Clash Reunion, Part 2
By Merz
What Happened After the Clashes in the Dark

CHAPTER 4: A STONE COLD WOMAN RECOVERS FROM BOXING

I'd forgotten that one reason I built myself into what I am now was so I could take 
a good beating and come back for more.  It's been a while since I needed to take 
one -- since I ran up against anyone who could even put on a good show trying.  
But tonight I got myself a beauty.

I inhaled deeply just to feel how much my ribs hurt.  God, it hurt all the way from 
my nose to my cunt when I did that.  Exhale and do it again, just to feel that 
stifling pain.  It made me hot, feeling the power of pain working its way through 
me.  I hadn't felt anything like it since maybe a year before I got out, when some 
bitch took a pick handle to me.  Then I was able to breathe deep like this and let 
the pain blend in with her screams when I paid her back later that night.  No 
payback this time.  I had to just take my beating and make the most of it myself.

My gut was tender, bruised on the outside over the muscles.  Nothing really hurt 
deep inside but I felt queasy from things getting shaken up so much from all 
those punches.  I ran my hand down over my stomach just to light up every one 
of the bruises, then I let them light me up.  The first punch hadn't hurt much when 
it landed there, or the tenth.  About the twentieth time she ducked inside and fired 
off half a dozen hard shots above my belt I could feel she was working her way 
through to me, firing them off in about two seconds each time and gradually 
chipping her way through everything I had built to take care of myself there.

I ran my hand down over the bruised midsection again and then let it run on 
down between my legs where I could feel the slow fire building and smoldering 
from all those little points of pain.  I rubbed my mound just once, a little promise 
to really take care of myself as soon as I got back to my room.  I put on the 
trench coat and started toward the door.  When I went past the garbage can I spit 
out the bloody cloth and ran my tongue over my teeth.  They hurt, too, and some 
of them rocked a little when my tongue passed over them.  This was a sharper 
pain than what I was feeling all over my body.  I didn't touch my nose where she 
had slammed me a couple of good ones because I knew that would hurt so much 
I wouldn't be able to keep my hands out of my crotch, and I wanted to wait until I 
got back to my room for that.

"Oh, my God!  You poor thing!"  Honeycutt.  Honeycutt and one of his Ivy League 
thugs were waiting in the empty basement.  My skin crawled as he stepped close 
to take a good look at what was left of my face.  There was no sign of Marlowe, 
but when I didn't see him by the ring right after the fight I figured the shark had 
got him.  I doubted Marlowe had enough savvy to even realize he was part of the 

food chain before she got him, but so it goes.  "Who all did she have helping her 
to do this after the lights went out?  I never trusted that bitch, and this time she's 
going to pay."  Like she needed anyone else, or like I couldn't have taken care of 
myself if she had gotten one inch away from the stupid rulebook so I could have 
done the same. "Please, let me help.  Let's get you back to my hotel and see 
what we can do about all this."  

I'm just a bottom feeder, not anyone a shark would be interested in without a 
good reason, but it made sense to swim near Honeycutt for a while just in case.  
He was the big fish, the whale, the one who called Marlowe's tune and could 
keep bad news away.  Like making a firefighter who could testify about arson 
disappear with no follow up investigations.  Until I got out of this town it might be 
safer to swim alongside him for a while.

Honeycutt put his hand on my arm, like he was going to give me a little support 
and guidance.  Other men have made the same move.  It's their way of feeling 
me up.  They may have seen what's underneath the jacket but they can't really 
believe it until they touch it.  He stared at the sleeve where he was trying to hold 
it, because he couldn't believe how little of it he could get his hand around.   I let 
him go for another second before shrugging him off.  He had that look like men 
get just before they shoot their wad, and I didn't want to have that going on in 
front of me here.  But if the big fish wants to take care of me I'll swim along for a 
while until it's safe to move back to the bottom.

I followed him to his car and we sat in back.  He was getting off on riding back 
there touching shoulders with me in the backseat, but he didn't try anything.  Not 
yet, but I knew it was coming.  We stopped by a hospital to get the bleeding 
stopped in my mouth and see what could be done about my nose, and that 
added half an hour to the trip.  When we got to his room he turned to the thug.  
"Meet me here about eight tomorrow.  I may have a cleaning job for you, before 
housekeeping comes around."  They exchanged a funny little look and the thug 
headed off down the hall.

"Please, let me take your coat.  I have something to take away the pain, if this all 
feels as bad as it looks."  Once we were inside he was being smooth and 
sophisticated with me, holding out his hands to accept the lady's wrap, making 
me feel at home.  

