Gymnasts By voiture482@aol.com (Voiture482) Ruth against Connie Update: 01/03/1998 to misc3 Ever since Ruth had gotten the phone call, she had felt uneasy about the whole deal. One Thursday afternoon, right in the middle of a soap and out of the blue, Pam called to say hello and "catch up with things." Since Ruth hadn't been working at Fay's place for around six months, there was a lot to catch up on: who was sleeping with whom, who was no longer sleeping with whom and who wanted to sleep with whom. Not much had changed. "Oh, by the way," Pam said. "You remember Connie the cop? She was in here the other night asking about you." Remember her? Connie was the reason Ruth had lost her job at Fay's. If anybody had bothered to file one,there had been what a police report would have called "an altercation" out back of Fay's bar which wound up with Connie flat on her ass and Ruth's fractured nose in an ice pack. Since Connie had been out of uniform, no charges were filed, but as Fay explained it to Ruth the day she fired her, "As long as the badges got the right to pull my license, I can guarantee you this place'd be shut down as long as you was working for me." Ruth understood and Fay helped her get a bartending job out near the airport which actually wound up paying more than Fay's had. "So why was the bitch asking about me?" "Hey, you know. I think you made some kind of impression on her that night." "On her jaw, maybe." "She was always wondering why you never came around. Said she felt like you and her had some unfinished business." "Unfinished? Like what? Like I should've killed her? "Well, she said she thought there was too many people around. She still says if Albert hadn't showed up, she would've whipped your ass." True, Connie's beat partner had appeared in the alley just when things were getting interesting, but as Ruth told Pam,"The way I see it, there was only one ass gettin' whipped out there and that was the one I kept bouncing her on. But what's the deal here? That's been six months ago. Why's she still bugging? And why're you so concerned?" There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Well, see...Connie's had, like, this idea." In fact, Connie wanted nothing more in the world than to have it out with Ruth once and for all. Because of a gnawing sense of humiliation, she had enlisted Pam as a go-between to set up a one-on-one fight to settle matters. "No way I'm going anywhere with her by myself," Ruth replied. "Wherever we wind up, some of her buddies from the precinct'll just happen to show up, too. Fucking cops stick together, man. Forget it." But the suggestion was planted, and the more Ruth thought about another chance at Connie, the more she liked it, so when Pam called again a week or so later, Ruth was ready to listen. "...and here's the thing, see," Pam was saying. "She says you can pick the spot. Don't even tell her till the day it happens; she says she ain't interested in nothing but you and her getting it on." "Really." "She also says you probably won't do it 'cause you're chickenshit." The spot that Ruth chose was a clever one: Pam's house, down in the basement where her twins practiced their gymnastic routines. A date was set for a weekday, while the kids were at school and before either Connie or Ruth had to go in to work---not that Connie'll be going anywhere after I get through with her, Ruth thought to herself on the way over. Just for safety's sake, she had talked her friend Jessie into going along, since Jessie had been on hand for the original encounter and could be counted on to restrain Connie if things got out of hand. The two women were silent most of the way over, listening to a Tanya Tucker tape. Then Jessie asked, "Is there gonna be like a referee or anything?" "Nope," Ruth said, her eyes on the road. "And you're not supposed to interfere, no matter what happens. But. you know, if one of her pals starts swinging a billy club or something..." "I thought there weren't supposed to be any other people." Ruth had guessed right. When she and Jessie walked into Pam's basement door, she saw mats arranged all over the floor and she also saw a stranger standing next to Pam and Connie. "Who the fuck is this?" Ruth asked, pointing at the tall interloper. "Her name's Jean and she's my lying-bitch insurance," Connie said evenly. "I figured you'd try to sneak one of your slut buddies in on this." "She just showed up with her," Pam said to