Fair Fight
By Smac
A Chance meeting leads to an impromptu boxing match between two mature women.

Corrected 12/06/2001

There had been bad blood between them for years. The actual incident or 
circumstances that had originally caused the feud had long since been forgotten. 
But whenever one happened on the other, be it in a pub, shop or in the street, 
the atmosphere became at once strained, easing only when they were once again 
out of each others' sight.
In the boxing booth at the travelling fair on Friday night the showman was 
trying hard to tempt a couple of the local bloods into the tatty ring to face 
his tired-looking fighters. 
He knew that the local pubs were open all day on a Friday and that many of the 
very lads he was haranguing were themselves somewhat the worse for drink and 
that, even if he did get them into the ring, they wouldn't put up much of a 
show. Even then his bruisers would have to go easy on them.
Just as he was coming round to thinking that he might have to give all the 
punters their fifty pences back, unbeknown to him his bacon was saved.
Barbara had been over in a far corner successfully appealing to her 
over-the-hill husband, Terry, not to try for the tenner being offered to go the 
three rounds. 
Su came through the tent-flap and, as if telepathy were at work, their eyes met 
almost immediately. 
Neither could back off. 
Both were perfectly entitled to be there. 
The late Friday night walk through the fair was a local custom. 
Su noticed Barbara's eyes flick over to the boxing ring. 
Could the other woman be thinking the same thing that had flashed through her 
own mind the moment she'd seen her? 
The naked aggression in the strong stare Barbara returned convinced her 
that they had just mutually and tacitly agreed to fight, there and then. 
Barbara moved to rush at her but her husband restrained her. 
He said something to her and she relaxed slightly and allowed him to go over to 
Su and her husband.
"Well," he prompted, his face stuck under Su's nose.
'Yes, I'm more than ready, we'll do it here, in there,' she pointed to the 
dirty, ill-lit ring.
He turned sharply to Pete, her husband. 
He didn't feel at all comfortable talking to Su with his wife's eyes boring 
into his back.
"Well, we'd better see the man." 
He did look back at Su then.
"Just make sure you and Barbara keep apart until we've sorted things out. We'll 
back as quick as we can."
The two men went round to the rickety table which served as a base for the booth 
owner.
"Um, we might be able to get you a fight,' propositioned Pete, hesitantly. 
"Yeah?' sighed the man, suspiciously.
He was expecting some over the odds deal to save his night's takings. 
"It won't cost yer nuffin," snapped Terry.
He brightened, but not much.
'What's the s.p. then lads?'
'All we really need is two pairs of gloves,' said Pete, half to himself, 'it's  
our wives who want a scrap.'
He shrugged his shoulders and the showman's jaw sagged.
His atrophied brain was having to work unusually quickly and he didn't much like 
the feeling. He'd seen women fighting before, but that had been years ago, in 
the fifties when he'd been a kid, but the bottom line kept ringing up in his 
cash till mind.
'The bleedin' punters used to love it.'
"I mustn't seem too enthusiastic though," his long years in this murky 
business told him.
"Yeah, well that's all very well but I need to know what the score is.'
The two men looked at each other.
'A grudge match, fight to the finish I suppose,' proposed Terry. 
Pete nodded slowly.
'You referee,' he said, looking at the showman, 'we'll second our women." 
'Have they boxed before then?" he asked incredulously.
"Yeah, they've both done a bit," tutted Terry.
'Against each other?"
"Er.... no, they haven't been in the ring together have they Pete?"
He thought for a moment and shook his head
'Look I don't want to rush you," snapped Terry, "but if you don't get a move on,
you won't have a boxing match at all, just a bloody riot."
"Ok I'll get some gloves," he turned to go out of the booth but quickly came 
back.
"What are their names and how long are the rounds going to be?"
"Su is the blonde and the dark one's Barbara," sighed Terry, "make the rounds 
three minutes and give us the lightest gloves you've got."
As he hurried away they headed for their wives. They'd been on their own for 
just a minute or two. 
The ring was empty, the crowd, unaware of the deal that had just been struck, 
were becoming very restless and noisy. 
As the two men steered their partners towards the ring the showman came 
back in with the gloves. 
Thankfully he clambered into the ring and called for order.
The crowd instantly quietened when the other four ducked under the ropes 
at opposite corners of the ring.
The crowd were clearly baffled.
The showman was still flapping around. 
The two men were nervously standing between the women who were staring each 
other out across the dirty ring floor. 
Most of the punters were men and they were intrigued by the women in the ring.
Barbara was the most striking, six foot tall, big boned and hard looking. A 
typical country girl by all appearances. The only thing which gave her away as 
a naturalised towny was her hair, too jet a black and in a tight perm. She 
worked as an office cleaner and part-time barmaid. This had the welcome 
effect of rendering her married, but not after six pm. Even at her age it was 
clear that she had a penchant for tight t-shirts and even tighter jeans. A 
quilted sleeveless jacket, loosely draped over her square shoulders, topped 
off her street clothes.
Su, a big bouncy blonde with large hips and breasts continued to glare at her 
opponent. Unlike Barbara she really was unmarried but was on more than nodding 
acquaintance with more than one of the regulars of the several pubs she 
frequented in the town, other than the boozer Barbara served in of course. It 
would have been most imprudent of her to show her face there, that is unless, 
like now she wanted a fight. As usual for her, she almost never wore a bra or 
tights, her big juicy teats were poking provocatively through her thin, 
open-weave tank top. Otherwise, again quite normal for her, the rest of her 
clothes were of supple, well-mature leather. Comprising black, high-heeled shoes,
longish black leather skirt, slit way up her left thigh and a heavy leather 
jacket, almost manly in it's style. She began to bounce eagerly in her corner.