"Nah, no pills.  I don't like to do drugs and it probably looks worse than it is."  It 
was mostly superficial, just some bruising from getting a first class lesson from 
someone who knew how to use a pair of boxing gloves.  Bare knuckled she 
would have ripped me to shreds and left me a bloody mess if she didn't break her 
fists on my head.  Bare knuckled I might have stood a chance of doing the same 
to her instead of just being taken to school.  I let him wait for it a moment longer, 
then slowly peeled off the long raincoat.  I thought he was going to faint when 
they came out for him, but he kept his hands to himself for now.  Very genteel, a 
perfect gentleman who just happened to want to explore every inch of my arms 
with his tongue.

"Then let me offer you a drink, and an icepack for your face.  I saw you damaged 
one of her eyes, but she wasn't able to do the same to you.  Your jaw is swelling, 
though, and the ice will help."

"She didn't want to hit my eyes.  She says she'd never do that in a boxing match 
but she managed to hit me everywhere else she wanted to.  Do you have a 
beer?  Something cold, but any hard stuff would be a little tough to get down right 
now."  I stood relaxed and let him pretend he wasn't staring, wasn't praying I'd 
put on a show with the arms for him.  He finally gave up and took my coat to the 
closet, then went to the little refrigerator behind the bar.

I walked out onto his terrace and looked at the city lights.  If the shark had 
swallowed up Marlowe I was probably out of a job and might not get paid for 
tonight.  There'd be some openings when the news got out, but it wouldn't be 
easy moving over to any of Marlowe's competition back home when they started 
scrambling for his turf.  To them I was part of his operation with a lot of grudges 
among the little fish against someone like me.  It was probably time to move on, 
maybe try moving up off the bottom.  My timing on that would have to be good, 
but maybe this was my chance.

"Here you go," Honeycutt came up behind me and touched my arm, again just 
being polite to call attention to the beer he was offering and the ice pack.  Just 
being polite and suavely getting his rocks off from just a moment's touch.  I drank 
from the foaming glass and accepted the icepack.  Time to move, and I needed a 
stake to tide me over so let's dance with Honeycutt.  I led the way back inside 
and he slid the door shut to keep out the street noise when he followed me in.

He had taken off his jacket and tie so now he was an informal big fish, playing 
host.  He had his hook baited for me so I started getting my own bait ready.  I 
took a long drink and set down my glass, then made a little show of pulling my 
shirt up a couple inches so I could scratch my gut.  That way he'd get to look at 
the stack of bricks she had been hammering her way through, and my upper arm 
would bend and move a little to give him a hint of what I was packing.  For me, it 
stoked up the fire again scratching on top of some of those bruised stomach 
muscles.   I could tell he was plenty stoked already and this almost set him 
ablaze.

"You're really spectacular.  How did Marlowe happen to find you?"  Honeycutt 
had made himself a drink and took a gulp to get himself a little more under 
control.  "Would you like to sit down?"

I followed him over to a couch and asked myself how far I was willing to take this 
thing.  Probably as far as it led.  When you live on the bottom like me you can't 
be too particular how you pick up a buck when you see one paycheck disappear.  
I didn't see myself fitting anywhere on Honeycutt's payroll, but one night's action 
might tide me over for a few days while I looked for something else.  "I found him, 
he didn't find me.  A friend I met inside suggested I look him up and offer my 
services.  Lucky he got an opening at just that same time, and you probably 
heard about Leroy leaving town."

He noticed most of my beer was gone so he took my glass and hustled over to 
grab another.  He twisted the bottle a couple of times then finally came back over 
and handed it to me.

"Yes, Marlowe mentioned something about his employees having health 
problems.  But of course we don't talk business very often and rarely have 
opportunities like this reunion to get together.  My hands are wet and I can't get a 
grip.  Would you mind opening this one?"  

Of course they're wet.  He was sweating bullets getting up his nerve to make a 
move.  And praying I'd put on a little show twisting off the top.  I decided to oblige 
and move things along.  I really wanted to get back to my own room and soak in 
a tub after working out this burning itch my exercise had left me with.  I put the 
bottle in the crook of my arm and flexed, letting the biceps balloon around the 
cap, hard and round.  Then I looked into his eyes as I slowly twisted the bottle.  
It's a dumb move because those damn caps have pretty nasty edges that can 
chew into skin as soft as you have at your elbow, but I figured one time it would 
be worth it.  What's one more place hurting on me at this point? 

