Lindsay’s on her back, all trussed up and grunting softly, trying to wriggle free of Kristin’s grip but Kreuk stays on top - tummy to tummy, off to one side, tucked in over Lohan’s right hip. Krissy’s got a tight two-arm embrace around Lindsay’s head - the brunette snuggling her face in close, cheek to cheek with the blonde. Downstairs, Krissy’s toned little legs have Lohan’s slender right leg all scissored up tight. Kreuk’s working so hard, her buttocks quiver under the black material of her full coverage bikini bottoms; her back and legs rigid with the effort of controlling LIndsay. Beneath her, Lohan’s wearing that nautical bikini with the navy top, the white bottoms with pale blue stripes and the jaunty pale blue anchors.

Kreuk’s on record as calling Lohan’s fighting bikini “ghastly” and calling the little anchors “stupid.”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing,” Kreuk has said time and again to anyone who’ll listen to her.

Poor Lindsay. She pushes and squirms - her left hand palming the firm lat muscle just under Kreuk’s right shoulder, trying to roll the brunette. That’s going nowhere so Lohan tries to pry at Krissy’s legs with her left leg - placing the foot at Krissy’s hip and pushing at her. This does nothing: Lindsay heel-kicks that left foot against Krissy’s curved lower back and buttock, slapping away with nuisance blows. Kruek wriggles, tightens up her hold around Lohan’s head, but otherwise seems unconcerned. She’s got Lilo all cuddled up.

Poor Lindsay - face all red and unhappy. Little wisps of blonde hair curling up around her face and trailing across the beige carpet. There’s nothing she can do - even though she’s not even hurt - even though she’s stronger and should be pummelling Kreuk. With a disappointed gasp, Lohan says, “Give,” and it’s the third such point she’s surrendered.

Game, set and match to sinewy little Kris Kreuk. She pecks a quick “I’m better than you” kiss against Lohan’s right cheek, then unfolds herself from Lohan, pushes up off her and smiles down. Her long black ponytail twitches across her spine as she separates herself from a thoroughly confused and angry Lilo.

The “loser limo” is already idling 10 floors down: Lohan is expected to vacate the penthouse immediately. She blinks back tears as she collects her things and stomps barefoot from the place as Kreuk is congratulated.

******

Hawaii. Three weeks later.

Lindsay’s on her tummy, propped up on her elbows, breathing hard. Her legs are spread in a wide A. Kreuk’s in control of those legs - brunette on her right side, her legs scissoring up Lohan’s left leg while her arms curl loosely around Lindsay’s right leg to manage it. Krissy’s torso weight is on Lohan’s right leg, and Kreuk props herself up on her right elbow, reaching with her left hand to push at the firm meat of Lohan’s left buttock. Krissy locks out her left elbow as she pushes, smiling at Lohan’s predicament. Kreuk’s sporting her black bikini top, but she’s wearing yellow bottoms this time. Lohan’s in her jaunty nauticals, getting outwrestled again.

Lohan looks left, looks right, long blonde hair tied back off her face with a pretty crown-braid.. Angry, she twists and reaches her right hand back to grab at the insolent pushing hand on her buttock. Krissy pulls her wrist free, then pushes back into the buttock just because she can. Lohan fumes, grinding her teeth in frustration. “Damn it!” Lohan shouts, losing her composure. Once again, she’s unhurt except for a tummy punch Kris caught her with early on, but that wasn’t much. It’s the oily-quick wriggling of Kreuk which is giving Lindsay fits.

“Give?” Kristin asks, voice high and sweet. Mocking.

“Give!” Lohan blurts after a moment, unable to work her way clear.

“That’s my girl!” Krissy chirps, slapping her left hand against Lohan’s outraged rump.

Three straight submissions to Kris again. Stupid submissions - things that shouldn’t be effective but Lindsay can’t get position on Kreuk and can’t make her brawl. Once again, Lindsay Lohan is ushered out of an expensive hotel suite as Kreuk is celebrated.

Losing to Kreuk is starting to get old.

***

“What am I doing wrong?” Lohan asks the next day, poolside at the Hilton. Linds recognized the vacationing Neve Campbell relaxing in a long white recliner in a bright red bikini, big round sunglasses, her hair wetted back. It’s awkward for her: she doesn’t know Lohan, doesn’t want to know her. But the kid’s obviously lost and getting her ass kicked and isn’t getting much in the way of mentorship these days.