When she shrugged off her leather jacket it became even more obvious
that her big mammaries were bare beneath thin top. 
Barbara too divested herself of her quilted jacket and stood talking nervously 
to Terry.
The predominantly male audience continued quietly to ogle the two buxom women.
Under normal circumstances for these two to be as close to each other as they 
were would have resulted in an exchange of profanities and abusive threats. 
As it was they seemed to be tacitly ignoring each other, for the moment. 
The panting showman stumbled into the ring with a couple of pairs of brown 
boxing gloves.
Terry went over.
'These are the smallest I've got mate. They're four ouncers if I remember
right. Used to use 'em on youngsters.'
Terry disdainfully picked at one of the gloves. They were very old fashioned 
and in very poor condition. It had been his own school days since he'd      
seen anything like them. The leather was at best, badly scuffed, indeed the 
thin, brown casing was actually torn in several places on both pairs.      
The padding beneath, such as it was, seemed to be intact but very compacted and 
unyielding. He rather callously thought that the fight will the shorter for 
the gloves lightness and frailty.
Both women had boxed several times before for money and in private but never of
course, against	each other.	They watched their men mulling over the worn 
out gloves.
'Come on,' snapped Su, kicking off her shoes.
She unbuttoned the side of her skirt and wrenched the zip down sharply. In a 
flash she'd let it drop heavily to the canvas and stepped nimbly out of 
it. This left her in her top and panties. 
The latter were far too small for her and looked overwhelmed by her massive 
thighs and ample buttocks. Like the top they were white cotton. 
Barbara hesitantly sloughed off her own shoes and wriggled the tight denim 
down her quivering thighs. Her panties too were white, but somewhat more 
'sensible' and more in keeping with a woman of forty two. Without thinking she 
pulled her shirt roughly over her permed head and threw it down on top of her 
jeans. 
Su smiled wickedly and yanked her own top over her natural blonde curls. 
Her large, floppy, well used breasts sprang into view. She was left wearing 
just the obscene little pants. She looked Barbara straight in the eye. Without 
speaking she was challenging her opponent to bare her own breasts. Now 
Barbara's bra was very substantial. The straps were nearly an inch wide and 
the large white cups were of thick cotton and so almost completely opaque. Even 
so her teats could still easily be seen beneath the material. Scowling, she 
reached behind and freed the straining hooks and eyes. The shoulder 
straps were flicked onto her heavy upper arms, revealing wide, deep red 
weals where they had sunk into her flesh after so long supporting her melon-like 
tits. She squeezed her breasts between her forearms, trapping the huge bra and 
dragging it from under her udders. She too was reduced to just a thin pair of 
panties. She kneaded her heavy, pendulous tits seemingly glad, after all, to be 
free of the confines of the tight brassiere. Her teats were, as suspected, huge 
and almost black. The stiff, dark nipples stuck out like two ebony knobs. She 
looked around at the crowd. They were all ogling the two huge pairs of breasts 
on view in the ring. She shuddered briefly and turned to Terry.
"Get these useless gloves on me and let's get this over with,' she snapped. 
Terry allowed himself a brief inward smile at his wife's false modesty.
'Come here then.'
He glanced over at Su's corner and saw that she already had one glove on, laced 
and taped over.
"A couple of towels wouldn't go amiss,' he growled as the fairman came 
within ear-shot.
He grunted and began to shuffle off through the expectant ring-siders.
By the time he returned with two pitifully thin, small face towels, the two 
women were gloved up and glaring at each other again across the grey, stained 
canvas. The little brown gloves looking ridiculously small at the ends of their 
beefy arms, against their tree-trunk thighs. Their faces were grim-set. 
Barbara's angular, masculine face contrasted sharply with Su's round, softer 
features. The blonde was a very sexy lady for all her forty one years and 
indifferent diet.
A particularly ragged individual bulldozed his diminutive, hunched body 
through the slavering crowd. Tucked under one scraggy armpit was holding a 
folding canvas and wood stool, under the other a battered cardboard box. The 
man shot him a withering glance and he lowered his head still further. 
Having shaken out the worm-eaten chair and placed the box precariously on top 
of it, he began to turn things out, balancing them on the ring apron . An 
ancient clock, a hand-bell, a small black-board, some chalk and lastly, much 
more carefully, what looked very much like two large bottles of brown ale. 
Nudging the top of the stool with his right hip he sat down, glaring at the 
showman.  
He went to each corner with a towel, returning to the ring centre with the two 
women in tow. 
The large tent fell silent.
He seemed out of his depth. His bluff ill humour was no match for such an 
unusual, highly charged occasion as this. His voice croaked and he sucked 
breaths in over his tombstone teeth as he made to get the preliminaries out of 
the way.
He even dispensed with the usual 'Ladies and Gentlemen.' bit.
Raising the blonde's glove to about waist height he squeaked, 'A boxing match! 
to a decision, between Su,' there was some genuine, if muted applause, 'and 
Barbara.'
He dropped Su's gloved hand and waved the dark woman's in the general direction 
of her own corner.
She snatched her hand out of his feeble grasp and turned to Su.
'Right you dog.'
She smashed her in the side of the neck with a crashing right swing. 
Instead of parting them and beginning the fight properly he ducked, turned 
and, while making for a neutral corner, nodded to the time-keeper who timidly 
tapped the muted bell with his piece of chalk and slapped his dirty palm down 
on the top of the wrecked clock.