I held the bottle out to him and he scurried back behind the bar.  Honeycutt would 
have known about Marlowe's business because he was the brains behind a lot of 
it, even if nobody could prove it.  I knew that only because I'd worked with some 
to the books and spotted a pattern of threads leading his way, but there was no 
way to prove anything about anything.  He poured my glass, then ducked down 
behind the bar when he dropped something.  I've seen it before.  I had him so 
nervous he was probably lucky he didn't slosh everything out of the glass before 
he got it to me.

"You ever seen that trick?" I asked when he finally handed the glass over to me.  
I took a drink and set it down.  He sank down slowly beside me as I rubbed the 
muscle and tensed it just a bit.  He was careful not to sit too close, but his 
breathing was getting noisier.  "Want a good close look?"  Adding that sharp sting 
from the bottle cap scraping my arm got me just that much hornier, and suddenly 
I felt like I had to get some sleep soon.  I decided to get down to business with 
Honeycutt so I could get back to my own room and crash.

"I've never seen anything like you, but I've dreamed about it since I was a 
student here.  How are you feeling?  Is there anything else I can get for you?   
Another drink perhaps?"  He pushed his face closer to mine and studied me 
closely, but was still keeping his hands to himself.

"I've felt better, but I better not have anything more to drink.  So who got you 
dreaming in college?  Whoever it was, did she have anything like this?"  I flexed 
my right and admired it myself.  I had to move toward payday or I'd fall asleep in 
front of the poor piece of crap.  I'm not in show business so I haven't had a lot of 
experience putting the guns on display for anyone but myself.  Honeycutt didn't 
seem to mind as he sucked for breath and finally reached out to touch the pile, 
skin to skin.  "Not bad for the hired help, is it?  Now show me yours," and I 
reached over to start unbuttoning his shirt.  My fingers were tingling as I fumbled 
with his buttons, but when I had his chest exposed and gave it a little rub he 
ripped open the last few himself.

It wasn't like I made a decision to get my rocks off with Honeycutt instead of 
privately in my own room like I planned.  I just hurt so much that I had to do 
something fast, and I was suddenly almost asleep sitting up.  There wasn't time 
for everything so combining my satisfaction and his fantasies made some kind of 
sense.  His body wasn't anything - not fat, not thin, no definition anywhere so it 
wasn't like he turned me on at all.  Just a tool I could use for the job.  

I stood up and pulled my shirt up over my head and let it drop.  Since I got out 
there haven't been many men who have seen me like this, and I studied him for 
his reaction.  I twitched my left pec to shake up the little bell I have hanging there 
and he about fainted.  "You didn't think I had it just in the arms, did you?  I built 
the whole package."  I tensed a little to show some more definition down my 
trunk and midsection.  He stood up and reached out his trembling hand again to 
kind of rub down over my chest and gut.

Maybe he would have appreciated a few more demonstrations, but time was 
running short.  "Let's just do this," I said, then thought that wasn't the best way to 
talk if I wanted to make points with the big fish past tonight.  I started in on my 
belt, then stopped and looked at him until he did the same.  No way was this 
going to be a solo dance.  Once he had them off his prick just hung there, so 
maybe the night was going to be on me after all.

"I can't believe you're standing there in front of me," he whispered as he tossed 
his pants onto a chair.  Suddenly he threw his fist into my stomach.  I barely had 
time to tense up before it landed, and my arms had just about quit working 
because I was so sleepy.  In reflex I swung for his head but my forearm clubbed 
him instead of my fist, and I didn't seem to have any power.  He staggered, but 
didn't go down.  "I'm so sorry.  Forgive me," he started blubbering.  "I knew I 
couldn't really hurt you and I had to find out what that would feel like.  I didn't hurt 
you, did I?"  He came close to me with his hands up in surrender, and I saw his 
dick was starting to rise.  I wondered if that was because of him hitting me or me 
hitting him.

"Nah, after what I just went through it was nothing.  We better get you to bed 
before you try any other dumb moves."  I started leading the way because he 
didn't seem in a hurry to get this over with.  I stifled a yawn but I was so tired I 
couldn't walk straight.  He came along when I turned back to look, wearing a 
creepy smile I hadn't seen on him before.  When he put a hand on my back and 
guided me toward the big bed, I could feel him trembling.

"Marlowe has told me so much about you.  I can hardly believe I have you here in 
my room, all to myself.  How are you feeling?"  He faced me next to the bed and 
gently lifted my face to his as we stood there almost toe to toe.  Then he slapped 
me hard across the face and pushed me down onto the bed.  

I couldn't believe any part of it.  I couldn't believe how much the slap hurt coming 
on top of the cuts inside my mouth.  I couldn't believe he had the guts to try 
something like that.  I couldn't believe I wasn't able to do anything to stop the 
slap or to stay on my feet when he shoved me.  

