Bangkok Beatdown Pt. 01

Bangkok Beatdown Pt. 01

I had been a seasoned traveller for a long old time. Vacationing had always been like my little escape from the drudgery of every day life, you know, like work and having to deal with the daily stresses that every adult has to endure. Bills, taxes, responsibilities that seem to creep up and mount, however much you try to get on top of things. It seemed my entire, adult life had been saturated by constant political crap, as well as the dire state of the economy, which seemed to get worse with each passing year. On top of that, the whole way the world was shifting in recent times, with social media and the like, just didn't sit well with me. I didn't care about doing things for 'likes'. I actually preferred to get out there and experience things for real. Over the past few years, all the stresses of life had come at me in waves, and every day seemed to be a whole new reason to get depressed. Which is why, once each year, I'd take a few weeks off and go somewhere to just chill out. Something away from the bullshit of my mundane, daily life. I'd save up throughout the year just for this one adventure, and it had become a real highlight for me, making the daily grind somewhat bearable.

I'd always go on the trip alone. I mean, I'd had a few girlfriends over the years, but was kind of a lone wolf, and I preferred to arrange my own itinerary without anyone else disrupting my plans. I'd started off travelling a little around Central and South America, particularly the Caribbean Islands, as it was convenient with its close proximity to the States. However, more recently, I'd been opting for Southeast Asian countries. Things were just a hell of a lot cheaper over there, and there was nothing better than chilling on one of their tranquil beaches, hot sand between your toes, the blue sea out ahead with an ice-cool beer in your hand. The locals depended on the tourism for their economy, so they always went above and beyond to treat you well. On top of that, the women were something else, and I found I received the kind of attention from them that I could never hope for back home. Perhaps it was because they were desperate for money and wanted to escape their own, third-world country so much, but whatever it was, I wasn't complaining; I felt like a king whenever I stepped foot into one of their bars. Another positive was the fact that I didn't have to endure the usual bullshit that women seemed to adore throwing at you during a relationship. Once my travel was over, I could leave the women behind and get back to my life without any of the usual hang-ups.

However, in all of my travels around Asia, despite having already visited Malaysia, Singapore, Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos, I'd never actually been to Thailand before. The Land of Smiles had been on my bucket list for a long time and it always felt like it needed a whole vacation to itself. I'd thought about tacking it onto one of the other trips in the past, but that didn't sit well, like I'd be doing it an injustice. This year, after saving every cent I could spare, I'd finally been able to make the trip. I'd planned everything out to a precision level, and made sure that I was going to get a real sense of the country, particularly the attractions on offer, and most notably, the beaches and hot weather.

After a gruelling flight, upon arrival, I was excited to experience the culture and spicy cuisine, but most of all, I was desperate to get a load of the women over there. I'd heard such good things about Thai women over the years, and how much they had a thing for foreigners. Apparently, it didn't matter if you were a bit older, balding and a little overweight, because these women could see past that. They were interested in being taken care of, and in return, they'd take care of you. That was a fair trade as far as I was concerned.

Lugging my trusty rucksack, I stepped out of the airport excited for a month of adventure. After much research, I'd planned the trip out so that I would start off in the south, kicking around between places like Phuket and Krabi. You know the sort, with crystal blue water and white sandy beaches. I spent the first week just chilling on the coast, though occasionally taking a boat trip over to one of the islands. There was a lot to do in terms of snorkelling, banana boats and all that malarkey, as well as enjoying an ice-cold beer while watching those giant lizards walk by with their slithering tongues. I took a canoe trip through the mangroves and fed fruit to the monkeys along the shore cliffs. I tried rum with sugar cane, squeezed right there by hand. I even got a bit toked up, considering cannabis shops were practically everywhere. After a few days of total relaxation, I knew the Thai way of life was definitely for me.

Similarly, my nights were spent partying it up till the break of dawn beneath the moonlight, while slurping cocktails from the infamous fish bowls. As expected, much interest was received from the local Thai women, and I knew I'd made the right choice in my holiday destination. I was even considering the idea of one day retiring to Thailand, since the place just had so much to offer me and all of the expats that were settled there kept talking it up. Though, for the time being, I was just enjoying every second of my vacation and living for the moment.

Gradually, as the days went by, I worked my way up along the coast. The first stop was Koh Samui, which had a similar feel to Phuket, if I was truthful. Therefore, I moved onto Koh Lao, which honestly, was a bit crazy. On the very first night, I'd got a bit too tanked up on Pina Coladas and driven my moped into a ditch. A few bruises later and all was good, but it was a bit of a reality check about how fragile my body actually was. I'd always been a gym rat, and had enjoyed a few successful years as an amateur boxer. I prided myself on my strength and stamina, but at the end of the day, I was just meat and bones. After grazing myself right up, I promised never to fuck around with a Thai motorcycle again, reining my adventurous side in and opting for more relaxed activities from then on.

Up the coast I continued, visiting Hua Hin for a few days, but finding it was pretty much filled with white pensioners that had come over for a bit of pussy. I mean, it was chilled, but I actually felt like kind of a pervert. Heading out to the bars just didn't have the same feel for me when I was surrounded by old, fat, white-haired men. That was the exact reason why I'd decided not to head to Pattaya, as I'd heard it was basically just filled with sex-starved foreigners that couldn't get any women back home. I mean, I was interested in getting laid, but I just felt uneasy while surrounded by a load of guys trying to do the same thing. I preferred to remain off the beaten path where I was considered a gem amongst the coal. Where the women would recognise my value and put effort into wooing me. When there was a load of other foreigners available, the women were less enthused and didn't put in the effort. That's how my experiences had gone in Malaysia and Vietnam, so I'd decided to avoid the main foreigner-laden sexual hubs in Thailand. I mean, there were beautiful women everywhere, even out in the obscure fringe villages, so I knew I was getting my dick sticky whatever happened. Hua Hin turned out to be fruitful in that department, with a couple of massage girls offering some extra services for very reasonable prices. The countless hours overtime I'd worked throughout the year was definitely spent well.

Eventually, I had left the Thai beach cities and headed towards the capital for the finality of my trip. I had always wanted to visit Bangkok, the city known for its bustling street life and delicious food. Despite loving to chill on the beaches, I was actually beyond excited to explore all that Bangkok had to offer for a single guy like myself. I'd heard that the air was filthy as shit, but the street life was something that couldn't be compared to any other city on the planet. This was exactly the kind of thing I was into. Going down narrow alleys and finding hidden gems that no one else knew of, and then keeping it to myself, not taking a million photos and posting all over the internet.

Once I reached Bangkok, after a horrific bus journey where I thought we were going to die a number of times, the Thai roads being infamous for crashes, I disembarked and took a deep breath. Immediately, I felt like I was about to cough and splurge my guts up; the stagnant air confirming my fears of the rampant pollution. The cloudy streets, with the various colours of lights and market sellers, all harassing and trying to peel my money from me, felt like something out of a dystopian movie. Still, I was only planning to stay a couple of days, so it wasn't like I was going to choke to death or anything.

I quickly learned that the pace was so different in comparison to the coastal cities. There was hardly any of the relaxation, and I was constantly on a taxi bike or cramped on the public trains. The city itself was huge, with all of the things I had planned to see spaced out. I started my first day by visiting the famous Wat Phra Kaew temple. Despite thinking of myself as a bit of an alpha kind of guy, into the beers and women, I was in awe of the intricate details of the temple and the serene atmosphere within its walls. I gifted a few baht to a monk, who in turn blessed me, and after paying my respects, I ventured out into the bustling streets, sampling some of the cheap market food.

Next, I took a scenic boat tour of the city, gliding down the Chao Phraya River and taking in the magnificent views of the city's skyline. As the sun began to set, I made my way to the famous Khao San Road to experience the vibrant nightlife. The street was teeming with street vendors selling all sorts of delicious food and drinks, and the energy was electric, just having this young and free feel to it. I even tried a Thai rice whiskey, which had been made by the very guy selling it on the street. It burned like fuck on the way down my throat, but I was buzzing for the rest of the night.

Finally, I ended my trip with a visit to the Grand Palace and Wat Arun, two stunning temples that left me in awe, and for once, I felt like I'd really appreciated the culture of a place, rather than just getting wasted and spending most of my time at bars. By that point, I was done, feeling like I'd pretty much done everything I set out to do. I took a final tuk-tuk ride through the city on the way back to my hotel, experiencing the chaotic yet thrilling streets of Bangkok one more time, taking in the bright lights of the city while dreading my return to work.

