Coat Hanger Katie & Friends: The Blackout

Coat Hanger Katie & Friends

  The Blackout

  by

  Erik C. Martin

  *****

  Coat Hanger Katie & Friends: The Blackout

  Copyright 2010 by Erik C. Martin

  Whitey’s Karate on Fleet Avenue in Cleveland was men’s territory. Oh, plenty of women took karate there, learning neat little self-defense techniques and taking cardio classes. But when the mixed martial arts fighters came in to train the women cleared out. The sparse but neat studio was transformed into a sweaty, musty place for hardcore fighting. It was an unsaid understanding that the ladies couldn’t hang.

  Except for Katie of course.

  Katie ‘The Noose’ Majewski not only could hang with the male fighters; but she could hang, spin around a few times, flip off of and land on the heads of the best of them. The granddaughter of Polish immigrants, she stood six foot two and weighed a muscular two hundred and five pounds. She was Whitey’s only pro at the moment. No one questioned Katie’s training with the guys. They were afraid to.

  Right now, Katie was matched up against Fat Frank. The tale of the tape had her several inches taller, but giving up at least sixty pounds, most of it in his Guiness bloated belly. Still, he was pretty skilled as a grappler and better conditioned than one would think from looking at him.

  She pulled on her open fingered mixed martial arts gloves, little more than strips of thinly padded leather across her knuckles. Bouncing around in a fighting stance, The Noose relished the feeling of the rough padding under her bare feet. She breathed deep, relishing the smells in the dojo. The sensations relaxed her and began to undo the tension that had been building over the last few days. Busting heads and twisting people into grotesque positions was just what the MD ordered.

  Whitey said, “Go,” and Katie and Fat Frank squared off.

  She went out immediately throwing Muay Thai style round kicks at Frank’s thick thighs. Some of the kicks connected like a baseball bat and left deep red welts. Some of the kicks Frank shin blocked, painful for both fighters. They were just sparring so Kate wasn’t kicking full force, otherwise Frank would have all ready been in trouble. With her longer arms, The Noose jab, jab, jabbed at Fat Frank’s head. He threw a slow, lunging hook. She bobbed her head back out of the way and then stepped forward at an angle. Katie tried to plant a round kick in his gut. But it was risky kicking so close to her target. He caught her leg and swept her other foot out from under her. They fell to the ground with Katie on the bottom. She went to her guard, a somewhat suggestive position consisting of her wrapping her legs around her opponent’s waist to keep him from mounting her. It spread him out and made it difficult for him to punch at her head. He tried, but the blows lacked force and were easily blocked and evaded. Katie managed to pin one of Fat Frank’s arms against her chest. It was what she had been waiting for. Bam! One leg came across Frank’s head and no-neck, the other leg slammed into his chest. Frank’s shoulder was wedged into Katie’s crotch and his elbow was pinned just above her hips. She thrust her hips forward, putting excessive pressure on his elbow, completing the T-arm bar. Frank tapped out immediately, before it was dislocated.

  Flush with the excitement of a good win, even if it was just practice, Kate sprang up and helped Fat Frank to his feet. She wasn’t even winded and was ready for her next partner.

  Suddenly, every light in the place went out.

  “Damn it,” said Whitey. “Circuit breaker maybe.”

  Whitey disappeared into the back for a moment, and then reappeared. He shook his head. “Nope. It’s a blackout, I guess.”

  Katie took a look out of the window. “All of the traffic lights are out,” she told the others.

  They waited for about fifteen minutes before Whitey cancelled the rest of the training session.

  Katie left. She was frustrated and feeling a bit squirrelly. The car radio told her that the blackout was citywide. More than that it seemed, almost half the country was reporting a blackout, from New York City to Detroit.

