Angie's Trophies
by Mickey One



A work of fiction concieved and written 
by Mickey One

Angie Massaro was forty four when I met her but she carried the years
well. She had run "Angie's" since her husband keeled over "behind the
stick" one night while drawing a draught beer. The joint had always been
called "Angie's" so Angie just kept running it, open twenty hours a day,
8 AM -4 AM. In the vernacular of the business, it was a "working man's
bar", no ferns, honest drinks, a pretty good hamburger, a"hot" jukebox,
small dance floor and of course, Angie. She usually took the night shift,
6PM to closing and, in addition to serving drinks over the bar, kept
order in the place. Most of the male customers "listened up" when Angie
asked them to "quiet down" and as for any females who got out of order,
well, Angie handled that herself, with her own brand of barroom justice.

Angie was 5'5" and weighed about 135 (as she put it "on a good day")
still maintained a figure that you'd look at twice and knew how to
showcase it, usually in a miniskirt and sweater, which didn't do a thing
to hurt business.Lately, "Angie's" had begun to attract a slightly
upscale clientele, anxious, after days of high finance, stockbroking and
marketing to unwind in an generally unpretentious atmosphere after "suit
and tieing'" it all day.

One of the unique features of the back bar, what Angie called her trophy
display, was right above the cash register. Lined up in a row, tacked to
the wall, were six pair of panties. Since they were different sizes, it
was apparent that that they didn't belong to Angie and as she often said,
"I'm not much for thongs, anyway" (two of the six were of the thong
design, three more were bikini style and one was what Victoria's Secret
would term a panty). They belonged to six different women, and therein
was a tale, but Angie tells it best.

"Well, first of all, I'm not what I'd ever call a tough woman. Yeah, I
can handle myself and I've used my fists on more than one occasion and
will do it again if the situation calls for it, but if I can talk through
something, I'd rather handle it that way. Its not like I'm a kid
anymore.  In each of those cases", she said, pointing to the row of
panties,"I tried to be reasonable with the women. But in every case, each
of those broads, who were out of line in the first place, just wouldn't
listen to reason. When that didn't work, I politely asked them to leave
and when that didn't work, I came around the bar and started throwing
punches. Most of them had been drinking and didn't know much about
fighting anyway, so it was two,three punches, they were on the ground,
not very interested in getting up. Two of 'em I knocked out cold and a
couple of others stayed on the ground after I knocked them down, but I
usually grabbed them up and let them have one last punch so they'd
remember not to act out again.  Then I made them take their panties off 
and I kept them behind the bar so that if they came in again, they'd have
a reminder to stay in line. Now, those large black ones, they came off a
big blond Aussie bitch who came in here one night with a couple of
Crocodile Dundee types and started raisin' hell with everybody in the
joint. Me and the blond went at it for about five minutes and to tell you
the truth, she got in a couple of good punches, in fact, she knocked on
my ass once. But, she wasn't in very good shape, and after a while she
ran out of steam and was gasping for breath and that's when I really teed
off on her. Left her stiff as a board out there on the dance floor, but
not before I got in a couple of real good punches up between her legs. It
took both the guys she came in with to carry her out and I heard she was
out cold for ten minutes. I also heard she spent the next week walking
around like a duck. So, bottom line, word gets around and we don't get a
whole lot of trouble from the women who come in here. Most of 'em have
heard these stories,  take one look at that display and decide its
probably a smart idea to "keep it down'".

Angie was going full steam now, "Now as I said, if talking doesn't work
and the fight starts, I always remember what my brother told me from his
experience with the Military Police, 'get there first with the most' . I
always try to get the first punch in and I mean a punch, none of this
pushing and shoving or hairpulling, or scratching I mean a punch. Its
also a good idea, after landing the first punch, to try to grab the dress
or blouse and rip it off . Completly unnerves them. I remember a few
months ago one of those loud mouth college bitches starts in. I come out
from behind the bar, handed her a shot in the jaw and she goes down like
she's been hit by a two by four. I reach down and grabbed hold of the
front of her dress and next thing she knows, she's standing on the dance
floor  in her bra and those white thong panties you see up there. She was
more worried about covering up her boobs and crotch then she was in doing
any more fighting and she was easy pickin'. I hit her once in the gut,
once in the tits and once more in the jaw and its was night-night for
Judy College. Thats one other thing I've learned; you do a lot less
damage to your hands, if you do most of your punching to the body and
breast area. Of course, to finish 'em off, an uppercut in the crotch
usually takes what little fight is left. One final thing I realized and
that's knocking out someone is a great way to get off, its not as good as
sex, but it ain't too far behind. So that's pretty much the story of my
trophy display".

