Practice Makes Perfect By Belial College gymnasts in nasty brawls "I'm getting sick of this." Tanya Porter said. She had startling, dark features, jet black hair and cool blue eyes that could wring an extra half point from the judges when she needed it. She had been a highly recruited junior after just missing the Olympic gymnastics team, and was a favourite target of coach Tereseva's in practice. "There is no such thing as potential" was Tereseva's usual quote where Tanya was concerned. "YOU'RE getting sick of this!" It was Amy, Tanya's best friend on the team. The girls were lounging on the lush lawn out front of the Library building, a turn- of-the-century classic in sandstone and marble. It practically reeked of higher learning, and was one of the more picturesque spots on campus. "You're not the one getting the crap kicked out of her every day by Mary Gallagher." Amy lamented. "Mary Gallagher isn't that great." "Thanks a lot!" "You know what I mean." "No I don't know what you mean." Amy grew sullen. She sat up and crossed her legs, wearing sweats today to avoid the constriction of jeans around a midsection still tender from yesterday's practice. Tanya lay on her stomach, looking taut and solid in jeans and a scarlet tank top. "I can't take it anymore Tanya. I'm thinking of quitting." No reaction from Tanya - she knew it had been coming. "You're on scholarship. You can't quit." "If only she would put me with someone else!" Amy pulled at the grass, pouting. She was an elegant girl, with long wrists and beautiful lines. Too bad Tereseva didn't believe in elegance. Amy had become something of a team joke - the girl who couldn't take the heat. She couldn't afford to quit, and she couldn't afford to be cut. Her life had come down to facing Mary Gallagher. Every. Single. Day. "Listen." Tanya sat up. "Mary's a bully. Why don't you waste one at her face? That'd smarten her up. Mess her hair up, stand up to her. She's winning because she's confident, and you never surprise her." "That's easy for you to say." "Bullshit." "No really, Tan. If I had half your talent, I'd be team captain." "Oh so what are you saying? I've got all my talent, and I'm not captain, what's up with that?" "Come on. You know you're good. You and Mary have got these Mary Lou Retton bodies and model faces. You could be one of the best gymnasts in the country if you worked at it." "You sound like Tereseva." "Well we ARE winning, aren't we? I've never been on a winning club before. That's why..." Amy's voice broke off. She sat in quiet desperation on the campus lawn, pulling at the grass, and dreading the future. Tanya softened. "You want me to be captain, don't you." Amy looked up. "Mary's beating me up Tan. I can't last with her. If you were captain...Tereseva would put us together. I'm not saying you would go easy on me, I'm just saying you wouldn't over do it like Mary does." "I don't know, Amy." "What? You don't think you could take her?" "No, it's...I'm just not a captain type. Exactly." "Yeah." Amy's voice grew quiet with resignation. Practice was in three hours. The auxilliary gym resounded with the thumps and pained grunts of the squad as they sweated it out in one of Tereseva's interminable abdominal excercises. "The gymnast's stomach must be of iron," the coach was fond of saying, among other things. "Gymnastics is the cruelest sport." "To win, you must want to see the tears on their faces." Coach Vanya Tereseva had a million of them. The team had to give the devil her due however: The Badgers had won all 5 meets this year, and were actually pressuring the Gators and Gymdogs for the conference lead. The roster hadn't changed much from the year before; Tereseva's methods had made the difference. Amy was getting hurt, and that wasn't good. When you grunted too loudly, Tereseva came over to watch up close, clutching that clipboard to her chest, always the same red track suit. Coach was still beautiful, in that haunting, sloe-eyed gypsy way. Why not? Her career with the Russian national squad had been over by the time she was 18, younger even than the youngest girls on the Badger team. At 30, she was, in many ways, just reaching her prime. And you did not want her hanging over your shoulder, searching for weakness when you were getting your ass kicked. The medicine ball pushed hard into the belly and sternum of the brunette Amy, sending her ponytail dancing, and her lips trembling. She was a sweet looking freshman, with doe eyes and a freckled