The Minx
By Dragon
Cori, the professional boxer


The first time I saw her was when I was working as a jujitsu 
instructor in a local dojo. She was a pretty brunette, five two, one 
hundred and fifteen pounds. She had dark brown eyes bordering on 
black that gave her a look of intensity, even when she was sitting 
still. I still remember what I thought the first time I saw her: 
Cute little minx.

She joined the class as a white belt, and despite the fact that she 
was the smallest person and the only female, she soon had the rest 
of the beginners intimidated. Her classmates found her nearly 
impossible to work with. She was stubborn and had a high pain 
threshold that only allowed nearly perfect technique to take her 
down. She also had a knack for the art that allowed her to slap 
on techniques that left the other lower belts howling.

The first time I worked with her, I was showing her a particularly 
painful wrist-lock that she had been able to resist from the 
beginners. Being a black belt and twice her size, I was able to 
easily put her down with one hand. To her credit, she didn't make a 
sound before tapping out of the hold. Maybe it was just the way 
those flashing brown eyes made her look, but I swore she seemed 
seriously annoyed at having been put down so easily.

Allowing her back up, I gave her a chance to try the lock on me. 
Grabbing my hand and twisting my wrist, she tried to apply the hold, 
but it just wasn't working. Redoubling her efforts, she grunted as 
she put all of her strength into it, but I still just stood there 
watching. Again, I might have been misreading her, but she didn't 
seem too pleased.

"Hold on Cori. Trying harder isn't going to help if you don't 
have the basic technique right. I'm twice your size and there's no 
way you can beat me with strength."

Even though I didn't mean anything by it, I think it was that last 
comment that got me in trouble. After class she confronted me.

"Did you really mean what you said about me not having a snowball's 
chance in hell of beating you?"

"That's not exactly what I said, but unless you're a black belt in 

another art, I really don't see how you could."

"Well why don't we just put the gloves on and go a few rounds to 
find out?"

"What? Are you serious?" I asked, but I could tell by the look on 
her face that she was.

"Yes I'm serious. Why don't we test your theory with some boxing?"

"Are you a boxer?"

"No, but I've taken enough boxercise classes to know how to throw a 
punch."

"Listen, I've never boxed in my life and I'm sure you could beat me. 
If I offended you, I apologize. How about I buy you a cup of coffee 
to make up for it?"

I had hoped to mollify her, but I could see that my words had the 
opposite effect.

"Are you patronizing me? You don't think I could stand up to you? 
Just because I'm a woman?"

"And half my size," I added without thinking.

I knew that it had been a stupid thing to say as soon as it had left 
my mouth. I could see that Cori was doing a slow burn.

"I'll meet you here tomorrow night after closing. I hope you have a 
good dentist."

I was too shocked to say anything as she got up and left. The next 
day, I taught the evening class. As closing time rolled around, I 
was relieved to see that Cori hadn't shown up. After dismissing 
the class, I started to turn the lights off when the door opened. 

"Sorry I'm late."

Cori came in wearing a black leather trench coat and was carrying 
two large gym bags.

"I'm not going to fight you."

Cori smiled at me and said, "Oh come on now, humor me. If you 
win, I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

This put a whole new twist on things. I really didn't want to hurt 
her, but she did intrigue me. Most men wouldn't even think of 
challenging me to a fight. The little minx had a pair of brass balls.

"OK, I'll tell you what, I'll box with you, but because I'm twice 
your size I'll wear sixteen ounce gloves and you'll wear eight's."

"That's very sporting of you. Fortunately, I have both sizes. Why 
don't I get changed and we'll get started."

Cori dropped one of the bags and went back to the dressing rooms. 
When she returned, she was wearing red shorts and a loose fitting 
white tank top. It would have been obvious to a blind man that she 
wasn't wearing a bra. Reaching into her bag, she selected two pairs 
of boxing gloves. 