  People were driving poorly. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get home or buy batteries or ice or other supplies. Many forgot the four way stop rule and were flying through intersections. There were more than a few accidents. Gas stations couldn’t pump gas. Many stores couldn’t do business. ATMs didn’t work. Electric eyes weren’t flushing toilets or activating doors and sinks. Worse, according to the radio, (At least a number of the radio stations had generators.) all four of the city’s pumping stations were down. So even though one of the world’s largest lakes was right on the city’s doorstep, the supply of water was limited.

  Katie wasn’t worried. After the Y2K scare, she kept her house stocked up with gallons of water, candles, battery operated lanterns and lights, canned food and other supplies.

  Carefully, in the dusk light, she made her way home.

  Katherine Majewski’s house was a spacious early 19th century built home in Ohio City. The house was painted black, except for the shutters, which were a dark purple. Katie’s housemates were active members of the fetish community and so an eight-foot tall wooden fence surrounded the house.

  The touch of a remote control opened the gate and she pulled her 1979 Camaro Rally Sport into the driveway. She smelled barbeque. Katie got out of her car. Her two housemates, a gay couple named Eddie Eunuch and Father Pete, were grilling. With them were two of their friends, a lesbian couple, named Jenna and Nora Kitten.

  Father Pete was sitting near the gas grill and seemed to be in charge of the cooking. He wore a priest’s collar but the rest of his clothes were summer casual. Eddie Eunuch (So called because he’d had his testicles removed by his previous boyfriend during a ritualistic BDSM scene.) sat at Pete’s feet on the soft grass. He had on a leather thong, flip flops and was sipping a neon blue concoction from a martini glass. Jenna and Nora, Jenna a tall blond top and Nora Kitten a light skinned black bottom, were casually dressed in shorts and summer tops. Both were sipping drinks and sitting on lawn chairs.

  “Coat hanger!” Jenna greeted.

  Whereas Katie was known as ‘The Noose’ in fight circles, she was called ‘Coat hanger’ or ‘Coat hanger Katie’ in fetish circles. She’d had the moniker ever since the Organ Grinder’s Ball five years ago when she bottomed in a public scene that involved getting her ass branded with a heart shape by a wire coat hanger. It had been an intense memorable scene, and the nickname had been with her ever since. Coat hangers continued to hold a warm place in her heart, though she generally didn’t play in public.

  “How are you, dear?” continued Jenna. “We haven’t seen you lately.”

  “I’ve been training,” Katie told her. “I have a fight scheduled in Indiana on the 28th.”

  “We’ve missed you. Maybe me and Nora can come and see your fight. We love to watch you work. I’m still waiting for my chance to go to work on you a little.”

  Katie ignored this last remark. She liked Jenna, but didn’t think she’d like bottoming for her. She wouldn’t be comfortable. It wasn’t for just anyone that she could lose tough Katie and let herself submit.

  “Sure. Come see me. Pete and Eddie are coming. You two could drive out with us if you want,” Katie told her.

  “Honey, sit down and have a drink while everything is still cold,” Pete instructed her. “We’re cooking all of the meat that was already thawed out in the fridge. They said on the radio that the power might be out for days. We have ice in the coolers, but it won’t last past tomorrow.”

  Normally, Katie wouldn’t drink while training, but she was still really tensed up from having had her workout
cut short. She grabbed a bottle of Maker’s Mark and poured three fingers worth into her glass along with a couple of ice cubes. She grabbed a lawn chair from the side of the house, unfolded it and sat down next to Nora.

  It was nearly dark so Eddie lit some tiki torches. Katie had two chicken breasts and another drink. She began to feel some of the tension leave her neck and a warmth in her belly. The knot of tension wouldn’t unwind all of the way, but the bourbon helped diminish it. Father Pete passed around a joint. It smelled good, but Katie passed on it. She never smoked anything because she felt that it was counter to her conditioning. It was hard to have good cardio with black lungs. She thought about having a third drink, but decided against it. Instead, she resigned herself to being tense for the time being. She had been working on other ways to relax, breathing and meditation and such. So far, Katie