A BIG MISTAKE
by brooksie
Look, but don't touch is good advice...too bad he didn't follow it


At first, I paid no attention. A normal, summer scenario, I thought...an
attractive, fit, tanned young teenage girl strolling down the beach past a
trio of older men, drinking beer and "noticing" her in what could be described
as a rather obvious manner. That is, it could be described that way if one was
trying to master the art of understatement. A more accurate way of putting it
would be to say they leered at her shamelessly, making a number of rude
comments as she approached.

It was easy to see from her expression she was annoyed, but I'm certain the
situation would not have developed into anything had not one of the three
louts got clumsily to his feet and attempted to engage her in conversation,
essentially by attempting to block her path. The girl simply sidestepped him
and tried to continue on her way. It was then he made a bad choice, one he was
about to regret deeply.

Instead of letting her walk away, he took a lurching, off-balance step towards
her and reached out to grab hold of her arm. Unfortunately for him, he missed
and only got the sleeve of the loose white blouse she wore. It was tied high
around her waist, but unbuttoned, revealing an abdomen etched deeply with hard
ridges of muscle and large, firm breasts that thrust amply from the open
shirt. Feeling his hand on her, the girl twisted sharply away, while he
attempted to pull her back towards him. The result of this combination of
opposite actions was a loud ripping sound, as the sleeve tore from the rest of
the garment, leaving a ragged-looking gap.

"You bastard!" she screamed, the first words she's spoken since the encounter
began, "that blouse was brand new. You're going to pay for that."

At the time, I wasn't sure whether she meant "pay" as in the financial sense,
or as in getting revenge. However, it was clear the object of her anger had
assumed she meant the former and proceeded to add fuel to her fire by telling
her he'd buy her a new shirt if she'd sit down and have a beer with him. I had
a feeling her normal reaction would have been dismissive laughter, but in this
case his callous, self-serving remark made her grow even angrier.

If he'd apologized and retreated at that point, perhaps offering financial
restitution with no strings attached, he may have escaped his fate. Instead,
he continued his crude pickup attempt and even tried to put his hands on her
again. This time she reacted much differently. All the anger seemed to vanish.
As she stripped away the remains of her torn blouse, she spoke in a clear,
calm voice.

"Ok, you want to get physical? Fine. Let's get physical."

Wearing only her bikini top, a pair of tight, spandex shorts and canvas
sneakers, she turned her stance sideways and raised her fists like a boxer.
Upon seeing this, the guy began to laugh.

"Oh no," he guffawed "a tough girl. What are you going to do sweetie, take a
poke at me?" He didn't bother putting up his own hands.

"I might," she answered, with a bemused tone "or, I might do this instead."

She had barely finished uttering the word "instead", shouting out it's second
syllable, when she took a quick step forward with one leg and shot the other
one out. Her sneaker-clad foot caught him right under the chin, snapping his
head back with a violent jerk. Bringing her leg back down, she instantly
planted her striking foot firmly in the sand and spun, sending her other leg
on a wide arc that ended with a roundhouse kick to the side of his face. Still
dazed, and not yet recovered from the first blow, he didn't appear to even see
the second one coming. It struck with devastating force, making a smacking
sound that was audible even to my ears, about 50 feet away.

A small trail of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he stood
there, eyes blinking rapidly, a look of confusion on his red and blotchy face.
Instinctively he put his hand to his mouth, but the girl wasted no time and
moved in on him before he even had a chance to discover he was bleeding.
Showing she knew something about boxing, she knocked his hand away from his
face with a couple of short, sharp jabs. When he tried to cover up again, she
moved her attack to his now unprotected, flabby-looking belly, hitting him
with a left, a right and another left. I hadn't noticed at first, but it now
dawned on me she was a lefty.

Not that it mattered much to the paunchy, 40-ish guy who didn't look as though
he could have offered much defence in either case. He was now doubled over in
front of her, and on the receiving end of a straight right hand and a
powerful-looking left cross that turned him about 30 degrees and sent him
face-down on the sand.

By now, a crowd on people had gathered around, myself among them. At the same
time, the victim's two buddies began making threats and moving towards the
young girl. Although it was an absurd question in retrospect, another older
man, who was there with his wife and own two daughters, asked if she was all
right.

"No problem. Just make sure this idiot's friends don't gang up on me and I can
deal with this guy."

