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Old 12-Apr-18, 00:45
Korn Korn is offline
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Default Earning a First Date

It took me far longer than it should have to work up the courage to ask Olivia out.

I’d met her through the boxing gym that I’d joined over the summer. She was a regular there, and I’d spent quite a lot of time with her recently, training hard and learning the basics of the sport.

I was quickly drawn to her cheerful, bubbly personality; she was always ready to offer encouragement or advice to newcomers like me, and held a love of boxing that was often infectious. Of course, that same love combined with a great deal of experience and more than a little bit of natural talent to make her a force to be reckoned with in the ring—few could claim to even have lasted more than a few rounds against her. But her charm showed through even there, as she would often tease and poke fun at her opponents as she methodically and precisely took them apart. She’d been trying pretty hard to convince me to step into the ring with her for quite a while, but I’d always had the good sense to say no—better boxers than me had tried and she’d taken each of them down with ease. Her looks didn’t hurt either. Smooth curls of black hair accented soft brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with anticipation before a fight, and her full lips were perpetually tweaked up into a winning smile that could drive you crazy during a match and then soothe your frustration minutes after your loss. I’d developed a crush on her almost immediately, but she’d always seemed unattainable, way out of my league in more ways than one. Eventually, though, I’d managed to stop making excuses and finally make the decision to ask her out on a date. Hey, the worst that could happen was getting turned down, right?

The moment of truth came just after a training session on a warm spring day. I caught up with her as she was getting ready to leave. “Hey, Olivia, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Oh, hey there, Alex,” she said, turning to face me. “What’s up?”

“I, uh...” I swallowed and steeled my nerves. “I was wondering if you wanted to, uh, go out to get lunch or dinner or a coffee or something. Whenever you’re free. No pressure or anything.” I cringed internally at the awkwardness of the question, but to my relief, Olivia nodded in understanding. “You’re asking me on a date?”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” I replied, still not fully able to believe it myself.

She tilted her head and started mulling it over, and I waited a long few seconds in agonizing suspense. As I watched her consider it, dread slowly started to settle in my stomach as I became more and more certain that she was about to turn me down.

Then she perked up and looked right at me. It wasn’t the apologetic look of rejection I’d been preparing myself for. Her expression was excited, a little devious, and entirely too pleased with herself. She put her hands on her hips and said, “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“Name it,” I said, much more confidently than I really should have.

“You,” she declared, poking me in the chest, “have to give me that match I keep asking you for. Do well enough, and then we can talk about it.”

“Done,” I replied instantly.

Her eyebrows went up for a moment. “You sure? This isn’t just mitt work, or even sparring. You and I are gonna square off, for real. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

No! “Yes.”

“Okay then,” she said with a grin. “Three o’clock sharp tomorrow. Come to the gym. Then we’ll see about your date.”

I almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then it hit me what I’d signed up for, and the relief gave way to an entirely new flutter of nerves. But I had no intention of backing down.

Three o’clock the next day rolled around either far too soon or not nearly soon enough. I headed down to the gym to face the music, and my prospective date. When I opened the doors, I was stunned to find that a huge crowd had gathered, enough that someone had had to scrounge some folding chairs from somewhere to fit all the spectators. Olivia was leaning against a wall nearby, looking happily around at the audience.

“How many people did you tell about this?” I asked her, bewildered.

“Just a few,” she said, “but I also told them what the stakes were.” She laughed, a pure and melodic sound that I always loved to hear. “Word spread pretty fast after that. The grapevine in this gym would put a high school clique to shame.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable having all these people here to watch,” I muttered, thinking about what had happened to Olivia’s past opponents.

“It’s all right,” she assured me. “A lot of the people in this crowd are on your side.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t know I had fans.”

“Tonight you do!” she said brightly. “For plenty of reasons. You know how supportive this place is to its new members who are just starting out, and everyone loves an underdog. And…” She dropped her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “I have a few friends here who have been trying to set me up with a guy for months now.”

I chuckled in spite of myself. “Good to know that some people here have got my back.”

“Always nice to have someone cheering for you,” she agreed. “I think it’s time to get ready now, so...good luck.”

“You too, not that you’re gonna need it,” I answered.

“You never know,” she said with a wink, and headed for the locker rooms.