complexion. Mary Gallagher was the exact opposite - a buxom blonde with cheerleader looks, a Baywatch tan, and bitchy blue eyes that had every senior guy on campus stammering. All around them, similar pairs of stocky, thick-thighed girls wearing similar tee shirts and leotards took turns shoving a medicine ball as hard as they could into their partner's midriff. The exercise had its origins in ancient Roman military training, and the benefits were practical, tangible. It was Tereseva's trademark to turn every drill into a competition, every practice into either a defeat, or a victory. Other teams at other colleges were doing sit-ups and kip-ups. Other teams were soft. Mary was in fine form. She taunted Amy, feinting with the heavy ball just to see the brunette cringe in her ready stance. Amy's face dripped with sweat, her eyes intense, but drifting already. All around them, the grunting and thumping of the other pairs filled the gym. Mary lunged suddenly, holding the heavy ball underhand, stuffing it hard into Amy's tensed midsection. Amy shouted out loud - too loud. Tereseva turned her head at the noise, and began to stalk on over. Amy's mouth pouted open, as she mustered her strength, holding the ball against her hips for a moment, then swinging it with much less force than she intended. Mary took the impact with a tight face, but nothing more - she wasn't being tested here. Sensing that Amy's concentration was fading, Mary quickly returned serve, pushing the ball hard against the brunette's small breasts with a sudden basketball pass. Amy moaned and the ball slipped down her body to bang loudly against the floor boards. Tanya looked up as she reached back with her own ball. "C'mon Amy." She muttered, before stuffing the heavy green sphere deep into the stomach of her own opponent. Mary eagerly took the go-again: those were the rules. She picked the ball up and heaved it into Amy's battered midsection, the blonde's back foot coming off the floor with the effort of jamming the weight home. Amy stumbled back a step, her face pale and sick looking, and once again, the ball slipped from her nerveless fingers. Suddenly her legs gave way, and she tumbled to the floor, clutching her midsection as she lay on her side. Mary looked hungrily at coach Tereseva, knowing what was expected of her, and relishing it. She was team captain, and coach always paired the strongest of her girls against the weakest. That way, the weak would get stronger, and the strong...well, the strong would learn what it took to win. Tereseva nodded. Mary pounced. Amy groaned helplessly as Mary plowed into her, fists pumping, bare legs jiggling with sinewy power as she prevented the brunette from rolling to her stomach. Mary punched savagely at Amy's midsection with both hands, leaning her chest out over the victim's torso and viciously slugging the tortured abdominals beneath. The ferocity of the attack actually slid Amy's body across the floor, inches at a time, in response to the feverish pounding. As the other girls gathered round to watch the ceremonial disposal of the loser, they were reminded of wolves tearing into a carcass on some nature show. It was an image of which Tereseva would have approved. "Good!" Coach shouted, and Mary broke off. She leaned back on her haunches, smiling and blowing an errant strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. Amy was mewling softly to herself, clutching her tummy, still on her side, her cheek and mouth rubbing wetly against the cold gym floor as she rocked gently in place. Mary pushed herself to her feet with a hand on Amy's hip, letting the team get a good sense of the density, the weight and power of her compact frame as she rose. She tightened the knot on the pretty bow that held her ponytail in place, and snapped the royal blue bottoms of her leotard back snug around her buttocks. She strutted and preened as if she'd just won a gold medal. Tereseva was pleased. >From the crowd Tanya hurled her own ball as hard as she could, catching Mary unawares between the shoulder blades with a loud smack. The impact drove Mary forward a step, ruining her parade. She turned and stared in a rage. "Who..." she growled. And Tanya stepped forward. Tereseva smiled, and seemed to fade into the background. Mary was on her own. Tanya had removed her t-shirt to stand in a black jogbra and red lycra aerobics bottoms which cut into her body just below her navel. A bare stomach was a clear challenge in the