The fight had begun.
Before the bent, black second hand had reached five Su had taken another blow.
Again a haymaker, a left to her well padded ribs. It seemed to do the same for 
her as the time keeper had for the clock.
At last she began to tick.
First the thin gloves came up to save her face, then her bare, pink adorned feet 
began to ply the canvas. It was a good job that she'd wanted this fight, 
Barbara's attack had made it impossible for her to back down.
The two heavy-weights squared up at last. Now-they were out in the middle of 
the small ring more of the crowd were able to get a good view of them. They 
wouldn't have made a Playboy centrespread but they were the best looking women 
in that particular neck of the woods at that moment. Neither would see forty 
again but both of their bust measurement should make it, if they stood up 
especially straight and breathed in a little. Both pairs were big. True they 
may be a little saggy, with the odd stretch mark on the upper slopes, but most 
of all, they were big, beefy and weighty, each tipped with large brown teats, in 
Barbara's case large very dark brawn teats. Pity about the hips because, 
particularly in Su's case, it looked as if they could make forty without any 
special effort. Neither of them had a belly though, a spare tyre, again on Su 
would be the nearest thing. Their legs, particularly the huge thighs, were big 
but not unpleasant to look at. How long their faces would continue to look 
attractive would depend on the thin, worn four ouncers.
They began to hit one another.	
The sound of their fists slamming into their bodies and faces could easily be 
above the hush of the still-quiet crowd. 
Their white skin began to blossom bright red. After what seemed a short 
three minutes the bell clanged and the two fuming women spun round and marched 
to their corners. Both were really powered up, neither sat.
Su's husband had to physically restrain her from jumping on the spot. The 
resultant dance of her breasts had been giving the ringsiders a treat. He 
put the towel across her shoulders and, rubbing briskly, held her down and 
still. 
Barbara had hold of the top rope with her ruined gloves. She was whispering 
conspiratorially with Terry.
'Turn the tops of my pants down love, they almost come up to my waist.' 
He grinned and got on with it.
When she skipped out for round two she looked very confident and, because of her
skimpier panties, much more sexy. 
Su seemed uncharacteristically sullen. 
The fighting continued in the same vein though.
By the middle of the round a pattern began to emerge.
Su, the shorter, stockier woman would crowd in under Barbara's fists and pound 
her ribs and occasionally her bulging breasts. 
Barbara for her part, with her longer reach, thudded powerful rights into the 
blonde's soft, round face. By the bell both had taken many telling blows.
It was a treat for the crowd but a trial for the two panting women. 
Barbara walked stiffly over to her husband and sagged to her stool.
Su danced to her corner and offered her fiery face up for Pete's inspection. No 
damage was immediately apparent but, on peeling back her lower lip her saw dark 
smudges of red blood on her teeth. He would have liked her to have swilled her 
mouth out but she turned her face quickly away and lashed out 
at the corner post with her right fist. It landed just about where Barbara's 
chest would come if she had been standing there.
'She's not happy,' thought Pete to himself, grinning inwardly.
He'd felt her angry right hook so many times, and he began to hanker for the 
start of round three.
At last the bell went and they faced up.
The same tactics were employed and Barbara grunted loudly as Su's thinly padded 
fists slammed into her torso. She tried to get back at he blonde's face again 
but, unlike in the previous round, she was too quick, being well out of range by
the time she responded. 
Again the blonde bore in. 
Barbara took a couple of belts in the ribs before she managed to retaliate 
with a heavy straight right.
The ragged glove thudded into the middle of Su's pink face.
It stopped her in her tracks, hurting her nose and her cocky pride.
She feigned indifference and kept on her toes. 
Pete was pained to see a smear of blood on her upper lip. 
She shot him a reassuring glance before concentrating once more on the 
big brunette. 
Barbara wasn't given to smile such but a thin, cruel grin cleaved her hard-
bitten face. 
The crowd, who had paid and waited a long time with the prospect of watching a 
couple of lack-lustre matches between half-drunken boys were so caught up 
with the two courageous, savage women in the ring that no-one in the tent 
heard the dull sound of the bell to end the third.
The timekeeper began to gesticulate in the ref's. direction, finally catching 
his eye. 
He dived in between the two slugging g1rls and chopped his scrawny arm down in a 
final gesture. 
During the final flurry Su had taken another belter on the nose among the many 
blows to land on each of them. 
There was a thin, twin trickle of crimson under her nose as she plonked herself 
down on her stool.
'You two really mean business, don't you?' groaned Pete.
"I'm going to spread her tits all over her chest,' growled Su, 'she's had it 
coming for so long.........."
The damp sponge muffled her words as Pete wiped her bloody face.
'She'll wish she never came to the fair tonight!' she spat after Peter
had dropped the sponge into the bucket.
Barbara was almost smiling again.
It worried Peter, who probably knew her much better than Su, despite their feud. 
She was a big woman alright, near-naked she looked even more powerful. If size 
dictated who should win in this boxing match, then the outlook was grim for Su. 
He knew quite enough of this brutal sport to appreciate that Su was in with a
chance though, if only she could negate the advantage bestowed on Barbara by 
virtue of her far longer reach.	
In any case he knew that she was bound to take a lot more in the face
before the fight was over.	
The bell brought him back to reality.
He sighed as his sexy partner bounced out, ready to face up again.
Her tight cotton panties were quite damp with her sweat and he noticed that they 
were becoming more revealing as they became moistly transparent. He shot a
stare at Barbara to compare the two and smirked when be saw her dark pubic bush 
clearly outlined.
