Jazzmon and the Stalker
I do not engage in any sexual activity in my sessions. I'm currently available for sessions in fist fighting, bellypunching, semi-competitive and fantasy wrestling, domination, fantasy boxing, and lifts and carries. I can be reached at jradford@sprynet.com or at ** 407-331-2824 or 407-963-5222 or 954-242-1900.

I opened my paper this morning and the stalker/rapist made the front page
for the twentieth time this month. He would stalk women without them
knowing it, find out their routines, then prey on them. The police seemed
not to care, or were very slack in their work. His MO was that he desired
blonde women, around 5'3" tall. His description was around 6'2" and between
190 and 215 pounds. He had slightly graying hair, was unshaven, with a
nasty looking mouth. He would put you in mind of the guy in Oz, the program
on HBO about prison that is a weekly series. The guy who took a lawyer and
turned him into his bitch. The stalker had begun to enter my dreams. Each
of his victims had to be hospitalized for at least a month. He had no
mercy. He had to be stopped, so I was going after him. The attacks took
place in the woods near our community. He would abduct his victims and
carry them there. I knew that I was not the type of woman he chose, but I
made even the gay men take notice of me.

I showered, lotion my skin, and put on a tube top and a pair of cutoff
jeans. My first stop was Home Depot where I bought two chrome chains. Next
stop, Eagle Army and Navy store. I purchased a pair of pants, and a too
small tee shirt. A bandanna and a knife with a fancy scabbard. Two straps
with M-16 shells, a belt, and a rope. I picked up a pair of army boots. I
took all of this to a friend who owns a shoe repair shop. I had him to
replace the heels of the boots with spike heels. He was good at altering my
shoes and clothes to my specifics. I had to have the waistline of the pants
taken in also. I had him take out the cheeks in the seat of the pants into
T backs, the kind that dancers wear. Believe it or not, I started that
design.

He ran numbers, and I did his collections for him from the idiots who didn't
pay when it was due. One hand washes the other as the old saying goes. "I
need a favor, Slugger" (Slugger was the nickname that he had given me) "I
have a guy who owes me ten thousand dollars, what do you say?" "Anything
for you, James" I replied. He handed me the necessary information on the
guy, where to find him, his habits. "Be careful, he packs. Wear the last
pair of boots I made for you with that tight black leather outfit you have
that looks like you were poured into it. Your things will be ready by
morning."
James had been in Special Forces in the Army. If his team failed or was
captured, the government would deny their existence, and their bodies would
just sit and rot. Their poor families would be told that they were missing
in action, therefore no pension or anything.

I drove home in my Acura NSX black on black, dark tinted windows. I love
that car as much as my Harley. Tonight I would use the black Firebird with
the double limo tint. After I stuck the key in the door and pushed it open,
I could tell that someone had been there. I checked the hall, the kitchen,
the 4 closets, the 4 bathrooms and the loft. Maybe it was only my
imagination. I walked into the master bathroom and drew a bath, pouring
extra bubble bath into the water. As the water ran, I walked into my huge
walk-in closet and hit a button on the wall behind my hat rack. A vault
opened. It was full of weapons, clothing, and whatever kind of equipment
you could think of, including my black Harley Davidson, dressed in chrome.
It had a side car that could be attached. The saddle bags were hanging on
the left of the wall. My black leather pants and jacket that James referred
to as looking like I was poured into it, was hanging next to the Harley.
The jacket was specially tailored to fit me, to fit over my traps, my wide
back, broad shoulders, biceps, triceps, narrow waist, and most of all, my
chest. The jacket was intentionally made to zip up only half way showing
off my out of this world cleavage. I had it and I flaunted it. My pants
had zippers up each leg that stopped at the waist. This was the only way I
could get my huge quads and narrow waist into them. Now, my boots were a
different story. Spike heels, and a knife that protruded out when I stomped
them on the ground. A girl has to make sure that she has extra protection.
You never know when going to collect if there would be one or twenty five
men to deal with. I even had a wrist band on the right side of my jacket
that ejected a knife. The wrist band on the left carried a small pistol,
just enough to slow down a body or two while I beat the crap out of the
others.

