came at me.
I'd been in some nasty corners during my career as a journalist, and I'd been in plenty of rough houses as well, but this was the first time I'd mixed it with a woman, and I should just like to place it on record that I sincerely hope it will be the last.
I can look after myself when it comes to an all-in scrap with a man. I know most of the dodges they get up to and I know most of the answers, but when a blonde fury comes at you I was up-creek without a paddle.
I see now that I could have saved myself a hell of a lot of trouble if I'd socked her on the button and finished it there and then, but I was crazy enough to treat her light.
She came at me with her arms whirring around like the blade of a propeller and her eyes blazing. I tried to grab her arms, but got nowhere. The weight of her body struck me like a small shell, and I went over with her on top of me. The bed was in the way and I got myself wedged between the wall and the bed. A sweet position to be in with a hell-cat on top of you.
She came down on me, her hands clawing at my throat. She must have weighed around a hundred and forty pounds, and that's no joke to have dropped on you from above.
I managed to grab her wrists, and, by exerting a lot of beef, held her. Get the picture if you can. There I was, lying flat on my back, wedged between the wall and the bed, with Blondie on top of me, her wrists held, looking as if she'd start murder any minute.
I said with a gasp, “Relax, sister, this ain't the way for a lady to behave.”
For an answer the hell-cat butted me in the face with her head. Maybe she did have blonde curls, but her head was as hard as concrete. She must have knocked herself a bit silly, but it was nothing to what she did to my mug. I felt the blood start from my nose and I thought my front teeth were coming through my top lip.
I got as mad as a coon, and, shifting my grip on one of her wrists, I socked her as hard as I could on the jaw. If you've ever tried to hit anyone, lying on your back, and wedged tight, you will know how difficult it is, but I managed to get a little steam through, sufficiently hard to send her backwards.
That just gave me time to struggle into a sitting position and sock her again as she came at me. This time I gave her a good one, but I hit her on the shoulder, so although it got rid of her it didn't stop her.
I was on my feet by the time she had got over that thump, and we stood there glaring at each other.
“Cut it out,” I said, “or you're going to get hurt. I told you...
You just couldn't put any sense into her head; she snatched up a hand mirror from the chest of drawers and came at me again. I cursed that bed... there just wasn't room to get set. I swept up my arm and knocked the mirror out of her hand, and then we went over together on the bed. In a way, it was better, because I could use my extra weight. I caught one arm, but before I could get the other she gave me a punch in the face, kicked my shin with her pointed shoe, and butted my nose again.
Up to now she was getting it all her own way, and the punch she had swung over had a lot of steam behind it. It was so unexpected that I loosened my grip on her arm, and she swung clear and tried to roll to the other side of the bed. I snatched at her wrap and pulled it right off her back. As the wrap came off she lost her balance and fell on the bed again.
This time I wasn't making any mistake. I got her arm in a lock and slammed her over on her face. I sat down hard on the small of her back and put a little pressure on her arm. She gave a sudden yelp and I eased up a little.
“Behave yourself,” I panted, watching the blood from my nose drip down on her bare shoulders. “You start anythin' now an' I'll tear your arm off an' beat you to death with it.”
She called me some fancy names. I doubt if a stevedore could have matched her in names. I put on some more pressure to stop her, and it certainly did. Then, holding the lock with one hand, I groped around until I had worked the sash off her wrap and then tried to bind her hands together.
She knew that once I'd got her hands tied she was sunk, and she just went crazy for a few seconds. I had all my work cut out to hold her. It was quite useless to try and rope her when she was struggling like that, so I waited until she stopped. As soon as I got going again, she started to fight. I was getting mighty tired of this, so I got off her back and relaxed my grip.
She twisted over and began to sit up. I was just waiting for her to do that. Just as her head came up, I swung back my left and slammed in a punch on her jaw. I didn't bother to pull any weight, I just handed it out—and it certainly was a peach.
I saw her eyes suddenly go blank and she went limp. I stood over her, panting. She'd given me the toughest scrap I'd had for years. Grabbing the sash, I turned her over and bound her hands behind her. Then I stripped off what remained of her stockings and bound her ankles with them. Pulling back the sheet, I rolled her under the covers, first making sure that the knots would hold her.
Then I went into the bathroom and took a look at my face. I had to give a grin. I certainly looked as if I'd walked into a something this time. My nose was still bleeding a little, and I was getting what looked like q swell black eye. I ran the water and began to bathe my face. When I was through, I went back to the bedroom. She was still out.
I lit a cigarette and sat down. My knees were a bit shaky. It had certainly taken it out of me, and I was mighty glad to see her helpless. The waiter at the Hotcha Club had said she was tough, but he had underestimated. Tough? That's a laugh. She'd scare the pants off Strangler Lewis.
I wasn't going to take the room to pieces until I'd been able to talk to her first. Tied up, she might be made reasonable.. Anyway, that's the way I liked to talk to dames like her.
After I had got through half the cigarette, she began to rise to the surface. I watched her with interest. Her eyes opened, blinked in the light, then shut. Her head moved uneasily on the pillow. The bed looked as if an earthquake had hit it, but I wasn't going to waste my time tucking a baby like this in.
She suddenly snapped out of it, and tried to sit up. The look she gave me would have burnt a hole in a sheet of asbestos. I grinned at her. “Sorry to be so rough, sister,” I said, “but you certainly asked for it.”
She began to call me names again. Well, names don't break bones, but after a minute of it I got mad. That dame had about the dirtiest mouth I'd ever run into. I got out of the chair and grabbed a pillow. I slapped the pillow down hard on her face and held it there. I gave her a few seconds, then took if away.
