The Fair Fight
by Jed


I returned to my room, late, a little drunk. Dropped the key once before I got
the lock to work. Once in my room, dropped my jacket on one of the two beds,
draped my tie over my suitcase (still sitting on the dresser, most of my stuff
still in it). I remembered there was a mini-bar in the room, which brightened
my prospects considerably - I was already half in the bag, and it seemed a
good idea to finish the job. I flicked a light switch -

And every light in the room came on. Over both beds, over the desk, in the
corner next to the overstuffed easy chair - in which somebody was sitting.

It was the bellboy. The damned bellboy had been sitting in my hotel room in
the dark, waiting for me to get back from my, um, "dinner". I stood there
looking at him, and he sat there looking back at me, a crooked grin on his
face. When I didn't say anything, he started drumming his fingers nervously on
the arm of the chair, and his confident smile faded a little.

I wasn't particularly alarmed. He was a tall kid, but a kid nonetheless, with
not a lot of meat on him. I was shorter than average, but I had some muscle on
me, and a few year's worth of experience in big-city attitude behind me. So I
just stood there, swaying slightly, giving him a somewhat blurry evil eye.

"Umm - you want I should explain myself?" he offered hesitantly.

"That would be a good start," I suggested.

"Okay. It's like this - we picked you special."

"'We'?"

"Yeah - me and my girlfriend. We watched everyone checking in all day, and we
picked you out - like I said, special."

"You and your girlfriend."

"Yeah."

"Picked me out."

"Yeah."

"For what."

"Let me tell him," came a voice from behind me. I turned, managing to keep my
balance. And there she stood.

I recognized her immediately. After checking in earlier that day, I had
cruised the hotel, familiarizing myself with the layout. Lobby, gym, bar,
restaurant - pool. It was at the pool that I had noticed the girl. You would
have had to be dead not to have noticed her. She was tall, blond, and fit.
Tall - probably taller than her skinny boyfriend, maybe five-ten or so. Blond
- long honey-blond hair falling over to her shoulders, silky and shimmering
even in the pale light from the pool's overhead fluorescents. And fit - broad
shoulders, flat stomach, sleek hips and long, toned and muscular legs. Smooth
muscles, not bulging - swimmer's muscles. And breasts - high, firm and
expressive. She had been wearing a one-piece bathing suit, white, cut high on
the hips and low in front showing nice cleavage. She had walked with a fluid,
hip-shot grace that said "power" and "speed" at the same time.

And now here she was in my hotel room, wearing my hotel-issue bathrobe cinched
around her slim waist (and doing a lot more for it than I would have). She
stood there with an expression of excitement mixed with an endearing shyness
on her face; she was probably in her late teens, same as her boyfriend. Unlike
him, she was absolutely adorable.

I was still young, single, unattached and out of town for the first time. My
only thought was how to get the inconvenient third-wheel out of my armchair,
out of my hotel room, and out of the picture.

"What would you like to tell me," I asked softly.

She looked down shyly, then up again at me with a look of daring and danger.
"I've - I've always wanted to fight a man," she said. "No holds barred, to the
death - or whatever."

This was certainly not what I had expected to hear, but the idea of tussling
with this gorgeous, lush young thing was intriguing. Only one small wrinkle in
the whole plan - "what about him," I asked, jerking my thumb at the bellhop.

"He just wants to watch."

"What if I beat you - 'cause I probably will."

"I won't do nothing," he offered. "No matter what happens."

I smiled at the girl; I didn't believe him at all. "And what does the winner
get?"

She squared up to me, tugging at the bathrobe's belt. The robe fell from her
shoulders to pool around her feet. There she stood, her white bathing suit
closely hugging every delicious curve of her body. The motion of her breathing
- breasts gently rising and falling - pulled the thin fabric more tightly
around her. "The winner gets to do whatever they want," she said softly.

"That means you're fighting for your life, man," the boyfriend remarked from
his chair. "She's pretty and all, but she's really a killer."

"I thought you hadn't done this before," I said, responding only to the girl.

"I'm a killer, alright," she said, settling herself into a classic boxer's
on-guard. She glowered at me from beneath lowered brows, a quirky smile
playing about her lips. "I just haven't killed anybody - yet."

I was going to do this - she had me hooked from the minute I saw her. I knew
why she had picked me - she was a big girl, I'm a small man; she had several
inches and a few pounds on me. But I was older and probably meaner, even
though I was falling hard for this risk-taking danger girl.