By now, there were a good 30 or 40 people standing in a loose circle around
the two combatants, including a number of good-sized adult males, myself among
them. Instinctively, several of us stepped towards each other and glared at
the chump's friends. They looked at each other, at their friend, who was in
the process of getting to his knees and brushing away the sand that was stuck
to his sweaty mug, then at us and back at their friend. They clearly had no
idea what to do. In fact, it seemed no one did until one older gentleman spoke
up, advising them to take their buddy, their beer and hit the road.

The drunken lout got to his feet. He still had some sand on his chin, which
was mixed with the little trail of blood from his lip. His hair stuck out at
all kinds of odd angles and he looked nothing short of comical, as evidenced
by the laughter coming from some of the onlookers, a number of them female. In
a show of bravado, the guy said he wasn't going anywhere until this little
"bitch" got what she deserved.

He lumbered towards her and several of us stepped between them to intercept
him.

"Look pal, either leave the beach now or we'll call the cops and they can deal
with you," one guy said.

"That's right," a woman I took to be his wife added, "I'll tell them what
happened. I heard what you said and saw what you did to her. You got what you
deserved."

"Yeah, come on buddy, you really think we're going to stand around and watch
you beat up on a teenage girl? You can't be that dumb."

At this point, the girl spoke up. In all the excitement and commotion, she had
been momentarily ignored. At the sound of her voice, everyone turned to look
at her. She still had her fists clenched, arms bent at the elbow. She looked
like she was ready to continue this.

"I said I can take care of myself. I don't need any help. Just make sure his
friends don't jump me and I can fight my own battles."

An middle-aged woman, in a motherly tone of voice advised her to just walk
away.

"It's only a blouse, dear, it's not worth risking getting hurt over."

At this stage, the girl's expression changed to one of exasperation, the one
most teenagers have down pat. It was almost as if she arguing with her own
mother about a curfew time or something like that.

"Look, the only person who's risking getting hurt is this idiot, if he doesn't
fork over the money for that shirt. I just bought it yesterday. It was
expensive and today was the first time I've worn it. He grabbed me, and he
ripped it, and he's going to pay for it even if I have to make him do it."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," said another woman. To the buffoon, she
said "why don't you just give the girl some money for the blouse and be done
with it? It was your fault it got torn, after all."

"Shut up, you fat slut," he slurred, "I'm not giving her anything except the
ass-kicking she deserves."

This guy was showing what a jerk he truly was, and now the husband of the
woman he'd just insulted started making his own threats to him. The girl spoke
up again, this time more forcefully.

"STOP IT! All of you. I told you, I don't need anyone's help. I fight my own
fights. Please. Thank you all for your concern, but I would rather deal with
this myself. And I can, just give us some room and leave us alone to settle
it."

It was the oddest situation I think I've ever been in. Everyone was completely
taken aback by this brazen teenager's insistence on dealing with this guy
herself. I'm sure we were all thinking the same thing, that there was
something quite wrong about standing by idly while a full-grown (at least in
the physical sense) adult male fought a teenage girl. And yet, that appeared
to be what was about to take place.

A more organized circle now formed and a bunch of guys bunched up close to
where the guy's two friends stood. They seemed completely at a loss. Obviously
there was no way they could intercede, considering all the guys standing there
ready to prevent them from doing so. Also, they shouldn't have to come to
their buddy's aid in a fight with a girl who couldn't be more than 17 or 18 at
most, perhaps even younger.

Satisfied they weren't going to jump into the fight, I turned my attention to
the two combatants. I had noticed the lean, athletic look the girl possessed
as I'd watched her walking down the beach, then fending off the guy's advances
and finally knocking him down with her flurry of kicks and punches. But I'd
been quite a few yards away when that had taken place. Now, seeing her at a
much closer range, I could see she was more muscular than I'd first thought.
She wasn't huge, in the bodybuilder sense, but everywhere she was cut and
defined. Her arms and legs looked hard an dense and her abdominal muscles
formed a picture-perfect six pack.

She stood in stark contrast to her opponent who, while a fairly big guy, had
no real muscle definition to speak of, other than his arms, and even they
looked somewhat on the soft side contrasted with her firm, tight limbs. It was
easier to make a comparison now that they were facing each other and both had
their fists raised. The guy wasn't tall, maybe 5'8, 5'9 but because of his
bulk, I'd place his weight around 180 or maybe a bit higher. The girl on the
other hand, several inches shorter, couldn't have been more than 125 - 130 at
most.