'Hmm, that's a bonus,' he grinned.
His jaw dropped like a brick though when Su stopped a right hook to the jaw. She 
didn't fall, she didn't move.
She merely hung there, like a freeze frame.
Barbara didn't waste any more time.	
She pulled her right back and down then scythed an uppercut into Su's soft left 
breast.    
She'd only taken 'normal' punches in her tits till then, this was the business. 
She didn't decide to go to the canvas, the fall was quite involuntary. The pain 
overwhelmed her brain, her face drained with shock and she crumpled to the 
grubby canvas like a discarded puppet.
The beginning of round four and she was down. 
Pete frowned and his buttocks clenched. 
Barbara lounged against the ropes revelling in the appreciative noises coming 
from the crowd.
Su didn't feel good returning consciousness brought with it an aching jaw and 
searing pain from her chest. 
Pete forced himself to watch her. 
She lay on her side, her big breasts lolled across her heaving chest, the 
left one red and swollen, dark red blood seeping from the corner of her 
generous mouth onto the rough ring floor.
'Come on love, up you get,' he said quietly.
Whilst he didn't want to see her take more stick, he didn't want her humiliated 
so.
Besides it was just too soon, even when she'd lost fights in the past, it had 
always been after a decent interval, well a dozen or more rounds at least. He 
simply couldn't remember her losing in less.
'Mind you she's never been at such a height and reach disadvantage nor has she 
fought in four ounce gloves before."            
At last.
She was kneeling.
A thin line of blood slicked her white neck, the little brown gloves were 
clamped round her meaty thighs as she tried to regain her senses.
There had been no count, she was on her own.
If she rose she'd have to fight on. If she stayed down she was safe. Humiliated 
and beaten, but safe.
She sighed and raised first one knee then the other till she was crouching on 
the canvas.
Her damp panties hid nothing. She may as well be in the ring naked.
She brushed her bloody mouth with her right glove. The scuffed, unfinished 
leather allowed a gout of blood to soak in, leaving a dark stain at which she 
frowned.
Unfortunately, with her soft features, she'd had to come to terms with bleeding 
in the ring. She needed to fight regularly and boxing provided the type of 
brutal fulfilment she sought.
She must box, so she must bleed.
Now though she'd been out of the fight for more than half a minute, far too 
long. Each second she shied away from Barbara's four ouncers gave her opponent 
more confidence.
Barbara had mixed feelings.
She was glad Su was on the deck but she hoped that the fight would last long 
enough for her to get her pound of flesh.
Su heaved herself upright and quickly clamped her forearms over the throbbing 
breasts. This meant her gloves were held fairly low. 
A point not lost on the brunette.
She began to use her snappy left jab. The thin leather stung Su's pinked face 
but despite that Su kept her chest covered till the end of the round.
She plonked down on the stool. It seemed ages since the round had begun. 
Pete knew he had his work cut out. It was not simply the physical damage to 
contend with, more importantly he would have to raise his wife's flagging 
spirits. 
"Alright love?" he began.
"My tits feel like somebody's used a sledgehammer on them." 
He tutted consolingly and dunked the large, yellow sponge. 
'Here..'
He patted and stroked both the pendulous, familiar breasts. 
"Better?'
'Yeah, all right."
'Pity you don't know how it feels,' she thought, wincing at his merest touch. 
She knew all too well that, like the bleeding, she was going to have to take a 
lot more punishment to the tits before this fight was finished. She shooed him 
away and eased herself up. She was determined to make it look as if she 
felt fresh. Her being covered in a sheen of sweat gave the game away. Even 
her tree-trunk thighs shone wetly. She bunched her hands in the tatty gloves 
and bounced them against her meaty hips.
Barbara stood too, though the bell had yet to sound. She grinned malevolently 
at Su.
The blonde's buttocks tightened involuntarily but she stared coldly at her 
opponent's face.
Barbara, still sneering, smacked her right glove into the palm of her left. 
Su could almost feel the fist crushing her poor tits.
The timekeeper, pausing only to backhand the froth from his moth eaten 
moustache, clocked the bell with his bottle opener and they were at each other 
again. The minute's rest had done Su good and the show put on by Barbara, 
rather than intimidating her, had got her back up.
"You don't scare me you slag." 
Nor did she.
Su was in under her guard in a flash, pounding away at Barbara's 38 D's.
It was the brunette's turn to feel her sensitive mams being pancaked against her 
unyielding rib cage. 
Pete smiled and shouted encouragement as did the rest of the lascivious crowd 
in the tent. The worn out four ouncers were worse than useless. 
Barbara had never been in a proper bare-fist fight, which would have been the 
nearest thing, she could feel Su's knuckles when the blows went in. The pain 
left the blonde's chest as her morale improved and the adrenalin began to 
surge. 
Barbara, her back on the ropes, her mind fogged by pain, knew 
instinctively that she must respond. Her body said she couldn't, but her mind
said she must. About the only thing she could see of Su was her shoulders and 
the top of her fair head. 
She knew she was risking her hands, the gloves being so devoid of padding, but 
she drove her right fist down on the blonde head that bobbed in front of her. 
It was unorthodox, inelegant and only just within the scant rules, but it 
slowed Su. She bit her tongue, saw stars and slumped onto the brunette.
They simply hung there, both panting until the ref. physically pulled them 
apart. Despite the non-stop action and courage shown by the feuding women, the 
crowd began to fidget and mutter as they warily circled one another without 
landing a glove, for several seconds. It seemed that the fire of hatred 
had gone out, that they had suddenly become scared of each other, or rather 
scared of what they could do to each other. But another contemptuous 
sneer from Barbara wound the clock back and they were at each others' throats 
again, with a will.
