Fighting for sport is a strange concept if you think about it.  Fighting is usually something the average person only does when they're angry or scared.  The average person doesn't look at it the way that I do.

I've made a job out of fighting, not as a Boxer or that type of nonesense, but as a member of a rather exclusive group of underground fighters.  But you're not here for my history, you're here for a few certain matches.

I'd fought plenty of strange opponents in my time, and even had my ass beaten by a man missing an arm, though that isn't the story you're here for.

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Nobody told me all that much about this fight beforehand.  My trainer said these words to me after my last fight: "Take the week off." 

And yet the match approached and I found myself at a park waiting for a limo ride to take me to a highly illegal fighting ring that featured highly illegal gambling over said fighting.  Have I mentioned that I love my job?

Anyway, the point is made that I really didn't know what to expect with the next match.  From what my trainer said, I knew was that this fight was going to be one-sided.  Whether the person who came into the other side was going to put a smile on my face or terror into my heart, I had no clue.

I was first, and I stepped out, wearing the usual attire of reasonable dark shorts, along with padded gloves.  (And for those curious as to whether it's still painful to be hit by a padded glove, let me have a glove and a moment of your time to settle that debate.) There wasn't much fanfare, this place was pretty light on that, and for as good as I am at taking a punch, I didn't win enough to be anybody's favorite fighter there.

I wait a long few seconds, at this point expecting some 10 foot tall, muscle-bound creature that happens to eat metal for breakfast to lumber out of that hole in the wall.  What comes out the other side makes the butterflies in my stomach turn over and start laughing.

This little blonde gal walks out.  I'd fought a couple ladies before, one of them left me with one of the worst beatings I'd had handed out to me.  This one, though, I didn't think she had any shot at beating me, or anyone I'd fought in my time here.

I'm 6'4", and this girl, she's 5'2", maybe 5'3" if she stands up on her tip toes.  In life, being short is no problem.  However, having a substantially disadvantage in size when you're fighting until someone is knocked out or taps out, that doesn't making things work all that well.

Once I relax from the nerves and surprise, I get a really good look at her, just to make sure she isn't going to be freaky fast or something crazy like that.  Boy, if she isn't a sight to behold.  She's got a nice athletic body, a flat stomach, and a great chest, they've gotta be DD-cups or something, and on a girl her size, just wonderful.  Maybe the kicker is her face, though.  These green eyes just staring at me, sizing me up for a fight and I'm trying to figure out if I'm just dreaming.  

They let us out, and we do the customary glove tap.  I believe in good sportsmanship and go through the motions, act respectful and all of that jazz.  We go back to our corners and they ring a little bell before we go ahead and start our match.  

If this girl were as big as I am, she'd be a real problem.  I thought that exact thing as I fought her, and this girl danced her way around the ring, and did a good job of fighting as respectfully as she should have against a stronger opponent.  It lasted a couple of minutes until she made a mistake.

She came in and tried to sweep my legs out, but the moment she crouched down, I did the only thing I had to to win the fight.  I just fell on her.  We struggled for a bit until I got an arm around her neck and started choking her.  I lean into her ear and say "You can either tap out or pass out."

She keeps struggling, but lack of air gets to her pretty quick and she gives me two taps on my side, so I let go, and she drops to her knees, breathing heavily.  I offer my hand to help her up, like I do with anyone who's going to get back up after a fight.  She wasn't the first one to turn it down, but she was the first one to smack my hand away.

She gets up and heads back to where she came from. Then she turns around, this fire in her eyes.  It isn't anger, it's just this drive that you can just see from her eyes and the way she's set her jaw.  "You and me.  We're going to rematch in 2 weeks.  Got it?" 

Seeing as scheduling isn't my job, I shrug and say "I guess if it gets scheduled." She walks off, giving me a great view of a great ass as she does it.