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One Friday night about a year ago, two of my friends and I were out cruising and decided to stop and try to pick up a couple six packs at a bar. Being under 21, it wasn't too easy getting served and since I looked the oldest of the trio, I donned some extra make-up and we went into this seedy looking bar called the Brass Rail on 14th Street which wasn't exactly the best part of town.
Cathy and Dawn weren't too pleased about the atmosphere as we entered
and all eyes in the place fell on us like we walked in directly from our spaceship. It was the kind of bar that has it's regulars and anyone who wanders in is treated like an alien plague at best.
There were about 15 to 20 guys and about 3 or 4 girls in the place and
rock n' roll blasted from the jukebox in the far corner as I bravely made my way to the bar. The place smelled of stale beer and bad perfume and looked
like it hadn't been cleaned or swept since the late sixties but we were there only for beer and I quickly hailed the bartender for service as Cathy and Dawn nervously looked around.
"Two six packs of Miller." I asked calmly as the bartender gave me the once over too slowly.
"You got I.D. girlie?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
"Sure." I said, reluctantly pulling my poorly altered driver's license from my overfilled purse. I was only two months away from turning 21, but it was still illegal to buy booze so I hoped he wouldn't figure the ID was fake.
The bartender looked it over, looked long and hard at me and then back at the picture on the fake license. "What's your birthdate Kim?" he finally asked.
"September 4th." I answered quickly, surprised that the gorilla could even read.
"Your address?" he continued.
"Look buddy," I said, acting miffed, "I want beer, I'm not applying for a credit card, how 'bout it?"
"Address?" he persisted.
I told him the address on the license and he smiled slightly before handing it back to me. "Cold ones are in the back, hang on, I'll get 'em."
I was cool. I leaned on the bar and looked around while I waited for the brew when I noticed a girl staring at me from a table near the jukebox. She was with two guys and they looked at us too when she pointed us out to them. A lump rose in my throat when the three of them got up and came toward us.
The girl was staggering slightly and obviously had had too much to drink already and the way the two guys were laughing, I could only guess there was going to be trouble unless the barkeep got back quick with the beer. Cathy and Dawn urged me to get out of there but I wanted my beer and decided to wait.
"Well look here." the blonde said as she leaned against the bar beside me. "We got a teenybopper here wanting to buy some illegal alcohol."
I looked her up and down and wasn't overly impressed. She stood about my height and maybe outweighed me by about 10 pounds or so. I figured her to be in her mid to late 20's and while she was okay looking, she was no centerfold. She had shoulder length blonde hair, fair sized titties and was wearing jeans, a bare midriff halter top and sneakers.
I just ignored her and looked the other way as guys began tapping one another on the shoulder and pointing in our direction. Enjoying the attention, the blonde decided to push the issue a little more.
"You ignoring me, bitch?" she asked in a challenging tone.
"Trying to." I responded, which brought a few oohs from the guys nearby, mocking the blonde and egging her on.
I wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of getting into a bar room catfight with this girl but I never was one to back down from a challenge and when I fought, I fought to win. She looked formidable and I knew if we did wind up in a fight, it would be a good one since she didn't look like the type that would quit either.
"I think you should take your little friends and get the hell outta here before you get hurt." she hissed.
"And I think you should mind your own business." I shot back, looking her square in the eyes.
The blonde then picked up her drink and threw it right in my face. I jumped off the stool as the whiskey and soda ran down my face and the front of my peasant blouse. I was livid and Cathy and Dawn were in a state of panic as the men and other women in the bar began to gather around, some already chanting "Fight! Fight!"
It was at that point that I realized I was still a minor using an illegal ID so it wouldn't be in my best interest to get arrested. Besides, I didn't really want to roll around on the floor in a bar fight in front of all these animals so I decided to back off.
I turned to leave and the blonde grabbed me by the shoulder from behind and turned me around. I instinctively knocked her hand away from my shoulder which just pissed her off even more.
"Apologize." the blonde said.
"For what?" I shot back.
"For coming into MY bar without permission." she said.
"Fuck off bimbo!" I retaliated which sent the crowd of eager onlookers into a chorus of mocking challenges directed at the blonde they were calling Traci.
The girl hesitated for a moment, not really sure what to do since she didn't expect me to react that way. I saw her look at the guys who were laughing and taunting her and she was in a corner now with no way to get out and save face, so she slapped me . . . hard.
I went to slap her back but she blocked it before it even came close and before I could recover, she threw a hard punch with her other hand right into my stomach, doubling me over. Then, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulled me back upright, and slapped me again even harder. My head snapped to the side and I saw stars as I dropped to my knees, dazed and stunned.
My friends rushed to my side and helped me up as I tried to shake the cobwebs out of my spinning head. Both my cheeks stung like fire and my stomach felt like I'd been rammed with a two by four. We started heading slowly for the door but I stopped. Getting my wits back, I shook my two friends off and turned around. Traci was laughing, had a guy on each arm, and was walking back to her table, quite full of herself at her easy victory. Outraged, I ran after her.
Someone yelled "Look out!" but it was too late. By the time she started to turn, I'd jumped on her back and dug all ten claws into her bleached blonde hair. The flying tackle sent Traci reeling forward with me on her back. She hit a table and we crashed over it, collapsing it onto the floor with us on it.
