Little Lisa saves him from her mean ol' brother                   
by TableTurner


     During my senior in year in high school, I was hired by a neighbor's
family to tutor their oldest son in math.  The kid's name was Josh Davis,
and he couldn't have been less interested in my presence if I had paid
him.  Luckily, his Mom paid me really well, so I was happy to attempt
teaching her totally disinterested son the finer points of intermediate
geometry.  I'd walk to Josh's house at 4:00pm every Tuesday, where he and
his sister Lisa would be finishing off their after school snack, which
was generally an orange and a glass of milk.  Yummy.
     Josh was a shrimp, height wise anyway.  He was not quite 5 feet
tall, probably not 100 pounds.  He was in 8th grade, and heavily into
gymnastics since he was three.  He was chiseled out of granite, however,
so I was pretty sure not many people made fun of him for being short. 
When I walked in the door, he would invariably roll his eyes and try to
get out of studying with me, but I'd insist, and he'd do it.

Lisa was a year younger than her brother, she was a good 3 inches shorter
than him.  Though she wasn't muscular and cut, she was very firm and
obviously in good shape.  Unlike him, she'd light up when I walked into
the kitchen.  Not to brag, but I just want to give you a true picture of
me.  Lot's of girls (not just young ones like Lisa) really liked me.  I
was 5' 9," about one fifty, had the blonde hair, the blue eyes, the
runner's body.  I never was one of those people who was snobby or
anything.  She was a nice little kid, and it was flattering how she
attached herself to me, and I was always pleasant to her.  I had a new
girlfriend who sometimes showed flashes of jealousy about the girls who
hung around me, but I always told her that I had to be respectful to
people, and I would not blow people off for her, though I cared about her
a lot.  Anyway, back to Lisa ... she was an expert in either Judo or
Aikido, I forget which one.  She'd been taking it since she was three,
and I'd heard she was very good.  Once she showed me a recently won
trophy, and her brother made some disparaging comment.  I made a joke
about how he'd probably not want to get her mad at him.  He snorted and
said he'd kill her if she ever tried anything.  She just said something
about how she'd never try to fight with her brother, or anybody.  It was
all about self defense.  I liked this kid a lot better than her brother.

One day, I guess you could call it fateful, I was in Josh's room
preparing the books at his desk, when he came up stairs.  He said he
wasn't going to study, and that he was going out.  I insisted, but he
said that his mother paid me in advance for the month, and that I should
be happy with the money and that "I won't tell if you don't."  He was
starting out the door, and I got in front of him.
     "You gonna stop me or something, Chucky?" he asked.
     "Little dude, call me Charles, and I'm not gonna stop you
physically, but I'd like to persuade you to sit down for 45 minutes and
work with me."
     I don't want to get into every aspect of the conversation.  He
didn't like 'Little dude', and I didn't like 'Chucky.'  It escalated to
my having to beat him in an armwrestling match if I wanted him to study. 
Suffice it to say, it took a lot of heated conversation to get to that
point, being that I wasn't feeling like it was up for debate at all, but
I finally humored him.  We got our grips set, and he put me down in 3
seconds.  He got up to go, and I reached out to him and said 'no, there's
no way you beat me that fast.  I must not have been ready.' 
     "Let go of my shoulder, Chucky, " he snarled.
     I let go and he belched out a derisive laugh.  This time, as we
grabbed hands, he asked me to begin first.  I pushed, and he started
repeating 'are you ready?  You sure you're ready?', as he pushed me down
slowly to the floor.  He'd let me get his arm back centered, then he'd
let me get him an inch from the floor, and he'd begin pushing me again,
saying again:  'I don't think you're ready.  Let me know.  Are you
ready?' This was infuriating.  I was nothing to him.  He finally slammed
me down.  I told him that I wanted to go 'lefty,' and then I remembered
that he was a lefty.  He said that he was trying to give me a break by
using his weaker arm.  But we went lefty, and the result was the same.
     "A deal's a deal, Chucky," he said, as he started out of the room.
     "You got a big mouth Josh," I said.
     He stopped and asked me to repeat myself.  At this point, I was
totally intimidated, and I said I was sorry and he left.
     And then came next Tuesday.  Now the whole week went by, and I was
really mad at myself for not calling his Mom, for not taking better
control of the situation.  This time, if he tried to get out of tutoring,
I planned to do just that.  Of course, he did try.  The same offer was
made, which I rejected.  Then he offered Roman knuckles, which I
rejected.  Then he said that he didn't have to listen to me anyway and
wheeled to go and I said, "Little Dude, sit down now or I'm gonna call
your Mom."
