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18 November 2013 Natalie Dormer vs Meghan Markle

Page history last edited by Archer844 10 years, 4 months ago

Natalie Dormer 02.jpg Meghan Markle 02.jpg

WEEKEND IN VEGAS (SLAP FUGHT)

Posted by Rampant Fighting on November 18, 2013, 6:03 am.

Natalie had found herself enjoying Las Vegas; the way that the city appropriated other cultures with such shamelessness, the remarkable variety of entertainment that was provided to distract its visitors from the expense of the slot machines and roulette wheels and blackjack tables, like an excited man gripping your shoulder and talking nonstop while a thief picks your pocket. She watched Holly Valance wrestle an Australian tourist on an artificial beach beneath a thirty foot model of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the two of them topless and tanned and sweaty in the afternoon sun, saw Pam Anderson's one woman show, My Fighting Life , in a theater at the Wynn. Pam was heckled throughout by a group of drunk cheerleaders as she told stories of punching out Yasmine Bleeth on the set of Baywatch, of brawling with Playmates in the garden of the Playboy Mansion. After a half hour of it she walked into the audience and dragged one of the cheerleaders out of her chair by the hair, and the show ended with the cheerleader smothering Pam out on the top of a table near the stage. Pam's mic stayed on throughout, so that you could hear her mumbling against the cheerleader's breast - as she ate dinner later that night Natalie decided that she still wasn't sure if the cheerleader was legitimately a drunken heckler or an actress with a regular part in the show.

Then on the Saturday she watched Troian Bellisario slap out Meghan Markle at the Bellagio.

****

They were seated almost opposite one another. The room had the appearance of the main hall in a British country house, with a line of portraits along one wall, high ceilings and panelled wood and sideboards crowded with food. The conversation among the guests had a rhythm to it, full of eddies of noise as everyone spoke at once, then moments of quiet that seemed to spread out over them like something contagious. The trick was to get the timing right.

'What foresight her parents had in naming her Troi, knowing that their squalling little brat would grow into such a horse-faced young woman.'

Further along the table someone made a sound that began as a laugh and ended as a cough. A fork screeched against a plate. Natalie let her mouth widen into a smirk and ate a spoonfull of her dessert and waited for the conversation to begin again.

'With a first round knockout people can see how it can be a fluke. A ten round drubbing, one woman to another, is so much more definitive. I don't see how you can deny Vaugier is the better fighter,' Troian said.

'It's strange because on her show they are all adults unconvincingly pretending to be children, but then in the ring or on the mat she looks like a child unconvincingly pretending to be an adult.'

'Is there anything more obnoxious than an upper class British accent? No wonder we fought a war to get rid of them.'

Natalie imagined grabbing Troian by her hair and the waistband of her underwear and sending her sliding face down along the length of the polished table, scattering food and plates and cutlery as she went.

****

Meghan had not wanted to fight. She said that she had a flight the next morning, a photoshoot booked for later on in the week. It had taken the offer of an FCBA match, the chance to take the first shot and the rights to video of the event for her to agree. She didn't react when the mc announced her name to the spectators. She took a grip of the wooden peg and blew on her right hand as though it was cold. Then she slapped Natalie across the face.

The structure of the fight made Natalie think of a tie break in tennis; the repeated transference of pressure from one participant to the other, the importance of holding serve, which in this case meant not letting go of the peg and so giving your opponent the chance to have consecutive slaps. Soon her hand was stinging from the contact with Meghan's face. Her cheek was numb, streaked with her blood from where Meghan's nail had scratched her.

A forehand thrown with full extension sent her to one knee. The peg was slick with her sweat and she felt her grip slipping. With her free hand she reached out and grabbed at the dark flapping mass of Meghan's hair and pulled herself back upright, almost yanking Meghan from off her feet. 'Cheating b###h,' Meghan said, her voice a breathless pant, but Natalie just slapped her again, twisting her head to one side.

Natalie's eyes were filmed over so that she saw Meghan as a shimmering blur now, the white snarl of her teeth and the bright blue of her bra a distracting contrast with the dark tan of her body. On the far wall a digital board flashed red numbers; the odds for the fight, updated in-running. Vaguely she realised that Meghan was now the favorite. Meghan's exhale sounded like a laugh, ha, as she brought her palm down hard on the top of Natalie's breast. Natalie cried out, turned away and hunched over, both hands against her chest. The ascending count seeming quicker than she remembered it to be from the previous night. Again and again Meghan slapped at the same spot. On her knees, Natalie looked down at the red glow of her breasts, at the red number, impossibly big, blinking bright beside her name on the wagering board, at the red pout of Troian Bellisario's mouth near the front of the crowd. Ten. She closed her eyes. Meghan's hands went so deep into her hair she felt the fingertips against her scalp.

(Thanks to the person - light aircraft? - who wrote the original piece, it's great to see the Rampant fighters even tangentially involved in things. I also thought this was a cool idea, and so stole it for myself. At first I wrote it with Natalie winning, but that seemed to leave Meghan ill-served by events, so I changed things around a bit. Again, hopefully with these bits they can be either embraced or ignored as part of the FCBA world.)