“She’s quicker than you,” Neve says - thinking Lohan should know that. “From what I hear, she’s shooting in, taking you down and tieing you up. You get frustrated and quit. She walks away with easy points. That’s it - that’s all there is to it.”

“I can’t get out of those dumb grabs and stretches. I just can’t get her off of me.”

“Then, I guess you’re going to keep losing to Kristin Kreuk.” Neve lays back on her lounger, taking the kid’s silence for absence. But Lilo hasn’t left.

“I should be destroying her!” Lindsay says, asking for confirmation from the veteran.

“Probably. But if you don’t learn to stuff her take downs and rough her up, she’s just going to keep doing what she does. Do you know Sarah Carter or Kristen Bell?”

“No?”

“Look ‘em up. See if they’ll spar with you. If they know you’re trying to take Kreuk down, they’ll probably treat you fairly.”

“Krissy’s fighting Sarah in L.A. a few weeks from now.”

“That seems like a good time to exchange business cards, doesn’t it?”

******

LA. Two and a half weeks later!

Kreuk’s slumped butt-first against the wall. Black bikini top/leopard print bottoms/slick ponytail. It’s a great look, but it’s not helping.

Sarah Carter’s in a fighting gold bikini; hair in a long ponytail with wispy bangs framing her face. She’s got her fingers laced behind Kristin’s head, controlling her with the neck clasp. She snaps that right knee up into Krissy’s ribs: dull thud/moist grunt as Kreuk sponges it up. She’s been sponging a lot from Sarah.

Carter unhurried here - has her girl under control, has her hurt. Krissy’s hands pull at Sarah’s wrists until a knee jams in, then Kreuk’s hands wander to her belly, uncertain of what to do. Sarah keeps her head in close to Krissy’s, pulling the brunette’s head down, muscling her against the wall. Blonde buttocks and legs strong and firm as she stands there, shifting her weight subtly to maintain position.

Mostly it’s the right knee taking Krissy in her gut, or banging hard into ribcage just below the breasts. Sometimes it’s the left. Sarah shifts her balance casually, methodically - giving Krissy one, maybe two knees at a time, then taking a moment to consolidate. Penthouse is quiet: a tinkling glass; a whisper; a giggle; Kreuk’s pained gasps; Carter’s grunting exertion when she jerks a knee in.

Lohan in the audience, stares enrapt. She sips champagne, but never takes her eyes off Sarah’s slender back. There’s a peculiar quality to Sarah’s working over of Kristin - a prettiness: the way that long blonde ponytail switches back and forth across the spine; the way the gold bottoms bunch and smooth as Sarah’s weight changes from one hip to the other. “I can do that,” Lohan thinks to herself, as Carter puts patient knees to Krissy. “I can totally do that.”

******

Lunch: Katana’s Sushi joint. Classic low-slung Japanese decor and dark lacquered surfaces. Elegant surroundings for elegant vixens. Lohan nibbles Hotategai, leaning forward so as not to get soy on herself.

Carter continues her point, “...it’s not so much physical. Trust me, you’re stronger than Kristin.” “I know,” Lindsay mumbles, her mouth half full of scallop and rice. “With Krissy, you gotta discourage her - show her who’s boss. She knuckles under if you establish on her.”

“But...”

“But what? Punch her at every opportunity - what’re you waiting for?”

“They told us right up front not to...”

“And she punched you anyway didn’t she? Right!?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s when you lost. You were telling her that she could do whatever she wanted while you had the cuffs on. When I kneed her into submission last night, I didn’t consult the contracts or check with the guys - I went ahead and got after her. Did you see anybody do anything?”

“Not until after...”

“Exactly - not until after she quit. Then they pull you off, slap your wrist and give you presents and money. How hard is that Lindsay?”

Lohan took a piece of smoked salmon so large she couldn’t answer. But her eyes registered that it wouldn’t be hard at all.