"Wow", I repllied, "that's some story, I'm just sorry I wasn't around to
see you in action".

"Well", Angie said, with more than a little pride, "most of the regulars
in here have seen at least one or two of those fights, so if you stick
around long enough, you never know, you could get lucky".

Sounded like a plan to me, so I became a regular at "Angies" and within
the month,there I was at the bar one night when Angie went about
expanding her trophy display. It was a weeknight, not much of a crowd,
when around 10:30, the door opened and two big blond guys, in black
leather jackets strode in. With, them was a tall blond woman, about 5'8",
150 pounds, also in black. I heard Angie, behind, the bar, mutter, "Well
look who's back" and I knew immediatley that this was the Austrailian
woman that Angie had fought before and whose black panty was now up
behind the bar. I was partly right.

The big blond walked right up to the bar, stared hard at Angie, looked at
the line of panties and growled, pointing to the black panty, "Those
belong to my sister, Regina, I'm her little sister and I don't want them
up there". I was probably one of ten guys in the bar thinking, "little
sister, I'd sure hate to see the big sister".

"Well, that's where they stay, Lil Sis", replied Angie, "now if you want
a drink, I'll be glad to serve you and your friends. If you're here for
trouble, that's also on the menu  and I can whip up large order just for
you, and these two", said Angie, pointing to the blond guys, "can do
another "carry out the garbage" detail just like they did with your
sister. What'll it be?".

The blond replied, "First off, my name is Greta, not Blandie and second
of all, I came in here to take those panties down and that's exactly what
I'm going to do".

Without another word, the big blond started around towards the back of
the bar. Now, Angie, like any good bartender, doesn't allow any
"civilians" behind her bar, much less someone determined to disrupt a
prize display. Angie quickly moved to the small passageway at the end of
the bar and stood, legs apart, fists at her side, and said, "Nobody goes
back there, unless they go thru me".

"Have it your way, old lady", snarled Greta, who backed into the center
of the room, removed her jacket, revealing a sports bra covering a
substantial bustline and a well muscled upper torso. Greta had obviously
come to the bar expecting some action. She also had on a tight black
skirt, black nylons and flat shoes. Angie, moved out from behind the bar,
dressed in her usual tight white sweater, red miniskirt, sheer tan
nylons, and white running shoes. The blond moved back unto the small
dance floor and Angie quickly followed her. Realizing that her movement
was somewhat restricted by her tight skirt, Greta hitched it up over her
hips, to provide freedom of movement. Angie, taking note, did the same
with her red mini. This action provided another contrast between the two
women; the blond wore thigh high stockings and now exhibited a
substantial portion of bare thigh. Angie's tan stockings, on the other
hand, were secured by a garter belt.

These movements had taken away a couple of Angie's strategic barroom
fighting tacticd. She wasn't going to get in a quick first punch on the
blonde and Greta had already stripped to a sports bra and was confidently
awaiting Angie's arrival on the dance floor. Both women circled the other
cautiously. Both maintained a boxing stance, hands up, feet balanced,
eyes riveted on her adversary. Angie, not surprisingly, threw the first
punch, a right hand straight from the shoulder and it got through to the
blond's face. Angie, used to landing the first blow in any fight and
having the punch do damage, stepped back, confidently, to survey the
effect of the blow on the big blond and to possibly avoid her falling
opponent. Instead, Greta shook off the punch with a quick shake of the
head, stepped two steps forward and fired her own right hand which landed
right in the middle of Angie's hiked up skirt. The force of the blow was
evident from the grunt that came from Angie's mouth  and the fact that it
actually unhitched one of the snaps on Angie's garter belt resulting in
her left nylon sliding down her leg to her ankle. The blond quickly
closed the distance with the older woman and threw another right hand
punch this one exploding in the unprotected chest area of Angie's white
sweater, evoking a squeal of pain. Angie gritted her teeth and threw her
own righr right hand at the advancing blond. It caught the younger woman
in the ribs and  Angie followed it up with another punch thudding into
Greta's solar plexus. This stopped the tall blond in her tracks and
caused her to groan loudly and she retreated a step back to regroup.
Angie, quick as a cat,  was on top the blond at once with another left
hand punch to the ribs and a right uppercut that amazingly found its way
up into the open space of the hitched up skirt of the blonde woman and
exploded in her crotch. The big Aussie's eyes bulged and her hands went
to the violated area, which was all the invitation Angie needed to fire a
right hand to the tip Greta's jaw. The taller woman' s head jerked upward
and she went straight back three steps before landing on the floor. Her
backside hit first and then her shoulders and then her head. She lay on
her back, spreadeagled, her hands caressing her crotch. Her jaw was
starting to swell noticably. Angie stood two feet from the downed blond,
and motioned with her fists, "C'mon little Sister, that's only the first
course".

