Hits like a girl
By Eric Robert, EricRRobert@hotmail.com
Brett bites off more than he can chew.


"Mark Acton is no longer employed at Roxtel Communications. --Sam"

I stared at the e-mail in disbelief. One line? Mark and I had been working at
Roxtel for the last two years, and had become pretty close friends. I was
walking down the hall to Sam's office ten seconds later. I opened the door and
walked in without knocking.

Sam looked up from his desk. "What is it, Brett?"

"What's this about Mark being fired?"

Sam gave me a tired look. "Look, you know I can't discuss HR issues with you.
If you want to know why I fired your friend, give him a call yourself."

I was pissed. "You know, Sam, I've got half a mind to walk out of here
myself."

Sam shrugged. "Well, it'd be a shame to lose you."

By noon, I had called Mark four times, and had left four voice messages. I was
a little confused and a little worried. I scrawed "Taking a long lunch" on a
Post-It note and stuck it on my monitor. Something was going on.

It took Mark a good three minutes to get to the door, and when he finally
opened it, he looked like hell. He smelled like a fucking brewery, he was
holding on to the door frame for support, and he was sporting a busted lip and
a spectacular black eye.

"Mark, what the fuck?" I exclaimed.

"It... hasn't been a good day," said Mark, breaking into an insane grimace of
a smile at the irony of his comment and taking a swig from a can of Natural
Ice.

"What the fuck?" I repeated. "You got fired? What happened?"

"Sarita happened," he said darkly. No hint of even an ironic smile this time.

I always hated that spic bitch. Mark started dating her about a year ago, and
while I had to admit she was smoking hot, the best sex in the world wouldn't
have been worth what he went through. She made ridiculous demands of him. She
verbally degraded him in front of all his friends. She spent all his
disposable income. They had broken up a couple weeks ago when Sarita had
snooped on Mark's e-mails and found some particularly explicit letters from
Leslie, his other girlfriend.

"What'd she do." I said evenly, feeling my temperature rise even at the
mention of her name.

"Well, she brought Sam the laptop, for one," Mark slurred, stumbling back.

A laptop had gone missing from Roxtel a couple months back. Everyone pretty
much knew it was Mark, but no one could prove it. The way they pay us there, I
was almost proud of him.

"Fucking bitch," I muttered.

"Fucking bitch!" Mark exclaimed, taking another sip from the can.

"So... what's with your face, man? And why weren't you picking up your phone?"

"I fell," Mark said flatly. That wasn't surprising. He looked like he was
about to fall down again right now. "And Sarita has my phone."

"What the fuck is she doing with your phone?"

The insane grimace was back. "She says she's got some texts my parents might
be interested in. Says she's got some texts the police might be interested in.
Says payback's a bitch."

I could feel my face burning with anger. "Mark, wait here. I'll be back with
your phone."

"Brett, wait, don't -"

"I said wait here."

I could hear Mark yelling at me as I walked toward my car, trying to dissuade
me, but I wasn't listening.

I almost ran a guy down on the way to Sarita's house. I was fuming. I charged
up her front steps to her door. I could hear music coming from inside and a
low repetitive thudding sound, like someone was pounding something with a
mallet.

I pounded three times on the door. The music stopped. A few minutes later, the
door opened, and there was Sarita.

I have to admit, she looked amazing. I mean, just ravishing. She was looking
up at me from her tight little 5'1" frame, her black hair tied behind her head
in a ponytail, wearing nothing but a black spandex sports bra and a pair of
black spandex workout shorts. Her body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat
and she was breathing hard. I could see her nipples protruding from the sports
bra, stretched across her firm chest. Beautiful, firm tits, too. I'd guess
they were about a 34C. She had flawless olive skin and these incredibly fierce
brown eyes. And I noticed she was holding a pair of red 12-ounce bloxing
gloves.

She glared at me. "What do you want, Brett?" she said evenly. She had just a
trace of a Mexican accent.

"You know what I want. Give me Mark's fucking phone."

"This is none of your business, Brett," she said, and started to close the
door in my face, but I pushed it open. There was no way this bitch was keeping
me out now. I'm 6'2" and a pretty solid 190. She must weigh 110 pounds.

"Like hell it isn't. Mark's my friend, and you've got something that belongs
to him."

She looked at me quizically, with this weird hint of a smile. "Okay, Brett,
why don't you come in."

Without a word, I followed her inside, down a hall, and into this room that
was totally cleared of furniture. There was a speed bag and a heavy punching
bag in the corner, mirrors on the wall, and blue wrestling mats on the floor.
I guess it was some kind of workout room.

Sarita walked to a rack and threw something at me. I caught it, surprised to
see it was a pair of boxing gloves.

"Tell you what, Brett," said Sarita, smiling a little more openly now, "Let's
go a few rounds, and if you beat me, you can have the phone."

"Are you fucking nuts?" I asked, astounded and suspicious at the same time.
Was this some kind of trap?

"Maybe," she grinned. "I've been wanting to hit you for a long time now,
Brett."

"Well, feeling's mutual," I said, "but there's no fucking way you're getting
me arrested for battery or some shit."

"Don't worry, there's no cops, I'm not trying to trick you," Sarita said,
staring so intensely into my eyes I wanted to look away. "Come on, just a
couple rounds. You some kind of pussy?"

Fuck it. It was on. I peeled off my shirt, showing off my muscular arms and
chest, and strapped on the gloves as Sarita did the same.

She began to dance around me. "Oh, I'm gonna love this, Brett."

