It had been two weeks since the phony knife fight between Jenny and Pam. Pam was seated at a Liferower, where she had been for the last hour, rowing away without rest. Her mind was not on what she was doing, but it was such a frequent exercise for her, that she didn't need to concentrate. Only later, when the fatigue set in, would she begin to realize how long she had been rowing. Her mind was on her defeat. She still had the vision of Jenny's biceps swelling as the two struggled to plunge their plastic knives at each other. Her own biceps swelled no less, and the two blondes were remarkably well-matched, but Pam had lost that encounter.

Now they were all even, at one contest each. Since Pam had lost, the custom that had sprung up between them called for Pam to make the next choice. She was thinking of what she wanted their next test of strength to be. Pam wanted to test herself fully against Jenny. The two had not arm wrestled, or leg wrestled, and she wondered what would happen if they stood chest to chest, fingers locked in a test of strength to drive each other to their knees. Each prospect thrilled her, excited her. But for this next chapter in the duel between them, she wanted something unusual. Now that she was between movies, her days were free. And she had used the last fourteen of them in her efforts to select her next matchup with Jenny.

Pam was also thinking that the war between the two blondes might never end. Even in her own mind it seemed stranger to her that she secretly hoped it would not.

Pam might have been surprised to know that Jenny was having the same sort of thoughts. Jenny was sitting in a luxury apartment in Brentwood, absently reading through a script that had been sent over by her agent for her review. But actually, she was thinking about her blonde rival.

She rose from the couch she had been laying on and stretched. She was planning to exercise after she got through with the script, but she couldn't keep her mind on the work. Giving up on the script, she walked into the bedroom and took off the short-sleeved shirt she was wearing. Standing in a sports bra, before a full-length mirror, she shot a double biceps pose, satisfied with the result, but knowing that her rival was preparing even now for the next stage of their duel. She turned slightly sideways facing the mirror, and flexed her calf muscles, the heart-shapes showing instantly. Her workouts had become more intense since the night she had Indian wrestled Pam. The memory of her shoulder pressed against Pam's, the feel of the steel-hard thigh against her own, the sounds of their grunts as they strained against each other, these things never left her mind. Nor did the memory of her defeat.

Perhaps the increased training had paid off in their second encounter. Now they were even at one each. Pam would choose the next contest between them, and Jenny would just have to hope she was ready to continue their duel. She flexed her thigh, and watched the beginnings of corded steel pop up-

Pam awoke the next morning, lying in bed long after awakening, still plagued with indecision about what to choose next. It had been a long night, full of dreams, each one more intense than the last. It wasn't that she couldn't think of anything, it was simply that she had too many possible choices.

Finally she arose and put on exercise clothes, walking out to her home gym. She was doing sit-ups on an incline board when it struck her. Abdominals! But how? She finished her set and jumped into the Jacuzzi, the problem still racking her brain. She thought about every wrestling match that she had ever seen, what moves she had seen that tested abdominal strength. She sat back against the side of the tub, letting the hot water permeate her spent, tired muscles as she thought, images of her own body locked in a very equal struggle with the other blonde pouring through her mind.

She spent the rest of the morning wracking her brain, then, that afternoon; she went to a video store and rented wrestling videos. None of the young men working in the store quite knew what Pamela Anderson would want with wrestling videos, but the very idea that she did want them caused their imaginations to go well into overtime. More than one dreamt about the visitation and its possible meaning that night.

She spent that afternoon and evening watching the videos and trying to gather ideas from them. There were three videos of Japanese women wrestling which began an idea swimming around her mind. By the end of the evening, she had a rough idea of what she wanted to do. By the next morning, after another dream-filled night, the idea was solid in her mind.

The following morning, Jenny received the telephone call she had been waiting for. Both women could hear the trembling in the other's voice as they spoke. And each was secretly gratified to hear it.

Pam's voice came over the line. "Jenny, shall we continue our duel?"

"With pleasure," the blonde answered. "I've been working out every day, just waiting for you to call. Where and when?"

Pam gave her the address of a house on Lombard Street in San Francisco. It belonged to a friend of hers who was in Israel on a movie project. The date was set for the following Friday evening at seven.

On Thursday evening, Jenny hitched a ride with a very willing gentleman of her acquaintance, in his private jet. Instead of splitting a bottle of champagne with him, however, she nursed a single glass on the fifty-minute flight from LAX to San Francisco International. It was a disappointment for him - he had never gotten her drunk enough to say yes, and it appeared he would have yet another failure.

Upon arrival in San Francisco, Jenny told her benefactor that she was in town for a very important meeting and thanked him for the ride. Leaving the shocked and disappointed would-be suitor in her wake, she took a cab to the Top of the Mark Hotel.

She unpacked her suitcase; called Room Service for a light dinner, then called the number she had been given by Pam. "I'm here," she said, her voice, once again, quivering slightly with apprehension.

"Good," came the equally nervous voice on the other end. "I'll be staying at the Hyatt Regency tonight. This place will be neutral ground for both of us tomorrow. I'll arrive just early enough to make sure that everything's ready. I've arranged to have a limo pick you up tomorrow evening at six."

"I wish we were meeting right now," Jenny said.

"So do I," Pam replied. "But tomorrow night, we'll test each other's strength to the finish once again." There was a pause before Pam continued. "This time it will be a long and painful test. Both of us are going to feel great pain, and the loser will scream her submission to the winner."

The beginning of a cruel smile crossed Jenny's lips. "Yeah, but it's just Round Three. You and I like this too much, Pam. I've never faced anyone who's such an even match for me. We may never finish our duel."