"God, you're the most magnificent specimen I've ever seen.  You'll be my 
greatest triumph, better even than she would be.  If only you'd done more to her 
in the ring."  He was babbling at the same time he started crawling over me.  
Now he was fully aroused.  I tried sitting up and shoving him off me so I could 
catch my breath and figure out what the hell he was doing to me.  He threw 
himself against me and knocked me back flat on the bed again.  When he sat up 
he was able to hold my arms above my head and I saw I had smeared blood on 
one of his shoulders.  His slap must have opened up one of my cuts again.

Yeah, if only I had done more in the ring, but this wasn't the ring.  Out here I 
didn't have to follow any rulebook and I hadn't made any promises about fighting 
fair.  If Honeycutt liked it rough and strong he had come to the right place.  If only 
I could sit up, if only I could focus, if only I could keep my eyes open.  He was 
jabbing his cock at me, trying to get lined up without letting go of my arms.  I 
spread my legs to make it easier, figuring once he was inside I'd get my arms 
free and show him who was running this show.

 When I woke up my head was splitting, just to complete the inventory of places I 
could hurt.  I didn't remember how a handcuff had got clamped onto my right 
wrist, and I couldn't figure why I was shivering in a cold room.  First things first, I 
rolled off the bed and started over to shut the sliding glass door leading to the 
terrace.  That's when I spotted Honeycutt.  He didn't look happy to be dead, but 
there wasn't much doubt that he was.  He was still as naked as I was and kind of 
twisted up on the floor.  One more detail I didn't remember.  

My head started spinning from it all so I dropped into a chair to start sorting 
things out.  First I had to push aside a gym bag, and that started things spinning 
again.  Inside were a couple more pairs of handcuffs, a short leather whip, some 
rope, candles, and a couple tools that looked like they had been heated over a 
flame before.  Our Mr. Honeycutt had some kinks to him I hadn't suspected, 
apparently.

I needed to focus.  Facing a dead man I couldn't explain I felt weak and dizzy, so 
I had to remind myself I've left no trace of weakness in my body and no heart to 
betray me.  I stood up and planted my feet.  Like I used to do in prison, night after 
night, year after year, I checked myself over.  When I went inside my stomach 
had a soft layer over whatever abs I'd accidentally developed.  Now I ran my 
hand over skin tight as a drumhead concealing the stomach muscles that had 
stood up to tonight's onslaught.  I felt my arms, rolled my shoulders to feel how 
much power I have there.  The legs, by the time I got to the legs I felt ready to 
face anything again.  No payday, no chance of moving off the bottom, but still 
able to take a beating and come back for more.

I closed the sliding glass door and went looking for my clothes.  Then I called the 
cops and started trying to cover up everything I've made myself into and 

everything I am.  I needed to look the part of Little Red Riding Hood when the 
police got there to see who killed the big bad wolf.


CHAPTER 5: KATHY CHATS UP A STONE COLD WOMAN, AGAIN

"So this is how you normally wear your hair, as it was in the ring rather than 
combed down and tucked under a beret as when Marlowe first introduced you 
and suggested the boxing match.  It suits you.  Very gladiator-like, I imagine, and 
definitely not soft.  May I buy you another of whatever it is you're drinking?"  Her 
face was puffy this morning and bruised, but less guarded than when we had first 
talked.

"It's just ice water.  I'm sucking ice today and eating soft food.  I like your friend.  
If I ever get a rematch the lights stay on. She beat me up pretty good.  I didn't 
realize how strong she'd be until she showed up in the ring in the cropped top.  I 
have an edge on power, but she punched like a damn mule.  And fast!  Damn 
rules, I couldn't just grab her and work her over.  But a few more minutes and I 
think I would have had her.  I hoped you'd bring her along so we could meet."  

"If she's still my friend, she didn't get off scot-free.  Four stitches above her eye 
and I think her nose is broken although the ribs seem only bruised.  And her 
arms are very sore.  She mentioned you need to work on footwork and timing 
rather than just charging in.  In her version, a few more minutes and she would 
have had you.  Early on she realized she couldn't stop you, and that some of 
your punches, like the one to her eye, would break through any defense she 
offered so she concentrated on lateral movement and throwing as many of her 
own punches as possible in an effort to wear you down.  Actually I haven't seen 
her since dropping her at the doctor's, and I sneaked my things out of our room 
last night after leaving her a recorded message."

