Feinting Spells 4-3
Early November, That Year
Thursday arrived like a hungry predator, looming over Simone until it finally descended on her. Jamila Hayes and Simone Waterson stood in an unfamiliar gym’s lobby, bags strapped over their shoulders. Simone had seen it once; the same gym where Theresa and Jennifer rumbled for the first time, where Rebecca seemed to derive a lurid pleasure from beating up an overmatched kickboxer. It didn’t seem so shady midday on a weekday. The bald, scruffy guy by the front desk appraised them warily but relented when a thin brunette waved him off and called out Simone’s name.
“You’re Simone, right?” she inquired as she approached. Simone couldn't tell at first glance whether she was white or Asian, but she was thin, with freckles and a earnest smile. The woman wore an oversized sweater, her bra visible beneath, and yoga pants. Simone nodded in response. “I'm Kelsey, I'm Rebecca’s friend. Glad you showed up!” the woman said as she led the pair through the gym.
Simone merely nodded again, her body tense, hostile.
“And you are…?” Kelsey inquired of Jamila, cocking her head to the side and touching a finger to her chin.
“Jamila. Simone’s big sister,” the curvy fighter said with considerably more warmth than Simone displayed.
“Oh?” Kelsey exclaimed as she clapped her hands together with delight, “I didn't know you had a sister. Do you train too?”
“Yeah I train,” Jamila said, motioning towards her bag, “but we’re not really sisters, more like close friends.”
“Oh.” Kelsey admitted flatly. “That's cool too. Well, we're all in the back by the cage,” She pointed towards the rear of the gym. ”But the lockers are over there if you need to change. It's only a few of us; just hop in the cage when you're ready.” The young woman said sweetly, leaving the two Binary Star gym members behind.
Jamila and Simone exchanged knowing looks before heading towards the women's locker room.
10 minutes later the two black women emerged, ready to train. Simone recognized only a few of the women standing or sitting in the cage: Theresa, Jennifer, and Rebecca from college, Kelsey from 15 minutes ago. The remaining few were strangers to her.
“Sorry to keep y'all waiting.” Simone announced. She slid her MMA gloves on, one red, one yellow, and her shin pads on before stepping up to cage and opening the door. Jamila slid into the cage behind her, wary smile on her face.
“You certainly took your sweet time,” Rebecca mocked, “Here I was thinking you weren't gonna show up.” She stretched and preened in the middle of the cage, her golden hair spilling down her back in a high ponytail. Rebecca wore a skimpy pair of black bikini bottoms, a bright, multicolored, sleeveless, crop top rash guard with an inexplicable cleavage window, and baby blue MMA gloves and thin shin guards. Simone rolled her eyes hard at the mere sight of her.
“Or nah. I got no problem doing a… what, a self defense demo for you and your… sorority? women's lacrosse team? lesbian coven?” Simone countered. “Besides, we can discuss what this costs you later.”
Jamila’s smile intensified; she was glad to see some of what they'd talked about was still on Simone’s mind. She hoped this would be clean and simple but doubted it. Simone’s mouth had a way of complicating things…
“So let's get started, hoes!” Simone said with a self satisfied chuckle. Her Muay Thai shorts were, short, loose, and bright red with white trim and designs, a simple white sports bra peeking out beneath her bright yellow t-shirt, the sleeves and most of the sides cut out.
Jamila’s gear was… conservative by comparison: a short sleeve purple and blue grappling rash guard shirt and a pair of loose white shorts that came down to her knees. Her gloves were a cheery shade of blue.
“Sooo… who here has any sort of kickboxing or MMA or wrestling experience?” Simone began, obviously surprised when every hand in the cage went up, some clearly reluctantly. “Gahdamn,” she muttered before Jamila elbowed her in the ribs. “Alright then, this will be a lot more fun…” she said with fire in her eyes as she shadow boxed a simple punch kick combination.
20 minutes into this … training session, and Rebecca Myers was soundly, completely bored. Learning basic kickboxing from some plucky 19 year old was not how she planned to spend today. She stopped mid strike and loudly, visibly yawned in Simone’s direction.
“You bored, Malibu?” Simone asked, an edge to her voice.
“Well duh. I thought you'd show us something actually interesting, but all you have are boring pretend combos that don't work in real life.” Rebecca stretched her shoulders. “I mean, that would never work on me.” She cooed.
Simone chortled derisively. “C'mon yo, let's not get ahead of ourselves. I’ve seen you fight; the next kick you check will be your very first…” Simone condescended.
“Then show me. For real. None of this ‘punching the air’ stuff” Rebecca refused to back down.
“It's called shadow boxing.”