I pulled on my trunks and laced up my gloves, as my heart pounded in my chest. I was about to fight the battle I’d been running from for months, and try though I might, it was hard to think of a way that I could win. I tried to get hyped up and get my “game face” on, but no dice—all I could see was a procession of boxers crashing to the mat one after another, her pretty, smiling face the last thing they saw before they were counted out.

But there was no use putting it off any longer. I gulped down some water, clenched my fists, and headed out to the ring.

The crowd roared in approval as I walked out toward my corner, and I waved to a few familiar faces before climbing into the ring itself. Olivia was already there, shadowboxing and bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation, and her face lit up as she saw me. “Well, well, the challenger arrives!”

I took a moment to look her up and down, and had to admit that she was looking damn good. Years of training and fighting had given her the kind of figure that filled out her tight workout clothing quite appealingly; I’d had to force myself not to stop and stare the first time I’d seen her doing squats. And I had to suppress the same impulse now. I wasn’t sure if it was my overactive imagination or a deliberate choice on her part, but her outfit seemed to me to be dancing along the line of practicality and acceptability for a boxing match. Was that sports bra a little too low-cut? Were those booty shorts a little too short? It was hard to tell. They were certainly tight enough to draw my attention.

She giggled as I watched. “Try not to get too distracted,” she said, and went into a series of stretches that might or might not have been designed to flaunt her body even more.

But a closer look revealed something disconcerting. Even as she showed off her curves, I could see toned, lean muscles tensing under the surface. I’d only ever seen her fight from afar until now, but up close there was a sense of solidity to her frame that worried me even more than before. I tried to put these thoughts out of my mind as we stepped forward to touch gloves. She nodded encouragingly at me before stepping back into her guard stance, as I did the same.

The clang of the bell seemed to echo throughout the gym, and in an instant the fight was on.


Neither of us came out swinging; we were testing each other, probing our opponent’s defenses, trying to see who blinked first. A few quick jabs from each of us were easily blocked.

It was Olivia who eventually made the first move: an expertly calculated feint to my ribs that I fell for hook, line, and sinker. I was caught completely by surprise when her hook collided with my face. The pink leather flashed across my vision, and I heard a gasp from the spectators as the first real hit of the match was scored.

She immediately pressed her advantage. I hurried to pull my guard back up to protect my face, overcompensated, and was punished with a few hard body shots for my trouble before I managed to ward her off again.

I was suddenly reminded that Olivia hadn’t managed to keep her winning streak going by slugging it out until one fighter dropped. Sure, she could hit hard—as my already stinging cheek and belly could testify—but what made her really dangerous was that she fought smart. She could exploit even the slightest flaw in an opponent’s defense, taking advantage of tiny slip-ups to bring the other boxer into a world of pain. Even as the thought crossed my mind, I made just that kind of mistake. A left jab just missed its target, and was immediately countered by a lightning-fast cross that slipped right past my opened guard and slammed into my chest, knocking me back onto my heels. And before I could recover, another followed close behind it, quick as a striking snake. Pain blossomed across my sternum as I staggered backwards, but I managed to keep my feet. Not that it helped much—Olivia was on me immediately, pouring on the pressure with a series of rapid blows. I was quickly driven back, almost to the ropes, as the thudding of her gloves against my unprotected body filled my ears. And as I desperately tried to defend myself, I realized that her face had settled once again into that calm, pleasant smile.

The serenity of her expression seemed like it would clash with the ferocity of her assault, but instead it almost accentuated it. This is what makes me happy, her smile seemed to say. I’m enjoying defeating you so effortlessly. You’ll have to fight with all your strength, but I’m having fun.

I did my best to force those thoughts out of my head and focus on the match. Olivia had been telling the truth, it seemed—I heard voices in the audience calling out for me to rally, cheering me on to try to turn the tide. I gave it my best shot, throwing a few perfunctory punches in Olivia’s direction. They didn’t do much damage, but I did manage to disrupt her offense just enough to get my guard back up, stopping the onslaught of punches.

She hopped back a few steps to stand in the center of the ring, and said cheerfully, “You actually handled that a lot better than I thought you would.”

My eyebrows went up at the (admittedly backhanded) compliment, but before I could square off with her again, I heard the clang of the bell announce the end of the round.