She blinked at me a couple of times, then the majestic shoulders sagged a bit.  
"Yeah, she's right.  She was picking me to pieces, taking me apart like a kid 
would take apart a toy.  She kept giving me little suggestions, like leading more 
with my left and not keeping my guard so high since she'd never work anyone's 
eyes.  Like I wasn't a threat, just someone for her to play with.  Any damage I did 
would have been dumb luck.  I figured her eye would need stitches.  But the 
arms, she pissed me off how many of my good shots she was blocking with 
them.  I hope they're good and sore.  My stitches are hidden better - ten inside 
my mouth.  That's why I'm sucking ice.  She knows about boxing so she had one 
of those mouth protectors.  I didn't even think about it and my teeth cut me up 
some.  But she did my nose like I did hers, and I'm hoping my ribs are just 
bruised.  With my nose bleeding and swallowing my own blood because my 
mouth got cut up, I could hardly breathe.  I had to hurry before I drowned, and 
that just let her hit me more.  Plus, I was pissing blood until this morning from all 
the body shots.  She got me one left hook over my liver that about made me pass 
out.  I thought you'd have to hit me with a car to do that.  Not as tough as I 
thought, I guess, but she was landing about twenty to my one."

 "I imagine you know exactly how tough you are."  I reached across and got a 
familiar thrill just laying a hand on her hard, beefy forearm and was more thrilled 
when she returned the touch by putting her rough hand on top of mine.   "It's how 
soft you could be that surprised me, giving Betty the advantage by fighting in 
darkness and adhering strictly to the Marquis of Queensberry.  Perhaps I should 
have stressed that the bells on the gloves really are all the accommodation she 
requires when she boxes anyone following the rules of the sport, as you insisted 
on doing.  One lesson is usually all one needs to learn not to underestimate my 
friend, but I did suggest that in a fair fight you take care of yourself and let Betty 
take care of herself.  Betty regularly spars with her brother who is surely as 
strong as you and knows as much about boxing as she was able to teach him 
growing up.  If you ever are interested in a rematch I'm sure Betty would go along 
in good fun, and she would enjoy it thoroughly if you could show more skill next 
time.  She's likely to offer you lessons so you could smack her about a bit more 
next time, just so she'd feel it was all fair.  She loves the sport, and the better the 
competition the more she likes it.  With the lights out she had a huge advantage 
for once in her life.  When I encountered Marlowe I realized how difficult it can be 
for a sighted person to work effectively in total darkness.  Coping with him added 
at least one minute to the time it took me to get the lights back on and then see 
that the bell got rung ending the round.  He gave me a nasty crack with that stick 
he was carrying before I took it away from him."

"Him packing a gun and bringing a bodyguard couldn't have added much to your 
fun either, but it wasn't totally dark for us.  I could always tell where she was but 
that didn't mean I was able to connect.  Still, you must have done okay in the 
dark.  He might not make it from all that got torn up when that stick went up his 
asshole, and they say there's a big danger of infection all over because of the 
intestines ripping and spilling bacteria clear up through his diaphragm."  Self 
conscious, I reluctantly folded my hands in my lap and looked down while she 
settled back in her chair and stretched her legs out in front of her, the picture of 
relaxation.  "Live or die, I'd say our Mr. Marlowe is out of the picture.  Snapping 
the stick off was a nice touch, by the way."

"It seemed like the thing to do at the time.  I understand the police are barking 
after that bodyguard and some of Marlowe's associates who handled the stick 
without having the foresight to wear gloves.  So far as the police know they had 
as much opportunity as I and a good deal more motive.  Do you feel any more 
loyalty to Honeycutt than to Marlowe, by the way?  Just idle curiosity of course."  
I tried to act casual as I assessed her reaction to this line of inquiry.

"Oh, of course," she replied with a note of amusement.  "You were thinking 
Honeycutt might meet with an untimely end as well, huh?  You're too late.  After I 
got done waltzing with your friend, Honeycutt took me back to his room -- to take 
care of me, he said, get me some attention.  Turns out he had a thing for 
muscles, going back to his college days.  He kept it his deep, dark secret but 
meanwhile he went out of his way to shove the idea of these little stick women 
with big tits onto the world."

"Yes, and I understand he had some higher political ambitions.  He hoped to use 
the law to control women like us.  Too late?"

"Like I said, he took me back to his place to tend my wounds, give me a stiff drink 
and talk me into playing a few games.  He got turned on looking at me and came 
on to me.  And I was hurting so bad in so many places I was about to suffer a 
terminal orgasm.  Long story short, I snapped his spine.  He was inside me when 
I lost control which is pretty intense, let me tell you, but not something I'd want to 
make a habit of.  When I came to I was on the bed and he was dead on the floor.  
The story ought to be in the afternoon papers."  She laced her hands behind her 
head and arched back so I got even a better display of her triceps and powerful 
chest.  She was making conversation quite difficult.

