then I spun her around by the shoulder and hit her across the face. She fell to the floor and lay there, breathing hard and moaning.

I stood over her until I was sure that she was not going to get up again. Then I found a man’s shirt and shorts in the closet, left Claudia defeated on the floor, and drove home.