No. She has you beat by a country mile.

It’s instantly apparent that you have zero chance of competing with the Cowgirl at all. She could have **** you to the mat in moments, but instead she decides to toy with you.

With a derisive laugh, she places one hand behind her back and lets you grab the other in both of your own, ceding a handicap to you that should give you a boost.

It doesn’t help.

One of the Cowgirl’s muscular arms is apparently equal to both of yours, because—as the crowd laughs at you and your face turns redder and redder with humiliation—she slowly but surely forces you to your knees in front of her.

“Wow,” Dinah says with a shake of her head, “you’re even weaker than most of the fellas I’ve tangled with. And here I was hoping you’d at least be fun to beat on.” She sighs wistfully. “Ah, well. I’m sure I can think of something to do to you.”