I was just about to reach the final block before my hotel, when I noticed a ruckus going on in the streets; a collective crowd gathered up outside some kind of arena. I tapped the driver on the shoulder and asked him to slow down, before fishing a couple of notes out, which he greedily accepted.

There were a few other foreign tourists, bustling up amongst the locals, and it looked like they were lining up at some kind of ticket booth. Already I was starting to feel the excitement of experiencing something new. Something impromptu and unplanned which I hadn't been expecting. That was part of the fun of exploring a foreign city, where you'd often find hidden wonders buried away in the places you least expected. The fact I'd thought my trip was over and that I was about to head to sleep for the final time only made the discovery all the better. My flight wasn't until mid-afternoon the next day, so I had a few hours to sneak in a final bit of fun.

"Hey buddy," I asked one of the foreigners, who was taking a swig from a local beer. He was wearing a pair of those baggy, loose-fitting pants with the elephants on, the kind that most of the tourists donned to save their ankles from the mosquitos and because they thought it made them look cool. The kind of trinket I'd never be caught dead in because I wasn't that sort of idiot. "What's going on here then?"

"It's the boxing," he said. "There's a couple of fights going on tonight, bud. Can see the whole lot for a couple of hundred baht."

"What, like proper boxing?" That certainly sounded interesting, especially being a boxer myself. I'd fought in a lot of amateur fights in the past, and though it had been a while, it was the sort of training that you never forgot. That's part of the reason I had no qualms getting tanked up in cities around the world, because I always knew I could handle myself.

He turned and squinted at me. "Muay Thai boxing, obviously."

"What's the difference?" I shrugged. "Boxing is boxing, buddy. You throw punches at each other and that's it."

"Nah, it's way more brutal," he said. "Really kick the shit out of each other. I've seen a couple of fights before. They sometimes even had kids doing it. I saw one match where a boy had his arm broken with the first kick." He wiped his beard off after another swig from his beer. "He just walked out of the ring without making a sound. Kid didn't cry or anything."

"Sounds a bit hard to believe," I said, figuring he was just embellishing shit. "I've been a bit of a boxer myself in the past, and I'm not into any of this kicking nonsense. If you need to kick, it just shows you're too much of a pussy to use your hands." I got into the fighting position, throwing a couple of jabs, still pruned in the technique I'd picked up all those years ago. "A perfectly executed punch is going to knock one of these guy's heads right off. You know, they used to call me Put—"

"Right," the guy said, then he kind of shook his head and looked back towards the ticket booth. His girlfriend leant in and whispered in his ear, and the next thing the guy was rolling his eyes and scoffing in my direction. I was about to say something else, but they'd already bought their tickets and headed inside.

"Whatever," I mumbled, and I checked my wallet for how much baht I had left over.

Most of the people around seemed to be locals, and from the amount buying tickets, it was apparent that this Muay Thai bullshit was quite popular. In my initial research it had been recommended, but after a quick look on Google at a photo of a fighter, I'd figured it was some featherweight shit. It may have been popular for the Thais, but for a big guy like me, it was comparable to thumb war. It was probably as popular here as cricket was in India, or rugby in New Zealand, or ice hockey in Canada, all of which were completely shit sports. I mean, for some reason, only the States were interested in sports that were decent, like football, basketball, baseball and, of course, boxing. It was no surprise that all of the biggest, most-watched boxing matches took place in Vegas. Fighters around the world would fly over to go up against the American belt holders, desperate for a piece of the extravagant purse. That was a real match-up, none of this crap with people paying a buck to see a shitty match on some random Bangkok corner. A match where the fighters had to use their feet because they were useless with their fists.

Still, I was here, wasn't I, so I figured, why not? What else was I planning to do on my last night? Go for an early sleep? I may as hell hang out for a bit and try something new. So, I bought a ticket and made my way into the stadium, filled with a kind of muted expectation. As I'd said, I'd been a bit of a boxer myself, and over the years I'd watched a bit of MMA too and especially the UFC. I was really into the whole Conor McGregor style of fighting, you know, where he just stood up and dished out the punishment, pummelling his opponent with his fists. Whenever one of those pussies would start swinging kicks at him, or trying to grapple on the floor, it would just demonstrate to me that they couldn't compete with his punching power. It was almost like resorting to kicking was an admittance that you were out of your depth, and it's why I'd always stuck to straight-up boxing for my own exercise. Two guys, going to head to head, and battering the fuck out of each other with their fists was the definitive example of male competition.

Still, I was here to experience the culture and try something new, wasn't I? So, since it didn't cost a lot, I wasn't bothered about wasting an hour or so. The stadium turned out to be more of an open-air market square, with a decaying ring at its centre and swarms of plastic chairs for the spectators. Some of the ring ropes were even taped up with duct tape which made me snigger.

There was already a match underway as I scooted through the crowd to my seat, and as I settled down, I realised that I'd been completely duped. It was a fucking women's match! There were no real, male fighters in sight, and even the ones warming up were women too. Over the years, I'd watched some of the female boxing and UFC fights while channel hopping, which was honestly a waste of time, serving up as entertainment comparable to the WWE rather than genuine combat. So, as I sat there, I figured this was going to be as entertaining as the ladyboy shows on offer. I looked on in bemusement as one of the women screeched as she sent an aimless kick towards her opponent, missing the target by about a foot. A load of the Thai audience clapped and cheered, apparently celebrating her failure. I looked around with a raised eyebrow, wondering what the hell they were so excited about?

"What the fuck is shit?" I said, while flicking my hand towards the ring. "It's women fighting?" I looked around aghast, though as most of the audience were Thai, they clearly didn't understand what I was saying. Strangely, they seemed so into it, and I watched in confusion as a few of them threw phantom punches and imitated kicks from their seats as a mimicry of the ongoing action.

That caused me to guffaw, and I imagined doing the same thing while watching the women's UFC back at home, parading around in front of my television and acting the fool. Shadow boxing with some 'professional' female fighter that I could have knocked out with my eyes closed.

I was thinking about leaving, since it was a waste of time, but since I'd already paid, I figured I may as well stay for a while: I could be pretty stubborn when it came to getting my money's worth. I must admit, I was a bit sceptical at first, but I was curious to see what these women could do in the ring because it honestly seemed like too much of a joke. I mean, it had to get better, didn't it? I'd been expecting to witness two guys kicking the shit out of each other, but it seemed I was in for an even better performance as I noticed one of the women's clearly enhanced breasts squished into her sports bra. With them jiggling all over the ring, and probably pulling each other's' hair, there was a good chance I was going to see some boobs popping out or the like. That was enough to keep my attention, and immediately, it became more about the women up there putting on a show for me, rather than me actually caring about the pretend boxing they were doing.

Some guy rolled up next to me with an ice bucket with a load of beers in, so I duly purchased one and took a couple of swigs, rolling my eyes at the clown performance going on. I even wolf-whistled the fighters a couple of times, yelling for them to get their tits out for the boys, though, they didn't react as they obviously couldn't speak English.

Anyway, eventually one of the women got dazed by a soft kick to the face, and the fight was over before I'd even had a chance to finish my beer. "Is that it?" I asked, while looking around bemused, while everyone else was clapping. "She barely touched her?" My face was shrivelled up in disbelief. "A little kick to the fact like that and she's throwing in the towel?"

Just like that, two other women entered the ring, and after a load of palaver where some stupid band was playing music at ringside, the next fight got underway. These two seemed a bit more experienced, and I was immediately struck by the style compared to how a proper male boxing match would begin. The women were fast and more agile, and their movements were graceful, yet surprisingly, as pained as I was to admit, evidently powerful, especially in their kicks. I found myself transfixed by the technique and control on show, and at times even nodded my head with approval while taking a slurp of my beer. I mean, they couldn't compare to men, of course, but it was entertaining in its own right. It was almost comparable to watching two cocks having a fight, where they were dancing around the little ring and flicking kicks at each other; that being, they were deadly against each other, but if they were up against a man, there was obviously only going to be one winner. It was akin to going to the movies, rather than being at a genuine fight, so I looked on with that mindset, only feeling like I was missing some popcorn.