I trudged back to my corner and sat down heavily on the stool, wiping the sweat off my face. “That was a bad round” didn’t begin to cover it. I didn’t want to think about what the rest of the match might be like if this kept up. I glanced across the ring at Olivia. She hadn’t needed the rest period much, so she seemed content to just sit and wait for the round to start. As my second worked on my injuries, I took the opportunity to look her over once again. She was a mesmerizing sight, even more so now than when I’d entered the ring. Shimmering beads of sweat rolled down her tight, defined abs and the tantalizing sliver of cleavage she’d left exposed to prying eyes. As we stood up, my gaze dropped to her hips and legs, wrapped up in her tight shorts, and I watched appreciatively as they shifted into her fighting stance. I shook my head and tried to ignore the distractions as the bell clanged again to signify the start of Round 2.


I took the initiative this time, springing forward to launch a quick combination at her head. She covered up and deflected most of the punches, but the last one slipped through, rocking her head back and sending her back a step. I advanced to meet her, trying to capitalize with a quick jab that made glancing contact, coming in close to negate her reach advantage. She quickly turtled up and started backpedaling as I snapped out punch after punch. Cheers rang out from around the ring as the crowd watched me put Olivia on the back foot, and I have to admit that I got a little too cocky. I slowly committed myself more and more to offense, trying to land another solid hit and maybe even put her on the ground. She gave ground step by step, and I followed her as if I were her very own shadow, until there was no way for me to turn back.

And then she sprang the trap.

She ducked under a jab that I could have sworn I hadn’t telegraphed at all, and sent a straight right rocketing into my abdomen. It was the hardest punch I’d been hit with so far, and it sent me staggering back, all thoughts of attacking forgotten.

She’d been luring me in, I realized, trying to get me to forget about my defenses in order to trick me into slipping up. I’d taken the bait, and now I was in serious trouble.

As if to punctuate the thought, an uppercut smashed into my chin, ruining any chances I might have had of recovering quickly from the surprise attack. My head snapped back, and I found myself looking up for a fraction of a second at the harsh white lights on the gym’s ceiling before I pulled my gaze down and tried to get ready for the next blow.

Too late. Her glove-clad fist flashed out and impacted perfectly on my face. I toppled to the canvas in a flash of pink. The count echoed in my ears as the crowd exhorted me to stand up, but as my vision cleared I hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Olivia was standing over me, bending down to look me in the eye. Her hands were on her hips and her feet were spread wide, forming a cocky I’m-the-best pose that happened to give me and the audience a good look at her voluptuous form, but her face was set into the same sweet, unassuming smile as always as she waited for me to stand.

I’d never been as smitten with a woman in my entire life as I was with her at that moment.

She stepped back to let me climb to my feet, and I made it off the ground as the referee counted 7. We were just squaring off again when the bell rang and the round came to an end. My head was still spinning as I sat down, and the break seemed to be running out far too fast. I felt a few rivulets of sweat (or maybe blood) roll down my brow, and dabbed at them with a towel as I did my best to prepare myself, physically and mentally, for the next round.


It didn’t work.

I’d barely been able to fend off Olivia when I was fresh and clear-headed. Now, still dazed from the knockdown, I hadn’t a chance of keeping her at bay. I tried desperately to block, or dodge, or pull back, but her punches struck true no matter what I did. I had no answer to her attacks. The crowd had become subdued and quiet as they waited for my opponent to put an end to the match, leaving only the smack of leather on flesh and my grunts and gasps of pain to echo in my ears.

Olivia quickly maneuvered me against the ropes and started working me over with even more ferocity. I was completely at her mercy, unable to even put up a guard at this point as she dominated the match. I looked up at her as she punished me with blow after blow, and as our eyes met, I saw that damn smile again. It wasn’t smug, it wasn’t ironic, it wasn’t a sarcastic smirk; it was as light and friendly as ever, curling the corners of her mouth up just slightly. It was the kind of expression you’d wear when out getting lunch with a friend (my mind flashed briefly to the reason I’d agreed to this match in the first place), not when overpowering them in a boxing match. She ended the attack with a devastating right hook, then stepped back smoothly as I fell—first to my knees, and then from there flat onto my face.

The referee’s count reached my ears only distantly, as if I were hearing it from deep underwater, and I tried desperately to push myself to my feet, but pain shot through my muscles and I slumped to the ground again. I tried my best to ignore the sensation and made another attempt to get up, but even as I finally pushed myself back up to my hands and knees, I knew it was too late. I’d lost…

And then I heard a sharp clang from behind me. Saved by the bell.