******

“I’ll win,” Kristin Kreuk chirps, looking up at a cluster of admirers. She’s pretty and smooth as always: black high neck sport-top, black bikini bottoms; low ponytail slicked sleek down her back. Bare feet pink against white shag carpet. Her eyes are bright, dancing: the eyes of a little conqueress. “They keep booking her and I’ll keep submitting her. She’s never even pinned me once.”

Party noises: tinkling glasses, humming conversation. It’s an expensive new mansion in the hills - living room cleared for the occasion - the entire valley-facing wall all retractable glass, looking out onto a grand veranda. Some producer’s place - somebody important - not just TV: Charlize is here; Demi, Keira - lots of big names along with the usual host of ingenues, agents and hangers-on.

Fight time’s in 20 minutes.

“You guys like the stretches hey?” Kris flirts, smiling up and being coy. “Well get ready, because...”

Somebody drops a glass; somebody else shouts: Lindsay’s got a two-handed grip on Kristin’s ponytail, yanking her out onto the fighting floor. Kreuk’s arms pinwheel as she squeals, staggers.

Lindsay slings Krissy around, ragdolling her to all fours. Lohan’s seething, nostrils flaring, chest heaving in that jaunty nautical two piece of hers. Stunned Krissy’s wide eyed, startled, but she scrambles to her feet, rushing Lohan on instinct.

Lindsay’s arms fling up as she lifts her right foot up, placing the sole of her foot big-boot style onto Kristin’s chest, stomp-kicking Kreuk back the way she came. Krissy stumbles, trips over her own feet, scooting to her rump. More shouts - people racing into the living room: “They’re not even supposed to be starting,” a woman shrills.

Again Krissy scrambles to her feet - shock replaced by fury: her eyes go flat, lips curl off her teeth. She rushes the taller blonde. Lindsay stands her ground, left foot forward - she pumps a chugging right into Krissy’s tummy as the brunette runs in.

“Way to go Linds,” Sarah Carter shouts. Kreuk gags, folding forward into Lohan’s arms. Lindsay gets to work.

Another plugging right hand: a shoving blow to Kristin’s ribs. Left hand follows - Lohan just balling up her fists tight, chugging her arms back and forth, stamping flat-knuckle punches onto gamine tits, ribs and tummy. Kreuk’s shook, but rallying: she tries to answer, baring her teeth as Lohan’s fists pound against her, chugging back in similar style.

Glorious stuff: wiry, slender girls gasping, leaning forward chest to chest, arms choo-chooing back and forth to put fists on meat. The steady tattooing beat of knuckles sounding out bright and fresh - the thump and crack of small-girl hup-hup. They stamp around each other in a tight circle, hustling punches in, trying to club the other into compliance.

“Kick her butt, Linds!” Kristen Bell shouts, her voice rising above the crowd.

Kreuk can’t take it. Hissing in pain, she backs away - left hand gripping her right hip; right hand gripping her left shoulder, trying to protect her torso. Lohan steps-with, swinging her punches lower and wider now - her fists like little club-heads as they bounce off ribs, arms, and hips. Krissy hits the long white wall, still covering her torso: Lohan gets perky, picking her fists up to shoulder height and stamping ‘em in flat. Lohan extending on her shots - crisscrossing lefts and rights - bony fists sounding out PIK! PAK! PEK! against Krissy’s slender upper chest.

Kreuk whining, absorbing, then sliding away. Lohan snarling, walks her down, punches her to the corner; walks her down punches her to the far side of the room. Lohan’s back starts to slick up with hardworking sweat as she just keeps at her girl.

Krissy scampering away again, bounds onto the kingsize bed against the north wall, panting for air. Lohan follows, rising up on her knees, teeth bared: she stops punching, coming to grips for the first time. Girls tumble and roll: Kreuk managing the chaos better as the girls topple off the bed. She wrestles Lindsay onto her back: Lohan scissors up around Krissy’s hips, getting the guard in place just in time.

“Get long, Linds!” Sarah shouts; she’s pushed her way to the front of the crowd; now yelling from 15 feet away.

Lindsay squirms, elongating her body against the carpet, stretching her legs out straight while maintaining and tightening the scissor. Kreuk is pushed away, suddenly impotent. She rises up on her knees, trying to push forward, but Lohan stays spread out. Fight slows. Krissy sits back on her haunches, thinking it through.

