Chapter 7: Life's a Bitch and Then You're Exiled to Arkansas

The move to Arkansas went smoothly. The new condo was bigger than my old one. I worked out a favorable purchase price with the company and a local bank was more than happy to finance the deal. I used the money that I made on the deal to buy a new car. All in all things were ok. My job, however sucked. The account, the largest customer that our company had, was serviced by a team of account reps, each of whom had to deal with several buyers and other personnel, each of whom had an attitude problem. You had to do everything that they wanted, when they wanted it, and how they wanted it done. I spent a lot of late nights and early mornings in meetings. But the worst thing was the weather. I'm a Southern California dude, sun and fun and all that. Here it was the beginning of November, the weather was cold and rainy and I was miserable. Because of the weather, I couldn't stand running outside. So I joined a local gym. The sign said Kris's Gym. It was a mile from my house. They offered a full assortment of treadmills, steppers, and had a weight room, and even a room for boxing, with a couple of heavy and speed bags. The locker room was first rate and the showers were clean, they even had a whirlpool. I would go over there, after my last meeting of the day and work out my frustrations. I would run on the treadmill for a couple of miles to loosen up, then on alternate days I would either work out in the weight room or head for the boxing room and pound the heavy bag until I was exhausted.

After one full day of ass kissing meetings, with totally obnoxious buyers, I really couldn't drive fast enough over to the gym. I drove too fast through the parking lot and almost clipped two ladies walking. I parked the car, opened the trunk, grabbed my stuff and headed in, not even acknowledging their presence at the front desk. After changing, I went out to the cardio section of the main room. I was totally focused on my horrible day, I bumped into another lady and just kept working until I got on the trend mill and programmed in my workout. About a third of the way through, I began to unwind. That's was when Kris, walked up in front of me; "Jack, don't tire yourself out too much, I want you to meet me in the boxing room in twenty minutes." I ran for about ten more minutes, then did a ten minute cool down. "I wonder what this is all about" I grabbed my towel, and headed over to the boxing room. The club was already beginning to empty out for the evening. I entered the room and looked around. There was Kris standing with her back to me inside the ring, her hands grabbing the top rope as she did limbering stretches in the far corner. She had shed her usual sweats and was dressed in a tank top and shorts. Her legs looked long and well muscled. Her shoulders were wide and her back tapered down in a v shape to a slim waist." Kris, you wanted to see me?" "Jack, I think it's time you had an attitude adjustment. You've been coming in here making a pain in the ass of yourself especially in the last couple weeks. The other members are beginning to complain to me about you. I know where you work; probably a third of the folks around here either work directly for or in support of that company: so I've had experience with what you're going through. Now, before you go over to the heavy bag and try to pound it into submission. I thought you might like to come in here and spar a few rounds with me. I warn you, however, unlike that bag over there, I do hit back." With that she turned around. With her hands on her hips, legs slightly apart, she looked like something out of Grey's Anatomy, the illustrated muscle page. It's not that she was massively over developed like a body builder on steroids, it was that every muscle group seemed to be well defined; there was very little fat on her body, and where it was, was covered by her top. She had brown hair, tied back in an elastic. She was not a beauty in the classic sense, her face was almost masculine in appearance; she could be better described as handsome. She was very pleasing to the eye; also, extremely intimidating. Against my better judgment I climbed between the ropes and into the ring. "Good, she said, your wraps and gloves are in the corner, along with a mouth piece. I'll set the timer for two minute rounds with one minute between rounds." With that she set the timer, put on her wraps and gloves and inserted her mouth piece. We stood bouncing from side to side waiting for the next bell to signal the start of the round.

Round one was a feeling out round. At five foot eight and about one hundred forty pounds of pure muscle, she was an opposing sight. I would have to stay away from her, jab and get out without getting hit. Anyway that was my plan. It had been almost fifteen years since I had boxed with anyone and I needed some time to get back my timing and footwork. She seemed to sense this and threw only the occasional jab, just to let me know she could. The rounded ended and we went back to our respective corner. We each stood, with our back to the posts and our arms over the ropes waiting for the bell. She was magnificent. Snap out of it boy, I thought, she's also deadly.

Round 2 started the same way as before. Then Kris began to pick up the pace a little. I felt good, although I hadn't really landed any significant shots, I had been able to block most of hers with my gloves and arms or had been able to slip or duck out of harm's way. Near the end of the round, I got hit with two quick jabs and a right cross which sent me staggering sideways into the ropes. She seemed to take it easy for the remainder of the round and when the bell sounded my head was clear. When I got back to the corner, I grabbed a mouthful of water. I thought" you were getting over confident last round be careful." Round 3 began with Kris coming out quickly. She began throwing more combinations, which were beginning to wear down my defenses. I did, however, land a couple of hard jabs and a right to her stomach. It appeared to have no effect on her, her abs absorbed the impact. After that she began to hit me with jabs to the head and hooks to my sides. I was hurt several times from her wicked hooks to the body. I realized that she had been just toying with me the first couple of rounds, that if she had wanted to she could have ended it in the first. The thought of total dominance over me, combined with her continuing pummeling of my head and body was having another effect on me. I was getting aroused. I could feel my cock growing hard in my shorts. I lost my concentration at that point and got hit with a left hook that had me seeing stars. I was really hurt, my legs suddenly went rubbery, and I had to grab hold of her to keep from falling down. I'm sure she could feel my erection as I hung on her shoulders rubbing my body against hers. The bell saved me. She turned and walked back to her corner, while I staggered back to mine. I should have quit right then and there. I was way out of my league, but my male pride would not let me quit: I was not getting beat by this woman.