As before, the guy started out by talking, saying she'd caught him by surprise
with those fancy kicks but now that he was ready, she was going to see what it
felt like to... but that's about as far as he got before she snapped her left
arm out and boinked him on the nose with a crisp jab, followed up immediately
by a second. She feinted another jab, got him to go for it, then landed a
beauty of a right on his jaw that stopped him for a second and allowed her to
send an overhand left into his eye, which started bleeding as well. It wasn't
gushing, but more of a steady drip. I knew from my own boxing experience that
this would be a problem, especially without anyone to try and stop the cut up.

Meanwhile, she'd gone back to work on his nose with that relentless,
incredibly fast left jab and, after peppering it a few more times, blood began
to ooze from that orifice as well. As before, the guy was hurting and went to
cover up his face, leaving his big gut wide open. She hit him with a couple of
straight punches, hard ones that had all her weight behind them and that was
all it took to drop him to his hands and knees.

I'd seen how she could kick and knew that, if she chose, she could have wasted
him right then and there, probably knocking him out cold. Instead she stood
back, watching the guy's face drip blood onto the sand as he fought to get
enough air to keep breathing. I followed combat sports pretty closely, and now
had a pretty good idea that I was looking at an accomplished young kickboxer.
I had no idea who she was, but at that point, I'd have been willing to bet
money that I had her background pegged.

"Had enough?" she taunted, "Ready to pay up now?"

Still huffing and puffing, the guy said nothing. I don't think he could really
talk much at that point anyway. But he did manage to get to his feet and
rushed at her, trying to clinch her into a bear hug. She nimbly avoided him
and now gave added credence to my theory about her fighting training as she
started peppering the guy's legs and stomach with a series of quick kicks and
knees. He began swinging his fists wildly and one of his looping, roundhouse
shots actually caught her in the side of the head. However, she showed she had
the ability to take a punch and easily shook it off, resuming her
leg-propelled attack.

I was impressed with the beauty and grace of her movements, and the look of
her lean, muscular legs as she peppered this guy with blows from them. I could
see her calve muscles and tendons flexing in a muscular symphony as she
bounced lightly on her feet, keeping her balance and continuing her assault.
The fight was, and really had been from the get-go, a totally one-sided
affair. The big ox just couldn't get anywhere near her, at least not without
taking more punishment than he could stand. She was now backing him up,
forcing him to run away from her.

Suddenly she stopped, dropped back a few steps and waited. He took the respite
and clutched at his ribs, which were going to sore and bruised for quite some
time, based on the number of hard shots they'd received from her
powerful-looking legs. Again, she gave him the chance to forfeit, pay her the
cost of the new shirt he'd ripped and end this one-sided massacre. I know I
would have accepted the offer. I'd done some boxing, and was taking karate
classes, but I wouldn't have wanted to go up against this girl. Between her
lightning fast hands and the brutal power of her legs, I don't thing I would
have lasted much longer than her hapless opponent had.

Still, this guy wasn't me and in addition to his total lack of class, he
clearly wasn't very bright, either. Letting out a loud roar, he charged at her
again but this time, she neither evaded nor struck him. Instead she simply
turned her hip into his body, hooked an arm around his neck and sent him
crashing onto the beach. Unbelievably, he got up and tried it again with the
same result, except this time he didn't get up.

The girl stood over him, barely breathing any harder than she would have
normally, hands on her hips and a look of pure confidence on her face.

"You're no good at boxing and it doesn't look like you know much about judo
either, so I suggest you give up. I could keep hitting you, or throwing you
but I'm afraid you'd really get hurt. And from what I've seen, you're just the
kind of loser that would go after me in court for money. I'm pretty sure you
don't have much...right?"

He didn't answer, or even look up. Coughing and spitting sand out of his
mouth, he cursed and tried to get to his hands and knees. She put her foot
into his ribs and pushed hard, causing him to cry out in pain and keel him
over on his side.

"I asked you a question. Do you have much money? Answer me when I talk to you
or I'll kick you in the ribs again. You want me to do that?"

Again, no response. She placed her foot against the side of his chest.

"Well? Do you?"

"No, don't," he pleaded.

"Then answer me. Do you have very much money?"

"No," he replied miserably.

"I thought so. What do you do for a living? Do you even have a job"

"N-no," he said, after a long pause.

"Right, unemployed. Somehow I just knew it. Well between you and your two, you
better be able to come up with thirty-five dollars, because that's how much
that shirt cost. It's made from the best cotton there is, and I plan on buying
another one to replace it today. So, what's it going to be? You paying, or do
I have to squeeze it out of you?"