Tossing the larger pair at me, she said, "Lets get started. We'll 
box until I knock you out for a ten count or until you give up."

Confident little minx. Cori wrapped her knuckles like a pro 
before slipping her gloves on. She didn't offer to help me out with 
my hands, but I figured that I wouldn't be hitting her hard enough 
to hurt myself anyway, so I didn't complain as I put the gloves on.

Smacking her gloves together, she said, "You don't mind if I use my 
strength, do you?"

"Knock yourself out," I replied.

"Lets get it on."

I barely got my gloves up in time as she darted in and bounced a 
fist off of my guard. More punches followed, but between our height 
difference and the size of my gloves, she just couldn't get through. 
She obviously realized this also, because the next thing I heard was 
a quick "whap-whap" as she hooked my body with everything she had. 
I didn't feel anything for a second, but then the pain kicked in. 
Damn, the little minx could punch!

Firing a light jab to back her off, I was surprised when she just 
tilted her head enough to make me miss. The next thing I knew, she 
was slamming her glove into the pit of my stomach. Instinctively, I 
dropped my gloves before she could follow up. But instead of going 
for my belly, she fired an uppercut directly at my jaw. Fortunately 
I saw it coming, so I managed to tilt backwards making it narrowly 
miss. Not giving her another chance to hit me, I retreated a few 
steps.

Cori seemed rather pleased with herself as she said, "Not bad for 
a woman half your size."

And she was right. I didn't think I was in any real danger, but 
I was impressed. Time to impress her I thought, as she came after 
me. As soon as she was in range, I fired a fairly hard right hand at 
her head. Cori covered up, but was still rocked. I threw a few 
more punches, but Cori was prepared now and she easily slipped 
them. Nimble little minx. 

After a few minutes of punching without effect, I started to slow 
down and get sloppy. Cori was on me instantly with a left-right 
combination to my gut. I tried to catch her with an uppercut, but 
she just danced out of my range. 

After about ten minutes of sparring with her like this, it became 
apparent what she was trying to do. My arms felt like lead, I was 
breathing hard, and I was sweating like a pig. Even though none of 
her punches had been hard enough to hurt me, I was beginning to feel 
the cumulative effect. For the first time in the fight, I now knew I 
was in trouble. Clever little minx.

It didn't help matters that she was sweating also, and that her 
breasts had become a major distraction. Every time she moved, they 
swung around under her over-sized shirt. She caught me more than 
once as I was looking down her top instead of watching her hands.

Time to end it, I thought. Cori was too quick for a head shot, so 
I changed tactics and went for her body. As she came in to attack 
me, I crouched down low and ripped a shot under her elbows. My glove 
pounded her on the belt line, and from the way I felt it sink into 
her thin waist, it was clear she hadn't been ready for it. 

Cori doubled up with a "Whoof!" and dropped to her knees. With 
one glove on the mat, and the other clutching her stomach, I could 
see she was in a great deal of pain.

Placing my gloved hand on her shoulder, I asked, "Are you OK Cori?"

Batting my hand away, she croaked, "Count."

Shrugging my shoulders, I started, "One..., two..., three..."

At the count of eight, she got back to her feet. I threw a few 
half-hearted punches at her as she moved to avoid me. After a few 
minutes, she made it clear to me that she had recovered with a 
series of body shots that made it difficult for me to breathe. 

Tiring of the game, I decided to take the wind out of her again. 
Getting shoulder to shoulder with her, I hit her with everything I 
had. Again my punch landed flush on her stomach, but this time it 
felt like I was hitting a board. Even though she had been ready for 
it, my punch still put her on her butt. Her eyes flashed daggers at 
me as she leapt back to her feet and started throwing leather.

I retreated as she pursued me firing punches up at my face. Taking 
another step back to avoid a lightning fast jab, I felt my foot 
contact the wall and I knew I was in danger. I tried to sidestep to 
escape, but Cori chose that moment to whip a left hook into my side 
that stopped me dead. Before I could do anything else, she drilled 
me with a straight right punch right in my bellybutton with all of 
her one hundred and fifteen pounds behind it.