My bath awaited me. The walls of my bathroom were covered with mirrors. I
began pinning my hair up as I watched my movement in the mirrors. As my
shorts dropped to the floor, I flexed my quads. "Not bad" I thought. Then
I slipped off my top, admiring my shoulders, traps, flat belly, and last but
not least, my cleavage. I flexed my biceps and triceps as I admired myself
in the mirror. I slowly moved toward the tub and stuck my toe into the
water to see if the water was comfortable. I lowered my body into the
water, the mounds of muscle almost made the water overflow the sides of my
double tub. I soaked in the tub and studied the file. I finished soaking,
and got out of the tub and dried off. I put my hair in one long braid,
hanging down my back. I carefully applied my makeup, and the got dressed in
the black leather outfit that James said looked like I was poured in to. It
was becoming a struggle to get the pants on over my quads because they had
gotten bigger since I had bought the outfit. Without the zippers that ran
all the way up to the waist it would have been impossible. The jacket
sleeves were filled with my biceps, and my breasts caused it to jut out. My
rippling abs were clearly visible underneath the open jacket. I was ready
to go. I craved action since I had not had any for quite a while. I went
down to the garage and got in the black Firebird. The leather was so tight,
I had difficulty getting into the car. I checked the time, it was ten
o'clock. I opened the garage door and pulled out. As the garage door
closed behind me, I went over in my mind the information in the file. Big
Jim his name was, and he was a compulsive gambler. He owned a string of
successful bars and dance clubs, so he should have had plenty of money to
pay James.

The drive took longer that I thought, and by the time I found Big Jim's
office and parked the car, it was near midnight. I could now move much more
freely as the leather had loosened up during the drive.
I could see Big Jim through a window, sitting behind his desk. From
everything in the file about him, there was a good chance that I would have
to beat the money out of him. That was fine with me. I was definitely
ready for some action, I had not had any for a while, as I said before. Big
Jim's office was on the third floor, in a old building with no elevators. I
heard steps, someone was coming down the stairs. Looking up, I noticed it
was one of the men in the photo with Big Jim that was in the file. He spoke
as he passed me. When I got to the third floor, I gave him a few minutes to
leave before I tried to enter the office. I have found that it is easier to
collect from people if they are alone, without an audience. When they are
around their peers, they feel as if they have to be tough guys. To save
face, they would tell me to go fuck myself, which always resulted in a nasty
fight. I always won, of course, that is why I am still collecting for
James. I have never lost a fight in my life. I am not sure if Jim is alone
or not. One man was gone, or at least I thought he was.