"Okay," I said, "I'll do it. What about rules -"

I never finished my sentence. The second I nodded at the girl, she stepped
toward me and her foot caught me square in the solar plexus. I flew back,
landing hard on my butt, crashing into the round table beneath the window. As
I gasped for breath the girl was on me, sitting on my chest and rearing back
for a punch to my head.

The first punch landed like a pile-driver, and I knew tomorrow's hangover
would be a doozey. As the next one came down I rolled to the left, throwing up
my right arm. The punch missed and I curled my right arm around her head and
shoulder, then pushed off with my left arm, pulling the girl in and underneath
me. As we rolled, her long legs wrapped around my hips. I ended up on top of
her, trying to apply a strangle-hold while she tried to squeeze me with her
legs. But her legs were too low on my body, and I couldn't get a good
strangle-hold on her with her arm in the way.

I released my hold and leaned back, but she kept her leg-lock around my hips.
I didn't want to hit a girl, but the opportunity was there, so I smacked her
in the forehead with the heel of my palm. She fell back with a surprised
expression, her legs releasing me. I slid back and to my feet, watching her.

"Round one - a draw," commented the boyfriend gleefully. I looked at him with
reproach - I had managed to forget he was there in the excitement.

The girl rose smoothly to her feet, a red mark on her forehead from my hand.
She was breathing normally still, which was more than I could say for myself.
She held her hands low and open, moving in on me like a wrestler.

I was still in the remains of my suit, and trying to figure out how to fight
with the impediment of an obvious erection, when she launched her next attack.
She came in low, rising up at the last second with a smooth, rounded knee
aimed at the point of my chin.

I jerked to the side, but not enough to avoid the hit - just enough to keep
from feeling the full impact. Her knee grazed the side of my head as my arm
came up under her thigh and I lifted, twisting as I fell and throwing her body
over mine.

She hit hard, rolled and rose to her feet, but I was already on her. I caught
her low in the stomach with my shoulder, driving her back until we hit the
wall and I pinned her there. The breath whoofed from her body and she sagged
down onto my back. I wrapped my arm around her knees (smooth, firm thighs
beneath my hand) and lifted her to my shoulder, then I spun and dropped
straight forward with her body between me and the floor.

We hit hard, and she folded. I backed off her and she rolled - slowly - to her
knees, then unsteadily to her feet. She aimed a sideways kick at my head; I
ducked under it and she spun right around. I came up behind her, one arm
reaching between her thighs and the other reaching for her shoulder. I hoisted
her up, my hand cupping her effusively yielding softness, and onto one of the
twin hotel beds. She landed on her stomach and I climbed on top of her,
straddling her hips and leaning forward to whisper in her ear.

"How you doing, blondie," I asked, pressing my erection hard into the cleft of
her beautiful ass. Even through my slacks and her bathing suit, she could feel
me fine, and she squirmed, but I had her pinned.

"Just getting started," she gasped back, and she twisted beneath me, getting
one arm around my head and pulling me down into a headlock. My face was
smashed to the mattress, her full, firm breast hard against my cheek. She
started to rise to her knees, working to get a good strangle-hold around my
throat. She was close to it, when I got hold of her pinkie finger and pried
her arm from around me, pulling it behind her back. She fell forward again,
and this time I had her, and we both knew it. I levered her arm high up
between her shoulder blades, reaching down with my other hand, around her taut
waist, sliding between her hard stomach and the bed, toward the waiting soft
mound between her thighs . . .

"To the death - or whatever, right?" I hissed.

My answer did not come from the girl. Instead there was a cold "CLICK" in my
right ear. I stopped everything and turned my head, to find myself
eyeball-to-barrel with a very real looking handgun. The bellhop - I had
managed to completely forget him in all the fun - stood with both hands
wrapped around the gun.

"This is 'whatever', business-dude," he said. "Get off her."

"So much for a fair fight," I said, rising to my feet and standing to face
him.

"Nobody said anything about it being fair," he replied. "Put your hands behind
your back."

The girl rose and passed behind me, now breathing as heavily as I was. I felt
her hands on my wrists, then the cool binding sensation as she wrapped my
discarded tie around them, knotting it tightly. She stepped back into my
sight, and I tried to pull my arms apart - no good; I was well bound.

"You tie a good knot," I said with a courtly nod and a smile

She curtsied gracefully, tilting her head with a sweet smile on her face.

"That should even things up a bit," the boy said. "Don't let me interrupt you
two." He stepped back to his corner and flopped into my chair.

The girl reached up behind her head and gathered her long hair into a
pony-tail, her stretching motion doing marvelous things to her full breasts
beneath the thin fabric of her suit. Then she half-turned from me, lifting her
foot straight up, her knee to her breast, and then with a pivot

rocketed her foot into my gut with a powerful side-kick.