Round 4 was going to be the last, we both knew it, even though I couldn't admit it to myself. She didn't even put in her mouth piece. She calmly walked to the center of the ring and began to throw light jabs to my face, hitting me at will. She blocked my feeble attempts at offense and began to speak. "Let's go over some of my rules. Number one; Kris is always right." I never saw the left and right hooks to my head. My head turned from side to side and my vision blurred. "Number two; always be considerate of others."Whack; thud, two more shots this time to my sides." Rule number three; take good care of the equipment." A left to the head and a right to my side almost put me on the canvass. "Rule four; clean up after your workout." Two more hooks to the body. I think she had five other rules but I never really understood any of them I was out on my feet just fighting on instinct at that point. "Finally, rule number 10; when in doubt, refer to rule number one." With that, I saw her right shoulder muscles tense, her body twist a little, and her right hand come straight at my head, but my arms would not respond. I felt the impact the left side of my jaw, and everything went black.

It must have been the cold water of the shower that brought me back to the present. I looked around the shower room, and realizing where I was, I turned and shut off the shower. I grabbed my towel, dried off and headed back to my locker. When I got there I saw a note from Kris taped to the door. "When you finish here, come up to my apartment, the staircase is behind the front desk. I have something I think you'll want to see." I know what'd I want to see, but the invitation had me curious. I got dressed and walked out of the locker room. The gym looked deserted, only the lights over the front desk were still on. I found the stair case that lead up to her apartment. It was a straight staircase of about twenty five steps. I realized that there must be a second floor to this building. The apartment was situated over the gym, which had fifteen foot ceilings; thus the length of the staircase. I reached the top of the stairs. I found myself on a small landing; the door to the apartment was open. I walked into the foyer, knocked on the door and called out 'Kris."" Hi Jack, I'm glad you decided to come;" I heard from a room to my right."There's beer in the fridge or if you prefer, I have wine and an extra glass here." I skipped the beer and headed to the right. The hall way ended at the entrance to a large living area. Kris was sitting on a sofa, with her legs stretched out, her feet on the coffee table. She looked stunning, dressed in a short white robe, her legs and feet bare. I took the glass she handed me and poured myself a glass of a wine, a fine California chardonnay. I sat down on the opposite side of the sofa and waited for her to begin.

"First of all, I'm sorry about before, sometimes I get a little carried away in the ring. How are you feeling? "I'll live," I offered. "Well, I am sorry. If you want, I will refund your membership fee and I hope we can part as friends."" No, that won't be necessary, I said. I deserved what I received, I've been acting like an ass lately; taking out my problems on your members and your equipment. It won't happen again."" Good, she said, I hate to lose good members. I'm glad that's settled. Now for the reason I asked you up here." With that she grabbed a remote control from the end table beside her and turned on the TV and the VCR across the room. I dreaded what I thought we were about to see. I was all set to see one of my videos come on, instead after a few moments; a scene from inside a gym filled the screen. It appeared to be an amateur movie possibly made on an old Kodak movie camera that had been transferred to video tape in order to preserve it. It was the beginning of a boxing match, the boy in the fore ground was bouncing up and down, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His opponent was hidden by the back of his corner man, who appeared to be giving him last minute instructions. The ref walked to the center off the ring and called the fighters to join him. The corner man stood up and turned. We got our first look at the other fighter. I recognized my father first, then saw that the other fighter was me. I turned to Kris and started to speak, "How... ?""Shhh." I'll explain later." There I was, aged thirteen, looking like a midget compared to my father and the ref. The other fighter, my opponent looked to be about a head taller than me.