Ruth. "I didn't think she was actually going to fight too." "I'm not," the one called Jean said. "Connie just said she might need a witness." "Since you're gonna be leaving here in an ambulance," Connie smiled evilly. Though wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and sweats, it was apparent she had dropped a few pounds in the police gym. She stood with her hands on her hips, barefoot, one knee slightly bent. Her blonde curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making her features more severe than usual. "You might need her to call an ambulance for you, maybe," Ruth replied. She walked onto the mats in flip-flops. She was wearing a gray jogbra and cutoff jeans, which set off her blonde hair and sunburned skin nicely. As she kicked off her shoes, she saw Connie checking out her powerful thighs. Take a good look, she thought to herself; they'll be around your neck before you know it. "All right, look," Pam said. "The way it was supposed to go is, you two'd fight till somebody gave up. But these other two---" "'Dya hear what she said? She said she's not fighting," Connie snapped, pulling her T-shirt over her head. "But if that one"---she pointed at Jessie--- "tries to jump in, Jean'll kick the shit out of her.""Fuck you, Connie," Jessie piped up. She watched Connie slip out of her sweatpants; the policewoman was wearing shiny black bike shorts underneath. She ran her thumbs around the inside of the waistband as she moved around the mat and adjusted the straps of her black and white athletic top. Tough- looking, Jessie thought, but judging from that baby fat around the middle she can't leave the doughnuts alone. Ruth kept her eyes on Connie, too; she remembered the sucker punch she'd been hit with the first time around. She was filled with an intense and sudden rage. "Let's go, sweetie," she heard herself saying. "You gonna fight or fuck around?" Connie stepped up practically in her face, a fine sheen of perspiration on her pale freckled skin, her green eyes narrowing. "Gonna fuck you up is what I'm gonna do," she said. "Anything goes, just like last time." Ruth's jaw jutted just a little. "Same thing'll happen as last time." Connie's left hand reached out and she lightly ran her index finger down Ruth's crooked nose. Ruth recoiled at the touch. "Yeah," Connie said, smiling. "Last time." Then suddenly she grabbed the nose, twisting, jamming a crimson thumbnail into the flesh. Ruth yelled in pain and dropped to her knees, grasping Connie's forearm. With her right, Connie punched Ruth in the ear and the cheek, then, releasing the nose, kneed her in the temple. Ruth fell sprawling across the mat. In one bound, Connie dropped a knee into Ruth's exposed belly. There was an agonized groan and Ruth curled up on the mat. Kneeling above her, teeth bared, Connie grabbed a handful of hair and pounded Ruth's face with three short lefts. Ruth clawed at Connie's tank top and raked her breastbone with her nails. As Connie clutched the arm to pull it away, Ruth sank her nails into Connie's cheek, making the pale blonde gasp. At that moment she found her legs and, holding the face claw, pushed Connie onto the mat and sank her teeth into the upper part of her right breast. Connie screamed and pulled Ruth's hair with both hands, trying to loosen the bite, but Ruth held on grimly, her right hand in Connie's face and her left digging into Connie's arm. With a mighty heave, Connie rolled Ruth over and Ruth rolled Connie over. The women spaced around the mats watched in horrified fascination, shouting encouragement to the battlers. When Ruth wound up on top again, she released her grip and leaped up, breathing hard. Connie rolled away quickly and got to her feet, her face and chest marked by her adversary. "Fucking bitch," she hissed, circling Ruth, who taunted her in a sing- song voice, "What's th' matter, Connie-lin-gus?", drawing out the syllables as she panted. "Too rough for---" Before the blonde could finish the sentence, Connie had grabbed her shoulders and thrown a hard knee into her abdomen, following with a perfect right cross that sent her crashing down. As Ruth attempted to rise, Connie rushed in with another knee that caught her in the forehead, knocking her across the mat. As Pam reached out to help her up, Connie yelled, "Leave the bitch alone!" She strode across the mat, fingers curled into claws, as suddenly Ruth barrelled up off the ground, catching Connie with