I was screeching like a cat as I tore at her hair with both hands. She rolled me off her, turned to face me, and our legs snaked together. We rolled off the broken table onto the floor, each viciously pulling the other's hair. Back and forth we rolled through the dirt, spilled beer, busted wooden table parts, and popcorn.
Soon the two hand hair pulling gave way to single hand hair pulling as we started slapping, clawing, and tearing at each other's tops with our other hand. Her claws stung bad as she dug into my bare flesh but I fought on knowing I was hurting her just as bad and soon I became numb to the clawing and just fought blindly and wildly, feeling no pain at all.
Then we somehow struggled to our knees and then to our feet. Everyone in the bar was closed in around us cheering and yelling as we continued to battle, tooth and nail, all over the seedy bar. We slammed into the juke box and I bent Traci backwards over it, pinning her there by clutching her hair with both hands and slamming her head against the old Wurlitzer.
Finally she rammed a knee into my crotch and I reeled backwards from the pain. She dove at me and our momentum carried us across the room till my back slammed against the padded bar, knocking over several stools.
I spun out and slammed Traci against the bar, and she then reversed and did the same to me as we worked our way slowly down the length of the bar, alternating positions and knocking over all the stools.
We both had trickles of blood coming from numerous claw marks and she was bleeding slightly from the corner of her mouth. I knew I was too because I could taste it but it didn't phase me in the least . . . I wanted this bitch dead.
Then I went to work on her top. Grabbing it with both hands, I gave a few good hard yanks, and the fabric peeled away with a loud, slow, long ripping sound. She tried in vain to cover up as her big hooters came into full view and when she did, I threw a right to her chin that knocked her back a few steps.
She staggered and regrouped just as I came at her again. I threw another right but she caught my wrist and jammed her knee into my crotch again, doubling me over. Traci grabbed two handfuls of my hair and pulled hard, guiding me toward the bar while I was still bent over at the waist.
She slammed me into the padded bar (thank god it was padded) and I dropped to the floor. She immediately dove on top of me and methodically tore away my blouse, one shred at a time until she got to my white lace bra. That went next. She popped both straps and then grabbed it right between my cleavage and pulled with all her might. The delicate rear clasp snapped open and my boobs popped right out into public view, totally bare and exposed.
What happened next was brutal. On our knees, facing each other, we went for one another's bare tits with both hands. We grabbed, clawed, twisted, pulled, gouged and pinched each other's bare tits until the tears flowed heavily from both of us. It was the most painful thing I'd ever experienced but I refused to quit and so did she.
Somehow we managed to wind up prone again on the floor and began rolling around once again with our legs entwined. We both still had on our jeans and looking back now, I can't help but wonder where the fight would have gone if we had been wearing dresses or skirts instead of jeans. From the waists up, we were both clawed, scratched, bruised and bleeding. Our tits were red, swollen, and clawed up real bad. We both had a light sheen
of perspiration now that was mixing with the blood and the tears as we continued to roll around on the dirty bar room floor.
Dirt and debris was now beginning to cling to our sweaty flesh as we rolled, collecting the dirt like magnets. I was running out of gas by this point, but so was Traci, and seeing her begin to wear down, gave me a new burst of energy.
I broke our mutual leg lock and as I did, she quickly tried to crawl on top of me, pinning me on my back to the floor. I snaked my legs around her waist and locked my ankles behind her back. I squeezed with every ounce of strength I had left in my sore, tired body.
She started gasping for air and clawing at my legs but with the jeans on, her weak clawing did nothing at all and I squeezed harder, crushing her ribs between my powerful thighs. She writhed and bucked and squirmed furiously against the scissors, her big tits were bouncing and jiggling like two big bowls of jello as she struggled. She started wildly slapping at my face and tits in desperation now, trying anything she could to get me to
release the deadly pin I had her in but I clung to the scissors, knowing if I could hang on only a few more seconds, I'd win.
I grabbed Traci's hair and rolled onto my side, dragging her onto her side as well, still pinned between my legs. I began to buck and jerk her head back and forth, applying all the pressure I could with my thighs. My muscles were turning to jelly now and I could feel myself going weaker and weaker as we wriggled and writhed about on the floor, wildly clawing and pulling hair and slapping.
Then I heard her stammer, "I . . . I . . give."
I made her repeat it two more times louder before I let the scissors loose. When I finally did, she made no move to start fighting again, she just went limp and rolled over onto her back sucking air into her depleted lungs.
My chest was heaving too since I was so out of breath and exhausted. Sweat dripped from my body as I slowly straddled my fallen adversary. The crowd was screaming for me to finish her off and I knew what they wanted to see . . .
Straddling Traci's spent body, I slowly began inching forward into the schoolgirl pin, pinning her shoulders under my knees and forcing her hands and arms down against the floor. Then, with my crotch only inches from her face, sitting on her battered tits with all my body weight, I took two handfuls of her matted, tangled blonde hair, and pulled her face up against my crotch. I held it there a second as she sputtered and gagged and then I slammed her head against the hard floor, leaned, back, gave her a final slap across the face, and then got up with my arms held high over my head in victory.
My friends came quickly with a jacket for me to cover up with but I didn't care. I was revelling in the moment of sweet victory as I eyed my fallen victim who was being attended to by her friends. That's one bar room tramp who's gonna think twice before she starts any
shit again . . .
THE END
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