Probably not—it’s best to counterattack instead.

You decide to give the Cowgirl exactly what she wants: a fight. Exploding out of your guard, you tag her with a few solid blows to the ribs before she can react. She’s relatively quick to pull back and protect herself, but her form is sloppy and unprofessional, betraying her preference for brawling over technical proficiency. You’re able to slip in another couple of punches before she hits back, slamming a fist straight into your chest and making you reel back from the un-blocked hit.

“Aw yeah, now this is more like it!” Dinah says with a grin. “Let’s go, John, I wanna see what’cha really got!”

Without further ado, the two of you charge at each other, fists flying as you engage in an all-out slugfest.

At first things seem to be going about evenly, but after a short while Dinah’s strength and toughness begin to tell in her favor. Her solid, musclebound frame allows her to shrug off your lighter punches and power through harder ones, but the same can’t be said of you, as each blow that lands makes you see stars. You’re faster than her and your technique is far superior, but ultimately in a struggle like this it will be sheer brute **** that carries the day.

Eventually you start to slow down, punch-drunk and dazed, and the few advantages you do have desert you. Dinah stares into your eyes and favors you with a dimpled grin as your resistance fades—then she slams a haymaker into your stomach that all but bends you in half.

The air leaves your lungs with a soft gasp as you collapse to your knees, utterly defeated. Still grinning at you, the Cowgirl tilts your chin up with a finger and bends down so that her face is level with yours.

“Well, well, that wasn’t half bad,” she compliments. “Ain’t nobody given me a fight like that since I was a trainee. I think I oughta give ya a little reward.”

You don’t have time to speculate about what that will be before she leans forward and presses her lips against yours in a sensual kiss.

Her tongue explores your mouth, and you can taste her cherry-flavored lipstick as it smears against you. You’re too tired to do anything but let her lead, allowing her to take over as she gives you your “reward”.

But just as suddenly as she pulled you into the kiss, she pulls away and slaps you across the face with dizzying ****.

You topple backward onto the canvas as the blow smarts and stings, and a quick glance up at the JumboTron confirms that your face has been marked with a bright pink handprint that sprawls across your cheek.

For once deciding not to rub in her victory even further, Dinah simply places her foot on your chest and lets the ref count you out. You gaze up in frustration at the woman who seems to be able to take your best efforts at defeating her and come out swinging, and sympathy flits across her features as you finally rise.

You’ve lost a point for a pinfall.