Frannie

“Frannie and I are probably the best match, why don’t we start?” You say.
“Sounds about right, let’s walk over to the little circle we taped out,” Frannie responds, and as she walks over, she takes off her running shorts and her shirt so that she’s just wearing a pair of short tights and a sports bra.

“Oh, I guess I’m not dressed for this, but I’m wearing booty-short underwear, that’ll do...” you say, not wanting to show any lack of confidence.

You pull of your shirt and shorts. Your underwear is only slightly smaller than her spandex shorts anyway. You stand there for a moment sizing each other up.

Frannie is quite a bit taller, and nice and lean and muscular, but Ariel was telling the truth, you’re no slouch. Your quite a bit shorter than Frannie, but if anything, you’re probably a little stronger, especially in your core, where your abs are a point of pride. Anyway, height and long limbs can be a liability anyway.

You both hunker down in to a ready position. You’re both slightly awkward, as it seems clear that neither of you knows what you’re doing really. You circle for a few moments, the Frannie suddenly darts for your knees. You manage to push her down and away just in time, but you’re too off balance to counter at all, and she’s quickly back in position. She lunges at you again, this time trying to get you around the waist, and she almost manages to close her hands behind you when you’re able to push and spin away.

You figure you can keep playing defensively until she gives you an opening, or you can go on the offense yourself and hope to catch her off guard.