Bridget’s muscles flexed and she hoisted Jan over her head. Feet up and head down, Jan was held suspended in the air -- helpless. A look of determination crossed Bridget’s red, sweat stained face. In one graceful move, Bridget slammed Jan to the ring floor.

Jan impacted on her broad sweaty back. The ring floor flexed under her weight. The back of her head bounced off the canvas. Her globe-shaped breasts rippled with the force of her fall, waves on a stormy ocean.

Bridget stood erect, her smaller breasts rising and falling as she regained her breath. Jan’s abdominals tightened and her tummy flattened. She pulled herself into a sitting position and shook her head slowly from side to side, trying to clear the fog from her brain.

Bridget pounced on Jan, a hawk swooping down on a rabbit. She grabbed Jan by the arm and stood her up.

Jan was tough and she knew she was in trouble. She grabbed for Bridget’s broad bare shoulders.

Bridget felt Jan’s breath on her face; warm, smelling of Pepsodent. A second later Bridget slammed the palm of her hand into Jan’s belly just above the vee of her trimmed pubic hair.

The blow sounded like the crack of a gunshot in the silent room. Jan’s knees buckled.