The expression "squeeze it out" is common enough, and bore no special
significance for me at the time. However, I was soon to realize that it was
more than a mere colloquialism when she said it.

"I've only got forty bucks," he protested.

"Well I only want $35, so there's no problem. Right?" she said, punctuating
the word right with another prod of her foot into his ribcage.

He cried out in pain again, but continued to display a lack of good judgment
by telling her, "I ain't giving you a fuckin' thing, bitch."

"Hey!" she yelled, "watch you mouth. There's children here."

And there were, too. Families, couples of varying ages, groups of young girls
and guys, a few seniors...it was a typical cross section of people you'd find
at the beach

"Too fucking bad. They can fuck off and so can you."

"Ok, you loser. It's time for you to shut up, and pay up. Let's see if you
know anything about wrestling. At least that way I don't have to worry about
leaving any incriminating marks on you. Come on wimp, get up and let's see
what you've got," she taunted, poking him with her foot again.

Considering I'd just watched this much smaller, though obviously much more fit
and skilled, teenager destroy this guy in a fight, I might not have been too
surprised by what came next. But I was. Actually, wrestling was not my game.
I'd done a bit in high school, just as part of gym class and never really
cared for it.

Watching her fight with her fists, I was somewhat preoccupied in admiring her
skill and technique. But now, I had no idea what she was about to do. As it
turned out, her idea of wrestling was nothing like the high school variety I
knew of. She backed off, waiting while her "opponent" got up. Then she held
her arms up, cupping her hands and beckoning him towards her. Still thinking
he had some kind of chance now that she'd decided to stop striking him, and
obviously forgetting about the two times she'd thrown him over her hip
earlier, he came at her again. This time, she took him by the wrist sent him
over her shoulder. Holding onto his arm, she manouvered him onto his side and
quickly snapped her legs around his head. His left arm was pinned down by
their combined weight and his right was now being twisted straight back behind
him into a painful-looking lock that put his elbow joint in a very
compromising position. With both her arms free, it was easy to see she could
snap his arm like it was a twig. However she didn't, just held it in that
dangerous position and began to tighten her legs around his head.

As hard as her legs had looked earlier when she was on her feet, they now
seemed even more impressive as she flexed them, applying what had to be
crushing pressure to this guy's skull. I was astonished watching her relax
them, then pour on the pressure, relax, flex, relax, flex...in no time at all,
she had him moaning in pain. Completely helpless, he could do nothing to
defend himself from her vice-like hold. She was merciless too, not giving him
a second's respite. She just continued to squeeze, relax, then squeeze some
more and, from the expression on her face, gave every indication she could
keep it up for as long as she wanted.

"You had enough, loser?" she taunted, "ready to give up?"

No one could make out his response as her grip was so tight on him, he
couldn't even form proper words.

"I can't hear you," she continued, as she continued to apply pressure with her
legs. "Come on, let me hear you submit, wimp!"

Finally, she relaxed enough for him to speak.

"Ok, ok, you win," he groaned, "I'll give you the money, just let me go."

"Let you go? Heck, no. We're just getting started. You had your chance to end
this. But no, you had to act like a jerk and now you're going to pay for it
and I'm not just talking about the money. I want you to apologize, admit I'm
stronger than you, and a better fighter. And," and now her face broke into a
broad grin, "I'm going to make you kiss my feet, in front of all these people.
You hear me, loser?"

"Nooo, no way."

"Ha-ha, yes way. I can either squeeze it out of you..." And with that, she
clamped down hard with her legs again, "or I might just break your weak little
arm instead."

She began to bend his arm back even further, and now his moans and groans
turned into shrieks of pain and terror.

"No, please, please don't. You're breaking my arm! Stop, stop!"

"Oh quit being such a baby. You wanted to fight me so come on, show me
something wimp. Let's see what a big man you are. Or are you ready to admit
who's tougher?"

She gave his arm a couple more tugs and asked him again if he was going to do
as he was told. She had the tone of a parent disciplining a misbehaving child.

"Please, please," he pleaded with her, "I said I'll give you the money. Don't
break my arm...please."

"Who's the winner?"

"You are!"

"So, are you ready to do what I tell you?"

He hesitated, then began to plead with her again.

"Please..." he sounded like he as practically in tears now, "please stop. I
give up. You win."

She said nothing, but bent his arm back even further.

"You submit to me?"

"Yes," he answered miserably, "I submit. Please, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you're sorry all right," she laughed. "But sorry's not going to cut it.
You promise to obey me?"