Yet, despite rolling my eyes during the first round, and guffawing to myself whenever one of the women slapped the bottom of their foot into the other's face, I found myself become more and more impressed, despite my best intentions. Occasionally, one of them would twist and let fly with a kick that left a rocking slap, and I noticed they were consistently throwing elbows. Such a thing seemed quite cheap to me, being completely outlawed within the rules of boxing, but it appeared devastatingly affective, especially when one of the women almost had her jaw broken.

I was just about to call for another beer, when the one girl was knocked out cold when her opponent delivered a brutal combo, striking her with an elbow across the chin and then pouncing when she was dazed: a shithouse of a thudding heel to the face being enough to send the loser tumbling backwards. "Wow," I muttered with a chuckle. "That's got to suck. Slapped to sleep with the bottom of a foot." I looked around cackling to myself, but none of the locals seemed interested in what I had to say. Instead, they were already gearing up for the next fight.

As each fight went on, I paid close attention to their feet and was surprised at how lethal they were with their kicks. They were quick and precise, and their accuracy was impressive; a number of women being knocked out with foot-slaps to the face. It sounded ridiculous to even consider such a thing, but again, and again, I watched women defeated by a foot shoved right on their noses. Their kicks had a snap and speed that was devastating, but as a result, it seemed almost unsporting? Most of it seemed to be about catching the opponent by surprise, and there was none of the combinations that usually occurred in boxing, where over time, you'd gradually get to grips with your opponent's style and moves before springing a trap. How you'd bait a guy in with a dip of your shoulder, before letting fly with a strong right hand of blistering power. The Muay Thai strategy seemed to be relentlessly prodding your opponent with a sweaty foot until they eventually got overwhelmed and gave in.

But then, just as I was about to roll my eyes at another aimless flinging of a leg, one of the women twisted, and my mouth hung open as she landed a kick across her opponent's face of such ferocity that it almost knocked the stunned girl back to the dinosaur age. Instantly, her cheek appeared to swell up, and that seemed to spring the fight to life. Suddenly, I was cheering as much as the locals as they were kicking the shit out of each other in a way I'd never seen women do before. It wasn't a proper sport, but more like watching two drunks going at it in the street. You knew it was wrong, but you just couldn't help but stand by and watch, curious about how things were going to turn out.

As I chugged my beer, I was taken aback by a clusterfuck of flying limbs in the ring. The strikes and kicks were unyielding, and I found myself wincing at the impact whenever one of their cheeks were pelted with a precisely aimed smack of a foot. Despite being small and weak women, the fighters were solid in their attack, and I couldn't believe how brutal the sport actually was. It was dirty, and desperate, almost like they were fighting for their lives, and much to my surprise, I kinda liked it. I mean, not like boxing, but, kind of tolerable in the same way I liked video games or watching a horror movie. Besides, it was definitely better than whenever those joke women ended up in the octogen, trying to resist pulling each other's hair.

As the night went on, I watched several more fights, each one more intense than the last, all while I lazed back and enjoyed some beers. I witnessed fighters get knocked down, only to get back up and continue the fight, despite their faces being evidently fucked up. I saw blood, sweat, and tears, but I also saw incredible skill and, somewhat admirably, heart. Despite the brutality of the sport, I found myself captivated by it in a most obscure way. Each woman seemed to use a jab-like motion of their kicks, slapping the bottom of their foot into the opponent's face and pushing them away. Each time it occurred, I'd hear a collective groan from the audience, and I'd dart my eyes around to see a number of Thai faces, contorted in expressions of cringed disgust. One woman in particular got slapped in the face so many times with her opponent's foot, that she had a kind of reddened footprint appearing on her forehead. That made me laugh, and once again, I realised this sort of fighting, despite the brutality, was more of a comedy act than a genuine battle. It wasn't a competition, it was a show. I mean, it had looked brutal, when considering they were women, but I was laughing while imagining some small, Thai fighter trying to slap me in the face with his foot. It would be lights out for him the first time they tried that shit.

As a result, I was still kind of cynical about the whole thing. I mean, the Thai women fighters were certainly ripped, but they weren't comparable to a beefcake such as Mike Tyson. I was already imagining them going up against a fully trained boxer, like a powerful, American woman, with a physique specifically nurtured to pack punching power. Their kicks, as brutal as they were against a similarly sized girl, would probably bounce off a trained boxer, and their small, toned frames, would likely be unable to handle a relentless combo of body and head punches. So, while I watched with a certain level of being impressed, I was also there with bemusement. I mean, it was like watching the featherweights go at it, knowing I could step in the ring at any time, and despite their training, my superior size and strength would just overwhelm them. Even after a couple of beers, I knew I could go up against one of these fighters and knock some sense into her within seconds, because women just couldn't take a man on head to head. It was like women's fighting was irrelevant and a waste of time.

One fight went a number of rounds, and the girls were still tip-toeing around and flicking kicks at each other. But then, after the fifth round, the fight was over and one girl was announced as the winner. "What the hell was that?" I shouted out, feeling like it had ended way too early since neither had taken a beating. "Is that all they fight for, what was that, a couple of rounds?" I flicked my hand up in disgust. "This is as weak as the UFC." I shook my head and took another slurp of my beer. "Boxing goes the full twelve." I leant to the Thai guy next to me, some old man that was stroking his beard. "You should see a proper boxing match, buddy. That's a real fight." He squinted and seemed annoyed that I was speaking to him at all, the ignorant fool, clearly not appreciating the education about real fighting I was giving him. I was knowledgeable in that area, after all. I usually knocked my opponent out within the first round, and sometimes, if they were particularly skilled, it would stretch on to round two or three. However, I'd never gone beyond the fourth round, and frankly, I'd have been embarrassed if I'd ever let things go that far. But that was besides the point, because officially, boxing went the full twelve, so it was way more physically exhausting than this clown act going on.

"That's cause Muay Thai is more physically enduring," a youngish, female voice said from behind me. I turned around bemused, as the accent sounded clear, to see that there was a young, white girl sat in the row behind. I blinked and did a double-take as she must have arrived after I'd already been seated. "It's not just using ya arms. Ya have to use ya whole body, and ya brains...if ya have any, that is," she added, and then she rolled her eyes and took a sip of the pink lemonade or whatever she was drinking.

Despite the total shit coming out of her mouth, I was more interested in the fact that she was a downright looker, and since she was the one that had initiated the conversation, I felt empowered to continue it. "Oh yeah, what do you know about it?" It was going to be so damn satisfying when I demonstrated all the ways that she didn't actually know what she was talking about. I loved it when these foolish, stuck-up women came to Asia and thought they knew everything. Obviously, boxing was my domain, and she was about to learn quickly that she had no clue what she was talking about.

She looked momentarily annoyed, before she glanced back towards me from the ring and squinted. "I've been taking a Muay Thai course for the past months," she said. "I'm starting to know quite a bit about it actually."

She looked like a total wire of a girl, as if she barely had any meat on her bones, so it was hilarious to listen to her spout a load of bullshit as if she knew what she was talking about. She was the classic airhead that was studying media, or marketing, or some other stupid, flimsy course along those lines. "No offence, dear," I said with a smarmy smile. "But you look like you've never lifted a dumbbell in your life."

I expected her to laugh, or at the very least, snap back with some kind of comment in her defence. However, instead, she just tilted her head slightly, offered me a patronising smile, then looked back towards the ring when the next two fighters came out.

"Suit yourself," I muttered, before turning back to the ring myself and whispering beneath my breath, "Know-it-all cow." I hated when these stupid white girls travelled around Asia. They were always stuck-up and felt like they were better than everyone else, wearing ridiculous clothes covered in elephants and acting like they were all spiritual and shit. They'd talk down and mock your own travelling experience, because, of course, their adventure was just so much truer and more genuine. But, they were complete hypocrites in everything they did. They'd make a big deal about how Phi Phi Island was overcrowded since that stupid Di Caprio movie, and how the tranquillity of nature was being ruined. The next day, they'd be photographed while riding an elephant, blissfully unaware of the irony. They were the exact kind of women that annoyed me back home, and part of the reason I came here to get away from them.