gym. Mary hesitated for only a second, sizing up her options before doffing her own t shirt to reveal an aquamarine top with a high neck, and matching aerobics bottoms. Both women had the traditional heavy physique of the power gymnast. Deep thighs, and knees that disappeared into a sheath of muscle, cut broad shoulders and bludgeoning arms. And of course, hard, flat tummies with skin that seemed stretched too tight over those blocked out abs. Both stood around 5'2", but there was enough muscle in each to build a woman half a foot taller. Any team would have been lucky to have had one such specimen. Perhaps there was a reason that most teams only had one. Eyes flashed with concentration as the girls lunged at each other, reaching for one another's shoulder joints for the lock up. The girls pushed against each other out of this posture, legs spread wide, neither giving ground. Suddenly, Mary pulled her right arm free and slugged a short, raking punch across Tanya's ribs, then returned her hand to push against Tanya's shoulder. Tanya smacked at Mary's chest in the same fashion - the girls were snatching at each other's bodies with these quick punches so as not to leave themselves too open. A mistake could lead to an avalanche of blows which would surely lead to defeat if it came early. And both girls were lethal finishers. Mary began to force Tanya back behind a series of slashing right hand punches. Doubling the blows up, the blonde bashed at the brunette's left side, scoring also with a short uppercut to the sternum. Tanya looked uncomfortable, uncertain. Mary began to pile on, finally abandoning the lock up to slug with authority. Standing shoulder to shoulder, the girls stepped into short right hands to one another's chests, fists finding the bone between the breasts with fleshy thuds. Tanya broke first in this bitter exchange, and drew her arms in to protect herself. Mary continued to push her back, putting her head on Tanya's shoulder the better to pound the brunette in around her elbows. Mary slugged with the flat of her fists, the blows making a brutal smacking noise as they crashed into ribs, liver, kidney - working both sides of Tanya's trembling body. The blonde got excellent leverage on the side shots, bending deep at the waist and turning her body into the punches. Even Tereseva was impressed. The girls had been slugging blind, hunched over, and as they separated slightly, both clubbed the other's breasts with simultaneous hooks, then hunched in again. Tanya's back was to the wall, and she was definitely on the defensive. This was Mary in her element - standing up straight in front of a wilting opponent, ponytail swinging, buttocks humming as she twisted into punches from that wide stance. Every now and again, Tanya's knee would come up in a reflex motion that made many in the small crowd wince. The team had been waiting for this showdown for some time, and after all the suspense, it was beginning to look like no contest. Mary's fists continued to bounce loudly off the stubborn abdominals of her opponent, beating out an all-too familiar tune. Mary had `sock' as the gymnasts said, no doubt about it, and she was hurting Tanya, but the brunette was holding her own. The truth was, Mary was a little disconcerted to see Tanya still standing, without the telltale signs of butt wobble, or thigh jiggle that usually signaled an imminent collapse. Tanya was taking a great punch, and finding something out about Mary in the process: Mary didn't like it inside. She could dish it out all right, but as the slugging continued, Tanya became convinced that she couldn't take it. Shoving Mary back slightly with a shoulder, Tanya clubbed the blonde's right breast with a pair of short right uppercuts, and was rewarded with a bitchy look of pain and outrage from the captain. For the first time in the fight, Mary stopped punching, temporarily overwhelmed by the pain. Tanya saw the opening, and took it. Tanya walked Mary back, pushing her arms in under the blonde's to prevent punching, then withdrew to bounce a hard one-two off the line of Mary's trunks. Mary groaned and drew her arms in. Again, Tanya pushed her hands in between Mary's closed forearms, levering the blonde's limbs away from her body, then slugging at the exposed flesh, with loose, practiced combinations until the blonde covered up again. Tanya maneuvered Mary back to the wall, punching her constantly while cradling the blonde's head or shoulders in a free arm. Most