I staggered over to my stool and all but fell onto it, trying to get my head to stop spinning. I managed to get it under control after a moment, but that didn’t make the pulsing aches and bruises go away, and each one of them made themselves known as I prepared to fight again. Noticing my sorry state, my second knelt down and suggested, “You can still throw in the towel if you don’t want to go through that again. I don’t think anyone would judge you if you did.”

I actually, honestly considered it for a few seconds. It wasn’t like I was going to earn that date either way at this point, I realized sadly, so it didn’t really matter to anyone if I forfeited the match rather than let myself get knocked out.

But it mattered to me.

I knew Olivia was headed for a win, and that was how it would have to be. But if I couldn’t stop her from getting it, I could still make her work for every second of it.

I shook my head and stood up.

Olivia’s eyes widened briefly, but she recovered quickly from her surprise and strode out to meet me.


As the round began, I went into a defensive posture, doing everything I could to ward her off and buy myself time to find an opening. I didn’t want to repeat the mistake I’d made in round 2 and go on the offensive only to overextend myself. Her punches made me wince as they battered against my guard, and my exhaustion made it difficult to maintain my defense, but I managed to keep her from pummeling me as she had before. The whole time, I thought quickly about what to do next. Time was running out before she managed to land a decent hit, and if that happened I was done for. And if I allowed even the tiniest of flaws to form in my guard, she would attack and exploit it immediately…

That was when the idea came to me.

I let my hands fall a little bit, just slowly drift further downward, as if I were too tired to keep them up (which I almost was at that point). And Olivia saw the opening she was looking for. She launched a quick punch right at my unguarded face—

—and I ducked right under it.

My injuries made me a little slow to pop back up, but Olivia had wasted just a brief moment in stunned surprise, and it was enough. I landed a solid uppercut to her gut, followed it up with another, and as she hurriedly drew her guard back up I sent a right cross crashing into her face. She stumbled backwards and—to my astonished surprise—fell to the canvas. She might have been dominating the match, but just this once, I’d beaten her at her own game.

There was a gasp from the audience followed by a deafening cheer, but that was nothing compared to what followed: when Olivia pulled herself off the ground at five seconds, her friendly smile had widened into a full, exuberant grin.

I came after her again, trying to follow up on my advantage, and I did manage to land a couple of punches—but the damage she’d done earlier was beginning to tell. She recovered quickly, and my attack soon lost its momentum as the pain in my arms and chest reasserted itself. I tried to retreat and protect myself, but I wasn’t nearly fast enough. Her next few punches were right on target, and soon I was staggering backwards again as my punch-drunk dizziness came back with a vengeance. Olivia finished off the final combo with another right cross to the face, clearly intended to put me out for good. But somehow, even though I could barely stand, even though the room was spinning crazily around me, even though I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears, I managed to stay on my feet.

I couldn’t do much else. My hands had dropped to my sides a few blows before and I didn’t have the strength to raise them to block, let alone punch. But I didn’t fall.

“Wow, you are persistent,” Olivia said. “I guess I’d better give you a proper sendoff, then.”

She wound up and launched an uppercut that actually lifted me a few inches off my feet. I was unconscious before I hit the ground.


The next thing I was aware of was a pair of fingers gently tapping me on the cheek. My eyes opened slowly to see Olivia kneeling next to me, waving a hand in front of my face. “Hey, Alex. Alex, you still with us?”

“Barely,” I murmured, wincing as I tried to get up. “But yeah. Congratulations on your win.”

She chuckled as she pulled me to my feet. “Maybe I should be telling you the same thing, ‘cause you’re pretty much the people’s champion as far as all these folks are concerned.”

I shrugged, and immediately regretted it as pain shot through my shoulders. “I guess it’s not a half-bad consolation prize, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still disappointed.”

She seemed to find that amusing, for some reason. “About what?”

I frowned in confusion. “About not getting the date, obviously. I didn’t win, so…”

Olivia wagged a finger at me playfully. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t recall ever saying that you had to win.”

“I—wait, what?”

“I told you that we would talk about it if you did well, didn’t I?” she asked. “And you did! I mean, for a newbie taking on the reigning champion, but still. You did way better than a lot of other people who have come up against me.”