I searched for the beer guy again, and noticed he was over by the musicians jamming away on their instruments. To be honest, it was fucking annoying and seemed completely unnecessary. There was some guy playing a kind of flute and another banging a cymbal whenever one of the women landed a kick. It was almost cartoonish and kind of like that canned laughter that always happened on some sitcom that wasn't actually funny. If anything, it seemed like some mock-attempt to try and make the women's hits sounds more powerful than they actually were. Though, whereas at first, I found it kind of amusing, gradually, through each passing fight, I was becoming ever increasingly agitated. There was just no end to it, and it was like a dull, humming in the back of my head, like a shitty, never-ending soundtrack to a Hallmark movie. It was almost similar to a spot of tinnitus that you just couldn't shake. I thought about biting my tongue, but that stupid white girl's arrogance had really gotten to me Perhaps the beer was starting to take effect, but whatever the reason, I was becoming progressively bothered by the farce I'd paid to witness.

"Do they ever knock that off?" I asked, while turning back to the girl. "You know, since you're such an expert about this and all?" I leant slightly back over my chair and gave her a good look up and down. She looked like one of those typical white women that had come to Thailand to 'find herself'. She had on the standard loose-fitting clothes that barely hung off her figure, like a tight-fitting sports bra or whatever, with a denim jacket worn over the top. As a result, her toned midriff was on show, which immediately caught my attention, especially the belly button piercing with its little blue jewel. Around her waist she had one of those shawls tied off, and though her sandy, brunette hair cascaded over her shoulders, most of it was hidden under one of those annoying pretentious trilby hats or whatever. She was watching the ongoing fight with interest, occasionally pursing her lips and nodding her head whenever one of the kicks landed and left a cracking slap-like sound. I was quite surprised, because usually women are way too girly to like this kind of thing, and would cower behind their hands at the first sign of violence. I mean, she wasn't like those butch women up in the ring. She was some thin princess-type that probably made guys take her photos hundreds of times until she looked perfect.

Instead of responding with any wit, again, she just rolled her eyes in a most aloof and infuriating way. "It's part of the experience," she said dismissively, before looking over my shoulder and watching the fight commence. "Ya should try actually delving into the cultural experience sometimes, mate," in a recognisably Australian accent. Her eyes flicked to the empty beer bottle in my hand. "There's more to life than necking coldies." She grimaced, evidently annoyed that she was having to actually waste her energy in 'educating' such an apparent knuckle-dragger like myself, then, she looked off to the random Thai guy at her side, and whispered under her breath, as if he could actually understand her incessant droning, "Strewth, what's with these pig-headed Americans coming here and criticising everything?"

"What was that?" I asked, suddenly going on the offensive. "You got something to say about me, darling?" I'd encountered enough of these snooty rich girls like this all the time during my travels, and especially around Asia. They were always backed up by their parents' trust funds, or mooching around while on an extended gap year; living off some sugar daddy's credit card. Still, they'd completely slum it, staying at hostels, prancing around wearing next to nothing and haggling with a grandpa over the price of a bottle of water. Yet, they'd still talk to you like their shit didn't stink, and how they were just so superior and knowledgeable. Whenever you shared your own experience, they'd have to one-up you with some random, obscure shit that belittled your own story just that little bit. For instance, if you went to a full moon party, and told everyone excitedly about how great it was, this kind of girl would smile politely, before then having to outdo you. It would be guaranteed, that the day she went to the same party, there would have been a comet in the sky, or a monkey tap-dancing or some shit, just to take away the fact that your tale was fucking awesome in its own right. Hers had to be just that little bit better, so all of the attention would be back on her. I fucking loathed it.

The girl offered me that same smarmy smile again, before raising her cup towards me as if about to toast. "Enjoy the rest of ya night," she said, and with that, her eyes were locked back on the ring as if I wasn't worth expending any extra time or energy.

I should have just brushed it off, but something about the look on her face got right under my skin. I was utterly perplexed, and frankly, pissed off that she'd so easily made me feel irrelevant. Like, she'd decided she didn't want to give me the time of day anymore, and that I should, in response, just know my place and be quiet. I mean, she was the one that had interrupted me in the first place? She was the one that just couldn't resist airing her stupid opinion like it was gospel. So, she'd played pretend boxer for a few months. Who the fuck cared?

My lips quivered, my tongue anxiously digging into the back of my teeth as I desperately searched for a witty riposte to put her in her place. But, perhaps because of the beer: nothing was coming to my head when I needed it most. As the seconds lingered on, I realised that I was running out of time. I needed to say something smart and fast, yet, my brain had abandoned me. As a result, when her pretty eyes flickered to me again, apparently curious of why I had so easily accepted her shushing of me, I sheepishly turned back towards the ring and pressed my empty beer to my lips; pretending like I was thirsty and wasn't actually speechless. From behind, I swear I heard a snooty little snigger, and that only left me sinking into my seat and feeling annoyed at myself for allowing her to have the last word.

I kept quiet for the remainder of the next fight, avoiding shouting anything out in case that stupid bitch behind me had anything to say. Instead, I just kind of hunkered down, watching the foot-slapping continue in the ring from one fight to the next. Whenever something particularly ridiculous happened, I had the urge to shout something out, just to highlight how ludicrous it was, but I didn't want that girl sticking her beak in again. I didn't want her rolling her eyes at me or trying to make me feel worthless, the way that girls like her always did. At one point, one fighter had another pinned in the corner and smacked her in the face with her foot about ten times. She flailed around, desperate to escape, but kept getting shoved back with a foot in her face. It was hilariously humiliating, and I don't know how anyone could hold their head high after undergoing such an embarrassing beating. Yet, she did so, and I looked on bewildered by the fact she hadn't slinked away from the ring in shame. Nevertheless, I lightly clapped along with everyone else, apprehensive about airing my genuine thoughts. It was embarrassing to be so unnerved by the senseless opinions of the vapid, dimwit behind me, but still, there had just been something destructive to my confidence in the way she had so effortlessly dismissed me. It was like I'd been rejected by a pretty girl, the way it tended to happen back home.

Eventually, I realised I needed to take a leak and I scooted away to relieve myself. Once I'd wrestled with the disgusting hole in the floor they called a lavatory, I headed back into the main area and noticed that there was actually a make-shift bar in the corner, which I'd earlier missed. Feeling like I needed another beer to get over the disrespect I'd received from that wench earlier, I headed over, but then I paused as I noticed her, the very same annoying white girl from earlier that I was trying to avoid. She'd bloody got there before me! She was leant up against the bar, and I thought about just quietly returning to my seat. However, I'd already let her make me feel stupid once, and I wasn't letting her seize the bar too. Feeling a little tipsy, I was overcome with resentment at the way she'd spoken to me earlier and I was champing at the bit for vengeance. She'd made me look like a fool, and I was still cursing myself that no witty retort had come to mind. I mean, most of the crowd probably couldn't even understand what she'd said, but still, the two of us knew what had happened. I'd seen the recognition of victory in her blue eyes, and I felt like I'd lost face when she'd so dismissively quietened me down. Maybe I didn't know a lot about Thai culture, but I certainly knew what a big deal it was to lose face. I'd been caught off-guard earlier, but I couldn't let her get away with it, and I needed to redeem myself.

"Hey," I said, while bustling up next to her. "What's your knowledgeable opinion on that last fight then?" I tried to make it sound like I was genuinely interested, and impressed by her smarts, but I obviously delivered the question laced with sarcasm. "I'm all ears."

The girl looked over at me, seeming mildly annoyed once again, and I realised that the same Thai guy from earlier was at her side. He was short, but pretty well built, but regardless, it wasn't so common to see a foreign girl dating a Thai guy. I mean, Thai women were all over the foreign men, but the local guys didn't seem to have as much luck. "Don't be a drongo, mate," she said with a huff. "I thought I'd already dealt with ya earlier when ya slinked off to the dunny." She nodded towards the bar. "Get ya'self a coldie and then piss off somewhere else."

"Bloody hell," I said, somewhat offended and startled by the hostility. For a second, I felt incredibly uneasy, like I'd made a mistake approaching her again. Still, perhaps I was a glutton for punishment, but my pride just couldn't let this stand. "How exactly did you deal with me then? I seemed to have missed that." I signalled towards the bar for a beer, and when one was slid my way, I took a swig, loading up on liquid courage, before continuing. "It's all a bit silly, isn't it?" I said with a scoff, gesturing towards the ring with a sway of my bottle; beer spilling from the top. I then gave her a make-shift toast. "Congratulations on being such an expert in a crappy sport. I'm sure your parents back at the mansion are immensely proud that you've become such a seasoned egghead of Asian performance comedy." I rolled my eyes and took a huge gulp of frothy beer.

