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Joan Collins opened the motel room door and cautiously entered. Her 4” heels sharply clicked across the slate tiles as she walked toward the living room area. The British Athena stopped at the edge of the white bearskin rug and looked coldly at the woman lounging on the sofa. “I’m surprised you showed up, sweetie,” said Linda Evans, as she put her tumbler of Scotch down. “What made you think I wouldn’t ?” shot back Joan. “I’m the one who requested this.” The blonde grinned as she pulled her right foot toward her and massaged her arch through her stockings. “You’re a fool, and I’m going to embarrass you.” she said, staring at the Brit. Joan slipped out of her black heels and responded “We’ll see who embarrasses who tonight.”

Ever since their last onscreen Dynasty dustup, Joan had been teased repeatedly about Linda ending up on top. At first she laughed it off, but eventually she had grown tired of the comments. It was one lousy scene, and it was only a TV programme after all! She reached her boiling point one night at a post-awards show party, where she had just achieved a lifetime achievement award, but at which she had overheard an intoxicated Linda telling someone that even though their catfights were scripted, she could kick Joan's ass in a real catfight any day. Joan was insulted and angered, and responded by calling Linda the next day. Before the heated conversation was over, Linda had accepted Joan's offer to meet Joan at the motel, where they would settle it woman-to-woman.

Linda got to her feet and stepped to the centre of the room. “Do you remember the rules, honey?” she asked. Joan’s glare burned into her foe. “Yeah, I remember. We fight to a KO, and the winner photographs the loser.” Linda motioned toward the kitchenette counter. “There’s the camera, but you don’t need to know where it is, because I’ll be the one taking the photos.” Joan’s fury burned from within. She wanted to not just beat the blonde, she wanted to hurt her. Linda unzipped the back of her white minidress and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall around her ankles. “I’m not going to ruin this dress over you,” she said as she stepped out of it and picked it up, laying it over a chair. Joan watched her opponent as the woman slowly rolled off her black hose. “And I’m not going to ruin this hose, either,” she said, facing the Brit in her white balconet demibra and matching panties. Joan’s eyes remained locked on Linda’s as she stepped out of her leather skirt and unbuttoned her black blouse. She removed the blouse and stood in her satin lace-up corset and black panties. Despite her age, years of cosmetic surgery meant that her breasts were easily the perter of the two pairs and she knew she could still show girls half her age how lingerie is meant to be worn. “I’m tired of the formalities, bitch, let’s go!” she hissed, stepping toward the taller blonde.

Linda circled Joan, talons raised ready for the attack. The brunette countered with a defensive stance, and the blonde sneered “What’s the matter, are you afraid to fight?" Joan remained calm and ready, circling with her opponent. Linda suddenly slashed at her, with a swipe of her left hand. Joan distracted by the flash of light reflecting from the rock on the ring finger of the hand in question, caught the swipe full on the cheek. As Linda's hand followed through, drops of blood flew from her talons to leave a carmine spray on the wall that someone was going to have to explain to the motel management. Linda followed up this left with a hooked right that Joan fended off with an elbow block. With her back now literally against the wall, Joan used it to push her way inside Linda's reach so that she could bring her rack to bear. Joan's forward momentum knocked the taller blonde backwards a few feet before the two women broke off their opening gambit. A smirk began to play across Linda's face as the realisation dawned on Joan that it was her opponent who had drawn first blood.



As Linda raised her nails again, Joan raised her bunched fists. After what seemed like a minute of slightly laboured breathing, but was only really fifteen seconds, the two women instinctively came together at the same time. This time it was Joan's straight punch to the chest that hit home. Linda groaned and stumbled backwards whilst the brunette snapped two kicks into her left ribcage. The wheezing blonde folded at the waist, clutching her ribs, fighting for breath. “Hairpulling and scratching worked for the cameras, but this is for real, bitch!” said Joan. “You.....bitch....” grunted Linda as Joan grabbed her by the wrists and outstretched her arms, leaving the blonde's torso exposed. She snapped several knees into her foe’s stomach as Linda's body tremoured from the blows. Joan released the blonde's wrists and the blonde collapsed to her knees. A leg drop to her upper back drove Linda face down to the carpet where she lay dazed and moaning. Joan stepped on the back of her neck, pinning the blonde. She leaned over and unclasped the balconet, and then yanked her to her knees by her hair, pulling the flimsy fabric off and tossing it to the carpet. Joan then hair-hauled Linda to her feet and started to slap her exposed breasts, forcing a shriek from the defenseless actress. “And when are you going to start fighting, slut?” teased Joan. “Damn you!” hissed the outclassed blonde. Her tormentor yanked her head to one side and chopped her on the base of her exposed neck. A sharp moan escaped the blonde's lips as she collapsed to her knees, her arms hanging at her sides. Joan stood behind her and tapped the back of her head with her foot, sending the almost unconsciousness blonde face first to the carpet with a muffled grunt. Joan looked down at the blonde's full ass, encased in her white lacy panties, and felt her own body quiver with arousal, in spite of her advancing years. Linda was softly whimpering, her body aching as she struggled to her hands and knees and attempted to crawl away. The feisty Brit eyed her crotch and snapped a kick into it, sending Linda face down again, yelping in pain. “You’re pathetic.” said Joan as she went over to the blonde's Scotch tumbler and drained its contents. She stood beside Linda, as the woman faded in and out of consciousness. Joan’s toe prodded the blonde's crotch, slipping under the elastic of her panties and probing her thick pubic patch. “You’re awfully wet down there.” she purred. “Either you had an accident or you like getting your ass kicked.” Linda let out a low moan and Joan said “I think I know which one it is.” Joan then hair-hauled Linda to her knees and placed her opponent's neck between her thighs in a standing scissors hold. The poor blonde was weeping as she vainly struggled against the hold. “That camera is loaded and ready, isn’t it?” teased Joan. Linda’s body weakly resisted, but she was a beaten, helpless woman, at the mercy of her mistress. The hold was taking it’s toll as she felt the inevitable darkness approach. Joan squeezed harder. The blonde whimpered pitifully. “Please.....” she begged in a soft, submissive voice. “I give in.......you win.“Don’t.....hurt me.........any.........more.” The job done, the Brit released her thighs with a sinful smile and watched her victim’s legs twitch once before going limp. “Who’s the better catfighter now bitch?” she asked as she tied Linda’s wrists behind her back with her hose and then rolled her onto her back. Joan knelt beside her and slowly slipped the lace panties off her foes and bound her ankles with them. As she was doing so, the destroyed woman gurgled and moaned as she slowly came back to life. “No.....” she murmured. “Please.....no more......”.



But the Brit wasn't finished. She straddled Linda on her knees. “Say goodnight, bitch.” said Joan as she placed her rack over Linda’s mouth and nose. The woman’s muffled pleas and whimpers were short lived, as she struggled to free her bound wrists and ankles to no avail. Soon her frightened moans trailed off as her body went limp and she again passed out, her mouth ajar. “Perfect.” smiled Joan as she inserted her big toe into Linda’s mouth and snapped away with the camera. She placed one of the photos on Linda’s belly cleaned and dressed the scratch on her right cheek and got dressed. Slipping on her heels, she looked down at the naked, destroyed blonde. Her own panties were damp with arousal as she clicked across the slate toward the door.

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