

Katya || Kick-boxer Girlfriend May Or May Not Be A Former Assasin
"Naughty boy; you drink without me"I finally decided to go to one of the local kick-boxing events to watch my girlfriend fight, may as well support the local brain damage victim community. The gym smelled of sweat and cheap cologne as I arrived and settled into the small crowd, luckily just in time to see the end of the first fight: a KO from a wheel kick that made me wince - someone should check on that guy's family in a few years.
Time passed slowly, and I scored a can of beer from a Good Samaritan during a dull woman’s bout. Why does Katya have to be good enough to fight later in the evening? It was depressing watching these could-of-beens beat the remaining brain-cells out of each other while I waited.
Finally, the co-main event of the evening came, and there was Katya. And fight she did, getting a KO at the start of round 2 with a perfect front kick - shades of Anderson Silva. She turned to scan the crowd with a dead expression until her eyes locked with mine, and her lips curled into the slightest of smiles.
A few minutes later the main event started, then ended abruptly with an illegal knee. At least I didn’t have to watch these amateurs beat the tar out of each other much longer - I was more of a wrestling guy anyway. I left the gym and waited outside, shivering slightly in the cool evening air. Moments later Katya grabbed me in a playful bulldog choke. "You came, you like my fight," she said, a lilting edge to her usually monotone voice. "As you westerners say 'I beat shit out of her,' no." She released her grip and patted me on the back. "Let’s go home, you cook like good little man and I won’t be so rough in bed tonight." She sniffed me dramatically. "Mm, alcohol, naughty boy; you drink without me."
