Sadie

Sadie was a thick woman, the kind who would smash a dude in the mouth just for staring at her tits. I think Crazy Joe was the only one who got away with it. It was hard not to stare, though. Sadie’s tits were awesome. Big, but not too big. And certainly not small. In fact, it wasn’t about size at all. Sadie’s tits were perfect. Voluptuous and natural and proportionate to her thick body, they were the kind that hung heavy without sagging, the kind that filled a T-shirt and refused to be hidden by a leather jacket.

When Sadie walked through the bar with her shoulders pulled back and her long brown hair bouncing, it was with such strength and confidence that her tits just accentuated the rhythm of her stride. And when she shot pool it was impossible not to stare. Her tits swayed gently as she leaned over the table aligning her shot, then shook when she jerked the pool stick forward, a movement punctuated by the expression of every man in the bar, and some women too.

But no scene could compare to how sexy Sadie was when she was fighting, standing toe to toe with some grimy biker dude, with her chin out and her shoulders back, throwing punch for punch with someone twice her size. That was sexy. That was hot as Hell. And the sexiest part was just after the fight, just after she kicked the dude’s ass, the whole bar watching her and everyone full of excitement and somewhat afraid of her, breathing heavily with her hair messed up and her brown eyes glazed, standing over her prey like a lioness.

That’s what made Sadie sexy. She was wild, untamable, dangerous. That’s also what made her an object of obsession. Dudes couldn’t stay away. They couldn’t help it. The way she walked, looked, talked, moved, smelled, brought out crazy desperation in men. So, in her own desperation she learned to fight. Then she got good at it. Then she got really good at it. I once watched her beat up three dudes in a bar just because one smacked her ass and they all laughed when she turned and asked who did it. Sadie’s the only woman I ever knew who looked sexy smashing a bottle over someone’s head.

Everything about Sadie was sexy, and most men would endure anything just to be noticed by her, even if that meant getting their asses kicked. And Sadie was willing to oblige. As far as she was concerned, men needed their asses kicked.

It seemed like the better she got at fighting, the more confident she became and, subsequently, the sexier. And the sexier she became the more obsessed the dudes became, until eventually it all got out of hand and Sadie would just leave town, often only a step or two ahead of the cops and a lynch mob of bikers with boners. Before long, Sadie got used to wandering, even began to anticipate leaving one town to discover another.