The round was half over when they began to hit each other again. It was punch 
and counter punch, Su seemed intent on pounding Barbara in the mouth oblivious 
to what she was taking herself.
Barbara was more catholic.
As long as the blonde suffered, that was all.
To get to Barbara's mouth meant that Su had to take a fist in the face or tits 
almost each time she threw a punch.
She hung in there though.
By the bell her face and chest were flaming very red but she had reduced 
Barbara's thin, pale lips to shreds. 
Terry shoved a Kleenex between the lips as soon as she gained her stool.
"That was bloody stupid,' he barked, 'you've got the height and reach to murder 
her and you let her come in close.'
'Mmmmm," she mumbled, hampered by the tissue. It was wet with her blood already.
"It'll take more than this to stop you bleeding,' whispered Terry and he whipped 
the paper away.
Barbara winced, some of the tissue had stuck to her ragged lips.
'Yeah, I lost my cool, didn't think. I'll sort myself out in the next round, 
don't worry.'
Su had been liberally sponged down during the break and water ran down her body 
and legs when she stood for round six.
They looked like naked savages.
Their faces blood smeared and swollen, breasts red and throbbing but the gloves 
were held, ready to lash out. 
Su's obscene panties were completely transparent with water and sweat.
They started on one another. Their hard, thinly covered fists thudding into 
their stinging faces. Even the near comatose timekeeper winced as he watched 
the carnage taking place only feet from his bleary eyes. 
By half time they were not a pretty sight.
Both noses had opened up.
They were bleeding badly.
Their broad shoulders and upper arms were spotted with large daubs of dark 
red blood. 
Barbara looked the worst due to the gore that had run from her mouth during 
the previous round. As if to even the score she landed a particularly heavy 
right cross on Su's pert nose that brought claret spurting from both 
nostrils. 
Pete sighed loudly in her corner. 
She couldn't see the brunette through the mist of tears, but she 
had the good sense to tuck her poor face behind her forearms, the tatty 
gloves palm down over her curly hair. 
Barbara, grinning grotesquely, boxed her ears with two handed swings to the side 
of the head.
Pete appealed to the ref.
She was trapped in a corner and she wasn't defending.
Barbara could see a knockdown coming and she'd no intention of easing up on the
blonde. There was a good minute of the round left. 
Pete willed her to go down, it was the only way out of the impasse barring a 
standing count, and he couldn't see the ref. or Barbara having any of that. 
Unknown to him, Su was no longer in any state to make a conscious decision. The 
clubbing blows to her ears had scrambled her brain and she didn't know where 
she was. Her arms dropped away from her face and Barbara cashed in on the 
bonus. 
She dropped her right fist and whipped it back up in a cracking uppercut. 
Su's right forearm, driven by the blow, thudded into her nose and mouth.
She folded onto the floor.
The last punch hadn't helped her nose. She was slumped against the corner post, 
blood splashing onto her thick, white thighs. Her eyes were closed, her 
red-spattered breasts heaved steadily. 
After some time her bent legs straightened and she sat, legs 
outstretched, in the corner. Her blue eyes opened and focussed on her 
husband, who had come round the side of the ring to be near her.
"He's not bothering to count, so stay down till you're ready," he whispered. 
She nodded slowly and dragged her arm across her face. The long, heavy smear of 
blood it picked up made her frown.
The timekeeper pushed a small bottle across to Pete. 
'Smelling salts?" he asked.
He nodded disinterestedly.
Pete whipped the top off and thrust the phial under his wife's streaming nose. 
She twitched her head away, spluttering but her colour returned and she grabbed 
her husband's arm with her left glove, forcing the bottle back towards her 
ravaged face. 
He felt a surge of pride, watching her trying so hard to get back into the 
fight.
'Ok," she sighed, "let's get on with it."
He glanced at his watch as she struggled up, but couldn't hazard a guess as to 
how long there was to go.
Just time for her to get upright and for Barbara, who had been hanging over the 
ropes in her corner, to turn and start out after her. 
Then the bell clanged. 
Pete sagged before climbing through the ropes and helping her to her stool.
'Carrying on?" he asked, fearful of the answer.
"Yeah, I'll be alright in a minute."
'A minute's all you've got," he thought wryly.
The sponge under her nose did little more than stop her front becoming ever more 
spattered.
Barbara nodded furiously as her husband whispered in her ear. The instructions 
had to be to keep up the pressure. 
Everyone in the booth was aware of how near defeat the blonde had come.
He didn't even bother to clean Barbara up, so confident was he that the fight 
was all over bar the shouting.
Su never got properly cleaned up either because her nose was so sore to the 
touch. 
The minute passed all too quickly for the bleeding blonde.
"I didn't think I'd end up in a boxing ring tonight,' she groaned to herself. "I 
only came out for a look round the fair."
She looked down at her bloody breasts.
"What a mess," she said to Pete.
He finally moved in with the sponge but she shooed him away because the bell 
clanged dully for round seven.
She was all woman, Su.
Gamely she sprang to her feet and literally danced out to meet Barbara. 
The taller woman was not impressed.
She let Su came to her, but stood her ground.
It was the blonde who opened the bidding with a stinging straight left. 
Barbara grimaced and blood began to drip from the tip of her newly wet chin. 
Su tried another of the same but Barbara swung her torso one side and countered 
with a right cross. Her glove buried itself in the side of Su's neck. 