a shoulder to the midsection that sent them both tumbling. With hands buried in each other's hair, they struggled ferociously on the mats, neither able to gain an advantage, their gasps and grunts now the only sound in the basement. As they struggled, Ruth worked her brown legs around Connie's middle, scissoring and squeezing. Jean's voice rang out, "C'mon, Connie!", and the policewoman responded by getting to her knees, Ruth still wrapped around her, suddenly releasing hair and grabbing Ruth around the throat. Choked against the mat, Ruth increased the pressure of her scissors and maintained her grip in Connie's hair for an agonizing minute as thumbs dug into her windpipe. Then like a flash, she dropped her feet to the mat and pushed her foe over. Now Ruth was on top, straddling Connie. She pried Connie's hands off her throat and pressed them to the mat, holding Connie immobile for a moment with her weight, coughing, sweat running between her breasts, her wild hair dangling in Connie's face. Connie wriggled beneath her, her face contorted in rage. The spectators clapped and shouted. Suddenly Connie, in a pure strength and leverage move, jerked Ruth's right arm out from under her, rolling her onto her right side where Connie instantaneously clamped on a side headlock. Ruth was in trouble now. With Connie's upper body weight upon her, she was trapped inside a pair of powerful arms and no way to kick out. Connie grunted with the effort of the hold; to Ruth, it felt like being caught in a hydraulic press. "Break your goddamn neck," Connie grunted, squeezing for all she was worth. With her right arm pinned underneath, Ruth pounded ineffectually on Connie's broad back with her left fist, then dug in her nails. Connie cried out and twisted a little harder. Ruth had one last shot at breaking the hold. She slipped her hand under the elastic of Connie's top, grabbing as much of Connie's breast as she could, and jammed in her nails. Connie screamed and cursed, jerking back and forth in effort to shake Ruth loose without releasing the headlock. Ruth held grimly on, digging into the soft flesh and twisting. With a yell, Connie broke the hold and spun around on the mat, swinging at Ruth as she rolled away. Ruth stood up and stepped back, tasting blood in her mouth, wiping her hands on her shorts. She gestured to Connie, who, flexing her arms, was slower to arise. "Let's go, hard-ass," she croaked, assuming a boxer's stance. Connie pulled up the strap on her top, rubbed her breast and moved toward her opponent, fists clenched, head low, the way she had learned at the academy. The women stalked each other like cats for a moment, and then Ruth sprang forward, leading with her left. Connie ducked the punch and slammed Ruth in the ribs. Ruth came back with a right that missed Connie's face and a right that didn't. They clinched, both punching hard inside, then Connie flung Ruth to the mat. Ruth jumped up at once and flew at the pale blonde, fists windmilling. Connie stood her ground, covering up, then stepping back to swing a haymaker at Ruth's jaw. Ruth leaned back at the last possible second, causing Connie to stumble. As the pale blonde pitched forward, Ruth fired a stunning left into Connie's breast, which straightened her right up. Before Connie could uncover, Ruth hammered Connie's face with a right and a left, then a fist deep into Connie's belly, which dropped her to one knee. The policewoman, gasping, wrapped her arms around Ruth's legs, her head in Ruth's crotch, but Ruth pulled her head back by the hair and stared at Connie's upturned sweaty face. Blood was seeping from her mouth now and her green eyes had lost their bravado. "Fuck you," Connie spat. "No, fuck you!" Ruth shouted, and she hit the other woman with cruel precision over and over until Connie finally slumped to the mat. Dead-tired, chest heaving, Ruth stood a moment above her fallen enemy, not even hearing the cheers of her friends. She knew she had fought well but she had no illusions about victory. She knew Connie's type, women who would get knocked down and get up to be knocked down again, forever and ever amen. Nothing was ever over with that sort. Frustrated, Ruth kicked Connie in the ribs. The prostrate blonde groaned and stirred slightly. Ruth turned around and caught the eye of the tall one named Jean. "You better come take care of your girl," she said, walking off the mats, up the stairs and into Pam's house.