"My word.  The things one learns chatting over tea.  Are there likely to be what 
might be termed complications for you?  I mean you seem awfully calm about all 
this."

"No problem.  I might get a medal out of it, and not just from folks like you with an 
ax to grind with the dear departed Honeycutt.  I kept my head when I saw I got 
blood from my mouth and nose on him and in his room.  And he might have 
gotten scratched by some jewelry I wear where you don't see it when I'm 
dressed.  No way to pretend I hadn't been there.  So I called the cops myself and 
told them he beat and raped me and I killed him trying to defend myself.  His little 
toy collection plus my cuts and bruises made the story sound believable since 
they didn't ask me to uncover and do any flexing, or ask for a job history.  I 
combed my hair down, painted on some eyebrows and put the muscle bitch into 
the background while the police were there. I used you as a character reference, 
so I'd appreciate any good words you could come up with if you're asked.  
Honeycutt was always careful that there were no dots to connect him to Marlowe 
or the bottom feeders like me.  Like you, I didn't have a motive because I didn't 
toss his place looking for cash or anything so they went for my story."

"Well that certainly simplifies things for me.  I can get back to selling ladies wear 
full time again, instead of playing vigilante.  I would love to sell you some, by the 
way, at a reasonable discount.  If you want to change or even enhance your 
present image I have several thoughts about things in my stock you might want 
to try.  I'm happy to tell the police I think you're a fine and trustworthy person I 
should like to get to know better, and that will be the truth.  But first I have a favor 
to ask -- a huge one.  Not that I have any right."

"Shoot.  I just got sweet-talked by Mary Poppins so she can drive a stake through 
my boss, and had Helen Keller kick my ass around a boxing ring.  Naturally I'm in 
a generous mood."  She sat up at the table again, leaning toward me.  "You 
aren't going to invite me into the sack by any chance?  That would be a treat not 
a favor, but the way I'm hurting neither of us might get what we hoped for out of 
it.  Honeycutt caught me when I was fairly fresh, before the real aches started in."

"Well, no, but a related arrangement."  I swallowed hard and struggled to regain 
composure after her suggestion.  "I'll keep your proposal in mind and perhaps 
remind you of it when you're feeling better and would like me to appraise your 

hidden jewelry.   Would you take Betty home?  I have our tickets for a flight later 
today but I couldn't face her if she asked me anything about Marlowe.  She bore 
no ill will toward him, and I couldn't begin to explain my motivation to a rational 
person.  At a time in my life when I thought I'd forgotten the entire concept of 
guilt, I don't know when I'll be able to look at myself in a mirror again.  Her 
friendship is the most important thing in the world to me and I feel I defiled it by 
using her to get at him.  I can't make myself go near her for a while.  Would you 
go in my place?"

"So that's why you say you shifted bunks.  From the looks of you, whatever you 
did last night didn't involve sleeping at all."  She sat back and sucked a bit of ice 
from her cup.   "Do you really think she'd put up with having me anywhere near 
her without you along?  Talk about guilt, I was the one trying to knock her head 
off.  Trying damn hard for as many minutes as you let us have."

"As a matter of fact when I took her from the ring to the infirmary she told me she 
wanted to meet you and find out what you look like.  She also made reference to 
a notion I once told her about, having to do with heart transplants.  I believe she 
thinks you would be a good recipient and she is willing to donate.  I translate 
those two things to mean dress will become optional if you want it to be.  In the 
condition you're both in it ought to be about the most gentle evening two 
consenting adults ever spent together.  Are you willing?"

"You're all right with this idea?  I mean, she seems pretty special to you."

"Very special.  Special enough that I would never stand in the way of her sharing 
her gifts with another special person.  I honor her decisions on everything, 
particularly this.  God knows she's ignored plenty of indiscretions on my part. If 
she works so hard to keep her eyes open the least I can do is to close mine on 
certain occasions."

"Then, yeah, I'd be happy to add a leg onto my trip back.  I can't stay away too 
long, though.  With Marlowe out of the picture at least temporarily I have to move 
fast to shuffle some of his assets earlier than I planned.  By next week I'll own a 
gym."

"Congratulations.  Marlowe provided for you in the event of his death or injury?"