“It's useless…” Rebecca scoffed, whipping her golden hair. By now disgruntled rumbles were spreading through the crowd of women like wildfire. Simone looked around nervously, wondering how her mom kept a room's attention. This was harder than she'd expected.
“It's how you improve.” Simone insisted. “It's how you motherf—“
“Then show me.” Rebecca demanded, striding up to Simone. “Show me how useful it is. Let's spar. You and me, full contact. Show me these that all of this,” she gestured elaborately, “works in real life. Put me in my place if you're such a good fighter.” Rebecca smirked.
Jamila’s eyes widened. This was where a bad idea became a terrible one. She reached out to Simone just in time you hear the talented striker acquiesce.
“Fuck it. Let’s get it, Malibu Barbie. Don't say I didn't warn you”
Rebecca glanced at Kelsey, who returned her knowing grin, before smiling as sweetly as she could at the black underclassman.
-Sparring round 1- -Simone vs Rebecca-
“Last chance to back out; don't get lit up in front of your lil' pale ass friends, Barbie.” Simone rubbed her palms on her shorts, surprised at how much she sounded like her mom.
“You hear that, Kelsey? Simone Waterson’s gonna TOTALLY kick my ass!” Rebecca called out to the freckled Asian woman they’d met before. Rebecca Meyers’ ring attire consisted of bright blue MMA gloves, a sleeveless crop top rash guard with a noticeable cleavage window and a pair of black, skimpy bikini bottoms. She looked more suited for a surfboard commercial than a fight, and proud of it.
The two women circled tentatively while the other young ladies looked on in rapt attention.
Rebecca broke the holding pattern first, charging forward, fists pumping. Simone hesitated, then slid away just in time, tagging Rebecca with a jab. It looked… haphazard.
Jamila grimaced; the legendary “Sleepy Simone” had resurfaced: it was well known around the Binary Star gym that when Simone sparred, she often spent the first round or two in a lethargic haze. Here she was again, at the exact worst time.
Rebecca came at an angle now, expecting Simone to slide away. The blonde caught her this time, pulled her into a clinch. Simone squirmed, absorbed some punishment, and showed very little in the way of interested aggression. “Still waiting for you to show me something, Simone.” The college senior taunted loud enough for some of the other girls to hear. “Just wait.” Came the reply.
Rebecca shifted her grip: beating Simone up in the clinch was nice, but taking the fight to the mat would let her have some real fun. She imagined sitting on Simone, straddling her hips, pummeling her, showing everyone what real talent looked like. But when she moved to pull Simone to the ground she found the sophomore moved with her, preventing the takedown. They jostled there for a moment, Rebecca's arms wrapped around her, Simone lethargically trying to decouple herself.
A sudden shift and Simone was free and backpedaling, hands tight in her guard. Jamila worried as she sat and watched them: Simone should be hitting her, discouraging Rebecca’s grappling attempts. Instead Jamila watched as the sturdy blonde woman bullied her way in past Simone’s token strikes, grabbed a hold of the suddenly timid pro, and then hurt her before Simone slipped away in seeming slow motion with Rebecca in hot pursuit to repeat the process.
Simone looked…. Really bad. Scared. Timid. Lethargic… Sleepy.
This time there was no timely escape. Instead, the cage shook as the women crashed onto the mat, sending a few of the observers scrambling to get out of their way. Simone looked like she might scramble away even from that until Rebecca pushed her flat onto her back and held her down firmly.
Simone wrapped a free leg around Rebecca’s waist; if she couldn't disengage and stand up, the next matter of business was to prevent anything worse from happening down here on the ground…
Rebecca wanted the exact opposite thing: to straddle Simone and rain down pain and panic and humiliation on this so-called professional fighter; professional fraud was more like it, and Rebecca took pleasure in telling her, showing her.
20 seconds later and the Orange County native had defeated Simone’s half guard through sheer attrition and force. Simone bucked wildly and to no avail, unable to dismount her rider. The lascivious grappler made eye contact with someone in the cage as she licked her lips and purred. Jamila Hayes followed her gaze and found that thin brunette waif now holding a camera. The Caribbean American did her best to innocuously shuffle between the camera and the fighters, yelling grappling advice the whole time.
Simone could thank her later.
in the meantime Rebecca finally straddled the athletic black woman and prepared to have her way with Simone when she felt an urgent tapping on her calf, like a Morse code message. It broke her concentration enough for the Orange County native to recognize the meek, “Nah. No thanks,” coming from her victim.
“Wait what?” Rebecca was incredulous, bemused, incensed. This was her moment. How dare anyone steal it, let alone the insipid sophomore trash beneath her.