“So, does that mean…” I hazarded.

Olivia shook her head fondly. “Oh, come on. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

The cheer from the audience was the loudest I’d heard all night.

Last edited by Korn; 12-Apr-18 at 00:52.
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Old 12-Apr-18, 04:58
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Bi0mega Bi0mega is offline
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Default Re: Earning a First Date

That was excellently written! Not to mention, a compelling and original take on the genre. I hope to read more from you again soon!
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Old 13-Apr-18, 23:20
Korn Korn is offline
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Default Re: Earning a First Date

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That was excellently written! Not to mention, a compelling and original take on the genre. I hope to read more from you again soon!
I appreciate the compliments for sure, but I’m curious what you mean by an “original take”, since I didn’t really set out to make something unique—just a mixed fighting story that I can call my own.
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Old 14-Apr-18, 01:55
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Default Re: Earning a First Date

Quote:
Originally Posted by Korn [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
I appreciate the compliments for sure, but I’m curious what you mean by an “original take”, since I didn’t really set out to make something unique—just a mixed fighting story that I can call my own.
What I was referring to is that you don't see a lot of stories, if any, where the male loses, in a believeable way, but still manages to achieve a symbolic victory. I liked how you showed that what she was really looking for was a guy who wouldn't get discouraged as easily as the others. I liked the importance you placed on the strategic and psychological side of boxing.

Most of the stories on this forum, at least the more popular ones, are simply about domination and humiliation. Those stories might be highly erotic (and often poorly written), but, there isn't a lot of room for character growth or for meaning to emerge in those kinds of stories.

This was like reading an actual short story that happened to be about a man and a woman having a boxing match. I really enjoyed it.
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Old 14-Apr-18, 03:54
Korn Korn is offline
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Default Re: Earning a First Date

Quote:
Originally Posted by Bi0mega [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
What I was referring to is that you don't see a lot of stories, if any, where the male loses, in a believeable way, but still manages to achieve a symbolic victory. I liked how you showed that what she was really looking for was a guy who wouldn't get discouraged as easily as the others. I liked the importance you placed on the strategic and psychological side of boxing.

Most of the stories on this forum, at least the more popular ones, are simply about domination and humiliation. Those stories might be highly erotic (and often poorly written), but, there isn't a lot of room for character growth or for meaning to emerge in those kinds of stories.

This was like reading an actual short story that happened to be about a man and a woman having a boxing match. I really enjoyed it.
Thanks! I’m very glad you enjoyed it, and I’ll definitely try to keep that in mind about characters and story development, especially because some stuff I’ve written in the past does fall into that particular “domination and humiliation” mold. The feedback is very helpful.
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Old 15-Apr-18, 13:42
mech928 mech928 is offline
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Default Re: Earning a First Date

I totally agree 100% with Bi0mega, I hardly ever read a story, where the male loses but still receives a symbolic victory. The majority of the stories I have read are about domination and humiliation, your is unique. I really enjoyed reading it and I hope continue writing more like this one. Please keep up the good work, I'm looking forward to the next one.
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Old 16-Apr-18, 03:17
Korn Korn is offline
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Default Re: Earning a First Date

It might interest the two of you to know that you convinced me to do another non-humiliation-based story, focusing on the actual fighting between the man and the woman, next. Life is pretty busy right now so I can’t guarantee when it will be posted, but it’s in the process of being written.
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Old 16-Apr-18, 12:11
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Originally Posted by Korn [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
It might interest the two of you to know that you convinced me to do another non-humiliation-based story, focusing on the actual fighting between the man and the woman, next. Life is pretty busy right now so I can’t guarantee when it will be posted, but it’s in the process of being written.
With regards to "Life is pretty busy," I perfectly understand. We all have our busy life style to attend to first, and it takes time and dedication to right a perfectly good story. But I'll be looking forward in reading it, when you do write and post.
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Old 30-Jul-18, 21:43
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Default Re: Earning a First Date

I’m considering writing sequels/continuations to this at some point in the near future. I have a couple ideas, and I’m trying to decide on which one to do first: another fight from Alex’s perspective as he takes on Olivia’s bitchy ex-girlfriend, or a match from Olivia’s POV against a cocky male challenger to her championship?
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Old 30-Jul-18, 22:11
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Default Re: Earning a First Date

I have to say Oliva's story first personally.
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