The girl narrowed her eyes, momentarily blighting the pretty, relaxed features of her face. "What do ya mean?" she asked in a tired and impatient tone.

I couldn't help but grin at having shut up with the smart comments. "Well, it's just, you know, it's not like real boxing, is it?" I gestured towards the ring again. "I mean, look at it. Two little girls dancing around and swinging quicks at each other like they're ballerinas or something. It makes a mockery of real combat." Right at that moment, one of the Thai women shoved the bottom of her foot straight into her opponent's face, causing the other girl to stumble backwards slightly. It was akin to two women fighting with handbags in the street. "See, I mean, what the hell was that? She kicks her in the face, and she's still standing? There's no power in it." Even though I'd witnessed some pretty thunderous kicks throughout the evening, I was trying to make a point and prove this girl wrong. "If I'd have freely landed a punch on someone like that, they would have been seeing stars." I took a slurp from my bottle, before looking around at the crowd, most captivated by the show and hollering. "I get that it's a tourist attraction, but it's a bit of a reach to call this boxing." I then glanced at her and grimaced. "Why are you even wasting your time here? I thought a girl like you would be taking photos on a beach for your profile or whatever."

"Well, I was supposed to be fighting tonight," she said, clearly unimpressed by everything I'd been educating her with. "But my opponent broke her wrist in training yesterday, so they had to call it off."

I blinked slightly, before looking her up and down. "You?" I blinked again. "You were supposed to be fighting"—I flicked my head towards the ring—"up there? Tonight?"

She nodded her head, very slowly, and almost sarcastically. "That's right, mate. Up there." She pointed towards the ring with a finger sporting a load of fresh polish. She had one of those pretentious bead-like bracelets hanging from her tanned wrist, the kind you picked up from the Thai beaches for a couple of baht. "It was gonna be my first fight." She sighed heavily, before taking another sip through the straw of her drink. "Too bad it's not happening now. I was looking forward to testing my skills for real."

I almost did a double-take, looking down and noting that she was wearing a pair of flip flops at the end of her skinny legs. They were so slight and like that of a chicken, that she barely looked like she could support her own weight. Not only that, but her entire physique and bodily shape was slender and gaunt. She looked like the typical Aussie tourist that came over and lived off nothing but cocktails and ice cream. A wannabe model that was popular in her own head.

The guy suddenly spoke up, coming to life as if someone had just cast a spell on a mannequin. "Grace is best student," he said, in a notable Thai accent. "She train for many month, and I confident she win."

I lingered on him for a second, before I turned to her in disbelief. "Grace, huh?" I wrinkled my nose. It was a suitably annoying name for an irritating bitch. "You've been training for months?" I rolled my eyes up and down her again, communicating that I wasn't at all convinced. "I thought you were joking when you said that earlier." Since she'd raised the topic about fighting, I felt comfortable to offer an honest critique from my expert knowledge. "You're so skinny and weak though. What you been training in? Dancing or something? You been doing the limbo on the beaches?"

"She give power kick," the Thai guy said. He smacked his fist into the palm of his other hand with a crack. "All Muay Thai have power kick. Knock you from feet." He lifted a foot, and thrust it out straight. "It all technique." He suddenly poked me in the shoulder. "You come train, mister. You learn fight the Thai way. I teach you the power kick."

I rolled my eyes again and blew a raspberry. "Kicking is for pussies." I clenched my hand into a fist. "Kicking is for people who don't know how to throw a punch." I swung my arm about in the motion, before pressing my knuckles softly up against Grace's chiselled cheek. "One punch right here and you'll be seeing stars, honey." I looked towards the Thai. "Same goes for you, champ."

Grace abruptly slapped my hand away from her face.

"Hey," the guy said. "You no touch woman."

"I thought she was some superstar boxer? Anyway, I'll do whatever the hell I want," I said, standing to my full height and towering over the miniscule guy. "There's literally no one in this shithole that could take me on."

The Thai guy was about to do something, when Grace pulled him back by the shoulder. "It's okay, Prang. I reckon he's just skulled too many of them tinnies there." Her eyes looked me up and down. "He looks like he spends too much time in bars and not enough in gyms."

"Get out," I said, flapping a hand at them both. "You don't know what you're talking about. Stupid little bitch comes to Asia and thinks she's an expert in martial arts suddenly." The beer was already talking for me, and my lips had become decidedly loose. "You're the classic bimbo. Strutting around, wearing next to nothing, thinking you're one with the spiritual world and all that shit. Well, guess what? You can learn this stupid pretend Thai boxing for the next ten years, and I'll still knock you out with a flick of my wrist. You know why? Because you're a weak, little woman."

"Well, fuck me dead," she said, while forcibly slamming her glass down on the bar. "I could beat ya ass right now in front of everyone." She placed the palm of her hand against my chest and pushed me away. "Rack off, mate, ya bloody legless galah."

"What?" I said with an awkward, uncomfortable chuckle. I flicked my eyes to the Thai guy, and he seemed completely unmoved by her proclamation. I had to look her up and down again, and could barely believe she had the audacity to talk such crap. I mean, I knew these Australian girls were up themselves and always felt like they were right about everything, but actually thinking she could outbox a guy like me was verging on some delusional mental illness. Clearly, that little training camp had gone straight to her head. "Look at that size on you, and you're a woman." I awkwardly took a sip from my drink. "Don't make me laugh." The more she opened her mouth, the more I realised she was straight from the outback or something. She probably rode around on kangaroos and kept koalas as pets.

This time it was her turn to look me up and down. "I could kick ya ass right now. I bet ya slow as piss." She poked me in the bicep. "There's not even any muscle there. Ya are nothing but flab, mate."

"Get out," I said. "Stop talking so stupid."

She then turned back towards the Thai guy, and she leant in to whisper in his ear. He narrowed his eyes and seemed a bit confused, but after a reassuring nod from Grace, he walked off to talk to someone else.

"Where's he going?" I asked nervously.

"To make a request."

"Request? What kind of request?"

"After the official fights, they usually let a couple of foreigners get up and spar with some of the fighters. He's going to ask if we can just fight instead." She widened her eyes slightly, and wiggled her eyebrows. "The two of us."

I almost spat my beer out. "I'm not fighting you," I said, chuckling nervously while wiping my mouth. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Why not?" she asked without faltering from her intense stare. "Ya afraid or something, mate?"

I scoffed, and I couldn't believe this skinny little hippie was even suggesting she'd stand a chance against me. She was one of those girls that got her hair braided on the beach or swung by a fancy café just so she could get a photo. The kind of moron that cared more about posting a picture of her coffee than actually drinking it. I was fairly confident that she'd been documenting her entire trip online, obsessed with the amount of likes she was getting.

There was nothing about her that communicated combat or being able to take care of herself, so to me, she was just another idiotic backpacker that was out of her depth. She probably spent the nights on the beach, sat around a campfire, wearing that stupid trilby, and struggling to play the guitar. "This is so stupid. You honestly think I'm going to up in there"—I gesticulated towards the ring while the two women were still kicking the shit out of each other—"and beat up some little girl? What the hell is in that for me? Everyone will think I'm a jackass for making mincemeat of you."

"Well, I already think that, and, I'm about to kick ya ass for it."

"Whatever," I said, and I finished up the remainder of my beer.

I was just about to leave, when the Thai guy came back over and nodded. "You two fight," he said, while pointing at me. "You fight in ring. Man fight woman. I get the permission."

"What?" I asked, in complete astonishment. I glanced towards the ring, and I could barely comprehend the idea of actually being up there and fighting Grace, of all people. It just sounded completely ridiculous, and as I looked around the amount of people sat in the crowd watching, the thought became ever more implausible. "I'm not doing that," I said dismissively. I then adjusted my position so I was stood to my full height again. "I'll fight you," I said to him, and then I looked over his shoulder towards one of the professional women Muay Thai fighters that were currently kicking the hell out of her opponent. "Hell, I'd even fight her, since she looks like she actually knows what she's doing." I then grimaced and rolled my eyes at Grace. "But there's no way in hell I'll be fighting her. I'm not going to jail for killing this stupid bitch." I'd heard all sorts about Thai prisons and how they were a fate worse than death. "Look at her, she's as threatening as a piece of fluff."