“Sooo, you got me. Good shit. Grappling is still dumb as fuck. Fuck all that shit, nahmean? You finna let me up now or nah?” Simone deadpanned.
Rebecca hesitated for a moment then rose off her without another word, save a muttered expletive. Simone rolled backwards, away from her attacker and onto her feet before shrugging and resuming some sort of fighting stance.
For her part, the salacious blonde kept her hands on her hips and stared daggers at the sophomore physics major. “What?” Rebecca asked tensely.
“The bell didn't ring yet. Let’s run it back; I think I figured something out but I wanna test it. I mean, we sparring, or nah?”
Rebecca’s discontent and disappointment bled through into her expression: she’d thoroughly trounced this stupid girl and now Simone wanted to bounce around, wild eyed, like nothing had happened? The entire situation infuriated the wealthy Orange County princess. She grudgingly resumed her stance, took a deep breath and led with her familiar flurry.
Just like before, she caught Simone with a few glancing shots but absorbed a few in return before Simone escaped. But this time as Rebecca turned to relocate her prey she caught a shin into her side, her body jerking with the force of the impact.
Jamila cheered. She and Theresa might have been the only ones to do so. Most of the other women squealed in shock at the sound of the kick.
Rebecca backed off this time, blinked away the pain and tried again. The next time around she absorbed a thudding knee before she put her hands on Simone, grabbed an ankle and a knee and downed her quarry again as the professional MMA fighter grunted in anguish. Rebecca leaned her full bodyweight on Simone this time, driving an elbow into her and watching the impertinent pugilist squirm. “Don't fight it. You know you like it.. I promise you'll enjoy it if you just admit it,” she cooed to the struggling co-ed as she alternated between pounding on Simone with her free hand and rubbing the woman's torso and thigh.
“Thot!” Simone spat back impotently.
“Oh, don't tell me this doesn’t get you a little excited… isn’t that why they call you Slick?”
Simone just groaned in contempt and rolled her eyes and redoubled her efforts to escape or threaten Rebecca with some kind of submission attempt. Anything besides lay here and absorb this abuse. But Rebecca laid on her like an abusive wet blanket, or the most uncomfortable snuggling session ever, and disentangling herself was a puzzle piece Simone hadn’t yet found.
This feels right. Rebecca decided, smiling wickedly as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the five minute round. She held the girl down for a few more moments, one forearm lodged painfully below her ribs, the other hand rubbing Simone’s leg. Simone jerked away, rolled over and stood up on shaky legs while the victorious Rebecca preened for the rest of the girls
That couldn't have gone worse.
Simone realized that had she not tapped out, Rebecca absolutely would have tried to rearrange her face.
During a training session
And suddenly the 3-0 professional realized just why she’d been invited here: This was a setup. Rebecca knew a lot more about her than she let on. And now Simone was equal parts furious and embarrassed. She pondered what the fuck even to do until a familiar arm wrapped around her back and Jamila’s voice said, “You awake yet, Sleepy? Take a breath, sit down, think. It’s a jam session, not a concert.”
Simone nodded soundlessly and trudged off to go slump against the wall of the cage, rumination clear on her face. Jamila could still here her muttering about how stupid grappling was. That was normal for Simone though: between rounds with Jamila and Kristine at their home gym, Simone probably made that face 5 or 6 times a week.
In the meantime… “Hey, let’s roll…” Jamila cleared her throat and announced at the gaggle of women.
“Excuse me?” Rebecca asked, not even bothering to turn and face her.
“Let’s roll? Like, let’s spar? I didn’t quite catch your name” The Caribbean Jiu Jitsu expert strode up and offered her hand.
“Who even are you?” Rebecca inquired dismissively.
Jamila sighed. “I'm Jamila. Jam Session. I train at the same gym as Simone.”
“Are you a total loser like she is?” Rebecca taunted.
“I unno,” Jamila chuckled and shrugged, “Maybe? Prolly? I'm probably not as good as she is, being fucking honest,” Jam continued, interrupting Rebecca to finish her point. “Which is why it's gonna be super awkward when I submit you like twice, you know.” The Caribbean submission grappler smiled earnestly, sweetly, and pushed her glasses up her face. “Just, I imagine it'll be kinda embarrassing and shit…”
-Sparring round 2- -Jamila vs Rebecca-
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed, as did Kelsey’s, who stood nearby. “Alright then Jamiqua, or whatever your name is. I’ll humor you.” Rebecca adjusted the straps of her fingerless gloves. “My name is Rebecca. And after I get through kicking your ass, I want you two losers to get the hell out of my gym. Understand?” She signaled to a brunette with green highlights to restart the timer.