"Not exactly.  Besides working as muscle in his organization I also keep some of 
the books, like I told you.  I had a good teacher in shifting money and property 
around without leaving footprints.  The gym is one of his legit, front businesses 
and I've been setting things up so my name ended up on the title if Marlowe got 
tripped up somehow.  He also managed some real estate owned by a dummy 
company, and when I get home there will be a group of former pros who own that 
dummy instead of Honeycutt.  Or maybe I should say they're about to become 
former.  Better than a pension plan for them, I think.  A lot of these cover 
ownerships, where somebody doesn't want to let anyone know who really owns 
what, it's pretty easy to move the title from one shadow to another.  If he gets 
back in the action, Marlowe won't know what went where except knowing I own 
the gym, the IRS will be all over his Slave Girl Markets and all his illegal activities 
will have evaporated.  I don't think he'll have the connections left to cause me 
any problems.  You think I can make an honest living off a gym?"

"You really are quite amazing, aren't you?  Armor plating over a heart of mush.  
My guess is the eyebrows had to go because they gave away too much of what 
you think and feel.  Please grow them back now.  I should like to get to know the 
entire face.  The hair makes a magnificent statement, but adding expressiveness 
to the face would enhance things rather than detract.  Perhaps soon we could 
consult on appropriate workout wear to sell at your new gym, and to show you off 
properly when you teach aerobics.  Here's my business card, with my cell 
number on it.  Call me anytime, and I really mean that.  Meanwhile, to help get 
your business started here's a packet of money I found lying about after my 
discussion with Marlowe.  Twelve thousand dollars.  Apparently the admission for 
his close friends to watch your match was five hundred a head, and I'm hearing 
rumors his audience would like a refund in cash or kind since all but the first and 
last moments happened in darkness.  He may be luckier if he doesn't emerge 
from hospital."

"And you'd just hand it over to me?  Don't make me out like Robin Hood here.  
I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of on Marlowe's say-so and a few on my 
own hook.  I'm helping myself first and leaving a few scraps for my friends 
wanting to move up off the bottom.  Believe me, your friend Betty isn't going to be 
traveling in the sort of company she's used to.  When you see her again she 
might have picked up some bad habits you won't be happy about.  Don't say I 
didn't warn you."

"Are you a betting woman?  Regardless of what she may learn, I'll wager a 
hundred dollars that you'll accompany her to church tomorrow, to one of the later 
services.  And if you have any religion in your background she's apt to be the first 
person who brings you willingly to your knees."



CHAPTER 6: KATHY'S EPILOGUE

I thought that ended the story, that I could begin picking up the pieces of my life 
and my friendship, but one final exchange of blows remained.  When I returned 
home I retreated exclusively to my shop and my loft.  I spent inordinate hours 
cleaning and sorting, as I often do as therapy following emotional stress.  After a 
week of this the place shone and I risked a call to Betty.  She accepted my 
invitation to dinner more quickly than I dared hope, then came eagerly back to 
my spotless loft as much to witness its temporary polished splendor as to spend 
a night holding each other and promising ourselves we had done well.  After 
breakfast she suggested we hit the gym because neither of us had been in days.  
She had taken the week off from exercise to let assorted bruises and strained 
muscles heal.

The muscles had healed magnificently.   The time flew by in mutual admiration 
and prideful display.  Finally in the weight room our pace slowed as we took our 
turns spotting and lifting.  At the bench as Betty prepared to show how many 
times she could heave up her body weight in her first set, I offered a tease.

"Didn't you find her just a little too muscular, a bit overdeveloped?"
 
"I know just what you mean.  Didn't you find that mousse last night just a little too 
rich, a tad too chocolatey?"

"I don't think that's possible."  

 "I don't either, and your question was just as silly.  I have much more of a 
preference for men than you, but she was lovely.  Not something I'd want 
exclusively, but like rich chocolate occasional treats can be heavenly."  The bar 
rose from its resting place and hovered above her great chest.  "Ordinary meat-
and-potatoes people like you or me might be right for a regular diet, but 
sometimes a girl should indulge in a little excess, and that would be her."  Betty 
began her brisk lowering and raising of the heavy iron, the dear ordinary person.

"I'll keep that in mind.  I happen to have her phone and address.  I could give 
them to you if you'd like."

"Thanks, I got them myself and she knows where I live.  And I have her word 
you're working purely off imagination.  For once I'm the experienced one.  May I 
torture you with any particulars?"

"You know that you can torture me any way you want, whenever you want.  Were 
you going to start with her arms, legs or that incredible back?  Did you ring her 
chime?"