Anywhere else about her head and she'd probably have gone down. Her fleshy, 
muscled fleck accommodated the small glove almost without any pain or 
disablement. Had it got to her face or jaw she would certainly have been 
measuring her length on the canvas. She had to fight or run.
Sensibly, she chose to run.
The fight being relatively young, she'd plenty of energy and most of all, she 
needed to avoid taking too many of Barbara's sledgehammer punches for a while. 
Pete was relieved.
He'd given her no advice during the break but knew that what she was doing was 
the best thing for her.
Su looked like a woman ten years younger as she used all of the ring to 
frustrate Barbara. She took a few of course, notably a couple of fierce 
uppercuts to her pendulous breasts, slapping them up into her broad shoulders, 
but she turned for her stool in a better frame of mind and no worse a state 
than at the end of the previous round.
Barbara stood panting in her corner.
"Got her with a couple,' shaking her tightly clenched right glove, 'I'd like to 
rip her tits right off."
Terry sighed and patted her glowing, bloody cheeks with the corner of the towel. 
"I thought it was all over?' he goaded.
"The fat cow will run out of steam soon,' she scowled.
The worried ref. surveyed the two feuding women whilst they rested in their 
respective corners.
"What a punch up," he groaned to himself. "I wouldn't mind taking these two on 
permanently." 
Both face and bosoms were bloody and swollen. 
The crowd were lapping it up.
'Most of my boys don't take as many punches in a month," he mused. 
Meanwhile Pete had asked Su to hold out her fists. The already appalling gloves 
were now completely useless. Even the thin padding under the torn covers was 
sodden with sweat and blood. He was surprised neither woman had been 
cut.
Terry saw him examining the gloves and glanced down at Barbara's. They were 
clamped onto her sweaty, white thighs. They were wet and lethal looking. 
She followed his gaze and muttered.
"Gloves ok?" he prompted.
"Best pair of gloves I've ever worn,' she snarled, 'I can feel every punch going
in."
"Don't forget she's got a pair on too," he warned. 
"Humh."
She laid back on the corner post, letting her arms dangle.
Pete, again, hadn't bothered to tend his wife's facial injuries during the break 
and she eased herself slowly from the stool with blood still dripping from the 
end of her chin.
Barbara's facial bleeding had been stanched but the recent torrential blood 
loss from her nose and mouth was evidenced by the state of her upper torso and 
of the ref's. shirt. Most of the many blood spots on it were hers.
He looked out of him depth calling them out for the eighth round.
A wicked right hook from the fast moving blonde thudded into Barbara's face and, 
straight away, her nose began to run again. The dark blood trickling between 
her swollen breasts eventually soaking into the rolled down material of her 
waistband, well below her navel.
Terry grimaced.
"They're going to kill each other," he groaned.
He'd seen his wife in some hard fights but this hate match was unremittingly 
vicious.
Barbara couldn't see properly through a mist of involuntary tears, but she pawed
at her attacker.
Su, all too aware of the longer reach, treated her handicapped opponent with 
some respect. She knew she must capitalise on the cracking punch so she dodged 
the swinging fists and began systematically to hammer the dark haired woman. 
The bulbous, swinging breasts were the easiest target so she began to dig 
straight lefts and rights into the meat whenever Barbara's vast chest was 
open for business.
She grunted each time the crushing blows sank in.
Pete, bouncing on the ropes in the corner, counted a dozen before excitement 
overwhelmed him.
Similarly, Terry had seen his wife's tits take some punishment before but he 
began to worry about some permanent and serious injury being caused.
Her face was ashen.
But she was sweating heavily he noticed.
'Go down,' he silently willed her.
Like Su in the sixth round it was not with a will that she slumped to the 
canvas.
The searing pain from her racked breasts, both left and right, had so benumbed 
her brain that she had effectively blacked out.
Terry, ignoring the vacant-looking ref., hopped into the ring.
'No count?' he spat.
The ref's. south fell open.
Su interjected.
'This is a fight to the finish, either she's finished or she's not,' she cried 
breathlessly.
Pete's heart hammered.
Terry dragged his barely conscious wife back to their corner and managed, with 
some difficulty, to install her on the stool. She was grey faced, glassy eyed 
and still sweating profusely. She moaned softly when he patted her blue-bruised 
tits with a wet sponge.
'At least she's coming round," he groaned.
After half a minute or so her eyelids opened fully and she was croaking to him. 
He'd obviously asked her how she felt. 
Her fluttering gloved hands lightly brushed her mottled chest and tears 
began to trickle down her cheeks.
He plucked up some courage and asked her a further question.
'Time to call it a day isn't it love, before you get hurt bad?' 
Despite the fear and tears in her eyes she slowly shook her head.
'I'm not ready to give in yet,' she whispered through her grotesque, puffy 
and split lips, 'don't stop me now.........,' her sobs engulfed her.
Su, once jubilant began to fidget nervously and throw dark glances at the ref. 
The hitherto vociferous crowd hushed, wondering whether this really was the end 
or whether the battle might, incredibly, be rejoined. There was a spontaneous 
burst of applause when, a few seconds later, the stooped figure of Barbara stood 
unsteadily in her corner.
The ref. was well out to lunch by now. He gave the impression of a 
shell-shocked soldier and it looked as if this fight was on again. He knew, 
as did everyone in the tent including Su, that the only thing Barbara could do 
was cover up. She wasn't even able to run away, so badly was she 
hurting and confused.
He actually made a decision.
The period would last the remaining minute or so of the eighth round during 
which Barbara had been beaten senseless.
