Unhappy Birthday by Spidercrawlus
It was almost three o'clock on a Sunday afternoon, and Heather knew she had to get going. The weekend had flown by, and she had a tough week ahead of her, but she had promised her best friend Karen that she would make it out to her birthday party. Heather was in her third year at UCLA majoring in film production, and her course load was pretty heavy. She was bright and made good grades, and hoped to get on with an established production company when she graduated.
Karen was her best friend, they met as freshmen in the dorms, and were roommates until this year when Karen moved in with her boyfriend, so Heather got a small one-bedroom apartment to herself in West L.A., not far from campus. She liked having a place to herself, finding she was more focused on her studies. But she had to get moving, she thought to herself, couldn't disappoint her buddy on her 21st birthday. She had a little distance to drive, as they were having the party at a huge bar called the Sagebrush Cantina, about twenty miles away in Calabasas.
The Sagebrush used to be a biker bar, but in the last several years has become a trendy weekend hangout for all types, from celebrities to just your average weekend biker. Sundays were especially rocking, from early in the day to late at night, with a band playing outside and music piped to the bar inside. Traffic on a Sunday was light, and Heather made it there in under 30 minutes. The atmosphere was casual, and she blended right in her low-cut jeans, black boots, and white tank top cropped high across her midsection. She was quite attractive, and could easily have been mistaken for a model with her sandy blonde hair and soft green eyes. Heather was then, but not a waif, with a nice body, kept firm by jogging four times a week.
As she made her way inside she bumped into Eric, Karen's boyfriend, who was coming out of the restroom. He took her over to the group, who were obviously a few drinks ahead of her. There were twelve of them gathered around a table by the bar, empty shot glasses everywhere. Karen was probably the drunkest, as the loud music was punctuated by her distinctive laugh. Heather joined the fun, grabbing a beer and slipping into the collegiate party mode.
They were all having a great time, as apparently was everyone else in the bar as it stayed crowded and festive. After several more rounds of beers and many stories passed through the group, Heather looked out the window, noticing it was starting to get dark. It was now seven, and she knew she had to be getting back to prepare for her week. She gave Karen a hug and a kiss and said her goodbyes to everyone, politely rebuffing Eric's offer to walk her to her car. The group was still going strong, and she didn't want to take him away from the fun. Besides, she got lucky and was parked pretty close in the dirt parking lot, and this was a safe area. The music faded as she headed across the lot, the small pebbles making a crunching noise under her boots. She was getting close to her car, about fifteen yards away when she heard an unfamiliar voice bark out in a sharp tone.
"Hey blondie, where are you going? The party's not over yet." Heather turned to see two women she didn't recognize walking rapidly toward her. They were older than her, probably in their early thirties, and even though they were nicely dressed, they had a rough look to them. You know the type, even though somewhat attractive, a hard face, like a veteran stripper. Heather timidly answered, unsure of why they were approaching her. "Um...are you talking to me?"
The first one who spoke, the brunette, fired back. "Yeah I'm talking to you, you're the only other one around."
The other one, with auburn hair, snickered at her friend's retort. "You young punks think you can just waltz out here every weekend, getting drunk and making asses of yourselves, flirting with our guys and thinking you're so damn cute."
Heather nervously shifted her weight as an unsettling feeling came over her. She didn't want any trouble, but it looked like trouble had found her. She was too far away from her car to make a break for it. Even though she was a pretty fast runner, they were too close. She gazed over at the bar, which seemed really far away now, and didn't see anyone within yelling distance, especially since the band had fired up again. She quickly decided that her only alternative was to stand her ground and hope that these two roughnecks were just a couple of drunks mouthing off to her.
"Look, I know we were pretty loud, but it's our friend's birthday and it is a bar, but if we offended you I apologize." The brunette stepped right up to Heather, staring through her.
"You can take your apology and shove it up your ass, ****. You tramps need to stay the hell out of here, this is our bar."
Heather studied the lines on the woman's face and actually felt sorry for her. How sad was she to be claiming turf on a bar like in some horrible B-movie? Her sympathy was dramatically cut short though because as Heather was gathering her words carefully for her next attempt to pacify the situation, the brunette launched a fast, hard right punch square into her stomach before she could even open her mouth.
A loud "ULLGGGHHOOOUUFFFF!!!!" bellowed from deep within her thin frame, replacing whatever it was she was about to say. It was preceded by a thunderous slapping sound from the knuckles of the brutish woman driving into her bare flesh just above her belly button. Heather immediately folded over, both hands covering her violated belly as an ached filled her inside. She stumbled forward, and the auburn-haired thug rushed to grab her before she could fall down, pulling her arms tightly behind her back, arching her straight up.
"Get her!" she barked to her friend, who quickly unloaded a left hook that crashed into Heather's beautiful face, just below her right eye, high on her cheek. Her head snapped to the side as she let out a painful squeal.
"No, the gut, go for the gut!" the one holding her ordered. The attacker hammered her with another right, directly on the navel.
"OOOUUHHHLLL!!" More air escaped the poor girl, but before the pain had completely registered, more fists were raining into her torso. Alternating lefts and rights, about five seconds apart, all hard and deep, announcing themselves with a loud smack. Heather grunted with each punch, and gasped and moaned between them, while her tormentors laughed and joked to each other.
"Oh, she likes that!" one would say.
Another punch. "That had to hurt!"
What seemed like an eternity was in reality about a minute and a half, twenty-two punches in all. Heather's firm and flat belly was now soft and red, pummeled violently. The last blow was another devastating right that sunk deep into her lower gut, shaking her already convulsing midsection to the core. A perfectly timed left to the chin as her arms were released sent Heather sprawling to the ground flat on her ****, her legs collapsing instantly upon being let go. She was barely conscious, rolling over, clawing the dirt with one hand, the other clinging primitively to her brutalized belly.
There she would lay for over an hour, in a crumpled heap trying instinctively to fill herself with air, feeling like she was drowning as she dry heaved with every few shallow breaths she took. Finally, someone found her and got her friends, and the party was over, as they headed for the hospital.