Grace narrowed her eyes. "Ya know I spar with guys all the time? It's really not that big a deal."

"Whatever."

"You both sign paper," the Thai guy said without even stuttering. "She no go jail if you die."

"I don't even care—" My words then caught in my mouth and I squinted at him. "Wait, what? You're worried that she's going to kill me?" My eyes shot between the two of them. "Now I know you're both just messing with me." I looked around and nervously chuckled to myself. "Where's the hidden cameras? This is obviously a wind-up."

Grace crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, all while casually tapping her flip-flopped foot. "Sounds like this mongrel is afraid." She cocked her afraid. "Are ya afraid of fighting...what did ya call me? A weak, little woman?"

"No," I almost spat back. "It's just...it's not a fair match up, is it? I'd feel bad—"

"Ya right," she said, while dropping her arms. "It's not a fair match, cause I've had training." She leant forward and stabbed me in the chest with her finger. "Whereas ya haven't, but, since ya so confident, I'm going to teach ya a lesson anyway, because I'm sick of the piss ya have been spouting all night. Thai culture should be respected, and ya over here mocking it."

"Respected?" I asked in astonishment. "How is you coming here and appropriating their culture for yourself: respecting it? You're acting like a white knight for them, just because I'm being honest."

Grace looked away from me towards Prang, then she made a show of extravagantly yawning while patting her mouth. "I think he's scared."

Prang laughed along with her. "Yes, he chicken."

"I've had enough of this," I said, and I was already turning away when Grace started obnoxiously flapping her elbows around and making stupid chicken sounds. "Oh, grow up," I said. "That shit isn't going to work on me."

"Cluck, cluck," she said. "Someone is afraid."

"Chicken," Prang said. "Cluck, cluck."

"That's not going to work," I said. "I'm not being baited by our childish games."

Grace's expression soured in disappointment for a second, before her eyes widened with mischief. "Well, how about a wager then, mate?" she asked, her entire demeanour shifting. "What if there's something in it for ya? Ya know, since ya too afraid to fight me straight up. What if I sweeten the deal?"

With that, I paused slightly. "Why do you care so much anyway?"

"Because I loathe guys like ya and I want to see ya eating ya own words. Look at ya, ya talk a big game, but when it comes time to put ya dollars where ya mouth is, ya suddenly gassing and making excuses." She licked her lips playfully. "So, how about this? I'm so confident I'm going to kick ya ass, that if in some unlikely possibility I do actually lose: I'll give ya a blowie. How do ya like the sound of that?" She formed her juicy lips into a circular shape, then thrust towards her face with her clenched fist, inflating the inside of her cheek with her tongue. "A nice, sloppy blowie. Ya in?"

It took me a second to compute what she'd actually said, and then my jaw-dropped. My eyes were locked on her mouth as she licked her lips, and simply imagining my rock-hard cock slipping into that warm, moist, bitchy mouth of hers was way too irresistible an offer. I mean, she was annoying, but she was certainly a looker, and it would be such an ego rush to have her slobbering all over my cock after all the shit she'd been talking. I constantly looked at girls like her with resentment, and it would be so damn satisfying to shut her up and blow my load down her throat. But then, I blinked, and sniggered to myself, knowing that this was all to good to be true. "You're chatting shit," I said. "There's no way in hell you'll suck me off after I kick your ass."

Grace placed a hand against her chest. "True Blue Aussie word on it. If ya win, I'll give ya a blowie. I'll even get down on my knees in the nuddy." She nodded towards her friend. "Prang here as my witness."

I blew a raspberry again. This was just the kind of bullshit these sort of girls were always spouting. Acting like they were free of all boundaries and willing to try everything once. I longed for the days of old, when women knew their damn place, but now, because of all this feminist shit and the politically correctness crap that constantly circulated around the internet, they all felt the need to force their stupid views on everyone. "I'm not buying it," I said. "As soon as I beat you, you'll run off crying and probably get me arrested."

"Like I said, Prang as my witness."

Grace nodded towards the Thai guy, who in turn smirked to himself. "You win, Grace sucky sucky," he said, while chuckling and imitating a cock towards his mouth with a bobbing, clenched fist. Grace too laughed along, but then he pointed at me with raised eyebrows. "You lose, you also sucky sucky."

The pair of them burst out laughing, and I was silent for a second while I looked between the two of them, and I had the usual thoughts regarding Thai ladyboys flicking through my head. My eyes dropped towards Grace's pussy, but then I shook the thought off. She had to have a nice little pussy, for sure, and maybe after she sucked me off, well, perhaps I'd get to see it. I mean, it wasn't worth getting in the ring before, as I simply had nothing to lose. If I beat her, well, that was just order being maintained, and no one was going to applaud me for making mincemeat of some skinny little girl, were they? If in the impossible event that I lost, well, that was just going to be a humiliation, wasn't it?

However, now, Grace had thrown a blowjob on the table, and suddenly, I was extremely tempted to actually get up there and muck-in. I mean, how long was the fight going to last realistically? A couple of seconds at that? One softish body punch in the gut and she was going to be down on one-knee wheezing, the exact same position she'd be in later when servicing my dick. I looked at her mouth again, with her perfect teeth and that wet, pink tongue, and it was like my cock took control of the situation, despite knowing there had to be some kind of catch. "You're on," I said. "But when I teach you a lesson, I don't want to hear any bitching or whining. We'll go back to my hotel, and you'll suck my dick like a good girl, yeah?"

"Hotel? Hell, I'll do it right here," she said. "And when I beat ya, ya going to kiss my feet and admit that I'm better."

I suddenly felt the colour and heat drain from my face. "What?" I cleared my throat nervously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"That's what I want when I win." She shrugged. "Ya get a blowie if ya win. I get my feet kissed when I do." She chuckled to herself, before looking to Prang. "Crikey, the crowd will find that hilarious, right?"

He bit his lip and nodded.

I looked towards the ring, and then around the crowd as they watched the ongoing fight. Without even thinking, my eyes dropped down towards Grace's feet, her little toes wiggling excitedly in her flip flops. Her nails were painted a white, though the polish looked a little old, somewhat grown away from her tanned little feet. On top of that, the edges of her heels appeared a bit callused, likely from all the time she spent on the beach or training barefoot for Muay Thai as she claimed. My face wrinkled up in disgust. "You want me to kiss your feet in front of everyone?" I sneered. "I'm not doing that."

"Ya don't sound so confident about winning now, do ya?" She put all of her weight onto one foot, while moving the other forwards and arching it suggestively, her toes planted to the flip flop with intention. "I mean, if ya that worried about kissing my feet? I'm not at all worried about offering to give ya a blowie, because I know it's never gonna happen."

"No, it's not that." I grimaced in distaste, my lip curling up. "It's just..."

"Sounds like he's scared, doesn't it?" she scoffed towards Prang.

"Yes, he very chicken," he said. "He so scared of get ass kick that he risk no sucky sucky." He then began laughing and spluttering to himself.

"What the hell is with this Mr Miyagi motherfucker anyway?" I asked, losing my patience. "The pair of you are like tweedledee and tweeldum." I then looked him up and down. "If you keep pushing my buttons I'm gonna knock you out in the ring too."

Prang chuckled to himself, dropping a hand to his belly and letting out a big old barrel laugh. "I don't need fight you because Grace teach you lesson. You fat farang kiss feet once she finish with you."

I grabbed my waist and looked at them perplexed. I was pretty fucking far from fat. Sure, I wasn't as slim as I used to be, and most of it was as a result of the beers, but I was hardly bloody overweight, was I? Besides, that just meant I had more power behind my punches anyway, and I'd probably puncture a hole straight through Grace's frail midriff with my first lunge. "You know what?" I said, while shooting a dirty look between the two of them. "I've had enough of your shit. So, fuck it, it's on like Donkey Kong, motherfuckers." I pointed at her forcefully. "But, you better be ready, because I'm not holding back just because you're a girl. You've been winding me up with your stupid comments all night. I've had enough listening to you and your stupid accent. So, you better bring it, because I'm going full out to knock your ass to the floor."