Again Kris tries to push forward, hoping to embrace Lohan behind the head, but Linds straightens her legs, elongates her torso, putting her hands behind her head so Krissy can’t grab her wrists. Kreuk’s cheeks redden, she’s huffing and puffing: Lohan’s legs are a real problem.

Kris back to her haunches, stymied. Lohan relaxes, keeping the scissor on, but lifting her knees to brace Kreuk at her armpits. Krissy rests her arms atop Lohan’s knees, shifting weight, pushing against Lindsay’s leg-wall.

Kreuk changes tack. She balls her right fist, smashing it down onto Lohan’s tight belly. Lindsay grunts, bringing her hands down, keeping her knees raised to disrupt Kreuk. Krissy rises up on her knees - her left hand atop Lohan’s raised right knee - her right fist raised and balled, ready to punch down at blonde tummy. Lindsay panting, hands at her stomach, ready to catch at Krissy’s fist: it’s a stand off.

A minute passes. Frustrated by Lohan’s raised guard, unable to push in and belly down, Kristin writhes around, trying to undo Lohan’s wrapped ankles. Lohan sits up - tummy muscles crunching impressively into view - and grabs at Krissy’s left arm, pulling it back. She wants Kreuk right where she’s got her.

Another minute passes. Kreuk breathing hard, visibly flustered. She mounts several more attempts to push in on Lohan, or punch at her tummy. Lindsay stays disciplined - using her legs to either push Kreuk back, or lifting her knees to ward her off. The lithe bodies push and strain against each other, with Lohan using up a good deal of Krissy in the process.

Five minutes in. Kreuk’s in real discomfort, cheeks flushed with effort, brow furrowed in frustration. She’s got her hands flat against Lohan’s hard tummy - fingers splayed, pushing into the muscle. Lindsay licks her lips, grinding her scissor: she sits up to reach for Krissy’s shoulders and Kreuk counters, pushing her hands into Lohan’s chest and forcing her back down. Lindsay’s got initiative though - she grabs at Krissy’s wrists - Kreuk immediately writhing her arms, trying to twist free. Kreuk’s on her haunches: Lohan crunches up to a seat on Krissy’s lap, holding Kreuk’s wrists, pulling her closer.

Lohan’s right arm slips in behind Krissy’s head, the right hand wrapping firmly about Kreuk’s right shoulder. Kreuk’s lips are a tight line, face pinched with concentration. Now their heads are close in together - not what Kris wanted: Lohan’s left hand wraps ‘round behind, grabbing at her own right elbow. Lindsay’s got Krissy snug.

Poor Kreuk! She’s got her elbows in against her tummy, her fists pressed against Lohan’s chest in close, trying to push her away. Lohan’s tight white legs look marble hard - straightening out behind Krissy as the scissor grinds in above lissome brunette hips. Kreuk’s lips part as she gasps damp against Lohan’s left shoulder: Lohan hugs her closer, regrips her ankles. Oh, she’s got Kristin Kreuk tight.

“Give,” Kristin whispers. “GIVE!” she blurts again, when there’s no sign of loosening from Lohan.

Lindsay’s legs uncoil. She slides off the top of Krissy’s thighs, smiling sweetly, eyes cruelly searching for Kristin’s. Tears stand in Kreuk’s eyes as she hugs herself on her haunches. It’s a bitter pill to swallow when you give up your first submission to a woman you like to think of as your own. Lohan stands, snaps her bottoms into place and bounces happily towards a clapping Sarah Carter who’s pleased.

A smiling Kristin Bell emerges from the crowd, forming a little clique of blondes with Lohan. “You’re doing so well!” Bell says, although Lindsay can’t read the tone clearly. Whenever Kris speaks, it’s like she’s saying something other than what she means.

“I told you!” Sarah smiles, eyes hard. “Look - look at her.” Lohan turns, grinning to see Kristin looking cramped and unhappy. Kreuk rubs her arms - bruised from Lohan’s scrubbing punches - and stalks around wincing. Lindsay’s eyes dance: she’s beating Kristin! Clenching her fists and swelling with confidence, Lohan steps back onto the fighting carpet and says, “Let’s go!”