The wood paneling rattled as my back hit the wall. Even though my 
abs had been tensed, her punch stunned me. As I inadvertently 
dropped my guard, Cori stepped in and bounced a right cross off my 
chin that rattled my teeth. Quickly raising my gloves, I tried to 
fend her off with a hasty jab. But rather than backing off, she 
ducked under it and stepped in even closer. 

Powerless to stop her, I tried to prepare my weakened abs as best as 
I could as she sent a right hook to my stomach from less than two 
feet away. Keeping her left hand up to protect her face, she drew 
her arm back again and repeated the motion. Looking down, I saw my 
belly jump as her leather clad fist impacted on it. Not pausing to 
give me a chance to move, she brought her left fist into play on my 
right side. Left-right, left-right, she hit me with everything she 
had.

I don't know whether she became mesmerized by the sharp thuds of her 
fists hitting my body, the way her gloves rearranged the sweat 
matted hair on my skin, or if she just got carried away with 
bloodlust, but she never saw my punch coming. Desperate to stop her 
attack, I shot my right arm out as hard as I could and caught her 
right between the eyes. Her hair exploded wildly throwing droplets 
of sweat all over the room as her head snapped back, taking her body 
with it. She landed flush on her back and skidded a foot on the mat 
where she came to rest with her arms above her head. Not wasting any 
time, I started to count her out. 

"One..., two...., three..."

I clutched my aching gut with both hands as I stared at my downed 
opponent. I hadn't noticed it before because of the way her baggy 
T-shirt hung, but she was as drenched as I was. Now lying on the 
mat, her shirt was clinging to her skin giving me my first good look 
at her body. Her chest and stomach heaved as she tried to draw 
breaths into her body, and I could just make out the lines of her 
tight abdominals rippling in her thin waist. The material was 
plastered against the undersides of her breasts where the sweat had 
collected after it had run off of her chest. From my vantage point, 
I could see the area where the soft flesh of her breasts contrasted 
with her flat, hard stomach. Sexy little minx.

"Four..., five..., six..."

Her abs suddenly jumped into sharp relief as she sat up, sending a 
chill down my spine. I wished that I could just hurry the count, but 
I had learned enough to know that it would be the worst thing I 
could do. 

"Seven..., eight..."

Cori turned over and paused for a moment. I could see the cut of her 
triceps muscles in her thin arms as she pushed herself to her knees. 
Tough little minx. 

"Nine...,"

Without hesitation, she stood up and faced me. I didn't even try to 
argue that she hadn't beaten the ten count as I raised my gloves and 
prepared to continue. As soon as she made it to her feet, I moved in 
and attempted to capitalize on my fleeting advantage. But rather 
than face me, she returned to her earlier tactic of bobbing and 
weaving around the mat while her head cleared. 

Within a few more minutes I had burned up the last of my reserves 
trying to catch her and finish her off. As I slowed, Cori would 
encourage me by letting me get dangerously close. She even dropped 
her gloves a few times exposing her beautiful face to my wild 
swings. 

It didn't help that she occasionally taunted me with comments like, 
"Come on big man, I thought that a girl half your size wouldn't have 
a chance."

Soon it was all I could do to stand in the center of the mat gasping 
for breath. Seeing that I wasn't even shuffling after her any more, 
she lowered her gloves. Pushing a mop of hair out of her face with 
her right hand, she smiled at me. I was finished, and we both knew 
it. All that was left was for her to make it official with her fists.

I could see now that I had never had a chance against her. She had 
known from the start that I was larger and stronger than she was, 
but she knew that it wouldn't matter. Relying on her skill and 
stamina, she knew she could pick me apart. And if I did get in a few 
solid shots? Obviously, it wasn't the first time she had been hit by 
a man. 