She, of course, couldn't know this and stood stoically expecting a three minute 
beating at best, or the canvas again, this time probably for keeps. She covered 
up in the time honoured fashion, gloves over her forehead and eyes, forearms
covering her face and neck with her elbows tucked close about the blue-black 
bags of bruises which constituted her bosom. Despite her stoop, Su began a 
demolition job on her belly and sides. 
She whimpered behind the ruined gloves as the stinging punches hammered home. 
She was in her own corner still, back against the corner post. She couldn't 
even bend with the blows. 
Su felt as if she was hitting a well padded wall, so unyielding was the target.
Terry, so close, could hardly bear to watch, or listen!
Su's face was twisted with rage, her bloody breasts flopping around her chest as 
she punished her opponent.
The ref. knocked twenty seconds off the already foreshortened round and 
interposed first his left arm, then his thin frame, between the wild eyed Su and 
the barely conscious Barbara.
All Terry needed to do was to slip the stool beneath her before she sat on thin 
air. 
He grabbed the smelling salts proffered by the ref. and thrust the neck of the 
small bottle almost up her nostrils. She was even too far gone to cough and 
splutter. 
For a second he questioned the wisdom of reviving her. 
She might decide to go in again.
Su, though exhausted from her spell of non-stop punching, stood in her corner 
while Pete fanned her with a towel. Her injuries looked almost as bad as 
Barbara's but she wasn't in anything like so much pain.
Barbara, for her part, sucked in her breath as the pain broke through the veil 
of her insensibility. She felt as if her face and body were one great bruise. 
She could think of nothing but her pain. She knew Terry was talking to her but 
couldn't comprehend. Slowly his voice faded completely. Her head fell 
back onto the corner post, her eyelids drooped and she began to breathe deeply 
and evenly.
He looked her over before turning to the ref.
He'd seen her take some beatings, but if this wasn't the worse, then it was a 
pretty damn close run thing. Her torso and of course breasts were bruised 
blue-black except where gouts of blood hid the damage. That blood from her face 
which was itself a mask of blood and swelling. Even her pants and thighs were 
spattered red.
'Look, she's out to the world, I'll need more than a minute.'
'Assuming she's crazy enough to want to face up again,' he shuddered to himself
'Yeah, no problem,' muttered the bemused ref.
The sweating, panting blonde seemed relieved when she heard the deal struck. 
She hadn't had a glove laid on her during the round so her injuries were 
actually no worse, but that's not to say she didn't look a mess. The effort 
she'd put in had exhausted her and she laid outstretched whilst Pete fanned her 
with a towel.
Terry plied the smelling salts again. 
Barbara's wrecked face twitched and she pawed the air with the sodden gloves.
'How long have I been out?' she moaned.
'Only a few seconds, how do you feel?'
'Still sore, but it couldn't be any worse than last time honest.' 
There were tears in her eyes.
'How long to the bell?'
He shrugged.
'About a quarter of a minute I should think.' 
She sighed.
'You don't want to go on do you? Why don't you just sit there till you're 
feeling better then I'll get your clothes and we can go and get you cleaned up?" 
'Humpf.'
'Come on, you did absolutely nothing in that round. You'll end up with a broken 
rib or a busted nose if you carry on.'
'I've gotta go out. You're right, she will have to hurt me bad before I quit.' 
He slung down the bottle of smelling salts and folded his arms. He quickly
considered her position. She was in pa1n and bleeding badly, but she was 
physically fit and not too tired. Her bloody face looked bad but when he 
thought about it, at least she wasn't cut around the eyes, her sight was 
unimpaired.
'If she can stand up to Su for a while she may be able to do some damage,' he 
thought.
He glanced across at Su's pink, round face. Squatting down he put his idea to 
his suffering wife.
'Look, do you think you can keep out of trouble for long enough to clout her a 
few times?'
She nodded slowly and painfully.
'She's really soft about the face, I wouldn't mind betting that, especially with 
these gloves, you could cut her eyes easily with a few good crosses."
She nodded again and glanced at the ripped four ouncer on her right fist.
'It might work,' it was all a question of whether she could come off the
defensive.	
She looked at Terry as she rose at the bell and he knew she'd give it all she'd 
got.
'Round Nine,' whined the ref.
After more than thirty minutes in the ring using those wicked gloves they both 
looked as if they'd been in a scrap. Both faces and bodies showed signs of real 
damage.
Some more was on the way if Barbara's plans cane to fruition. 
Su was taken by surprise when the big brunette surged forward. 
'She's determined alright,' sighed Terry.
Su was grinning.
The first one caught her on the left ear. The grin evaporated and she actually 
squealed, staggering.
'Now or never,' thought Terry.
True to form she followed up.
The left cross was undoubtedly her best punch, Terry knew, he'd felt it 
several times himself.
The glove did land on her right eyebrow but there was to be no split skin. 
Su showed no sign of retaliating so she put the combination together again. 
Right and left again. 
Su's head rocked and sang. 
This time the left cross hit pay dirt.
Barbara was cheered to see the blood, but disappointed to see the cut, under 
Su's right eye. Both her eyes were puffy and she still hung there transfixed.
Pete was screaming at her, the ref. made a move towards her but was pulled up by 
a withering look from Barbara.
'It's my turn now," she snarled.
She needed to flatten the blonde, but she dearly wanted to cut her first.
Pulling her right back she smacked Su in the left eye with a straight punch with 
all her height and weight behind it.
Su staggered again.
Then crumpled in a heap at Barbara's feet.
She lay in a foetal position on the filthy floor.
After a quick attempt to see how badly she was cut, Barbara turned for her 
corner and hung on the ropes.
