Chapter 8

For the next nine days he trained hard with Truda, increasing his personal bests in three upper body lifts. He also scheduled two sparring sessions a day with the best of his trainees. He beat all of the males and all but two of the women. Truda and Cathy still gave him trouble but he felt he held his own for most of their sessions.

The day of the fight, Mike did a light cardio workout in the morning and rested most of the early afternoon. Unable to overcome the excitement and anticipation of the fight, he left his room at 3:00 and walked over to the gym. Fifteen minutes later he was sitting by himself in front of his locker. Jeff had already wrapped his hands and helped him with his gloves.

“You should see the crowd out there,” Jeff exclaimed after returning to the locker room. “I’ll bet every current member and nearly every former member is here to see this fight.”

“Terrific” Mike replied dourly.

“What’s wrong Mike? You should be really jazzed about fighting her. What’s the worst thing that can happen? She destroys you in the first round? So what, look what you have to look forward to afterwards; terrific sex with one or more of the Amazons and then sitting back and watching the money rolling in.”

“I don’t want to lose; but if I do, I want my healing to be with Karla. I love her, I think I’ve loved her since the first time I met her”

“Then I think you may have a problem. I’ve been here for nearly three years. I’ve never heard of anyone who’s been administered the sexual healing by Karla. Come to think of it, I’ve never even seen her with a boyfriend. Maybe she’s not into guys if you know what I mean.”

Mike didn’t appear to be listening. He just sat with his arms on his knees staring at the floor.

After ten minutes, Jeff jumped up off the bench next to him and shouted, “Enough is enough. You’ve got a fight to win. Get up off your ass and warm up. I’m going to set up our corner. Come out at 4 o’clock.”

Promptly at 4:00, Mike entered the gym and made his way to the main event ring. Jeff had been right, the crowd was huge; there wasn’t a seat to be had and people were standing three or four deep wherever they could. By the time he climbed into the ring he could hear the chant being raised by the guys in the crowd. Mike. Mike. Mike.

Mike raised a fist in the air acknowledging the cheers of the crowd. For Mike, this was, on a smaller scale, what he had aspired to when he had wanted to turn pro. He was brought back to the moment by the sudden roar of the crowd as Karla climbed into the ring. She was dressed in her signature white. An Amazon Combat Arena tee-shirt with the arms cut off, and shortened to reveal her incredible abs. On the back was the Arena’s familiar motto, ‘A Hard Man is Good to Beat’. This was over a pair of white gym shorts and fringed, white boxing shoes. The outfit did little to hide neither her obvious muscularity nor her feminine curves.

Mike and Jeff were huddled in their corner going over some last minute strategy.

“Mike, I think your best bet is to try to take her out early. She hasn’t boxed much since I’ve been here. She’s been concentrating on improving her wrestling skills and bulking up. There may be a lot of ring rust built up. The longer this fight goes the tougher she’s going to get.”

Suddenly, the voice of the MC for the event boomed out of the speakers. Linda stood in the center of the ring, dressed in what could only be described as a sexual version of a black tuxedo consisting of a black string bikini, and a jacket with tails. On her legs were black stockings, and on her feet black shoes with five-inch heels.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, can I have your attention please. This is the main event of the evening. We have two of our most popular boxers fighting tonight. These fighters have a history together. They have fought on two previous occasions. Each has come away with a victory by knockout.

“In the blue corner, standing five feet eight inches tall and weighing a trim one hundred and seventy four pounds, the man that all the female fighters voted the fighter they’d most like to administer to after a match, the Arena’s boxing instructor, Mike Wilson.”

Linda waited patiently for the considerable cheers to die down.

“And in the red corner, a woman who needs no introduction. Standing six feet and one half inch tall and weighing two hundred and two pounds, our founder and CEO, the blonde widow-maker, ‘Killer Karla’ Anderson.”

Once again the crowd erupted, the noise filling the arena.

“This fight is scheduled for ten rounds of boxing. Your referee for this event is Truda Schmidt.”

Truda beckoned both fighters to the center of the ring. Placing an arm on each fighter’s shoulder, she gave them their final instructions.

“I want a nice clean fight; no holding and hitting. When I say break, you stop punching and take a step back. You can be saved by the bell in every round but the final round. I can administer a standing eight count if I deem it necessary. Any questions?”

Neither Mike nor Karla responded; they were too busy staring down one another; trying to intimidate the other.

“Okay, then; let’s give them their money’s worth. Protect yourself at all times. Touch gloves now and come out fighting at the sound of the bell.”

They touched gloves, turned and retreated to their respective corners. Mouthpieces were inserted and last minute words of encouragement exchanged.