Merciful little minx? I wasn't about to find out. She had earned the 
right to knock me out by proving herself the better person, and I 
wasn't about to try to take that away from her.

Cori came at me carefully. Feinting at my face, she slugged me in 
the gut. My leaden arms dropped to my sides, and she followed up 
with a left uppercut to my chin. As I stood there stupidly, she hit 
me with a right cross that twisted my head. Cori took a step back to 
avoid my falling body, but to both our surprises, I stood swaying on 
my feet. Stepping in and setting herself in front of me, she started 
to rock my head back and forth with her hardest punches as if it was 
a speed bag. Who would have known it? I had a granite jaw.

I could hear her grunting with effort as she put her whole body into 
her punches. Finally, the room started spinning and I collapsed onto 
my face. 

As I lay on the mat, I could hear her mutter "holy shit," under her 
breath. She stood for a moment with one hand on her chest trying to 
catch her breath before she started to count.

Between gasps, she counted, "One..., two..., three..."

Rolling onto my side, I could see that she had her hand on one knee, 
the other one was now clutching her side. She wasn't even watching 
me as she counted, her head was hung low as sweat dripped from her 
forehead. It suddenly occurred to me that she wasn't much better off 
than I was. Maybe if I could hang on just a bit longer, she'd give 
up. Without even consciously willing it, I found myself rising to my 
feet. Cori looked up at me with a what-the-hell-do-I-have-to-do-to- 
put-this-guy-down expression on her face that made the effort worth 
while.

Forcing myself to sound better off than I was, I asked, "Getting 
tired?"

That was all it took to set her off again. Crouching low and 
covering up tightly, I weathered a storm of leather and curses that 
bounced off of my arms and ears. I felt her left arm slip over my 
shoulder as she tried to dig her right glove under my guard. After a 
few weak punches, she just leaned against me. I stood there for a 
moment feeling the steamy heat radiating from her body as she 
relaxed against me.

"Give up?" I asked.

Instantly, I felt her body tense. Her right arm wound up and smashed 
into my kidney.

"Bitch!" I screamed as I felt the sharp pain.

Shoving her away with both hands, I knocked her on her ass.

"Bastard!" she hissed from the mat.

"One..."

I barely got the word out of my mouth. Springing to her feet, she 
nailed me with a flying tackle. I went down hard with all of her one 
hundred and fifteen pounds on my chest. We hit the mat with Cori on 
top. Straddling me, she started to pound my face with both hands. 
Tasting the blood in my mouth, I grabbed her thin wrists and rolled 
over on her. 

Too tired and too dazed to do anything else, I collapsed on top of 
her. Feeling her breasts spreading against my chest, I wished I was 
in better shape to appreciate this moment.

Struggling weakly under me, she said, "Get off."

Half rolling, half pushed by Cori, I honored her request. We lay 
side by side for a moment saying nothing as we caught our breath.

After a minute, I asked, "Are we done?"

"One..." she said.

"You can't be serious."

"Two..., three..., four..."

I threatened to get off of the mat.

Quickly, she ripped off the rest of the count, 
"Five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten. I win."

Dropping back next to her again, I said, "You win, but I still want 
that cup of coffee."

"The coffee shops are closed..."

I started to protest.

"... but I have plenty in my apartment," she smiled.

Reaching over, I brushed some of the sweat matted hair out of her 
face and said, "You're an incredible little minx."

I'm glad she took it the right way, because that little minx is now 
my wife. She never did get her black belt. She just didn't have the 
temperament for the art. Instead, I got her to channel her aggression 
against somebody other than myself. Today she's 5-0 as a 
professional boxer. She's in line for a title shot, and she's been 
using me to help her train. Not as a trainer, as a piece of training 
equipment. Don't get me wrong, she doesn't hit me anymore, but 
considering what she does with my body instead, sometimes I wish she 
would. But that's another story...