...it was just like she'd fantasised:
Her powerful male opponent, laying vanquished at her feet, courtesy of her devastating fists. His arms stretched out, defenseless, his
once proud stomach muscles beaten red. His face, once with a confident look, now bruised and bleeding before her.
The referee counts. His arm whips downward with each count. No one hears the numbers: the crowd scream and whistle, drowning out everything else. Sofia can barely make out the referee. The sound of the fever-pitch crowd swirls around her and the incessant flashbulb lights overwhelm. She feels like she's floating. The woman bites down on her gumshield, steadying herself on the ropes. She feels each droplet of sweat trickle beyond the nape of her neck, down her muscular back.
...7... 8... 9...
Brad Janus
2024-11-05 17:37:51 +0000 UTC