The blond managed to raise herself after about 30 seconds but she was
clearly on unsteady legs. She staggered towards Angie in hopes of
clinching with the older woman and gaining time to clear her head. Angie
shot out a left jab and followed with a right hand punch that landed
flush in the left breast of the blonde. Greta moaned as the blow landed
in her substantial bust, but still managed to grab Angie's arms and fall
into a clinch with the smaller woman, momentarily preventing further
punishment. As Angie struggled to get loose from the blonde's hold, she
suddenly changed tactics and reached around the back of Greta's waist and
gave a hard tug. At once, Greta's black skirt was rippped from her hips
and the blonde was suddenly standing in front of Angie covered only by
the sports bra, thigh high stocking and a red g-string panty that barely
covered her nether region. Angie now had the punching space she was
looking for and wasted no time. Starting with a left jab to the big
blonde's breast, she worked down, a right hand to the ribs, a left hook
just above the womb, and as Greta's big legs sprung open, a vicious right
uppercut flush on the tiny bit of cloth covering the blonde's clitoris.
Greta screamed and turning sideways, staggered forward towards the bar,
looking to grab hold. She didn't make it, collapsing face first two feet
from the bar rail.

The big blond lay motionless on her side for fifteen seconds and it
appeared that Angie was about to add to her trophy display. To the
surprise of everyone in the bar, the blond crawled to the bar railing and
with an amazing effort, managed to pull herself to her feet and turned to
face Angie. She was dazed and glassy eyed but she began to raise her
fists and start forward to continue the fight.  Angie didn't give her a
chance. Instead the older woman took two quick steps towards the blonde
and sent another crushing blow into the the blonde's breasts. Greta shot
back against the bar, and hung on the railing by her elbows as Angie
moved in for the finish. The blond looked pleadingly at the woman in
front of her. wordlessly seeking mercy by holding out her hands, palms
up, in surrender. Angie, whose teeth were now bared, ignored the plea.
The older woman set herself in front of the young blond, spread her legs
to gain maximum leverage and went about finishing the fight. Angie hooked
a right hand into the blonde's ribs. a left hand into her right breast
and one more crushing blow between the now badly beaten crotch of the
Aussie. Greta started to pitch forward but Angie caught her by the throat
and held her under the chin with her left hand while she brought her
right fist "up from the floor" to explode under the blonde's jaw. Angie
then stepped nimbly back and Greta pitched face first to the floor, out
cold. Angie reached down to turn the unconscious woman over on her back
and then slid her hand between the blond's legs and removed the g-string
from the unconscious blonde.

Angie then stepped behind the bar, reached into the cash register and
flipped me a quarter "Hey, Mick, make yourself useful, go play D-15 on
the jukebox". I know when to do what I'm told and so as the two blond
guys were wrapping Greta's jacket around her waist and retrieving her
tattered skirt and preparing for another "carry out", and while Angie was
behind the bar looking for a tack for her latest trophy, the sound of
Elvis came booming out of the jukebox:

"Little Sister, don't you kiss me once or twice,
And say, its very nice and then you run,
Little Sister, don't you do what your big sister done"

Greta didn't hear it,she was still out, but maybe somebody would play
D-15 for her when she opened her eyes. Whatever the case, the little
sister was now a permanent part of the back bar at "Angie's"



Mickey One10605@yahoo.com