     Within a second, he was shoving me and telling me that I wasn't
going to do that.  I pushed him back on instinct, and he braced himself
and didn't really budge.  He pushed me again, and I left my feet, flying
really, into the wall.  It turned into a wrestling match, and the next
thing I knew, I was in a head lock trying to pry his arm off of my neck,
crying out for mercy, which he wouldn't give.
     He asked me if I was going to call his Mom. 
     "I'll do whatever I want to do, Josh," I said angrily.
     He went to the door, closed it, and removed his shoes, and his
shirt.  I asked him what he was doing, and he said I'd know in a second. 
He walked up to me and shoved me hard again.  I bounced off the wall and
on my rebound I put everything I had in a punch him to his stomach.  He
just stood there, smiling.  I hit him again, and he wondered when I was
planning on starting the fight.  He went to his hands and bounded up, his
legs latching onto my neck.  I buckled to the floor, in a scissors, 
hitting those steel thighs for release.  His muscles bounced and flexed
on my neck, and I was choking, begging for him to let me go.  He stopped
and undid his legs, and asked me if I was going to tell.  I quickly
grabbed his head in a scissors with my legs, and I squeezed for all I was
worth.  I was a runner, and my legs were strong.  I twisted him onto his
side and said that he'd better believe I was going to call his Mom.  He
put his hands to my thighs and started to push my legs apart.  I felt so
helpless.  I was struggling against him, jerking violently to maintain my
grip, and he just smoothly unlocked my legswith his arms, sat up, and
grabbed me by the shirt.  I punched his face, he acted as if he barely
felt it.  I tried again, and he moved his head to the side.  Then, he
then slapped me about been a dozen times.  I got to crying, asking him to
please stop, saying I wouldn't tell.  But he kept ignoring me, and the
hits kept coming.
     "What the hell are you doing?"
     The slapping stopped.  His sister Lisa came into the room.
     "Get the fuck out!" he yelled at her.
     "Josh, no, let him alone!" she said in alarm.
     He stood up and she side stepped him and went to me, asking if I was
all right, asking what had happened.  I remember joking, "He doesn't like
math."
     He yelled, "GET OUT," and pushed her from behind.  She rolled
forward, and landed on her feet.  His jaw dropped, and my eyes were kind
of wide with disbelief.
     "Mom said we can never fight, Josh.  Now let me take Charles down
stairs."
     She started to help me up, but Josh grabbed her and whipped her down
toward the floor.  Again, she rolled with it and ended up on her feet.
     "Josh, he's a nice guy, he doesn't deserve this," she said,
apparently not noticing that she had just been flung to the floor.
     I spoke up, saying she should just call her mom and she should 'just
go downstairs', that I didn't want her to get hurt.  She smiled at me and
told me not to worry about that.
     "You better fucking worry, " Josh shouted.  He ran at her, and she
disappeared.  He crashed into the wall.
     She ran to me and said, "We'd better get you out of here."  He
grabbed her from behind in a bear hug and lifted her.  She wrapped her
foot behind his leg, but could get no leverage.  He threw her hard,
directly onto the floor.  That one hurt and she was stunned.  I ran up to
him and grabbed him by the throat, but he grabbed my hands, undid them
like they were shoe laces, and head butted me in the sternum.  I went
down in agony and not just a little panic.
     Lisa screamed from the floor in alarm and concern for me, but she
was obviously still stunned or distracted when his left fist came down
and hit her flush in the face.  She covered up, crying on her belly, and
Josh jumped on her back.
     "I've always wanted to do this!  Now let's see who's the tough one
in the house!" he cried.  He started raining sledgehammer punches onto
her head and back.  He turned her over and she moaned, "No more Josh, you
win, you win.  Let him go, please."
     I couldn't believe that she was still thinking of me during this
horrible beating.  He started hitting her again and again.
     "No fists, Josh ..." I weakly bellowed.  But he kept punching as she
attempted cover.
     He grabbed her throat, and wound up for a big blow.  As it came
down, with one hand, she deflected it to the wooden floor.  It hit and he
yelped, still holding her neck.  Then, she twisted his hand, made some
wacko move and turned him onto his stomach, holding his twisted arm
behind her back.  She was bleeding and swollen, and she said, "Josh,
please let's stop, I don't want to hurt you."
