Posted by simguy on 3/4/2006

"It's not too late to back out," Laetitia said. She stood in front of a large bay window, staring out into the cool Parisian night. The nocturnal view of the Seine was intoxicating.

"Why would I back out?" Jessica Biel asked. "Wine?"

"No thank you. You'll back out because if you don't, you'll be beaten. Badly. The Ice Hotel...it is different. It breaks women. You'll go there with all your trappings of greatness - your tired sexiest woman status, all your FCBA gold - but it won't mean anything. You'll march into the snow proud, but you'll come back ruined. You have a lot to lose, chere."

Jessica sat with one leg beneath her on the couch, wearing the hotel bathrobe, hair still wet from the shower. The crystal wine glass in her hand glittered with light from the nearby crackling fire. She sipped at her Pinot and smiled. "Laetitia, be honest. Isn't it more that all you have left is the Ice Hotel deal? Lose that and what are you, really? I'm sorry that I want it, but it's a distinctive trinket and I want the European cache. You've done a lot to raise the profile of the place, but I'm taking it away from you: you need to accept that. You had to know sooner or later, I'd come calling."

Casta smiled, turned from the window. She could feel the cold at her back through the glass. "You'll never be accepted here. You must not have any illusions of that. Taking the Ice Hotel from me won't change that."

"We'll see."

"Anyway. I came here to offer you, as you say, an out. I did not think you would take it."

"You're funny. Who knows why you came here Laetitia? It certainly wasn't to offer me a deal. I have no idea what makes you tick, and frankly, I don't care. I know your body: that's all I need to know."

"That is your weakness, Jess. Mind is everything in the Ice Hotel. You'll learn that."

"I'll see you in the ring, 'Tish." Jessica sipped wine, looked into the fire. "If you've got whatever you came here to get, you can go."

"Au revoir Jessica," Laetitia said, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I mean that."

Before: Biel enters the ring first, floor-length dark mink coat over chinchilla bikini, mitts and mukluks, long blonde hair down her back in a viking braid. Casta enters in snow white seal coat - thighs and tummy peak-a-boo as she struts: she's wearing white pelt bikini, mitts and fighting mukluks - hair in a long brunette battle braid. The girls are brought to midring for instructions: hearts pulsing, eyes locked. Casta leans in to air kiss either Biel cheek, pulling back with a demure expression. Jessica purses her lips, every-so-slightly shaking her head: Casta's old-world elegance an obvious irritant to the American.

During R1: Biel striding to her right, does a half-circuit of the ring, then settles into closed stance: left hand low, left shoulder pointed at Casta, right cocked chest-high. Laetitia circling into position, suddenly steps out, changes her footing: now she's southpaw, stepping to her right, keeping her lead (right) foot outside Jessica's left. Slight frown Biel - she turns with Casta, stooping to jab at French midsection. Casta jabbing-with, dropping her right hand onto Biel's face even as she accepts Jessi's firm body-tap: fur-lined mitts skidding off flesh and bone with muffled thumps. Tactical, edgy stuff: Biel obviously taken aback by Casta's southpaw look: Laetitia aggressively seeking straight left hands down the pike as she leans in off Jessi's left shoulder. A few stiff straight left hand connects separates Casta - she scuffs Jessica up, takes the first round in style.

R2: Biel more aggressive, adjusting to Casta's southpaw angles, looking to launch hard, straight right hands up the middle out of the closed stance. Casta's lancing left vs Biel's sudden rights - dangerous back and forth as girls try to tag each other single shot bombs. Midway through, Casta pulls back a touch slow - Jess hops, leans in and gets a firm chin-checking right through: Casta staggers back to ropes, punched out of her stance as she covers up. Biel pouncing: rip-snatch hook thumps off French ribs; FUMP-FUMP left-right curls off Casta's jugs as she leans forward; right uppercuts skid off the point of Laetitia's chin. Casta reaches to clinch, pulling Jessica onto her chest and leaning into ropes - ref working hard to separate beauties as steam starts to rise off glistening shoulders, bare foreheads. 'Tish hurt, but alert - she leans against ropes, luring Biel in, then clinching her up tight - French vixen bogs American powerhouse down - avoids serious damage as Jessica can't pile on in the second.

R3: Laetitia staying southpaw, pumping the jab, then bringing mitts back to her cheeks, elbows in tight to her body. Biel getting scuffed that jab, then answering back, but she's getting blocked: Casta walking the World's Sexiest Woman down behind that sturdy blocking stance. Casta methodical, touching Jessica the jab, leaning into the odd straight left, but always, always bringing the mitts back and tucking in her elbows. Plenty of mustard on Biel's receipts, but it's mostly skidding off French forearms, mitts and shoulders.

R4: Casta continues to advance, systematically punishing Biel with that long, firm jab on the brow and startling straight left hands to the mouth. Biel struggling with the unexpected southpaw look, erupting with good power out of her closed stance, but unable to penetrate Casta's rigid defence: Laetitia countering off the block, but also backing Jessica up with uncompromising stick. Down the stretch, Biel at the ropes and Casta opens up, working blonde over with thudding straight lefts in between the breasts and a tight right hook on the cheek/temple. Bell: Biel staring, lumping up nicely; Casta turns on her heel, swiveling her torso so as to lash her long braid prettily across Jessica's eyes. Biel crying out - bitching at the ref: Norwegian fellow shrugs, clearly doesn't speak English, has no idea what the fuss is about.

