Another landslide victory (this is why we need to get up to two updates a month, so I can post the whole thing right now)

Betsy Braddock was a sight to behold. Even out of her justly famous costume, in a unadorned gi, she was a vision. Her delicate Asian features had a boldness and vibrancy belying their gentleness, with her blue eyes being especially fierce, somehow reflecting the Occidental psyche that animated them. And she had the height of a supermodel, her body tall and elegant, with robust breasts that swayed and jiggled around the plunging neckline of her gi. Despite its formless shape and simple linen, she filled out the martial arts uniform voluptuously, so unlike the stereotypically lean Asiatic body type that Scott would well understand those who accused her of being silicone-enhanced. It wasn’t so much that she defied race as she transcended it, somehow embodying the charms of both her ethnicities in one gorgeous package.

She was both well aware of Scott’s appreciation and unafraid to voice it. “Nice of you to come spar with me, Scott. It’s always hard to find a partner who doesn’t mind getting battered and bruised.”

“Maybe they don’t want to mar that pretty face.” Scott smiled at her coyly. “Of course, I’m used to doing what needs to be done.”

Betsy’s eyes trailed over him, seeing his muscles brusquely outlined in his own gi, and the sizable member that was apparent even in loose pants. Or maybe she was just noting that he was only a brown belt, while she was a sandan black belt.

Of course, a sandan would well know that size could count as much as skill in a fight, and Scott outdid Betsy on both reach and muscle. It would make for an interesting contest—in many respects.

“You’re welcome to do what you want to my face,” Betsy retorted. “So long as Emma doesn’t mind.” She reached behind herself to gather her hair in a ponytail, keeping it out of the way during the match. “In fact, I thought you were avoiding me, considering all our past history. Now that you’re a taken man. ‘Lead us not into temptation’?”

“That’s not really Emma’s philosophy,” Scott replied. He tightened the strap on his visor to a painful degree. He wouldn’t risk it getting knocked aside while he fought her.

“And what’s yours?” Betsy asked. 

Scott only smiled and made a respectful bow. Betsy did the same. However, when she straightened, she found that Scott was not waiting patiently for her to defend herself. He was coming to her full speed, in lengthy strides that ate up the exercise mat between them. Betsy tried to ready herself, but with lightning quickness, Scott was reaching for her. Only he didn’t make an attack. He grasped the folds of her gi and wrenched it open, exposing her bare breasts to his eyes.