His arm at the breaking point, he had no choice.

"Please, I promise, please."

"What? what do you promise?"

"To...to o-obey you."

"Yeah," she laughed with a satisfied-sounding chuckle, "the champion!"

She didn't put any more pressure on his elbow, confirming my suspicion that
his arm was close to snapping. In fact, she loosened her grip on it somewhat
and held it easily with just one of her own arms. With the other she brought
her fist up in a biceps flex. I couldn't believe the muscle that arose,
seemingly out of nowhere. I mean, her arms were definitely big for a girl her
size, and looked hard as stone but I wasn't prepared for the size of the peak
that rose up when she flexed it. There was an audible gasp from some of the
onlookers, and one little boy, maybe ten years old said, "Look Mommy, look at
how big her arm is. It's bigger than daddy's."

There were a few chuckles and the girl, in complete control of the bruised and
beaten buffoon she had put into a state of helpless submission, added to his
humiliation by inviting the boy to come and feel it.

"Can I Mommy?" he asked hopefully.

She sounded doubtful. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please," he asked again.

"It's ok ma'am," the girl spoke up, "this guy's not going anywhere. He's
finished, aren't you loser?"

Her victim said nothing. He couldn't move or resist in anyway. He was clearly
defenceless. The boy, and his younger sister came over and, as she flexed her
arm even harder, felt the rock-like lump and yelled, "Mom, it feels just like
my baseball. Only...harder." His sister felt it too and nodded in agreement.
They squealed in delight and ran back to their mother.

"Ok, I think it's time to put an end to this so-called "fight". I'm going to
give you one last chance, wimp. You either kiss my feet and beg me for mercy
right now, or I'm going to show you what these legs can really do. I haven't
even used more than fifty percent of my strength yet. So, what about it? Ready
to get on your knees and beg?"

Unbelievably, the guy still wouldn't agree to her demands.

"Fine, You asked for it," and with that, she crunched down on his head with
her legs again. This time there was no flex, relax motion, just a relentless,
brutal squeeze. The guy wasn't moving at all at first, then twitched slightly
a few times and was absolutely still. Still holding his arm, this time in a
jui jitsu style wrist lock, the girl pulled her legs from around his head and
got to her feet. She prodded the guy with her foot but he didn't even flinch.
He was unconscious...out cold!

Some of the onlookers began to make concerned-sounding comments and wondered
aloud if an ambulance should be called. The girl only laughed in response.

"Don't worry folks, he'll come around in a few seconds."

Sure enough, as she stood holding his wrist in her locking hold, her foot
casually resting on his chest, he began to stir and make a sort of snoring
sound. Finally he began to breath normally, blinked his eyes a few times and
looked up to see her looming over him. Giving his wrist a sharp twist, she
made him cry out in pain again. Satisfied he was awake enough, she made him
get to his feet, but kept him bent over. Using her hold as a "come-along", she
marched him over to where his stuff was. Sure enough, his buddies had long
since split. He rummaged around in his bag with his one free hand and came up
with his wallet. He handed it to her.

"There's forty dollars in there. Take it all."

She opened it and told him to pull out the bills. Snatching them out of his
hand, she stuffed the money into her shorts, then grabbed the now cash-less
wallet and tossed it into his bag.

"Ok, that's the money for the shirt you ruined. That's part one. Now on to
part two. You want mercy? Sure, but it's going to cost you. You know what I
want. Ready to kiss my feet and beg for it?"

"No, please, no."

"Sorry, wrong answer loser."

She twisted his arm, forcing him down to his knees, then over onto his back.
Casually resting her foot on his chest, she said, "Unless you want me to break
your wrist right now," she told him while moving her foot up to his face, you
better start kissing it."

He was practically screaming in agony, and instantly complied with her demand.
His humiliation was complete. Everyone watching began to chuckle as she
casually held the sole of her shoe over his face, her heel resting just below
his chin while he pressed his lips to it. She made him keep his mouth there,
then pulled her foot away and forced him over onto his stomach. Ordering him
to his knees, she made him beg her for mercy and bend over to kiss the tops of
her sneakers. Satisfied, she pulled her foot away and pressed it against his
neck, forcing his face into the sand. At this point his voice was a
half-whine, half-sob. He was groveling at her feet, pure and simple.

"Please, please" he pleaded, "let me up."

"Up? Hmmm, that's an interesting idea. You want up? Sure, why not?"