The curvy, bespectacled fighter looked up at her new sparring partner and giggled. She removed her glasses and tossed them in Simone’s direction. “Oh f'sho, that's cool; what about when you lose?”
“I don't.” Rebecca affirmed as they circled.
The blonde beachgoer pressured again, arms pumping, but where Simone had hit and run, Jamilia moved towards her, arms up. Rebecca had no real reach advantage over Simone but this nerd was barely tall enough to sit at the grownups table and Rebecca intended to embarrass her in as many ways as she could fit into a 5 minute round.
That spiteful plan began to fray when Jamila instead caught her with a sharp punch followed by the same kick Simone had demonstrated earlier. Rebecca recoiled and reset, only now realizing that the woman with the headband full of wild black curls was a left-handed fighter, a filthy southpaw. They approached again, both looking to come forward and trade strikes. They repeated this joust a few times until the two locked up in the middle of the cage, gripping and grasping each other. They pulled on each other, exchanging short strikes, neither willing to give an inch.
Elsewhere in the cage
“Simone, you ok?” A young woman inquired suddenly rousing Simone from her feverish muttering and gesturing.
“Oh damn… hey Theresa. I'm fine, just thinking.”
“About?”
“How much fun I'm about to have…” Simone said, smiling like a knife.
Theresa’s confusion was painted on her face.
“I'm going to spar with her again.” Simone declared. “I think I figured out a few things. This will be fun. I'm honestly enjoying this: getting roughed up in a sparring session is normal. It's not a real fight and I'm not here to look tough. I admit, her actually trying to rearrange my face is rude as fuck, but sure, I got something for her for next time…”
“It sounds a lil scary when you say it like that.” The nascent boxer confided.
“Nah, just take it easy and have fun and try things. It’s training: It's not meant to look perfect, it's supposed to be helpful…” Simone smiled wildly as she watched, pounding her gloves together.
Rebecca was quickly growing incensed; this impertinent meatball insisted on thwarting her plans at every step. Where she normally put her hands wherever she wanted, Jamila swept them away and grabbed her, hit her instead. Where Rebecca usually easily found leverage, this woman pushed and pulled and struggled, matching and countering her movements. They hugged tightly there in the cage, limbs writhing around each other. “High-key, I thought you’d be better at this.” Jamila admitted. “Not sure what I was afraid of.”
“I'm going to literally mop the floor with you. Just watch.” Rebecca assured her.
With a feint and a final effort Rebecca brought the fight to the floor on her terms, landing on top of her opponent as they fell. But even then this stubby grappler had frustrated her: as Rebecca drove her to the floor, Jamila wrapped her legs around Rebecca’s waist and squeezed. Now that vicegrip prevented the OC native from doing much of anything else, be it punch or even try and stand back up. The full guard position was living up to its name.
The two women found themselves in a holding pattern: Rebecca intent on improving her position in order to better punch Jamila while the submission expert looked to reverse their positions or employ some fancy exotic technique. The next moment might decide this whole round, and waiting for her moment was a concept near and dear to the Caribbean grappler.
Rebecca ran out of patience first and pushed, leaned, shoved. Jamila’s reaction flipped them both over. A sweep from full guard to mount. Where Rebecca had been on top, looking to turn a small advantage into a big one, now Jamila found herself on top and thoroughly in control of the situation.
“So… you wanna tap now or…?” Jamila inquired.
“Get bent, loser.” Rebecca spat back, planning her escape.
Jamila smiled, shrugged and promptly began hitting the near defenseless Rebecca in the face. Being on the receiving end of this abuse was uncommon for her. The crowded cage went silent aside from Simone’s muffled laughter.
Rebecca made a valiant effort to escape but only succeeded in turning over and exposing her back to the submission grappler, who instantly took advantage. Jamila’s heels dug into Rebecca's thighs and her arms constricted around Rebecca's neck and head.
The result was a simple rear naked choke: The one submission everyone in the gym could recognize.
“So, I told you I was gonna submit you, and here we are. Tap or nap.” Jamila offered flatly, calmly.
All Rebecca could muster was indignation. This was unthinkable. She struggled, kicked, flailed, and when that failed, lost consciousness entirely. Jamila let go as soon as the taller girl went limp.
“Well… ok. I didn't expect her to choose ‘nap.’ Gahdamn…that’s wild as hell.” Jamila muttered.
She rolled away, stood, shrugged, and stared at the other girls, Kelsey especially. The slender woman glowered back at her but said nothing, instead stepping past Jazz to go aid the unconscious wrestler. Rebecca Meyers roused quickly from her unintended nap, too furious to be embarrassed. Kelsey shushed her, calmed her, helped her stand.