******

Kreuk’s right leg comes up, kicking at Lohan’s left thigh: Lindsay twists hips-right, taking the kick on her rump while simultaneously cocking her body so she can punch a right hand counter. She catches Kris on the collarbone, sending her stumbling backward: Lohan hops forward grinning, fists balled up tight, shoulder height.

Kreuk prowls away from Lohan: Lindsay stalks her prey with fists raised. Krissy’s snarling, angry, frustrated, and bruised all over. Krissy’s right-footed kicks at Lohan’s left leg have raised a blossom of pink on the flesh, but it’s been expensive: Lohan’s being very aggressive, taking the kick and punching back ratchetting rights and lefts, spooking Kreuk into retreat. Lohan’s a little girlish with the punching, almost slapping with fists at times - but it’s rough and effective, and deeply discouraging to Kristin.

Kristin lures Lindsay to the bed. On the bed, Lohan tends to go to her knees and Krissy’s been able to out-wriggle her. It’s a chance, and Kristin decides to take it, because out on the carpet, Lohan’s winning this fight.

Lindsay kneels onto the bed and attacks, rising up on her knees to engage Kreuk chest to chest. The girls embrace up top, fall to their sides, legs thrashing to gain control of the other’s hips.

Lohan wrestles Kristin to her back, mounts her. Krissy’s arms hold Lindsay’s head close as the two continue to wrap each other up top - but Lohan rolls to her right, pulling Kristin in between Lindsay’s gripping legs for a snug ribcage-scissor. Kreuk groans, her own legs writhing, her knees digging into bedspread: she wrestles Lohan to her back and pushes into the scissor, loosening it and eventually breaking it.

Back and forth they go like that: one mounting, pulling the other into body scissor; the other panting and struggling to push into the hold, struggle free of it, then attempting to regain the initiative. They’ll bog each other down with defensive scissor-ups of one leg, trying to deny the other mount. It’s hard work to pull a leg out of a scissor: the girls put the work in, tummy to tummy.

It’s grinding, grunting work. The room is nearly silent, save for the girls’ breathy gasps of exertion; the springs of the bed creaking under their jostling weight. Carter, Bell and others shout encouragement to Lindsay at intervals, but Kreuk has supporters as well. Kristin’s been a favourite target of blonde gamines over the last few months, and there’s been a backlash against the constant ganging up against her. Many in the audience want to see her do well - to turn back the bigger girl and demoralize her in front of her mentors.

Finally, after a series of reversals chews up nearly 12 minutes of clock, Lindsay gets mount, rolls to her left, and cinches up the scissor tight across Kristin’s belly. Kreuk groans in exhaustion, on her back, eyes shut tight as she lifts her knees. She tries to turn into the hold, but this time, she can’t do it. Flat on her back, Kreuk gasps, trying to rally herself, locked in tight between Lohan’s trim thighs.

Lindsay’s laying off to Krissy’s right, feeling the strength ebb from her brunette. She grabs Kristin’s right wrist, then reaches to snag the left, pulling that arm across Kristin’s front. Blonde legs harden, extending straight across straining brunette tummy. “Give?” Lohan gasps, her own tummy clenched hard with the effort of squeezing. Kreuk whimpers, turning her face to the left, away from brazen Lohan. Krissy’s knees raise, her feet push against bedspread. She bridges, sobbing, and falls back down. Lohan grips those slender wrists, pulling at the arms, legs clamping in on that body.

“GIVE!” Krissy shouts, and suddenly, pathetically, she’s crying.

“Yeah!” Lohan hisses. She makes a great leggy show of releasing her foe, leaving Kristin blubbering on her back.

Second submission for Lohan.

******

Fatigue makes girls sloppy, makes them vicious. It’s Kreuk who takes the fight down a level, desperate to reverse blonde tide and roll Lohan up. The contest loses all rhyme and reason, becoming an unconnected series of assaults.

Lindsay on her knees, on the bed: she doesn’t see Kristin on the floor behind her. Kreuk reaches in both hands, dragging her nails down Lohan’s back. Lindsay cries out - arching back into the pain, her face turned to the ceiling, hands at her shoulders, wrists bent back...

Kristin on the bed, on her back stunned: Lohan on her haunches just off Kreuk’s right side reaches over and drags her nails across Kreuk’s battle-worn tummy. Kreuk gurgles in pain, draws her knees up, rolls to her left side, hugging herself and shuddering...