By this stage, I thought I'd seen it all. But this girl was full of surprises,
and she wasn't through yet. She kept hold of his wrist and brought him over
onto his knees, then up on his feet. I couldn't believe how beat up this guy
looked. His face was beet red, and caked with dried blood. There were big
purple bruises forming on his abdomen and thighs from her kicks and punches.
His eyes were half-closed and one was nearly swollen shut. He looked as though
he could barely stand. If this had been a fight between two guys, it likely
would have been broken up long ago but, because it was a much smaller, younger
girl doing it, everyone seemed stunned into inaction. No one said anything as
she pulled his arm over her neck, reached down between his legs and lifted him
up on her shoulders in a fireman's carry. She seemed to hold him effortlessly,
despite the 50 or so pound weight difference. Then, demonstrating her absolute
control of him, she started spinning around. After several turns, she dumped
him onto the sand. He let out a grunt and he landed and moaned in pain.

"So, did you like being up better than down?" she asked, laughing.

"Noo-oo, no more."

"But I thought you wanted to be up," she said, feigning mock innocence.

Once again, she hauled him to his feet, this time by his hair and hoisted him
onto her shoulders again. She demonstrated her incredible power by squatting
several times with him draped over her shoulders. Following that display, she
put on another show of power. After spinning the guy around a few more times,
she place one hand on his chest, the other on his stomach and literally lifted
him straight up a few inches, bent her head down and threw him several feet
away. He landed in a very awkward-looking way this time, as though he'd been
unable to break his fall in any way. I don't think he could help himself...he
just curled into a fetal position and began to sob like a child.

Still, she wasn't finished with him. Hauling him roughly to his feet by his
hair, she further humiliated him by telling him to stop his crying and calling
him a big baby. She went to let him go, but he began to collapse, so she held
him up, got around behind him and bent down, getting her arms around his
waist. I saw her calves and the muscles in the sides of her legs bulge to huge
proportions, as she lifted him off his feet in a crushing bear hug. He no
longer had enough air to cry, and actually seemed like he couldn't even
breathe, as she easily held him aloft. Soon the guy began to cough violently,
making it difficult for her to hold on to him. She set him back on his feet
and quickly crouched down, this time putting wrapping her arms around his
knees. In one single, powerful motion, she stood up, balancing him over her
shoulder. The guy looked totally out of it and was barely moving or making any
sound at all and she kept him in place with just one arm securely help around
his thighs. She raised her other into a biceps flex, and again I looked on
with disbelief, as a the big, round ball of muscle appeared that made her arm
look as though it had instantly doubled in size.

Her face was creased into a broad smile, one of total triumph and superiority
and she strutted around, holding her victim over her shoulder and posing for
the kids.

"See what I told you?" she said, addressing all of us, "I didn't need any
help, did I?"

Someone started it and we all, instantly, broke into spontaneous applause. She
grinned even harder as she accepted our show of tribute. As the clapping died
down, she began to manouver her human cargo into a position across both her
shoulders, so he was spread out across her neck and upper back.

"I need to go home and take a long, hot shower to get this loser's stink off
me and I think he could use a wash too."

She was showing off now, playing to the crowd.

"What do you say? Should I give this guy a bath?"

Everyone knew what was coming next. She was planning to deposit this guy in
the water. Several people shouted out, encouraging her to go for it and one
truly comic moment came when an senior citizen, in a classic "granny" voice
called out "you go, girl."

Everyone began to laugh including the victorious young teen. In fact, I
thought she might have to put the guy down, but instead she controlled
herself, took a deep breath and actually began running towards the water's
edge. It wasn't a full blown run, more of a light jog, but incredibly
impressive none-the-less. Some of us followed behind. Taking a few steps into
the surf, she gave one more display of her awesome strength, as she literally
pressed the guy over her head. Her tapered back exploded into a relief map of
muscle, looking like an anatomy chart come to life, as she threw her
demolished victim into the ocean, capping off the most one-sided, humbling
fight I'd ever witnessed in my life. Not hesitating a second, she waded over,
lifted him up enough to get her arm around his chest and dragged him back to
the water's edge, where he lay sputtering as the waves lapped over him. Then
she turned, gave a quick wave and trotted off down the beach, her magnificent,
muscular legs and glutes flexing with each stride. As the group on onlookers
gathered around, excitedly discussing what they'd just witnessed, I casually
ambled back to where the first begun. Spying what I was looking, I glanced
around. No one noticed as I picked her torn shirt and stuffed it into my own.
I still have it...a treasured momento of one of the most thrilling days of my
life.