With the sound of the bell the first round began. Both fighters moved out cautiously, respecting the abilities of the other fighter. Mike was the first to throw a punch; a quick jab, which penetrated Karla’s defense. Moments later he tried another jab with the same result. But, this time Karla responded with a left-right combination, which Mike was able evade. He circled to his right, away from her power, changing directions when he felt she was trying to cut off the ring, all the time flicking his jab into her face. Near the end of the round he moved inside, scoring well with both hands to her midsection. Her abs and obliques were more than capable of withstanding his onslaught. This was an attack to build up points, and hopefully to slow her down in the later rounds. When the bell sounded ending the round, both fighters returned to their corners.

Jeff congratulated Mike. “That round belongs to you. I told you she’d be rusty, it was bound to happen after a three-year layoff. I want you to pick up the pace this round. Get to her early and she’s yours.”

Mike sat on his stool, ‘it had been a good round,’ he thought, but he held no illusions that this was going to be easy. He was a light heavy weight, fighting a skilled fighter two weight classes above his. In addition, he knew she was at least twice as strong as him. She could end the fight with one punch if he wasn’t careful. One mistake and the fight would be over. Just before the beginning of the second round a thought came to him. ‘In all the fights I’ve had here and all the fights I’ve seen, I’ve never seen a fight end with a decision. Every fight has ended by knockout. I wonder if they even have judges and a scoring system.’

The ten second warning was given and moments later the bell for round two sounded. This time Mike hurried out of his corner bringing the fight directly to Karla. The fighters stood toe to toe for a good thirty seconds exchanging punches with Mike’s the crisper of the two. He ate some leather but for each one of her punches that landed he landed three. Then, just as quickly, he reverted back to circling and sticking his jab in her face. He could see the frustration on her face, as well as a slight welling under her right eye. With less than a minute to go in the round, Mike tried once again to get inside and pound her belly. He never made it; Karla landed a right uppercut to his unprotected ribs, knocking all the air out of his lungs and forcing him to hang onto her for dear life.

Mike was still trying to breathe when he heard Truda’s command to break. Ignoring her he continued to hold trying to get a couple more seconds to recover. Before Truda could issue a second command, Mike’s arms seemed to fly outward as Karla expanded her chest and thrust her arms outward breaking his grip. But before Karla could follow up on her advantage, Mike practically ran sideways out of range. Moments later the bell sounded ending round two. Heading back to his corner he received a warning from Truda about obeying her commands.

As he slumped onto his stool, catching up on his breathing, Jeff was already applying an ice pack to his ribs. “Damn. She hits like a mule.”

“Be careful out there; a couple a more shots like that and we’ll be picking you up off the floor.”

When the bell sounded for round three, Mike moved out of his corner more cautiously, his left arm held closer to his side to protect his rib cage. This was just a ploy; he was hoping to draw her in, maybe take advantage of a mistake or two before she caught on. He resumed his circling to his right, throwing left jabs to keep her away, and, occasionally, a combination off the jab. Karla tried to follow up on her success from the earlier round but all she succeeded in doing was score a couple solid shots to his arm and shoulder, nothing that would cause him any more damage.

Near the end of the round, Karla threw a left hook to his ribs, trying to copy the success she had had on his other side. Mike never consciously saw the opening that was suddenly presented to him, but his years of training made him react to it. He launched a powerful right hook over her left, which landed solidly on the left side of her jaw. Her head lurched to the right, sweat and her mouthpiece flying out of the ring, before her body crashed to the canvass.

The whole arena was in shock; even Mike stood looking down on her prone body, as Truda pushed him towards a neutral corner and then turned to start the count. All of the males in the arena began to cheer as they finally realized what they had witnessed. Just as Truda reached eight, the bell sounded ending the round. Debbie, Karla’s corner-person, raced across the ring and half-dragged the still woozy fighter back to her stool.

“That was beautiful. Crap, you had her, only the bell could have saved her. How do you feel?”

“Her hook landed just after mine did. I think she may have cracked one of my ribs.”

Jeff crouched directly in front of Mike as he held an ice pack to Mike’s right side. He wanted to hide the maneuver from Karla and her corner person. ‘No sense telling them that Mike’s hurt again.’

Both fighters move out cautiously at the start of round four. Karla appeared to be over the worst of the effects of her, near knock-out the previous round, while Mike moved constantly to the right giving as much protection to his ribs as possible. Each fighter landed solid shots during an exchange midway through the round. It appeared that Karla was beginning to move the momentum of the fight in her direction.

Rounds five, six and seven proved to be more of the same. With each round Karla gained more confidence and inflicted increasingly more damage on Mike’s face and body. During round eight Mike was knocked down twice, once with a beautiful uppercut that landed solidly in his midsection, dropping him to his knees gasping for breath. The second was the result of a five-punch combination that ended with Mike sitting in his corner and Jeff shouting for him to get up. Mike just beat the count as he climbed the ropes back to a standing position. It was a testament to his skill and conditioning that he was able to survive to the end of the round.

“That’s it; I’m ending this before she kills you,” Jeff said as he reached for the towel he had used earlier to clean Mike of his own blood that Karla’s gloves had smeared all over his face.