Of course I already knew the outcome, but I just couldn't stop watching. I could feel each shot that I got hit with and felt the frustration of not being able to land some of my own. When the fourth round began, I just stared at the screen. It was like a train wreck, you see the trains coming together, you know what's going to happen, but you can't look away. I watched as I hit him with a straight right in the chest. I saw him move to the side appearing to be hurt. Then as I came in to follow up on my temporary advantage I watched in fascination as he appeared to almost wind up and throw an over hand right. The punch landed solidly on the left side of my face, my legs seemed to continue out from under my body and I collapsed to the floor. I laid there on my back, not moving a muscle as the ref removed my mouth piece and my Dad rushed into the ring. My opponent jumped for joy into the arms of the guy in his corner, then got down and walked over to me. Looking down over the doctor's shoulder, he had a worried expression on his face. Suddenly a thought popped into my head, I experienced an epiphany. "Oh my god, it was you!" With that, she picked up the remote and shut the TV. "Yes, it was me. Let me explain. My mom died when I was five, and I was raised by my dad and my uncle, he was the camera man. My dad had wanted a son and I tried to be that son. I played baseball, basketball, and did things with him that any son would love to do with their Dad. He had been a Golden Gloves champ when he was young and had a successful career as an amateur. He never really gave it up and used to train after supper as a way to keep fit and calm down from a hectic day at work. I started training with him, and soon, found I had a natural ability for the sport. I loved it, but when my dad tried to get me into a local tournament, the officials running looked at my name Christine and refused to let me fight with the boys. The next time he saw an amateur tournament advertised, he told me to change my name to Chris and to act like a boy. That wasn't too difficult for me; I had been raised like one. I entered the event and won my first two matches on points. I was faster than my opponents and just as big as they were. Then in the afternoon I faced you in the ring. My dad told me just to continue doing what I had done before. I knew I was well ahead when we got to that final round. My instructions were to just stay away and I had the fight won. Then you hit me right in the breast. It hurt like hell, even with the extra support I wore under my shirt. In my mind you did it on purpose, that somehow you knew I was a girl. I saw red, I wanted to kill you. As you walked in, I saw an opening, and threw an overhand right with all my might. I was shocked when it connected and down you went. I was thrilled, until I realized that you weren't moving. In my inexperienced mind I really thought I had killed you. I was scared and started to cry. My dad tried to hold me back: that's when I saw you open your eyes and look up at me. He pulled me away at that point, the ref raised my hand in victory and I got out of the ring." "I wondered why you were crying, I was the one that had gotten the crap kicked out of me. Man it's a good thing I never knew you were a girl, I laughed, I don't think my male ego could have handled that back then." I poured another glass of wine for each of us and settled back on the sofa. I was really falling for this woman. She was truly fascinating.

"So, she asked, what's happened in your life since then?" Not wanting to turn her off to me and not being extremely proud of some of my choices in life, I gave her the bare minimum of facts. That I had, after high school, I had gone to UCLA, graduated with a degree in business, had worked in sales in California, until I was promoted to my present position as a senior account representative.

"So, I said, enough about me I'm really interested to hear about you!" "All right, let me just say one more thing about that day. I was so upset, that I between fights I spent much of the time in the bathroom. As I was coming out to rejoin my dad I bumped into a woman, who I later found out was one of the event officials. She recognized me and after a brief meeting with me and my father I was asked to forfeit the final bout. I left the gym in tears and vowed never to fight again. After high school, I went to Berkley. I majored in physical education. I wanted to become a physical education teacher. I lost my father to cancer during my senior year. My girl friends talked me into going to Los Vegas for spring break to try to get me out of the funk I was in. On the second day there, we were lounging by the pool when a guy came around with a flyer advertising an underground fight club on the outskirts of town. Tonight was lady's fight night, it said, and offered one thousand dollars to any woman who could last three rounds with one of the club's female fighters. I'm not really sure why I did it but I convinced my girl friends to come with me to the club that night. They thought I was nuts and would ruin the rest of my vacation. In school, I was a real jock, I worked out all the time. I did a lot of weight lifting and had taken karate for several months. That night I climbed into the ring with a woman who was about five years older than me, but I was bigger and stronger than her. After a round of trying to keep from getting hit and throwing a variety of punches, I began to get back my boxing skills. By the end of the third round I had her set up for a knock out. With a right upper cut, I put her down for the count. I collected my prize from the manager of the club, who gave me his card and told me that I would have a job waiting for me any time I wanted after graduation." "I was bitten by the boxing bug again. I wanted to prove to everyone that I had what it took to make it so I put off going into teaching and went back to Vegas to start my career, even if it was only as a club fighter. Soon, I had fought every one of the club's female fighters and had beaten every one of them regardless of weight class. I was the featured fighter on the ladies nights. I had a big following. Soon however, it became harder and harder to find any females to fight. Nicky, the manager, started setting me up with lighter weight male fighters. I really enjoyed that, I was getting even for those days when I was thirteen and no one would let me fight because they were scared that I would get hurt. I wasn't the one who was getting hurt now. Soon Nicky started a second special night, this one was for amateur men who wanted to test their skills against a woman, me. I was restricted to fighting men who outweighed me by a maximum of thirty pounds and could decline to fight anyone who appeared to be too skilled; an experienced amateur, for example.

One night, we interviewed this guy who had been talked into fighting by his buddies. He was a gym owner from Arkansas, who had no fight experience but I could tell the guy was extremely fit and probably was just around the maximum weight. I agreed to the fight. When we climbed into the ring, I could tell this was the last place he wanted to be. He removed his robe, and I fell in love. This guy was not just good looking, he was an Adonis. The fight started and I threw a couple of jabs to his face, which scored easily. I could tell he had never been hit like that before. I didn't want to finish him off too quickly, that's not what the paying guests want. They are after blood and knockouts; but they want to see a lot of action first. I took it easy on him for the next three rounds, hooking to his arms and shoulders; occasionally to his midsection, which I knew could take a lot of abuse before it failed.