"I'll start torturing you with my clever opening line.  I asked if she had always 
been the strong one in her relations, and offered to fill that role this time so she 
could just settle back and let me take care of everything.  I told her just to feel 
safe in my arms for the evening.  She went along very obligingly.  I was quite 
suave if I do say so." 

The bar paused at the top of its cycle and I guided it back to its mooring.   "Oh, 
you bitch!  That was my line with Julie!  Now I can't use it with her because she 
will already have heard it!"  

"Exactly.  In spite of her profession and having been in prison, underneath it all 
she's really very sweet and says she's lived kind of a sheltered life.  I doubt she 
has any defense against the likes of you, so I helped her out by taking away one 
of your weapons.  She's no fool.  She talked about herself as living on the 
bottom, like some kind of scavenger, and she told me something I hadn't ever 
thought about.  But hearing it from her, I wondered if it's true.  She said living on 
the bottom she had a good nose for danger like fiercer predators moving in.  She 
said her nose told her you were the most dangerous person she's ever met.  She 
said when you first introduced yourself it was all she could do to keep from 
showing that you scared the wits out of her, like no one else ever has before.  
Now tell me how you knew about her chime."  Betty sat up on the bench and 
massaged her pumped upper arms as I drooled and thought about lending her a 
hand with the job.

 "Oh, that was just a figure of speech."

"Bullshit.  How did you know about the nipple ring with the little bell?  You saw 
her naked at some point."  Betty froze, her face flushed from her exertions as I 
began shifting plates for my turn.  "Oh, my God.  Do you want me to tell you 
when?"  

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.  My only meetings with her were 
in public the day before your fight and the day after.  Both were fully dressed 
events."  My hands trembled as I slid off a plate and tightened the collar for my 
own turn.

The color drained from Betty's face more quickly than usual, her fists clenched 
and forced the thick veins along her forearms into greater prominence.  "That 
might be true.  I'll bet this wasn't a meeting.  She told me about how Honeycutt 
died, how she lost control during sex before she passed out.  That's not what 
happened.  She may have passed out, but she didn't kill him.  You did, and you 
saw her there naked.  What were you doing in his room?  How could you have 
done that?"

"I've never lied to you, and I won't start."  I sank to the bench next to her, careful 
to leave space between us, and buried my face in my hands.  Even if she 
couldn't see me, I couldn't bring myself to look at her.  "I dropped you at the 
infirmary and went straightaway to Honeycutt's room.  The two of them were 
already there and didn't hear me come in.  I think he drugged her and was about 
to have a very ugly session using an assortment of implements he had brought 
for just that purpose.  I doubt he meant her to survive, so I intervened.  That's all 
there was to it, really.  With no witnesses it seemed safest for her and me to let 
our new friend plead self-defense rather than muddy things with my presence.  If 
that hadn't worked I would have come forward of course."  

"I knew Marlowe and Honeycutt both when we were in college.  Then and again 
at our visit I felt like I should wash myself after every time I was around them."  
For once Betty's sightlessness made me uncomfortable as she stared straight 
ahead into one of the big mirrors, not seeing her own ashen, rigid reflection or my 
agonized expression when I forced myself to look up from my trembling hands.   
"But you knew right away they were worse than I could have imagined, like the 
news has been saying, and you knew immediately you were going to do 
something about them.  Something terrible.  Didn't you?  Did he suffer?"

"Not much.  Not long."  I was craving a deep breath I found impossible to draw in, 
as if I were drowning with the surface just out of reach above my head.  "He 
came at me with a rather ugly knife he meant to open her up with while she was 
unconscious.  I took that away and dropped him across my knee.  Just the once.  
And nothing else."

"And nothing else?  Like there could have been anything more after breaking his 
back?  I wondered if you might have somehow had a hand in what happened to 
Marlowe, that maybe it wasn't a gangland fight like the police thought.  I guess I 
know about that now, too.  You're the best friend I have in the world, the person 
closer to my heart than anyone has ever been, and sometimes a curtain opens in 
you and I wonder if I know you at all."

She doesn't know me at all, thank God.   Could there have been more?  Of 
course there could have been more.  He had movement and sensation above the 
waist, he had his eyes and his teeth so there could have been much more.  With 
a little care I might have kept him alive to appreciate just how much more there 
could be, possibly until his intended victim regained consciousness.  She might 
have shared in taking more from him, but I chose to let him slip quickly away.   
When I look at the world I see a dangerous and frightening place, but I have one 
fear that transcends all the other hazards around me: that my blind best friend 
might one day see clearly into my soul and come to really know me as I am. 

As I thought about it all later, putting paid to Marlowe and Honeycutt were my first 
rational acts in some months.