Grace lifted her hands and wiggled her fingers at me. "Ohhh, I'm shaking in fear," she said, before she cackled out loud and then looked towards Prang. "Can I grab my gear from ya bike, cobber? I want to get kitted up ready to kick this mongrel's ass."

"Whatever," I said, while the two of them left. I didn't need any bloody gear. I was just going to stay in the shorts, vest and flip flops I was wearing. The fight was only going to last a couple of seconds anyway. I planned to just bait her with a couple of jabs, then just flatten her with a blistering body shot. Not enough to actually do her skinny body any damage, but just to knock the wind out of her and put her down. She needed to be taught a lesson for actually thinking she had what it takes to go up against me, but I wasn't exactly about to beat the living shit out of her in front of a load of spectators, was I?

After a few minutes, Grace came back having removed the denim jacket. The ridiculous trilby was gone too, and now her sandy, brown hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail. She was still wearing the same sports bra as earlier, her ample cleavage now clearly on show. The shawl had been discarded, and her toned legs were visible in a pair of jean shorts, right down to her shins which were hidden away behind a pair of red pads. Her hands were covered by similar gloves, soft, red padding taped around her knuckles.

While they'd gone, I'd ordered myself another beer to calm my nerves, and I almost sprayed it everywhere as she approached. She looked comical in that get-up, as if she actually thought she was a legit kick-boxer or something. "Are you serious?" I asked, while wiping the beer from my lips. "You actually want to do this?" I stood up straight, and I was easily over a foot taller than her. "This is ridiculous," I said. "Look at the size on you." I clenched my hand into a fist, closed one eye and held it out aligned with her face. "You'll be asleep within seconds."

"We'll see about that," she said, without any hint of fear. "Let's get in the ring and settle this. Once ya kissing my feet and admitting ya a loser, then we'll see if ya still have such a big mouth."

I nervously swallowed while hearing that. I mean, it wasn't going to happen, but still, the idea of having to kiss this bitch's feet and loudly announce to the whole crowd that she was better than me left a queasy feeling in my stomach. I mean, I had so much to lose from going up against her, and other than the offer of that blowjob, I had very little to gain. But, while looking over her thick lips again, that promise of a blowjob was far too tempting. "Well, that's never going to happen," I said, and I lewdly clutched at my crotch. "You'll be getting some of this though when I show you where you belong." I chuckled. "I'm going to avoid punching you in the mouth, because I want those lips nice and juicy around my cock."

Grace rolled her eyes, and then stretched out her arms. "Whatever, let's get it over with, Butterbean."

That left my face bright red, and the annoying Thai guy smiled at me, causing me to petulantly fake a punch in his direction. Strangely, he didn't flinch, which was rather unsettling. Instead, he simply handed me a piece of paper and a pen. "You sign," he said. "Or no fight."

"Give me that," I said while snatching both from him. I scribbled my name and then shoved the crinkled paper back in his hand. "Let's get this other with. The sooner I put her on her ass, the sooner I'll be getting my dick sucked."

"Yah, let's go," Grace said, and she strode towards the ring. I noted that beneath the shin pads, she was now bare foot; the bottoms of her feet slightly dirtying as she walked around the cobbled floor. I couldn't help but watch the way her soles arched whenever she lifted a foot, and I recalled how many women had been slapped in the face earlier. I mean, obviously that wasn't going to happen with me. "Hurry up," she said, as she hopped up onto the ring. "I don't have all night."

"Whatever," I spat back, and I followed her, looking around the crowd as they stared at me in confusion. A few outstretched their hands towards the ring, curious about what was happening. However, word seemed to spread, and suddenly there was a lot of laughter and interest.

"Farang fight," someone shouted, and a raucous laughter spread around the gathered audience.

Farang fight, rang out a collective chant to a chorus of claps. Farang fight. Phones were quickly taken out and poised to capture the action.

Once we were in the ring together, the height and size disparity became evidently ridiculous. I was easily the same weight as two of her, and in real boxing, there was no way a fight like this would ever be legal. Clearly, because we were in a third-world country, they obviously didn't give a shit about stuff like this. "Do you actually want to do this?" I asked, suddenly having second thoughts. There was a real possibility that if I didn't pull my punches, I could actually kill her. I was worried that if she started goading me, I'd lash out and do something I'd later regret. I noted she was still wearing her belly ring, and I'd probably rip it straight from her tummy with a body shot. "Because I'm not being held responsible for doing you real damage."

Grace rolled her eyes, and hopped slightly from foot to foot. She flicked her fists out, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders. "The only thing getting damaged will be ya ego."

The announcer or whoever it was stepped into the ring with a microphone and began saying stuff in a load of gibberish I couldn't understand. However, the crowd were wild in their response, gasping and laughing as they realised what they were about to witness. I mean, it was probably going to be a real treat, seeing two foreigners go at it, especially since it was a man versus a woman. On top of that, they were going to be taught a lesson in the superior fighting technique, as my boxing skills were going to give a swift reality check to the ignoramus dressed up like she was going to a Halloween party. I had already considered the fact that once I planted Grace on her ass, some Thai guy was going to climb in the ring and challenge me. Maybe even Prang once I demolished his prized student. There would be a few Muay Thai morons getting put to sleep by the end of the night, that was for sure.

When the announcer stepped out, I'd stepped forwards to tap fists, as was customary, even between bitter rivals. However, as I moved my hands forwards, I realised I hadn't even been gloved up yet. "Hey," I said to the ringside, not even sure who I was supposed to ask. "Where's my gloves?"

However, I was taken by surprise when Grace immediately flung a kick in my direction, pressing the bottom of her foot against my shoulder and forcing me to stumble backwards a step. A load of the Thai audience began whistling and hooting, clapping and laughing at the fact that Grace had landed the first blow. It hadn't caused any damage, but still, it was the principle of it.

"What the fuck was that?" I said while shooting a look of disgust at her. "You going for cheap shots, is it?"

"More of that to come," she snickered.

I lifted my arms, and realised at that point, that I was going to have to fight her bare-knuckled. No one seemed bothered about giving me any gloves, and this fight was going to be even shorter than I expected. I sized her up as she hopped from foot to foot, and though she was quick and agile, it was only going to take a single punch to put her down where she belonged. With arms raised in the fighting posture, I pressed towards her, watching her movements and lining up the right time to strike.

I flashed a couple of jabs in Grace's direction, however, due to her light and slender frame, she easily bounced on her toes and dodged my attempts. I simply shrugged it off, as that was kind of what I was expecting. I mean, we shouldn't have even been in the ring together in the first place; that's why weight-classes existed after all. She had no chance in hell of overpowering me or knocking me out, so I figured she was just going to dance around and hope she could tire me out, like a mongoose zipping by a cobra. If she managed to survive a few rounds with me, then that would probably be taken as a win in her book, and certainly a loss in regards to my pride. I just figured at some point I'd land a body shot right in the stomach, knock the wind out of her and it would all be over. I was hardly going to march up and drop her with a haymaker, was I? What would be the point in that? There was literally nothing for me to gain from doing such a thing, and everyone would think I was an asshole for putting to sleep this irritating, pretentious stick of a girl.

As I chased her around the ring, frequently swinging and missing, I was becoming abundantly aware, that with each further attempt, the largely Thai audience was letting out a collective, mocking cheer. It was like they were rejoicing in the fact that I was being made a fool of. I mean, at this point, Grace hadn't even made any offensive movements towards me, besides that cheap shot at the start. She'd simply been running away like a scared little chicken, yet I was the one being laughed at? I was the only one trying to make a fight of it.

"What's the matter, mate?" she goaded me, an obvious smirk on her face as her ponytail swung around behind her head. She had a few light droplets of sweat beginning to collect on the sides of her forehead, whereas I was already dripping all over; a sheen of moisture glistening atop my pale skin. She patted her gloved hands together, looking like two lollipops on the end of her thin, feeble wrists. "Ya a bit out of shape, are ya? What ya have for brekky this morn: Maccas?"

"Fuck you," I said, and with that, I shoved her with both of my palms. There was a boo from the crowd, whereas Grace just seemed to laugh it off, bouncing back off the ropes behind her, and then side-stepping my subsequent swing in her direction.