of the punches dug into the flawless golden beef of the blonde's midriff, but Tanya also took care to pound the flat of her fists onto the shoulder and biceps of her opponent, wearing down Mary's ability to make war. The brick wall resistance offered by the blonde's abs had softened to the texture of wet clay as the brunette's fists dug a little deeper, smacked a little louder. Mary's expression grew increasingly desperate. Her lips peeled back from her perfect teeth, and her arched eyebrows furrowed in pain as her body began to absorb unacceptable punishment. Tanya shook Mary with a thick sounding one-two to the gut, and the blonde sagged forward. Like a labourer working in the fields, Tanya shoved Mary's torso back with the backs of her hands, then dug into the gut with her fists, THUMP! THUMP! Again Mary sagged, her legs beginning to twitch. Again Tanya shoved her back, straightening the blonde with a kind of methodical deliberation, then slugged the meat with those short, devastating punches. Both girls glistened with the sweat of their efforts. Tanya put her left hand on Mary's golden hip, and began jolting the blonde with short, rising right hands into the belly, lifting the captain up upon the wall with each shot. Mary had to clinch, but again, she was shoved back and bludgeoned with another shot so short that Mary caught fist, forearm and shoulder in the movement. Tanya was patient. She would not punch herself out, and she would not let Mary fall until the time was right. Shoving and slugging, she battered the blonde into a pain-induced haze. Slowly but surely, the light in Mary's eyes dimmed, her mouth began to pout, and her face seemed to accept what her mind could not: she was beaten. All that was left, was pride. Mary couldn't feel her legs as she finally collapsed forward onto Tanya, sliding down the brunette's body to lay in a heap on her side. The brunette staggered back, cheeks flushed with the exertion of beating on Mary, and body glittering under the over head lights. She snapped her bottoms into place out of habit, then lowered herself onto Mary, shoving the blonde roughly to her back. Mary groaned, and flailed weakly with both hands as Tanya mounted her hips. Taking a deep breath, Tanya began her finishing run, pounding her punches down into the body beneath her - left, right, left, right, in numbing succession - the only sound in the gym being that of her small, sturdy fists smacking into the solid beef of her opponent's body. Mary slid into unconsciousness, her hands dreamily up around her head. At the end, her body jerked, her head lolled, as Tanya beat her into oblivion with the mindless assault. A single table lamp illuminated the surface of the desk, casting green shadows all around the small office. A knock at the door got Tereseva's attention. She looked up from her work, the light playing demonically upon her gypsy face. "Come in." She said, pronouncing it `comb een'. Tanya slipped in from the corridor, and closed the door behind her. She did not approach the desk. "Yes?" Tereseva said. "Is Mary all right?" Tanya said. It seemed like the proper thing to ask. "Yes. Of course. Mary is competitor." "Yeah." "You did well today Tanya. You grew. You are captain." "You put her up to it didn't you? Amy I mean. That was you." Tereseva paused. Tanya continued, "You made her take those beatings, then come to me for help. Why didn't you just match me with Mary to begin with?" "You had to want it, Tanya. You have always been your own worst enemy. It was only way to the next level, for you. Only way." "What makes you think I won't quit." Tereseva smiled. She put her pen down, and her eyes sparkled with a harsh light. "Quit then. I cannot force you. But give me credit: you are better gymnast now than you ever have been. And Amy - did you realize she has not fallen from beam in competition once this year? Not once. Same for the others. Reason? Because I teach pressure, not gymnastics. You learn gymnastics from book. Pressure takes more, more from students, more from coach." "But..." "This team does not win regionals with Mary as captain. They won't win for me. They need leader. They need you. I have done my job. Will you do yours, or will you quit?" Tanya nodded, piecing it all together, realizing she had little choice. "I don't like you much, Vanya Tereseva." Tereseva picked up her pen and went back to her paper work. She didn't look up. "Practice at 7 tomorrow morning." Was all she had left to say.