There was a delay before Pam answered. "I've never faced anyone like you, either. I almost hope it never ends. But when one of us calls the other and her challenge isn't accepted, we'll both know the duel is over. It doesn't matter how many times either of us submits to the other's strength. What matters is when one of us doesn't want to continue."

"Agreed," Jenny answered. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right," Pam replied, and hung up.

The next morning, Jenny arose and went up to the fitness center of the hotel. She did an aerobic workout, shunning her usual weight training, then returned to her room and called Room Service for cereal and coffee. She watched television throughout the day, finally turning it off at four o'clock. She had a long, hot shower, then dried her hair and dressed in a short black sleeveless dress and black high heels. She grabbed her purse and went down to the lobby and out into the warm evening air. Cabs were waiting out in front and she got into one, giving the driver the address on Lombard Street.

Nerves threatened to overwhelm her on the drive through the San Francisco streets. The driver made several attempts to strike up a conversation, which she answered in monosyllables, or not at all. Finally the driver shut up, his opinion forever determined that Jenny McCarthy was a bitch. Beautiful, but a bitch, nonetheless.

The cab finally arrived at the address as darkness began to fall. Jenny got out of the cab wordlessly and handed the driver a fifty-dollar bill, walking away. The driver began to ask if she wanted her change, but fell silent. After all, fifty dollars was nothing to a bitch as well off as Jenny McCarthy. He drove off.

Jenny walked up the somewhat winding walkway to the large oak front door. She rang the bell and waited, growing more nervous by the minute. The door opened quickly - Pam was nervous as well. The two blondes exchanged a long, hard stare, then Pam stepped aside so that Jenny could enter the house. Pam was dressed in a short white sleeveless dress with white heels. Both could tell that neither wore anything underneath their dress.

Pam led the way to a large room in the back of the house. The only light came from a fire burning in the hearth at the far side of the room. On the floor were a broomstick and two lengths of leather strap. Jenny held her hands out and Pam wrapped her left hand together with Jenny's right. Somehow, they managed to tie their other hands together as well. Their fingers were interlaced now, a hold which they broke to thread the broomstick between their bound hands. This left them with their arms fully extended to their sides, the wood of the broomstick resting on their collarbones, their eyes locked with a hellish hatred flashing from each woman. Breast pressed against breast, and the two could feel the increase in the excitement of the other, as they stood like that for a long moment, perversely pressing their rock-hard stomachs together, then their cast-iron thighs. The two women stepped slightly apart, not that they could move far apart, and began to turn one end of the broomstick downward. It passed between them and still they continued to turn, until their backs were pressed together. The broomstick rested painfully between their shoulder blades.

"Do you know how this works?" Pam asked through gritted teeth.

"No."

"Each of us bends at the waist, trying to pull the other off the ground. Since you and I are so evenly matched, we should burn out each other's abdominals during the duel. That leaves nothing to use to draw our feet up. Which means pain while we fight, and unbearable pain for the loser, who will be stretched out over the winner, in the air."

Jenny nodded. "Sounds good."

Slowly, the women pressed backward even further. Soon their buttocks pressed together, as hard as the muscle within would allow. The backs of their thighs pressed together, as did their calves, and even the backs of their high-heeled shoes. Arms began to pull against each other, but this time the arms were not part of the test of strength between them. The arms were merely levers. The real test of strength was in their stomachs. Neither could see the six-pack, which extended from her own stomach, much less the abdomen of her rival. But each could feel it and, within seconds, feel the pain, which would become excruciating agony before they were through.

Both women felt their stomachs begin to burn. Arms trembled at a distance, and each could feel the calf and thigh muscles of her rival begin to quiver. This was a contest where the first woman to yield an inch would lose the duel.

The only light in the room was the flickering firelight, as the two blondes began to grunt in their efforts to overpower each other. Perspiration began to build on the brow of each woman. Then each could feel it trickling down from their underarms, then running down their backs.

It was just about this point, four minutes into the contest, when the effort from their abdominals began to turn into pain. First with an aching sensation.

Body-to-body, the women strove against each other. They could not have been more tightly pressed together if the had been bound with bungee cords. The muscles of rounded buttocks pressed together and each felt every inch of her rival, as though looking for some weakness in the other, and being able to detected, muscle against muscle.

Now six minutes into the contest, the ache had turned into a sharp pain, and the two women cried out with it, still continuing to strain against each other. Now both were soaked in perspiration, and there were droplets falling down around their high-heeled feet.

Their entire bodies trembled with their efforts. Neither tried to speak, feeling that she needed all of her oxygen to fuel her efforts against her rival. At eight minutes, as the pain became agony, each was certain that neither of them would ever win this duel between them, yet both refused to quit. Like Amazon warriors of myth, they fought on, victory their only cause.

Twelve minutes, and neither woman had rested her abdominal muscles for a moment. Pain was something long ago forgotten. These rivals had passed the point of pain. Now all that remained was a dogged determination to defeat the other.

At fifteen minutes, Jenny felt her feet leaving the ground, felt herself being bent over Pam. She stood on tiptoes, desperately trying to keep some of her weight on her feet, but could not. The pain began anew; quickly becoming more than she could stand. "I quit!" she screamed. "I give up!"

Pam bent back and let Jenny's feet touch the ground once more, and then both of them slipped and were sitting on the floor, in absolute agony. Pam was feeling a strange exhilaration, while Jenny sobbed in pain and frustration.

After twenty minutes, they were sufficiently recovered to free themselves. They rested on their hands and knees, faces inches apart. "Had enough?" Pam asked. Jenny looked up at her and the hatred flashed between them again.

"I'll be calling you soon," she replied.

Pam's exhilaration grew once more.