Of course, being university students, all the young men said they had “no problem” when the gays went into the bar en masse. Even so, you should see the way they all scarper when it happens!

For the girls, it meant they weren’t pestered (even if some of them privately wanted to be). At least, in the obvious way. But the gays made it plain that they didn’t want the women there. They began to make them feel uncomfortable, and they came to regret laughing as the other men escaped.

“Who’s for a drink?” asked Mia to her friends, noticing the exchanged nervous glances among them. They agreed to have one last drink, and she went to the bar.

One of the gays standing at the bar was of the macho kind – hearty, rugby playing and predatory. He didn’t like it when Mia asked, “Excuse me, please,” because she couldn’t get to the bar, but he reluctantly made way for her. Once she was there, he started telling anti-women jokes. He had a loud voice, and after a couple of the jokes, he started on a third: “Why do women have legs?” he boomed.

“Please don’t,” interrupted Mia.

“I’m sorry? Are you with us?” he roared.

“No, but I can hear you. We all can,” she told him, indicating her friends at the table. “I’ve heard the joke and it’s revolting.”

“Well hard luck!” he thundered, and proceeded to give the joke’s punchline.

Mia cancelled the order and waited for the laughter to die down. Then she walked up to the joke teller and said quietly “Okay Mr. macho man, what’s your name?”

“Rex.”

“Ah yes, the King. Well Rex, I’m going to dethrone you and make you look like the empty, tasteless buffoon you really are. Let’s go to the ring.”

“No!” protested the girls, along with the man’s companions. But Rex couldn’t allow himself to be challenged, even if it was from such an unlikely quarter. They ignored the protests and made their way to the ring. The others, gays and girls together, shuffled behind them, so they could watch through the windows outside the ring’s enclosure (much to the disgust of the bar manager, who had been taking good money).

“She doesn’t know what she’s in for,” one of the gays whispered to the girl next to him. “He used to box for the Army.”

“He wasn’t in it for very long,” she scoffed in reply. “Did he get thrown out for interfering with new recruits?”

“Anyway, Mia’s a dance student,” another girl told them. “She may not be able to match his strength, but she can make up for that with quicker movements.”

This was true. While Rex looked a powerful, daunting prospect as an opponent, Mia emanated grace and agility. Her pretty face looked intelligent; her body, trim and supple. It was a pity she couldn’t exploit her feminine good looks against her opponent – her shapely legs, her beautiful, gently-curving breasts and her tight, round bottom.

“See what I mean?” whispered the girl.

Indeed, after circling, Rex fired a right hook, which she dodged. The girls exchanged knowing glances when she evaded a follow up left cross attempt. A right cross from him did strike – but only her ponytail, and a general “Phew” came from all the assembled girls.

Then one long, toned, flexible dancer’s leg kicked him high on his right thigh. The lights danced and winked in reflection on her skin-coloured pantyhose. The wince on Rex’s face betrayed the kick’s effect. Mia seized his left wrist and fired an elbow uppercut to his chin. This time they heard a stifled shout of pain from him.

Furious, he lashed out with his right fist, but the clever dancing lady neatly crouched beneath it.

“Oh!” went all the furtive spectators when she sprang up and stormed into his jaw with a right uppercut. No one had suspected she would fight like that. The kick, yes. The elbow, perhaps. But an old-fashioned prize fighter’s punch? It seemed almost wrong that someone who looked so neat and ladylike could land a punch as well as any street brawler.

To disprove the spectators further, she powered her left fist deep and low into Rex’s stomach. He sighed in pain and his body folded around her fist.

Rex had to do something. His plight was in serious territory; if he didn’t score soon, it would move into crisis mode. He launched a left cross, but his wily, elusive opponent nudged it off course with her elbow. Then, arching her body down, she watched his right fist travel harmlessly over her face. She waited until he came to the end of his trajectory, then blasted her right fist into his ear.

Its arrival was deafening. Swaying with dizziness, Rex missed with an uppercut. Leaning back, fists clenched, Mia waited for the right moment as before. Then she seized his left wrist and kicked him in the balls.