"I don't think you are." I wanted to lay her out flat right then. But there
was no way I was taking the first punch. If she hit me first, it wasn't a man
beating on a woman, right?

Sarita seemed to sense this, and launched a quick jab to my face.

I barely got my guard up in time. This girl was fast! But as expected, she hit
like a hundred-pound girl. The blow stung, glancing off my forearm, but not
that much. This was going to be easy. And then I cut loose with a hard right
hook guaranteed to floor her right there and then.

...except she wasn't there. She ducked it practically before I threw it. I
went off balance clobbering the air, and was rewarded with three rapid-fire
jabs to my ribs. They hurt just enough to piss me off.

Regaining my balance, I charged forward, firing a straight punch at Sarita's
pretty face, but she had already moved to the left, and I ran forward
uselessly as I took another three jabs to my other side. I winced. Even
getting hit by a girl really stings.

"How's that feel, Brett?" she teased.

"You hit like a fucking girl," I spat back.

Sarita just smiled, and then suddenly my head snapped back and my nose was
stinging. Fuck! I didn't even see that jab coming.

I charged at her again, knowing if I could hit her with just one decent blow,
I could end this right here and now. I threw three. None of them hit. In the
same time, she threw about ten, but I was guarding myself a little better, and
most of them slammed into my upper arms.

"Fuck." I murmured. Sarita had a grin a mile wide. I was determined to knock
it right off her face.

We continued sparring for a few minutes, with the fight going pretty much the
same way. I must have thrown thirty punches, and I hit her maybe twice - a
couple jabs to her tight midsection. Both times, she winced, but it didn't
slow her down one bit.

In comparison, I was just getting hammered. Every time I missed her, I took a
couple more shots. Almost all of them were body shots, her little fists
slamming into my abs, solar plexus, and especially my arms. It was almost as
though she was targeting my arms.

By now, I was breathing heavily and unevenly. My throat felt ragged as I
gasped in big breaths of air. I realized I was going to have to pace myself a
lot better. Sarita looked as fresh as when she answered the door, her
spandex-clad body showing no signs of fatigue at all.

I dropped my guard a little, trying to catch my breath, and Sarita broke into
a wide grin. "Getting tired, Brett?"

"Fuck... you." I gasped.

"I think you're getting fucked," she smiled, and her little fists slammed into
me once again, hitting my stomach and my biceps four more times. I was
starting to feel nauseated from the constant pounding on my abs, and my arms
were just feeling like lead weights.

Exhausted, but furious, I threw a right hook at her tiny frame, but this time,
for the first time, she didn't dodge out of the way - she just held up her
glove and blocked my blow. I realized that my punches were starting to get
seriously weak. My arms just weren't responding to my brain right.

"I thought so," she said, looking almost rapturously excited. In fact, I could
have sworn I could see her nipples stiffening under her thin, damp sports bra.
Still holding my arm up with her wrist, she fired a hard uppercut up under my
right arm, just below the armpit, and my whole arm just went tingly and numb.

"Ahhh!" I cried out for the first time, in pain and shock.

"Come on, big boy, hit me," Sarita teased, holding her guard up ridiculously
high, way up in front of her face, her elbows spread to the side, just
inviting me to hit her waist.

I took her up on the deal. I pulled back my right hand, but it felt like a
dead weight. Even with all the strength left, it was all I could do tap her on
the navel. She broke into a broad smile, even closing her eyes for a minute,
just savoring my inability to hurt her.

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed, furious at being taunted like this and feeling a
little scared of this hellcat Latina for the first time, and I threw the
hardest left hook I could manage, right at her smirking little face.

It was a mistake. Within seconds, she had blocked the punch and brought her
fist right up beneath my other arm. My left arm went even deader than the
right. It felt totally paralyzed. I found myself staring at her in horror,
exhausted, panting, unable to even lift my arms high enough to get my guard
up.

"I don't think you're leaving with that phone," she purred, and I knew she was
right. I had to get the fuck out of there. I turned around and took a step
toward the door, and felt a devastating, sickening pain in my kidney. It's not
that she hit hard - it's just that the muscles in my body were battered into
jelly. And by the time I started doubling over in agony, she was standing
right in front of me again, pushing my forehead up with her glove so I
couldn't bend.

My eyes welled up with tears. I was fucked.

"Come on, Brett, hit me! Kick my ass!" Sarita taunted me, dancing around in
front of me. She even put her gloves behind her head, thrusting her
ridiculously erect nipples at me, presenting her whole body as a target. But
all I could do was just stand there. My arms were useless. I couldn't even
lift them. After a moment, just watching her dance in front of me, I collapsed
to my knees. For the first time, I was looking up at her instead of down.

"Does this mean I keep the phone?" she asked, almost sweetly.

In tears, I nodded. "Please let me go, Sarita," I whimpered, all my bravado
gone.

"Oh, in a minute," she said, unlacing her gloves. "I have a little secret.
This... what we just did... just drives me crazy, Brett. I'm so fucking wet
right now."

"I don't want to... have sex... with you..." I gasped. This had been enough
humiliation.

"Oh, no sex," she grinned, tossing her shorts aside and sliding out of her
spandex workout shorts. I could see that she was incredibly damp - this girl
was primed. "You know, I haven't beat up a guy and sat on his face for weeks.
Well, other than this morning, when Mark came for his phone."

I opened my mouth to say something, but her little bare foot caught me in the
chest and I went crashing to my back, my hands still bound up in these fucking
gloves. I didn't have the strength to get them off if I wanted to.

And the next thing I knew, I was looking up at her glistening sex as it was
descending onto my bruised and beaten face.