I doubled over where I stood, seeing stars and trying to interest my lungs in
inflating enough to continue breathing. I felt her breasts against my neck as
she leaned over me, her arms circling my throat. Then everything turned over
as she pulled up and fell back, and I saw floor-wall-ceiling-wall in a
sickening rush and braced for the crash but landed soft on the bed.

I landed on my back, her arms still around my neck but loose. I tried to flip
over and get my knees under me but she scrambled more quickly, keeping my head
in a two-armed lock and wrapping her long legs around my body. She rolled
back, folded around me, and I got my knees under me but could not stand with
all her weight around my head and body.

I could feel her heart beating wildly, feel her breasts crushed to my neck,
and feel the long muscles in her sleek swimmer's thighs tense and harden as
she applied pressure. I watched her hips flex and harden, watched her legs
grow more defined, sculpted with muscle, as she drove my ribs inward. I tensed
every muscle in my body against her onslaught, but her embrace was like being
wrapped in the coils of an anaconda - with each exhalation of my labored
lungs, she tightened her embrace a bit more, stealing inches from my next
inhalation each time. It seemed her long, powerful legs were wrapped around me
three times, constantly drawing more tightly around me, compressing me from
all directions at once, squeezing my ribs and my internal organs to a central
mass and then mashing them together, pulping and crushing my insides until I
would be just a sack filled with blood and ruined organs.

Then the constriction stopped, and she merely held me in a vise-like grip,
breathing heavily. She released her choke-hold, taking my head in both her
hands and leaning back, her legs still locked around my body. She looked into
my eyes, and she smiled, a smile with which I imagined a constrictor would
favor a buck or a young tiger trapped in its coils.

Then she pulled my head down to her breast, pressing me hard against her. I
felt and heard her triumphant heart, and then she twisted so that her breast
was against my face.

"Please me," she whispered huskily.

I grasped her distended nipple with my lips, pursing them, pulling her into my
mouth, still covered with the thin fabric of her suit. She moaned softly,
arching her back and sending shivers down my spine. Her lovely, full breast
came free of the confines of her suit and I took her in my mouth again, my
tongue running circles around the aureole, my teeth gently nipping her, then I
turned, grasping the edge of her suit with my teeth and baring her other
breast, then attacking it with my lips, tongue and teeth as we both gasped
with pleasure and exertion, sliding against each other, sweat mingling,
blinding me to everything but the full roundness of her breasts and her sleek
body wrapped around mine.

She writhed beneath me as I pleasured her, her moans and whimpers growing in
frequency until her quickened breathing told me she was nearing climax, and
then I realized the pressure around my body was growing also as with each
movement of her supple body beneath me her thighs constricted more tightly
around me. I had thought I was buying my life with my efforts, but now I
understood I was tightening the fatal trap around myself with each nuzzle,
each lick and each bite.

But it was too late to stop, and my only source of regret was that I would
climax futilely into my pants, or not at all. I redoubled my efforts, driving
her to a frenzy of twisting and turning, feeling death gather around me as her
thighs ground me inward, crushing me slowly and inexorably, my breath coming
shorter and harder, deep pain radiating from my gut as my ribs finally broke
free to be driven inward against soft tissue, lancing through organs and
releasing blood, bile and acid in a deadly stew of self-destruction.

Dying already, drowning in my own body and suffocating in her implacable
embrace, still I drove her on to orgasm, relentlessly attacking her tender
breasts, asserting my small mastery and never giving her rest as she shuddered
and moaned and writhed beneath me, a deadly creature but under my power. I
would die, but it would be of my own will and effort, driving my killer to the
ultimate climax.

She twisted and turned, her legs tightening around me with each breath in
savage ardor until at last her back arched and she released a long, drawn-out
animal cry and crushed my face to her breasts as her legs spasmed and jerked
and tightened swiftly around what remained of me. It felt as if her thighs
finally met with my body in the middle, that she had cut me in two. I heard
her heartbeat but not my own, and I knew my own heart was crushed by her
thighs or shredded by jagged bone, my lungs filled now with blood and not air,
my organs shapeless masses of tissue between her powerful, conquering thighs.

As darkness rushed in on me from above and an oily sea rose up from below to
drown the last vestiges of what had been a man, I heard her say as if from far
away in a whisper meant only for me, "you were a gentleman to the end; I hope
the next one and the next are as good to me as you." And then nothingness
claimed my spirit as my sweet blond assassin had claimed my body and my heart.

End