That only annoyed me further, and I grit my teeth while relentlessly pursuing her. With each further swing, which she easily dodged, I was growing increasingly agitated. I began to grunt from the effort of lurching at her constantly, and her smug smirks whenever she stepped away unscathed were only winding me up further. Yet, her arrogance was clearly getting to her. She became somewhat lethargic in her movements, even turning at one point to encourage the crowd. I bit my tongue, waiting for the inevitable mistake that was going to open her up.

And then, after a few more jabs towards her: it happened. I had my arms up, covering up behind my guard, when I noticed that Grace had stepped off to the side, almost unsteadily. Perhaps it was because of her cockiness, or maybe her legs were less mobile in those shin pads. Whatever it was, she'd lost her stance for the slightest second, and with that, I knew I had a chance. I just wanted the fight over with so I could save face and get the hell out of there. I was already exhausted from all of the chasing she'd had me doing, and the last thing I wanted was another few rounds of this bullshit. With every step and swing, I could feel the beer swishing around in my belly, which only made me feel even worse. She was still hopping around on her tip-toes as if she'd hardly expended any energy at all, whereas I, like a typical heavyweight, was severely gassing and struggling under fatigue. It never used to be like this when I was younger, so maybe I was actually more out of shape than I realised. I could already sense the lactic acid plaguing my muscles, and I simply knew if I didn't put her on her ass soon, I was going to reach the point that even keeping my big arms up to shield myself would be unbearable.

Before she could regain her footing, I lurched forward and let fly with a blistering body shot, aiming to catch her right in the ribs. Sure, it was a low blow to hit a woman like that, especially one as frail as her, but I didn't fucking care by this point. I wanted her down on the canvas and the fight over with, and as I lined up her ribs, I was already imagining how her bitchy lips were going to feel wrapped around my cock.

As my clenched knuckles were about to decimate her lithe torso, Grace, in a movement befitting of her annoying name, swivelled and somehow, miraculously dodged my punch, almost as if she'd been expecting it. Almost as if I'd been baited and fallen completely into a trap. Then, before I could even comprehend what was happening, I was completely rocked by something hard across the chin.

"Ugh," I groaned, and my legs instantly turned to jelly. I stumbled on shaky feet, almost collapsing right there in the middle of the ring. I tried to gather my balance, but only succeeded in fumbling towards the ropes and clutching on for dear life. Whatever had hit me had completely obliterated my handle on the situation, and I squinted into the crowd, wondering if someone had thrown a beer can at me or something. "What the fuck," I mumbled under my breath, while gripping the top rope and trying to steady myself. "Which of you fuckers threw something?" I shrieked out into the crowd, with a load of confused faces staring back at me. "That's fucking out of line."

"Ya alright there?" I heard Grace ask from behind. "Ya look rooted, mate." I turned to her, and letting go of the ropes, I lurched to the side, once again, almost losing my footing as my toes struggled to keep the flip flops on. I moved my stiff jaw around, while Grace smirked, before kissing her forearm and pointing her elbow towards me. "How'd ya like that?"

I narrowed my eyes while rubbing my jaw. "Did you...did you just throw a fucking elbow at me?" I screeched at her aghast. "What the fuck? You can't do that!"

Grace merely looked back at me perplexed. "This is Muay Thai, bloody drongo," she said. "Not that stupid boxing." She moved a foot towards me. "Seems like ya out of ya depth." Her eyes rolled downwards and she wiggled her toes from beneath the red shin pad. "Ya want to just kiss them now, before this gets any worse for ya?"

"Fuck you," I roared, and despite still feeling a bit woozy, I shunted forwards, intent on wiping that stupid smile from her face. I pulled an arm back and was about to put everything into it. I didn't even care what damage the full weight behind my punch was going to do, because she deserved whatever was coming to her.

I'd just let fly with a haymaker, when I was caught by a flash of something smacking me straight in the face. I stumbled forwards, straight past her, bouncing off the ropes again and blinked, feeling a throbbing in my nose as my eyes began to water. I turned and looked at her in confusion, my hands dropping to my sides, completely taken aback as I struggled to contemplate what had happened. I'd been on the verge of landing the killer blow and ending the bout, and instead, I'd somehow been elbowed and now pushed in the face. It hadn't even hurt this time, and there was barely any power, but still, it had parried my full weight away and thrown me off balance. My eyes were somewhat fuzzy, until they refocused just in time to see Grace place a foot back down on the floor.

She bounced between her feet, shaking her arms around as if cocking her non-existent biceps, before flashing me a mocking grin. "How'd ya like my foot in ya face?" She sniggered to herself. "Just giving ya a little practice before ya have to kiss it."

I shook my head as her words hit home. "What?" I lifted a fist and pressed against my nose, already numbing slightly from the blow. She'd kicked me in the face? The fucking cheek of the bitch, but, it had been so quick that I hadn't even realised it was happening until it was too late. With frustration, I smacked my hands together, then got back into my stance and scooted towards her. "You're going to pay for that," I muttered while lining her up in my sights once more. I was breathing heavy, and tried to work out the ache in my jaw by rolling it around. "I'm going to knock your block off, bitch."

Grace extended a hand towards me, then with an air of patronising provocation, she beckoned me closer with her fingers. "Come and get some more then, loser," she said.

I froze slightly, as there was just something about that word that infuriated me even more. "Who you calling a loser, bitch?"

"You," she said, all merrily, while cocking her head. "Ya a loser, and in a minute, ya going to be admitting it." She waved a hand out towards the crowd. "Right here in front of everyone." She rolled her eyes down to the canvas. "On ya knees, kissing my feet."

"Shut up," I yelled, and then I went for her again. This time, however, I saw it coming as she shifted her position, leaning back slightly and flicking the bottom of her foot straight into my face. Yet, the snap had been so lightening quick, that she'd caught me flush in the nose a second time. I paused and rubbed my face, looking around the crowd while overcome with a wave of embarrassment. There were a few sniggers shot back at me, and I could feel my cheeks reddening from the frustration. "Stop it," I said while squeezing my nose. "Stop doing that and fight me properly."

Grace snorted, then, while I was still rubbing my nose, she slapped me on the cheek with her foot, causing me to stumble to the side. It was baffling, because I was so much bigger, and her thin little legs were knocking me all over the ring. To make it worse, disgustingly, as the ball of her foot and her toes had pressed into my skin, I'd felt a slippery, moistness. "This is fighting, idiot," she said. "So, why don't ya try actually fighting back?"

I rubbed my cheek, then threw a desperate jab in her direction. "This isn't proper fighting," I said. "You're making a mockery of a proper fight." I threw another jab, then a third, then a forth, hitting nothing but air, and then as her torso opened up, I ducked down and went for the body shot. "Fuck you," I roared as I swung with all of my power. Yet, once again, I stumbled backwards as Grace's clammy sole slapped straight into my face, pushing me back before I could land the punch. "Fuck sake," I shouted while stamping my foot, and I almost lost my own balance as the flip flop slipped free. "Stop doing that."

"What? This?" she asked, and I gasped as she jumped forwards with total confidence, before planting her foot flat against my face. I grimaced as my nose was squashed, and I instinctively flailed an arm out, desperately trying to fend her off. That only resulted in her elbowing my arm aside, and she straightened her leg, the slick, sweaty sole of her foot pushing me backwards against the ropes. As I bounced back towards her, another kick caught me flush in the chin, this time snapping my head up so I accidentally bit the tip of my tongue.

1. As I entered the arena, the excitement of the crowd was palpable. The fight tonight was a special one, featuring a foot fetish-themed kickboxing match, a popular form of Muay Thai in Bangkok.
2. The bell rang, signaling the start of the fight. The female dominator, known for her kicking skills and humiliation tactics, was dressed in a helmet that also covered her feet, obscuring the fetish object of many in the crowd – her feet.
3. The opponent, trying to maintain his composure, landed several powerful kicks, but the woman delivered a swift one, targeting his fetish. The crowd erupted in cheers as he crumbled, humiliated.
4. After the match, I couldn't help but admire the woman's dominance and the art of kickboxing, which combined the physicality of fighting with an unexpected element of fetishism.
5. As I left the arena, the taste of Bangkok Beatdown Pt. 01 lingered on my tongue, a perfect reminder of the unexpected adventures that awaited in the city of Bangkok.

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• Cleaning Up, Pt. 03
• In this installment, cleaning activities are highlighted.
• Thursday Night: A Driving Adventure
• On Thursday night, an occurrence transpired at a parking facility.