A phone alarm blared out the end of the five minute round. Kelsey conferred with her groggy friend, asked where Mary was a little louder than she’d intended, and finally turned to face this chubby interloper. She stretched out a little more rather than take up a stance immediately
“This is a gym, ostensibly. The yoga studio is down the street.” Simone jeered from her seat in the corner.
The Asian American woman didn't acknowledge Simone at all, instead addressing the woman in middle of the cage. “That wasn’t very nice, Jamila. I mean, sure, Rebecca’s prideful, and kind of a bitch sometimes, but choking her unconscious was excessive.”
Kelsey sighed loudly. “I guess if you insist on deviating from the script, then it’s up to me to rewrite the ending. The show must go on, after all.” Her eyes narrowed at Jamila.
“I just wanted someone to roll with. You two are the ones turning this into some life and death power play…” The young black woman countered. “If you get caught with something… tap out. Learn from it.” She shrugged.
The two began their clash as soon as the alarm rang out.
-Sparring round 3- -Jamila vs Kelsey-
Where Rebecca had charged at her, Jamila found this new women lashing out with long strikes like a lion tamer’s whip. Kelsey committed to maintaining the distance between them and keeping herself away from the walls of the cage. Jamila dove in, eager to stay near the slender martial artist, only for Kelsey to clip her with an arcing hook that briefly made Jamila’s eyes water.
After catching another fist to the cheek and a spinning kick to her ribs shortly after, Jamila wavered cautiously at the edge of Kelsey's range, looking uneasy and uncertain. This was the worst double-dutch session ever. When she sparred with Simone at their gym Simone bounced around at a preferred range and rhythm for her punches and kicks. By contrast this woman seemed to be perpetually moving away from her, working at odd timing, never hitting Jamila until she committed to something, to the wrong thing…
“That's it Kelsey, she's scared!” Rebecca cheered.
“Yo Jazz, she's only circling to her left! And you have to eventually check a kick, please.” Simone countered.
All Jamila wanted was to get close and stay there, to work on her technique, to have and to hold this woman, to bend and fold her in familiar and uncomfortable ways. All she needed was to close the distance. And she could do that in a single burst, if she could just get Kelsey to stop running away. She’d succeeded only in short spurts so far.
Kelsey glided around the ring, taunting and tagging Jamila. “Come on, come get me. I hope you're having as much fun as I am!” Where Mary seemed to enjoy the concept of violence, of the simple act of causing pain, and Rebecca seemed fixated on dominating the people around her like a monarch, treating them as pawns for her immediate amusement, Kelsey Liao just wanted to put on a show. The performance was the important part; fighting was just a means to end. The hard part was finding a worthy costar: it certainly wasn’t her fault that she made a better leading lady than basically everyone she shared the ring or cage with. Most of them weren’t bad people, they were simply boring, underwhelming sluggers who couldn’t entertain a crowd if you gave them written directions beforehand. Unfortunately, most of the women she performed with needed to be beaten or cajoled into playing their role as second fiddle, but most of them came around eventually. Jamila seemed like a decently smart woman; she’d figure it out eventually.
Jamila had done her best to back the brunette towards a wall of the cage. Kelsey lashed out again and this time Jamila blocked most of it before landing with a combination of her own. Now she leaned away from an incoming blow and dashed in. Jamila brought her knee up to her waist and let Kelsey’s leg crash into her shin instead of anything soft or vulnerable. A textbook checked kick. Kelsey recoiled in pain and lashed out with another spinning kick. This one Jamila trapped between her arm and her body, keeping Kelsey close.
She slid forward, still holding the brunette’s leg, and punched her once, twice, three times as Kelsey hopped awkwardly, desperate to free herself. Then the violent thespian leaped unexpectedly towards Jamila. The impending collision caught the Brazilian Jiu Jitsu ace square in the chest and she promptly let go of Kelsey’s foot. The ensuing scramble saw the freckled brunette slide behind Jamila, trapping her wrist behind her back. Kelsey pulled painfully on her arm and leaned closer to her ear.
“Sorry, but I'm the star of this play. Don't hate me, alright?” Kelsey whispered.
“Uhhh… what?” Jamila stammered.
“Just go with it.” Kelsey said sweetly, planting a kiss on Jamila's neck and rubbing her bosom. The rest of the girls blushed and giggled as Jamila struggled to break free. Kelsey wrapped a leg around Jamilla’s and leaned back. The result was a thoroughly unpleasant, uninvited ab stretch for Jamila. Once again, Kelsey’s free hand seductively traced the contours of her opponent’s body, to the excitement of the crowd. “Do you give up, Jamila?” Kelsey asked loudly, looking from the grimacing grappler to the few women watching from corners of the cage.