I knocked on the door and a husky voice came from behind it asking "Who is
it?" "I am a friend of James" I answered. The door opened and a man about
6'1" stood there. I knew his height, because I am 6'1" in my heels and we
were about eyeball to eyeball. Big Jim looked up at me with a smile on his
face saying, "What a impressive looking woman you are. How do you know
James, and why would your being a friend of his mean we have any business
together?" "This is a personal matter." I replied. "Could we have some
privacy?" "This is all the privacy that anyone ever gets when I'm taking
care of business. So, tell me what it is you want, and ignore old Lenny
over there. Have a seat" I thanked him and refused to take a seat, at the
same time extending my hand toward him as a gesture of good faith. I could
tell why James called him Big Jim. Behind the desk sat a 5'10" fat slob.
"Well little lady, and from the looks of you that is a definite
understatement isn't it?" I replied, "Well, you could say that, and I can
see why they call you Big Jim." I smiled at him. "I am James' collection
officer. Maybe you changed you mind about paying him the money you owe, so
I am here to help you make the right decision." Lenny began to laugh out
loud. "What in the hell can you do to make the boss change his mind
beside---" Big Jim cut him off. "Lenny, be quiet and let me handle this."
I spoke, "Look Jim, may I call you Jim? You owe James the money and I'm
here to collect it, so what will it be? We can do this the easy way or the
hard way." Big Jim said "Go back and tell James I want to know what he was
thinking when he sent a woman to try to collect his money from me, Big Jim."
He stood up and walked around his desk. Lenny was still standing off to
the side. With rage in his voice, Big Jim began to instruct Lenny to throw
me out of the office, slapping me at the same time. As Lenny moved toward
me, the back of Big Jim's hand landed on my right jaw, knocking me to the
floor. My body rolled across the floor, bumping against the wall bringing
it to a stop. Jim was yelling at Lenny "Get that bitch out of here!" Lenny
reached down grabbing me by my open jacket as it exposed my breasts. Lenny
pulled me to my feet as Big Jim turned to walk to his desk. An elbow in
Lenny's stomach caused him to release my jacket as gasped for air. Moving
as fast as I could toward Big Jim, I kicked him in the butt as Lenny
approached me again from my right side. I thrust upward and forward,
knocking him to the floor with a lethal punch with my left fist to his
belly. He was once again gasping for air as he wrapped his arms around his
wounded stomach, puking this time around. As I looked in Big Jim's
direction I saw him pulling open the drawer to his desk and taking out a
knife. He turned back in my direction, not realizing that I was in kicking
distance. As he stepped toward me, I brought my foot up and kicked his
wrist causing the knife to drop to the floor. Before he could recover, I
swiftly took two steps toward him and began slamming my left fist into his
face. His eyes stretched wide open for a split second. Before he could
defend himself I came from my left with a powerful hook that landed next to
his mouth. He spit out a broken tooth with a little blood on to the floor.
While Lenny was trying to recover, the door opened and another man walked
in. He stood about six feet even as near as I could tell. Like a flash of
lightning I pivoted toward Big Jim bringing my fist forward in an uppercut
making a connection under his chin, knocking him backward against the wall.
The third man ran at me gritting his teeth. I turned toward him as he ran
at me, knowing I had to move fast. I braced against the desk and threw both
feet up. My kick made a powerful impact on his scrotum, right on target
causing him to collapse on the floor. Lenny began to pull his body into a
nearby chair. Big Jim had recovered his knife and charged at me with it in
his hand. He was swinging it wildly and I ducked under it coming up with a
bellypunch from hell, causing him to drop the knife. I then sent a
combination left-right bellypunch to his tummy.
Big Jim began to gag and struggle to breathe. I quickly looked over my
shoulder to see that Lenny and the third man were still trying to pull
themselves together. I looked back at Big Jim. I knew the best way for me
to put him down was gutting him with my rock hard fist. I began to work on
his belly, turning it into hamburger meat as I rammed my fists upward into
his belly with combination bellypunching. After the eighth punch he finally
went to his knees as he vomited what I estimated to be a half bucket of
blood as it splattered over my clothes. I approached him again and slammed
my hook into his jaw. The bone gave way under the power of the punch. He
tumbled over on the floor as more blood splashed from his mouth from the
combination of the eight punches to his belly and his broken jaw. Over and
over I punched him in his right jaw with my iron left fist. As I disfigured
Big Jim's face, Lenny came running up behind me, grabbing my neck with his
right hand. I bent my knees and snapped my foot back into his groin which
caused him to release his hold. Lenny began to grab himself and I spun
around quickly with a right cross which caught him on the nose. Blood
started to flow out of it as his eyes began to tear. Lenny looked as if he
didn't know whether to continue to cover his private area or cover his
busted nose. I pushed him up with my left hand on his shoulder and twisted
to the right, pivoting once again with an uppercut as hard as I could
manage. My fist hit him under the chin and continued upward, over my head,
as Lenny's head flew back, and his hands flew up, all in reaction to my
savage uppercut. That left his poor stomach unprotected which gave me even
more reason to bury my left fist in his belly. His head flying back as I
hit him with the uppercut, the as I hit him in his stomach caused him to
bend forward in a jerking motion, with blood rolling over his lips is a
funny sight. He dropped to his knees and I stopped in my tracks as the
third man was back on his feet. I swung around to face him and he threw up
his hands saying "No more, please, no more!" as he looked at Big Jim on the
floor on his left side with the open wound ripped open by my hard fist on
his destroyed face and Lenny on his knees again. He asked me what I wanted.
"I am here to collect the money that your boss owes James. Do you have
any idea what I am referring to?" I said as I began shaking my fist at him.
He walked over to his boss to help him and try to stop the blood which was
coming from the open wound on his right jaw from my punching him over and
over after knocking him to the floor. The knife was right in front of me
and I squatted down and picked it up. Lenny ran at me but stopped when he
saw the knife. I ordered Lenny to step to the side of the room where Big
Jim and the third man were. As the three of them stood there all battered
and bleeding, I asked for the money once more. "I'm tired and I have blood
all over my clothes. My jacket is ripped and I'm standing here soaked in
blood from the three of you! I'm not in the best of moods, so hand over the
money!" Big Jim pointed at the safe and instructed the third man to open it
as he mumbled the combination through his shattered jaw. After the safe was
opened, I walked toward it with the man who opened it backing away. There
was at least $150,000 in there, so I couldn't understand why Big Jim didn't
pay James what he owed him. I spoke as I replaced $130,000 in the safe.
"I'm taking what I think I should get for all the trouble that you guys have
put me through." Big Jim shuddered in anger as the words came from my lips.
I didn't really expect to get out of the building without another
confrontation with them. I picked up the gun and still holding the knife I
began to back out of the room slowly, then slamming the door shut. I turned
and ran as fast as I could down the stairs. I broke a heel on the way down,
but I didn't want to take time to take my boots off. I picked up my heel
and proceeded at a slower pace down the stairs. I felt a hand on my
shoulder. As I started to look around I felt a terrible pain in my left
jaw. The blow caused me to slip and fall. As I fell I could feel every
bump cutting into my body almost like being hit with a board over and over
again. Finally I arrived at the bottom of the stairs, but I was too hurt to
get up. I still had the money which I had stuffed into zippered pockets in
my pants. Losing the knife and gun was not too smart but at least they had
fallen down too and were not in sight. I felt pain as the guy began to pull
me to my feet. Laughing he began to pull me back up the stairs. Because of
my weight he was having a hard time, which was to my advantage.