Lohan sits on the edge of the bed in stupor, her feet dangling to the floor. Kris in behind Lindsay, is up on her knees - her left hand cupping Lohan’s forehead, pulling it back; her right hand delivering girly little punches to Lohan’s groggy face. Lindsay soaks up a series of knuckling taps, painfully turning to her right into the punching, burying her face in Kreuk’s chest and wrestling the girl back down onto her back...

Krissy’s on the bed, on her back stunned, arms out, hands up above her head. Lohan leans in on her haunches from Kristin’s right side - the blonde making a flat paddle of her right hand and clapping it down against Kreuk’s puppyish little breasts. Kristin sobs out, eyes shut tight against the pain - but she’s too exhausted to immediately answer. Lindsay mindlessly pancakes at sport-top, until Kris can bring her foot up, fitting it to Lohan’s right armpit and shoving her away ...

The girls sit side by side at the edge of the bed - Krissy to the right. Kreuk reaches round Lohan to hug at her, trapping Lindsay’s left arm between warm gamine bodies. Kreuk’s eyelashes flutter, her lips parted in exhaustion - she hangs on for dear life, crushing Lindsay about her breasts. Lohan’s eyes closed, mouth open to blurt out in pain - her right hand reaches to pull at Krissy’s left forearm, trying to loosen the hold...

They’re on the carpet. Kristin’s spent nearly 3 minutes trying to escape from a wiry Lohan grapevine. Kreuk’s on her back, all trussed up: Lohan’s on top, both arms snuggling up Kreuk’s head, forcing her face into heavy blonde bosom. It’s been a long three minutes for Kris - her knees up, her legs working hard to wriggle free of Lohan’s clever feet. Krissy’s hands reach up to pull at Lohan’s shoulders, or reach down to push at her thighs. It’s a long, grinding hold, and it uses up the last of Krissy.

Lohan suddenly releases, wriggling atop Kris belly to belly. Kreuk groans, her head lolling side to side: she knows Lohan’s working at something, but the little brunette can hardly move.

Lohan abandons the grapevine, using her legs to scissor up Kristin’s left leg. More wriggling. Lohan reaches down with her left arm, snaring Kristin’s slender right leg behind the knee, pulling it up. Lohan’s right arm reaches round Kreuk’s narrow back, underneath her - the right hand straining to link up with the left. Success! Lohan’s fingers join in chicken grip, encircling waist and right leg both.

Kristin sobs aloud, “NO!” as her legs are stretched.

Lohan’s chin digs bony in between Krissy’s breasts as the blonde writhes to secure her grip. A body lock holds the right leg up and to the side; the scissor works to hold the left leg down in place: it’s a terrible stretching on a tired lass.

Krissy’s hands beat and slap at Lohan’s back, or push down at her shoulders. Krissy hugs her arms around Lohan’s head, but it serves no defensive purpose. Krissy groans, wriggling to reach to her right leg and yank at Lohan’s left arm, but it’s no good. Lohan’s got too much left, and Krissy too little: there’s no breaking the stretch.

Blubbering, Kristin has no choice. Eyes shut tight, tears squeezing out the corners, her body starts to quit. With her hands up above her head, palms to the ceiling, Kristin’s broken voice sobs, “I GIVE!” her chest shuddering at the admission of Lohan’s supremacy.

Lindsay smiles, her right cheek warm against Kristin’s breasts. She turns her head to kiss at the beaten sport-top, and takes her sweet, succulent time getting up off devastated Kreuk.

On her knees, looming over Kristin, Lohan drinks in the sight and sounds of Kreuk’s collapse. Lindsay glances up, catches Sarah’s eye: Carter’s got that mean little smirk on her face as she casually taps at her right elbow.

Lohan smiles, leans forward. Her left hand braces on carpet to Kristin’s right; her right elbow slams down with spiking bone-on-bone bite between the breasts, wrenching a ragged moan from Kreuk. Krissy hugs her body, rolls to her right, trembling and helpless. Lohan licks her lips, sits back on her haunches all proud of herself.

Three straight submissions! At long last: Lindsay Lohan over Kristin Kreuk!