“This… isn’t wrestling” Jamila grunted in protest.
“There’s more than one way to win a fight” Kelsey Liao teased, her voice low enough for only the two of them to hear. “Play nice or everyone here it’s gonna know what your ‘O’ face looks like”
This time Jamaila yelled a regional pejorative at the pale, freckled wrestler while she worked her way free of the painful, frankly embarrassing hold. She recognized the way it worked, but not exactly how the other girl had secured it. Kelsey pushed her away before she fully disentangled herself and Jamila stumbled forward, barely staying upright and still facing away from her opponent. Jamila Hayes received only a brief reprieve before she fell backwards, literally head over heels as her back crashed against the mat.
Limbs wrapping around her legs, some sort of back trip takedown. These concepts made sense in Jiu Jitsu. Jamaila knew them, used them. So why did everything else feel so… off? Like only recognizing some of the words in a new language. Just… everything almost made sense about the way Kelsey grappled, but that ‘almost’ was the frustrating part.
In any event she had new problems. As soon as she’d recognized the trip she’d curled into a ball, both for her own safety and to frustrate whatever Kelsey had planned next. Now she found both of Kelsey’s arms wrapped around one of her legs and both of Kelsey’s legs snaked around her remaining one. Kelsey had rolled her up on her upper back, denying her much leverage. This was bad. Like a crucifix hold, but on her legs? A kneebar would have made sense to her, or a heel hook, dangerous as that was. This wasn’t Jiu Jitsu. This was something else entirely.
“Can you hear me down there?” Kelsey inquired.
Jamila stopped and paused, thought, breathed. Bodies moved a certain way. There was a way out of most things. If not, you tapped out. Just had to find out which this was.
“This is probably pretty embarrassing, so… you should tap out now, but I totally could understand if you don’t want to.” Kelsey teased.
“So you're a wrestler then?” Jamila inquired.
“No, Rebecca’s a wrestler. I'm a performer.” Kelsey protested.
“No, Rebecca’s a grappler. You're some kind of pro wrestler or something.” The young black woman offered.
Kelsey had succeeded in almost fully extending her legs, splitting them wide open and giving the audience a full view of her. Jamaila was thankful she’d worn the baggy shorts today. She relaxed her legs rather than exhaust her muscles and thought about her next move.
Then she felt Kelsey’s fingers along her knee, then along the inside of her thigh, and then further up, and then… no. Nope. This was absolutely not what she had in mind when Simone asked her to accompany her to a sparring session.
“How’s that feel? You like that? They sure do.” Kelsey cooed.
“Oh… no thanks, I’m not here for that.” Jamila deadpanned as she tapped the mat and signaled her submission. This had quickly gone from interesting to sexual and she had no desire to explore that mix. What Kelsey did for a fight was between her and whoever paid her, but Jamila had no intention of mixing foreplay into her grappling.
Kelsey rubbed her once more, harder this time, before uncoupling her limbs and rolling away. Jamila’s legs crashed unceremoniously onto the mat and she lay there, sweaty and spread eagle for a few moments before rolling over onto her knees to think. She took a few more moments to think and stand up and resume her stance and called out to resume their session, but the phone alarm they’d been using as a bell rang out, precluding any more action.
Relieved, Jamila slumped against a nearby cage wall, sweaty and confused and tired of people. Thankfully, the next face she saw was the woman she’d walked through the door with.
“You a’ight?” Simone inquired, concern etched on her young face.
“I… nah. The fuck was that?” She gasped
“Some sexy wrestling type shit. Looked kinda cool, at least until she starting trying to finger you. I ain’t think you could do that in a MMA fight. You… good Jazz?”
“You can’t do that in a fight!” Jamila yelled, flustered. “I… Nah, I need a moment. What you wanna do? We leaving?” Simone handed her glasses back and Jamila blinked a few times as distant objects suddenly came into focus. Simone’s smile was sharp, eager. Jamila imagined she looked a hot mess. She checked her headband and giant kinky poof of her it restrained. Sometimes she really regretted not twisting it up into braids or locks like the Waterson women did.
“Oh hell nah; I’m gonna ruin Namaste’s life right now This shit finna be crucial, Jazz.”
“You sold those same tickets before Rebecca lit you up. You sure you’re awake this time, Simone?”
“Trust, I got this Jazz. It's about to be lit”
“Go 'head then.” Jamaila acquiesced as Simone strode confidently towards the slender wrestler and her friends.