“Here, that’s not right!” protested one of the gays.

“It’s a legitimate move for a woman who’s been attacked by a man,” one of the girls stoutly defended her friend.

“Oh, so she hasn’t done any attacking, then?”

“Well, perhaps just a bit.”

Mia held Rex in place and pushed with her foot, to compound the agony in his balls. He cried out, making the gays look anxiously at each other. When she let him go, he stooped and clutched his balls. Mia held his head with both hands and drove her knee mercilessly into his face.

With an oath, he shot a lumbering right at her, but she pivoted out of the way on her right foot, and sent her left one into his ear. It was a glancing blow, and he was able to respond with a left cross. It’s just a shame it didn’t hit her. She looked at him questioningly, as if to ask, “What was that?”

Then, turning and leaning into him, she grabbed his right arm, hooked her right leg around his right leg, and hip tossed him onto the mat. She banged his chest down hard, while at the same time stretching his right arm behind his back in an excruciating lock.

Mia was intent on putting him through the menu of what she had to offer in her unarmed combat cuisine. Having temporarily rendered his right arm useless, she lay opposite him and head locked him, using both arms. When does a head lock become a choke? Well, a glance at the footage might help answer that question. Certainly, Rex struggled to breathe at all as long as her surprisingly powerful arms encased his neck.

She gave him no respite. She slipped swiftly from the head lock to a head scissor. Lying across him, she snapped her voluptuous-yet-lethal thighs shut around his neck and went to work. Each tightening of them, each little movement, provided little crackles of static electricity from her pantyhose around his face and ears. She concentrated hard, focussed her mind to the exclusion of everything else, and knocked him out within the sex-charged energy of her thighs.

“She can’t be doing that!” one of the gays protested, as Mia peeled off the unconscious man’s shorts. “I’m going to stop her!”

“No you’re not,” one of the girls told him firmly, barring his way, and he gave in.

Mia retired to a corner and relaxed while Rex recovered consciousness. She watched as he got to his hands and knees, then couldn’t resist approaching him for a little tormenting.

“Dear, dear, what a fuss!” she commented at his groaning.

“I’m warning you,” he tried to restore some pride, “I used to box for the Army.”

“And I dance for the Royal School of Dance. Why did you leave the Army so suddenly?”

“I don’t discuss it.”

“Very wise, what with all the rumours.”

“Fucking bitch!” Rex shouted, jumping up and attempting to surprise her with a left hook. But the only surprise was his when it missed.

Mia looked mockingly into his eyes as his arm shot past her face, her fists clenched at the ready. As before, she timed her response to perfection, waiting for him to come to the end of his trajectory, then banged her left fist into his eye. It turned all manner of weird, fantastic colours, then started to swell up. She smiled, delighted with her handiwork, then sent her right fist ploughing into his ear.

It was his left ear, the same as before, which made the blow doubly painful. While there was a little cheering from the girls, the gays had to turn away. Their hero looked as if he was going to be sick.

Meanwhile, the girls’ heroine had him in disarray. She homed a left cross through his defences to crash into his jaw. Then, crouching low, she got him on exactly the same spot with her right fist. A couple of girls shouted their approval and encouragement.

“Hit him again!” one of them called through the doorway, and Mia obliged by landing a solid left to his chin, penetrating his defensive stance a second time.

“Did you see the way her arse wobbled slightly when she hit him?” one of the girls asked the young man next to her. “Doesn’t it turn you on? Oops, silly me, of course it doesn’t,” she concluded, none too pleasantly.

Rex hurled a left cross at her, but the dancer subtly took the lead and beat it to safety, then crouched comfortably under a right uppercut that swished over her head. She curved her body out of the way of a left body shot and noticed Rex starting to pant. He had slowed himself down with futile punches and she had time to pick her target – his left eye.

At this point, the footage is so graphic that the woman’s fist looks as if it was made to fit into the man’s eye. She discoloured it as grotesquely as his other one.

