BATTLE IN A BIKINI by James (jimjunior2001@yahoo.com) Between Jill Johnson and a Charles Atlas man on a beach   Has our heroine finally met her match? Recently, she just bloodied three thugs in an alley in the dark of night. Now, she will be fighting a man in broad daylight, a man a foot taller than her with ripped muscles from shoulders to calves. What were the circumstances? Jill was sitting in her lawn chair on the beach in a red bikini and sunglasses, reading a book, when all of a sudden she could not read the page because the sun was not shining on it. At first, she thought it was a cloud, but she looked up and saw the man standing at the end of her chair.   "Hey babe, come with me."   Jill ignored him. He then tapped her feet and said, "I said come with me."   "Leave me alone."   "No."   "You really don't want to continue to bother me."   "I don't, do I?"   "Correct, you don't."   "Why?"   "Because you will get hurt if you do."   The man started to laugh. "You hurt me?"   A part of Jill thought to herself that he had a point. However, she then remembered how she felt before the alley fight and how that had turned out. It was early in the morning and the lifeguards were not out yet, nor were there any other men out on the beach. This particular one had obviously 'spent the night' on the beach. Our heroine would have to defend herself, again.   Jill stood up, and asked herself what she got into. The man was much taller, and stronger than her, with a much bigger physique than any of the three thugs she dealt with the other night. She would have her work cut out. Her approach would have to be like a good lumberjack; to cut this big tree down to size a little at a time.   She let him make the first move; he reached out and put both his hands on her shoulders. "You've got some muscles yourself, dear" he said.   "Thanks; now I'm going to use them." With that, Jill swung her right arm over his left and then underneath his left so that her palm faced out right up against his arm. She then slapped that palm with her left hand, and his right arm moved off her shoulder. Quickly, she then gave him a chicken wrist with her left hand right under his nose. The first blow came from her.   Slightly startled, he let go with his other hand and that gave Jill a chance to move back into her defensive position.   "So the chick's got some claws" he said.   "No, I've got some amazing hands" she thought to herself.   The man moved forward and swung at her with his right fist. She raised her left arm and deflected it way out to the side. She then did the aforementioned palm strike, delivering it dead on to the center of his nose. It was now two blows to none, in favor of our heroine. No matter how ripped he is, there are some parts to a male's body that cannot be developed by weightlifting, she knew.   The man reached to his nose with both hands, leaving him very vulnerable. Jill raised her right leg and gave him a sharp blow to his groin with an instep kick. The pain was enormous, and the man bent over to try to ease it. She was bringing him down like a true lumberjack.   It was still important for her not to get too close to him, as he could suddenly pop up and do something; rather, she needed to let him continue to come to her, which he shortly did. This time, he simply ran all out at her in an attempt to tackle her to the ground. However, out of nowhere came her elegant right fist which smashed into his temple and forced him down to the ground. Our heroine had smashed another vulnerable area in his Charles Atlas body; this third blow was too much for him to overcome. He lay motionless on the ground; Jill went over to her bag, and started to pulled out her cell phone to call the police. However, she saw some movement on his part and decided she needed to finish him off. She walked over to him, and laid herself down in front of him, so she was facing him. With her chin resting on the palm of her hands, she said, "What's wrong, Mr. Atlas? No luck getting any girls today?"   He started to say something, but Jill quickly lifted her head slightly, and lodged her right fingers into his eye; with his nose, his groin, his temple, and now his eyes badly injured by Jill, he was not going to go anywhere now. It was the greatest feeling in the world for our heroine as she got up, went over to her bag to get her cell phone to call the cops, knowing Mr. Charles Atlas, lying limp on the ground, was powerless to do anything. For the second fight in a row, she escaped without even a scratch.                                                           THE END