-Sparring round 4- -Simone vs Kelsey-
“Yo, Namaste! Let’s get it. I wanna try you out; that was mad interesting.” Simone beamed, red and yellow gloves at the ready.
Kelsey took a long sip from a water bottle before acknowledging her. “It's Kelsey, not Namaste. I’m not looking for a squash match, and I don’t think they’re interested in watching one, sorry.”
Simone paused at the unfamiliar terminology. “Aww, don’t be like that; I’ll go easy on you if you’re scared. But I’m tryna check out some of that sexy wrestling stuff you do.” Her expression suggested she knew what Kelsey had implied and instead chose to ignore it. “ I wanna know if you got all that lesbian wrestling stuff from Rebecca, or did she get if from you, or did you both go to the same sex wrestling summer camp...”
“I’m just giving the fans what they want.” Kelsey remarked innocently.
“-Or is there some sort of lesbian wrestling matriarch, like a final boss you both report to or…” Simone continued.
“Simone right? Fine. I’ll humor you. But promise not to tap as fast as you or your fat friend did last time, alright?” Kelsey put a hand on her forehead.
Simone watched Jennifer tap away on her phone and caught Theresa sliding next to Jamaila in the corner of her eye. She hoped Jamila wouldn’t snap at her: Theresa still had a habit of pestering introverts. Then she saw Kelsey put her mouthpiece in and resume that awkward, swaying stance she’d beat Jamila around the cage with.
This promised to be a lot of fun.
They circled until it became clear that Kelsey had no intention of leading their dance. Simone advanced, throwing long, noncommittal punches and kicks, watching Kelsey sway and evade and tentatively fire back.
Elsewhere in the cage
Jamila looked on inquisitively: Simone looked so much more comfortable than she had against Rebecca. Her loose ponytail of black braids bobbed up and down as she hovered there in front of Kelsey. Where Jamila had recalled feeling always too far away, Simone reached out and tagged Kelsey with a jab. When Simone looked good she looked effortless.
The two women looked evenly matched: Simone approaching, Kelsey responding and shuffling, clearly preferring to fight at the outer edge of her range.
It was the first normal sparring round they'd had all day.
“I really thought you’d be better than this,” Kelsey admitted as she back pedaled.
“I got a question for you.” Simone countered.”
Kelsey merely raised her eyebrows in response.
“How do you deal when the other girl has a hand speed advantage? Like, what do you do about that?”
Kelsey smirked. “You're kidding, right? You're asking now? You should have thought about that before we started.”
Simone dropped her hands and laughed aloud as Kelsey circled away. “Nah, I'm good. I’ve never had that problem in my whole life. I was legit wondering how all you regular hoes deal with it.” She kept her hands low as she advanced this time.
Kelsey glared at the impudent sophomore and fired again, a familiar jab-cross and a peculiar kick thrown with her lead leg, not the rear leg. Simone recognized it only from TV, and had painfully absorbed a few of them here while developing a countermeasure. Now, no sooner had Kelsey put her foot down than Simone had bitten into that calf with a scything kick.
The sound reverberated throughout the cage and Kelsey winced. The college senior retreated and tried the same combo again as Simone approached, to the same painful result. As Simone approached again Kelsey lashed out with strikes meant to reestablish distance and deny close engagement. Simone parried most of them, stepped in and scored with several strikes, including a another kick to that same lead leg. Kelsey scored with a left hook but took a knee to the body for her trouble and circled away
elsewhere in the cage
Theresa Bayan could scarcely believe the change she was seeing, much less the finer points of “why.”
Simone was clearly winning this, and as Theresa sat there next to Simone’s friend from her gym she struggled not to ask her for a play by play. The woman had introduced herself tersely as “Jam” before ignoring her entirely. But Theresa had so many questions and no one to answer them. She and her roommate had talked only briefly since they'd arrived, and now Jennifer was acting as their timer for rounds. Jennifer looked happy with her new friends, but Rebecca always seemed so much less excited to talk to Theresa. She wondered why before a flash of action and sound drew her attention back to the two fighters.
“Wanna try that again, Kelsey?” Simone held her stance for a moment before offering a gloved hand to her wiry sparring partner. Kelsey leaned by the cage wall, one knee on the mat. She clutched her face with one hand and steadied herself with another. Her fair complexion made obvious the small welt forming under her eye. She stared at Simone's yellow glove, at her, before accepting the help up. “What… was that?” she asked the young kickboxer.
Simone clapped her two different colored gloves together and smiled. “You were looking for a left hook. So I made you think it was coming and then using that pivot to deliver this right hand and punch you in the mouth. Surprise!”
“Yeah, that part I remember. But…”
“I’ll show you.”