He protested, but she bent his wrist and he relented.  She got up and
turned to help me.  I couldn't help thinking that this was like a horror
movie and she should just kill the monster before turning her back on
it.  But I kept my crying eyes on him as she came to me.  She helped me
to my feet, and my chest was on fire.  I was pretty sure (rightly) that
he had cracked my sternum.  But I felt stupid for needing help from a 7th
grade girl who just took 30 punches to the head.
     "Lisa!"  I shouted.
     Josh was on his feet, and coming after her.  She pushed me to the
bed as he got up to her.  She bent and lifted him and flipped him over
her shoulders.  He got up quickly, made some crack about her only being
able to flip, that she couldn't really fight.  She retorted that 'unlike
you, I'm not an asshole.'
     He swung, she kind of stepped forward next to him, wrapped her leg
around his and pushed him down with one hand.  He got up.  He threw a
punch to her head, she blocked it, and leg swiped him, holding him up
slightly so he wouldn't hit the floor too hard.  He tried to hurt her,
lunge at her, smack her for the better part of an hour.  But he kept
ending up on his back, his butt, or sometimes, his chest.  Eventually,
even he, this ridiculously conditioned athlete, was running out of gas. 
She stood in front of him, hands on her hips and told him to give up.
     He swore, turned to me, who was on the bed watching in delight, and
he grabbed me.  I tried to pry him off, but I still couldn't, even though
he was spent.  He threatened her, saying she'd better fight 'straight up'
or he'd really hurt me
     "Kind of too late for that, little dude," I said weakly.
     She walked over and said, "What do you want me do Josh?  How should
I fight you?  You want me to punch you?  Because I know how to do that. 
I can kick you all night long.  You want that?  You want me to wrestle
you, because I know more moves than you know ways to get out of your
homework."
     "Just fight me!" he said, leaping up and punching.  Of course, she
blocked it and hit him so hard his neck almost snapped off.
     He was really shaken by that.  He grabbed her neck, she bent his
thumbs off of her.  He lunged at her, she stepped and kicked him hard on
the inner thigh.  She stood over him, and he was shrieking in agony.
     "Is that better Josh?"
     He reached up, and pulled her to the ground.  She went with it.  He
pushed her onto her back and she kept rolling and turned him onto his. 
She wrapped his head in her legs.  It looked like the number four, she
squeezed her ankle, cutting his air, and boy, did he scream from his
guts.  Then, she jumped on him and pinned him to the floor.  He may have
been stronger than her at one point, but it was no contest now.  She told
him to get up, and he couldn't.  She held him there for 45 minutes as he
struggled, cursed at her and demanded his release.  Eventually, the
demanding turned to begging, and then to uncontrollable tears.  She
ignored these until she extracted herself the proper apologies.      
     Then, the funniest thing.  She left him there sobbing, helped me up
again, helped him up, and told me to hit him.  I said 'no' that he'd had
enough, but she insisted saying that he needs to learn not to pick on
people, and 'you deserve to get one in'.  He stood there, looking at me,
beaten.  I turned to him and said, "One to the gut."  And I swung.  He
tightened, and I bounced off again.  He smiled at me.  She saw it and
said, "It's not funny Josh.  Not everyone is made to be Superman, like
you.  Here's how you do it, Charles."  She brought her hand back in that
cool 'bendy' way that only martial artists can, and he tightened those
iron abs, only to have them give way to the strongest punch I'd ever
seen.  He was vomiting on the floor as we left.
     I was sitting at her tale, icing my sternum.  I, of course,
expressed my gratitude.  The conversation got to my embarrassment that
she handled someone who handled me so easily.  She came up to me and
kissed me on the lips.
     "You mean, it bothers you that I can beat you up, Charles?"
     "Um.  It's a pride thing.  I'm thankful, I really am."
     "I'm glad it did, Charles.  I've wanted to take care of you for a
long time."
     I was flustered, and said, "Oh Lisa, yes, I really like you, and I
think you're the greatest kid ever, but ..."
     She pulled me up and stuck her hand in my pants.
     "Kid?" 
     "Lisa, I have a new girlfriend, and I..."
     "Try and stop me," she giggled as she rubbed my member.  In a short
time, I was coming in her hand.
     "You should break up with your girlfriend," she said softly.
     "Yes.  I'll consider it.  I --"
     "You mean you will."  She balled her hand into a fist.
     "I don't want to hurt you too," she smiled.
     And I did break up with my girlfriend.  Of course, my girlfriend was
a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and she wasn't too pleased.  But that's a
story for another time.