R5: Biel threatening in spots, generating terrific torque from her legs and steps to spots and tries for potshotting right hands: Casta managing the danger with her jab and tight Winky-Wright stance, blocking the vast majority of Jessi's offerings. Laetitia the more consistent girl - jabbing at Jessica's brow and catching her over and over on the left eye; thrusting straight lefts to the mouth, catching Jessi just a fraction of a second before blonde can react. When Biel goes to ropes, Casta bangs to the body: straight left hands; right hooks doubled up body/head as Jessica stoops forward. Dying moments, Casta working Jessica over at the ropes: pelt mittens skidding off Jessica's forehead as Casta jerks tight left/right uppercuts at the bell.

R7: Biel's left eye swelling, form breaking down a little: Casta rotating to her right, pounding away her jab, dropping in that southpaw straight left - ringing her foe up from outside and walking her down. Biel frustrated and losing composure: she's not jabbing at all, just loading up and trying to bust Casta hard potshots - Laetitia's seen every move a thousand times in the gym. 'Tish elbows in, hands up at her cheeks calmly blocks shots, then answers back straight and hard: Biel's face getting the worst of the trade. Jessica eventually forced to ropes once again where Casta can work the body: 'Tish methodically pounding blonde flanks, looming over Jessica as Biel tilts forward off the ropes. Down the stretch, Laetitia heartlessly beats Biel across her lower back - seal-pelt mitts pounding taut kidney meat with dull thumps. Jessica arching her back, wincing in pain after the bell - again, barking at an uncomprehending ref as Casta coolly struts to her corner.

R8: Jessica more effective - still throwing power shots, but doubling up, putting combinations together - she chases Laetitia to ropes, keeps her there. Casta hard pressed, but collected - she's tying Biel up, riding a hand behind Jessica's head, snuggling her close. Jessica flurrying amidships, scoring well to the waist, but 'Tish doing a nice job minimizing damage. Casta choosy with her receipts - clipping the odd nibbling uppercut, cuffing the odd hook, then clinching.

R9: Jessica trying to build momentum, rushes in...and gets LABELED an intercepting left cross. Biel's knees buttery - she reels away, bleak expression, covering up as Casta gets to work. Tish pounding away that jab - finishes the job of closing Jessica's left eye this round. More smashing straight lefts find the mark - Biel's knees buckling, head swirling on contact as Casta breaks her girl down. 'Tish sliding in, carrying her left hand flat to paunch - poor Jessica folding up hurt around the punch, allowing Laetitia to sidestep 'round Jessi's left flank. Tuff round for Jessica - busted up, hurt - she makes it to the bell on trembling legs.

R10: Casta heartless, hunting Biel down, pounding her with those merciless straight punches out of the tight blocking stance. Right jabs smash the swollen eye; drilling straight lefts bust the chops, stamp the breasts, forcing Biel to ropes. Withering beatdown administered - Casta opening up a little, getting rangy underneath as she curls lefts and rights up into Jessica, pushing blonde back by her shoulders to reset. Fur lined mitts thudding away - poor Jessica crossing her arms, stooping forward with parted lips, staring eyes: she's beaten raw to the bell. Casta strong to the bell, just keeping mitts on meat - posts a strong shutout 10th to defend her Ice title in style: UD10 Laetitia Casta.

After: Biel puffy with punishment, stunned and groggy - she's badly battered, taken apart tonight by the incumbent Snow Queen. Attendants bring Casta's long fur coat to her, dress her - then Casta roughly pushes Jessica out of the ring, taking her by her elbow towards the main exit. Casta seething, scowling as she marches - pale thighs and tummy winking into view from the protective warm of the open coat. Biel sniveling, stumbling, clearly doesn't know what the protocol up here is.

Jetsetting crowd carries drinks out into the frigid cold, following Casta and Biel outside. Poor Jessica! Shivering, hugging herself against the cold, turning to plead with Casta: Laetitia's breath pluming white from her lips as she lifts her arms, heaves a mukluk'd foot into Biel's tummy to boot Jessica to a seat in a nearby snow drift. Brisk clapping and whistling from the crowd - noise brittle in the cold air as snarling Casta moves in.

'Tish left hand grabs at Jessica's right wrist: French beauty kneeling down into the snow, straddling the shivering blonde. Harsh, cracking slaps - clapping open-palm rights - paste Jessica's cheek, tossing her head to the side, bringing tears to her eyes. Biel blubbering "Stop...stop..." as Casta pours a heartless stream of clouts to cheek, slapping Biel into senseless stupor. Finally, nostrils flaring, breath puffing out white, Casta stops, just kneeling above Jessica, watching as Biel begins to blubber - Jessi hugging herself once again against the cold, bowing her head in shame. Tish lingers there, knees numb in the snow: soaking up the pathetic sight as Jessica completely breaks down.