“Don't slow it down on my account” Kelsey shook her head and adjusted her mouthpiece. “Let's just try again. I still intend on giving them a show.”
“Nah, this is a rehearsal.” Simone challenged. “But you still haven't shown me any of that sexy wrestling stuff. What happened, girl?”
They resumed their sparring session, Kelsey moving around the cage a little slower, her alabaster calf beginning to turn red from absorbed repeated kicks.
This time when Simone approached she nearly impaled herself on an outstretched foot. As she grimaced and recoiled, Kelsey followed with a leaping, spinning kick that a wide eyed Simone only barely avoided the full brunt of. The lanky striker still had some life in her yet.
So it's like that?
Kelsey bounced in her stance and waved Simone in. The younger woman took the invitation and pursed Kelsey around the cage before backing her near a wall. They traded again in a flash of action until Simone swayed out of the path of an incoming blow and responded with an open palm slap that brought their session to a halt
“Wait, what? Did you just slap me?” Kelsey asked incredulously. She clutched her face.
“Hell yeah.” Simone said, beaming. “It's a lil part of my strategy. People haaaaate it.”
“It's super disrespectful.”
“I know, right? It’s great.”
“I bet the crowd gets a kick out of it.” Kelsey mused. They resumed their stances only for a moment before the alarm went off. Simone reached out and hugged her sparring partner, whispered a word of thanks as they separated. The lanky striker nodded in response as they went to opposite ends of the cage.
“How do you make that look so easy?” Jamila pondered facetiously.
“People have habits. I like watching people. And I got a feel for her watching you chase her around the cage.” Simone smiled.
“Happy to help, Slick.” Jamila deadpanned, pushing her glasses up her face. “This chick let me get halfway fingered so she can look good punching a wrestler in the face. That's teamwork right there. Lovely.”
“Just like I softened Rebecca up for you. Sleepy Simone at your service.” Simone countered, sticking her tongue out. “You're welcome.”
“Thanks, Simone. Thank you so much. Now, we done here, or nah?”
“You’re leaving already?” Theresa interjected.
“Nah, not till I get that runback with Blondie over there. Now I'm motivated.” Simone answered them both.
Jamila shook her head; that wide eyed, grinning face meant Simone was fixated on a challenge and the rest of the world didn't exist until she solved it. This could take a while. And the longer they were here, the more likely this would end up on film and potentially on a screen Yolanda Waterson was watching. That would be the true worst case scenario…
Across the cage, Kelsey and Rebecca conferred in low voices. Jennifer McCowan swore she heard the name “Mary” a few times. Up until now she'd only heard it from Rebecca in passing. This session was intense. It was like a whole new world watching the more experienced girls go at it. Some of their sessions had been friendly, some definitely not. It was especially enlightening to see Kelsey and Rebecca in action. She'd worked with Kelsey since the lithe brunette had trained her for that ill-fated scrap with her roommate and found the woman to be nice, sensitive, kind, and even funny on occasion. Jennifer tried to recall Kelsey’s major: Theater or English or Dance. Something in that orbit. Rebecca on the other hand was like a cool older sister Jennifer wished she had. Rebecca was endlessly confident, talented, smart, and Jen wanted very badly to say something to her but couldn't find the words. When no one took center stage to start a new sparring session she settled for looking at her phone.
After what felt like forever the two seniors broke their huddle and Jennifer found her chance.
“So… Kelsey, that looked .... intense. Like, what's the difference fighting that first woman vs fighting Simone?”
Kelsey pondered a moment,. “…Jamila is good. She’s obviously talented, especially on the ground, like Rebecca found out. But Simone’s more creative, taller, faster. I think she and I could definitely entertain a crowd together…”
Rebecca was obviously displeased by that sentiment. “Jamila’s nothing special, and Simone’s an overhyped poser.”
“Except for the part where Jamila choked you unconscious without much effort.” Kelsey shot back with a wry smile.
“Shut up,” Rebecca groaned, half serious. She gave her friend a playful shove before Jennifer piped up again.
“So, Rebecca, can you show me some of that wrestling, grappling stuff? Like, I'm curious how it works, how you tackle people and then hold them down and hit them and stuff…”
Rebecca shared a knowing glance with Kelsey. “At least until Mary shows up, I guess.” Rebecca said before looking back to the eager young fighter. “Sure thing, Jen; I’ll show you as much as you want. Did you even bring gloves, though?”
“Yeah, just like you said.” Jennifer stammered, reaching down for her black MMA gloves.
“Awesome.” Rebecca said, leading the sophomore to the middle of the cage. “Then let's get started!”
#Writing #Series #FeintingSpells #Fiction #Action #Fight #MartialArts
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