'You did it," said Terry quietly.
When she looked back at the ring she saw Su sitting up with blood seeping from 
the cut under her right eye and pumping from another at the corner of her left.
'Her eyebrows are still alright," she whispered, disappointed.
"Hang in there,' replied Terry.
No doubt about it, she'd made up some ground.
His heart went out to her, she was some scrapper.
Su weaved unsteadily from the ring centre.
He inclined his head in her direction.
Barbara turned slowly.
'Come and get it,' she said to Terry.
The ref. leant against the ropes, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets. 
The ebb and flow of the fight washed over him. He was now almost a bystander, 
as engulfed by the ferocity of the scrap as the punters outside the ring. The 
two participants didn't seem to be enjoying it, but some need was obviously 
being fulfilled.
Barbara spun Su round with a right cross while she tottered near the middle of 
the ring. The blonde's right glove actually hit the canvas, but she saved 
herself by rolling round it to stand again, albeit shakily. 
Barbara lumbered over and bashed her in the tits with a right uppercut.
Down she went again.
She rolled onto her side.
The swelling round both her eyes was very noticeable. Barbara stared at her 
face. The swelling was good news for her. 
Su smiled weakly at Pete.
He was thinking how well Barbara had got back on top. Though the sight before 
him didn't cheer him much. He had to be honest with himself, Su looked a right 
mess.
She dragged herself up yet again.
It was obvious she was in for another thumping, her guard was down, her mouth 
hanging open and she still swayed slightly. 
The round was half over. 
They were certainly slowing up, even allowing for the time that Su had spent 
on the canvas, few punches had been thrown.
Barbara waded in again.
Su's head rocked.
More blood sprang from her nose and mouth as she crumpled. 
'That's the third time,' groaned Pete.
He was ready to climb through the ropes but thought better of it. 
'Perhaps she'll pack it in.'
She twitched on the squalid ring floor. One glove came up to her ruined face.
It had been an involuntary movement though, she was not conscious, was a good 
half minute before her eyes opened. 
Su stared at the ceiling, uncomprehending.
Pete held his breath.
She managed to lift her poor head from the canvas. Turning, her puffy eyes met 
her husband's.
His guts tightened when he recognised the look. He'd seen it often.
It meant she was down, but not out. Flattened, but not finished.
She shook her head, blood spattered from her nose onto her bruised cheeks. 
Barbara motioned towards her and Terry sighed when he saw the pathetic attempts 
the blonde was making to come round.
'Oh well, if she's going on..........,' groaned Pete.
In a flash he had her under the armpits. She was a dead weight but he managed 
to get her to her feet.
Either by fortune or design the bell clanged dully.
He half dragged her to the corner and lowered her onto the swing stool. He 
couldn't contemplate touching her raw face so he decided to give her some air 
and began to fan her with the towel.
Barbara too sit untended for the full minute. The blood-wet gloves were thrust 
down between her massive thighs. She suffered almost as much as Su.
The bell clanged again.
The ref. never bothered to call out what round it was.
For the tenth time they rose. 
Both covered in blood, both tired to death, both still filled with loathing for one another.
Barbara was best equipped to do something about it.
Su waited stoically near her corner.
Had her eyes been able to focus properly she might have seen the attack coming. 
As it was her head snapped back as Barbara slammed a straight right into her mouth. 
That was the first she knew of it.
If know is the right word.
Her legs went rubbery.
Barbara followed up with more punches to Su's gory face..
Su whimpered, Pete grimaced.
Her gloves were down in front of her belly.
The ref. obviously intended to take no further interest. 
A crashing right popped Su's nose. 
Blood coursed down over her aching tits.
'That's it!' shouted Pete.
Barbara heard but took no notice, whether she could comprehend was debatable anyway.
Su collected yet another right cross to the mouth which broke off one of her front teeth.
She fell backwards, legs in the air, ending up flat on her back with her gloves by her sides.
Even the callous, brutal Barbara knew it was all over.
She turned slowly and headed for her own corner. She sagged onto the proffered stool.
'It's done,' she croaked.
A crestfallen Pete climbed wearily into the ring. He looked down at his wife. 
Besides the blood all over her body, face end pants, two thick streams ran from 
her swollen nose down over her bruised cheeks and neck. Even her blonde tresses 
were wet and crimson.
He looked questioningly at the ref., there was no reciprocation.
As if to save the day, a couple of fair women from amongst the crowd 
also got in to the ring to help out.
Su seemed their first priority, one got the bowl and sponge 
from her corner on her way over to the fallen woman.
They worked gently but quickly.
The boxers' clothes were retrieved from the grass beside the ring.
A couple of minutes saw both Barbara and a groggy Su ready to leave the ring. 
Barbara had on her jeans with a towel draped over her shoulders.
Su was in her split skirt and towel.
Even the careful fair women had difficulty in getting Su through the ropes. 
She was still bleeding very heavily from the nose. The towel and her 
exposed cleavage quickly became wet with blood as she was manoeuvred through the
gawping crowd.
The ref., remembering that they still wore his precious gloves, decided to tag
along.
Fortunately two separate families were involved so they were helped to different
caravans.
The ref. gingerly held the two soggy pairs of gloves by the frayed 
laces when he scurried back to his own trailer.
An hour or so later two figures emerged from one of the vans. One, the male, 
walked smoothly and erect, the other bent forward, limping slightly. 
Her height gave her away as Barbara.
Su? She was sleeping fitfully in a bunk bed. 
Pete kept vigil at her side. 
"She'll have to go to casualty when she wakes.'
He was dreading that.