Rex was getting desperate. She had done real, noticeable damage to him, and he hadn’t managed to land a single kick or punch. With an air of desperation, he grunted with the effort of a wild left cross. But again, she leant out of its path. (Hooray for those dancing lessons!)

He stumbled slightly because its force was supposed to be broken, so Mia seized his outstretched left wrist in her right hand. Whipping her left arm around his middle, she lifted him off the mat, then swung them both forward. She found time to look into his eyes and smile before she slammed him onto his back.

Kneeling on his chest, Mia dragged his right arm and locked it in the crook of her left arm and against her body. Giving herself such an opportunity, she would normally have tormented a male opponent by brushing his arm a little against her near breast. But this would have had no effect on Rex – or so she thought, because this fight was starting to trouble him in more ways than one. As it was, she looked down on him with curiosity whenever he yelled from her manipulations of his arm.

Changing position, she knelt over his neck, half-scissoring him within her left leg and pulling on her foot to reinforce the hold. She kept hold of his right wrist in case he got any ideas of counterattacking. The feel of her upper thigh and buttock in her expensive pantyhose against his face did nothing to dispel Rex’s growing doubts about himself.

Mia divided her attention between the half-scissor and the armlock. Rex felt a gradual weakening in the two holds when she tried to catch his eye for some psychological stuff. She was quite light after all. If he could just …

Surprise! He had her up on his shoulders before she had stopped popping her eyes at him. Steadying himself, he got to one knee, then stood up. She had dropped him twice to the mat; but he had her at double the height, and this should be a most painful slam. He threw.

Mia landed well, both feet on the mat and supporting herself with her left hand. So far, so good, but there was Rex glowering at her and intent on vengeance. He wouldn’t give her time to stand up, she knew. No, he wanted to attack her where she was most vulnerable, on the mat. Once he moved within range, she had one strike available to her for one short moment. She had better get it right.

He made his move towards her; she swung her left leg round massively, her foot smashing into his balls. He yelled in agony and retreated, clutching his balls. Mia jumped up to face him, waiting for his response. As usual, she bargained on him missing her, so she would get him on the follow through.

Her plan worked. He swung a wild left, and she got him on the nose with a left cross. Tears welled up in his eyes after this latest strike by the lady pugilist, much to her satisfaction. She had him now, she could tell. Holding him steady by his left wrist, she thrust her right knee into his balls. Her glossy, spangly pantyhose-clad knee did such damage!

Once again, Rex clutched his balls, and crumpled his body, vainly trying to absorb this new pain. Mia put him in a head lock and choked the will to continue out of him. Even he knew that she had beaten him, and the realisation gave him an odd tingle in the very area he was trying to protect.

But most immediately, he needed to get out of the head lock. Luckily for him, Mia released him from it just then – but only to ram his chin with her knee.

Rex swayed unsteadily. His opponent had transformed herself from a prim young lady, who objected to his jokes, to a vicious brawler, who slammed a man to the mat and then took his shorts off. She had defeated a larger, stronger man, and his cock became fully erect at the idea. What the -?

But she interrupted his disturbing thought with a combination strike of her trusty right knee under his balls, and her equally trusty left fist to his face. The girls cheered, and the gays shuffled miserably back to the bar for what remained of their “Pride” evening. Their hero collapsed to the mat and covered his face with his hands in shame. Shame for being destroyed by this nimble dancer in her leotard and pantyhose; shame that this icon of the gay community had been given an erection by this same woman. For her part, Mia decided to have some fun.

“I say!” she declared, in her best Oxford English. “Did I do that?”

“No – don’t know – confused,” sobbed Rex.

“Well, we can’t leave you in that state, can we?” she told him, like a teacher chastising a pupil for not doing his homework. “I don’t know. Once again, a woman has to sort out a man’s problem.”

Rex gasped when she took hold of his cock. Even he had to admit that she had a tantalising skill with it. Did all women? Perhaps they weren’t so bad after all. She brought him to orgasm with the strokes of a sorceress.

“There you are,” she stated, standing up when his convulsions had subsided. “A woman did that for you. Still confused, Rex?”