Mitzi in Hollywood #25: Mitzi' Gaynor vs. Kim Novak (Bar Brawl and Boxing) by Kim and Ginny

With the Debbie Reynolds match only two days away, Mitzi and Ethel are "on the outs." While Ethel lives it up in NYC with a new lover and starring in a play on Broadway, Cyd is riding Mitzi (and Nikki) hard. Mitzi's so down in the dumps she's not training very hard but she’s eating and drinking way too much; trying to 'drown her sorrow.' Nikki, to avoid Cyd's constant harping, has been spending more time with Gretchen and her nieces. It keeps Nikki out of Cyd's line of fire, but leaves Mitzi feeling more isolated and alone than ever!

Gretchen has used her pull with Frank to get Nikki hired to do some investigative work for the league - for which Nikki is very appreciative since she's perennially broke and her 'detective agency' isn't bringing in enough money to pay the rent on even the run-down flat she subleases from a temp agency.

Mitzi doesn't know where (or to whom) to turn with Ethel out of town and Nikki preoccupied. Cyd has been unwilling to climb into Mitzi's bed to relieve her growing sexual frustration and Gretchen is too busy with Nikki - while doubtless plotting Mitzi’s downfall to pay her much attention!
* * * *
Mitzi turned slowly in front of her full length mirror; studying her nude, 25 year old body with a critical eye, cupped her full breasts as her thumbs flicked her hard nipples. She sighed as her hands glided down over flawlessly smooth flesh, over the roundness of her belly to comb the full, lush, bush between her parted legs. She squeezed her thighs and briefly dipped her middle finger in her moist pussy; her body shivering with excitement; her lidded eyes fluttering closed as she slowly withdrew her finger and tasted the moistness with the tip of her tongue. She gave another long, breast jiggling, sigh as a warm blush crept over her cherubic face.

"Damn you Ethel!" she muttered as she turned to look back over her shoulder at her firm, full, butt. "I need you here!"

Mitzi was getting dressed for a mysterious ‘date.’ The day before, in a phone call, Alfred Hitchcock had told her he wanted to talk to her about an up-coming picture, but warned her not to mention the meeting to anyone, or even say she was meeting someone. That afternoon, a messenger had arrived with her 'costume' for the evening - a box that held everything from underwear to shoes. There was a note, reminding not to tell anyone where she was going or who she was meeting. “Like the audience, I want to see my leading ladies dressed up so wear these clothes and only these clothes. Omit nothing; add nothing." It ended with an address on Figuroa Street, and the instruction: "Sit at the bar. You'll be contacted."

Mitzi was wary of a neighborhood that had gone steadily downhill since WWII, but she trusted Hitchcock and followed his instructions to the letter. She’d hung the white strapless dress in her closet as soon as she opened the box that afternoon and it was unwrinkled. She laid out her undergarments on the bed, then started to dress, starting with panties, then the garter belt and stockings, finally the strapless bra. She struggled with the bra, having to hold her breath to fasten the clasp as it was a full size too small for her. Her breasts swelled up over the half cups, and she worried they would fall out entirely if she took a deep breath. Still, her instructions had been specific and she dared not risk changing it for a better fit. After slipping the dress overhead and zipping it up the back, she slipped on her heels and pirouetted in front of the mirror one final time. She picked up the tiny clutch bag he’d provided, put in $20 and the key to Ethel's house where she, Cyd and Nikki were living as she completed her training, then tip-toed downstairs, hoping to slip out the door before Cyd noticed - but no such luck!

"Where are you off to?" Cyd snapped gruffly, stepping out of the kitchen holding a glass of Scotch, her usual bedtime libation. "You've got to get your road work in early tomorrow before your final workout."

As usual in the evening, Cyd wore only a short silk robe that stopped mid-thigh on her dancer-firm legs. Mitzi knew all too well she was nude beneath it - she'd noticed too many times in the year they'd shared living quarters; almost as if Cyd deliberately taunted she and Nikki with her sexuality - while denying them their own pleasure at every turn.

"I'm meeting Nikki," Mitzi lied. "We're having a drink and a couple of dances at a new club downtown. I'll be home before midnight. This is our last chance before the fight, I've gotta let off some steam."

Cyd cocked her head and Mitzi held her breath, fearing Cyd would deny her 'request.' Finally, after what seemed forever, she shrugged turned back toward the kitchen. "Before midnight," Cyd grumbled. "Or I'll take it out on that cute ass in the gym."

Mitzi hurried down the steps into the street where the taxi she'd called was just pulling up. She hopped in, gave the driver the address and leaned back with an audible sigh of relief. Her audition with Alfred Hitchcock was going to happen!
Almost before Mitzi's taxi had rounded the corner, the phone in Ethel's front hall rang. Cyd picked it up and Nikki asked to speak to Mitzi! Cyd snarled, "She just left to meet you not more than a minute ago." She heard a gasp followed by a long silence.

With a catch in her voice, Nikki said, "To meet ME!? We weren't going out. If she's not there with YOU, where IS she?"

Cyd chuckled. "Well, she strutted out the front door dressed to the nines in a floor length white dress slit up to THERE! It was so tight you could see the outline of her garter belt through it. I don't know what game she's playing, honeybuns, but she was very definitely dressed to impress SOMEONE!"

Cyd tried not to laugh as Nikki pleaded, "Tell me where she went, please. I've got to know what's going on."

"Well," Cyd said dismissively, "IF you spent your time helping her get ready to fight Reynolds instead of sulking over there with your face in Gretchen Curry's pussy, maybe she wouldn't be stepping out on you! Did THAT ever occur to you? And don't call again! I’m going to bed and I don't want to be disturbed. You want to know who she's seeing behind your back, I suggest you come to the gym tomorrow morning and ask HER!"

Cyd slammed the phone down, drained her Scotch in a single gulp, then with a smug, self-satisfied smirk, flounced upstairs and threw herself on her bed. As she turned off the light and pulled the covers up to her chin, she hoped whoever Mitzi was with was worth the problems she was going to have with her lover Nikki and Cyd couldn't wait to see the fireworks. She dozed off dreaming of Mitzi and Nikki screaming at one another the way children dream of gift wrapped presents and sugar plums at Christmas time.
Mitzi huddled nervously in the back seat of the taxi as it made its way to a run-down section of 'Century City', an area that had been home to many 'B-movie' studios before the war but had since fallen on hard times. The taxi stopped at the address Mitzi had given; a dingy, run-down bar that looked as if - even in its heyday - it had never lived up to its pretension of mediocrity. Mitzi looked at the number above the door, then down at the note in her hand and sighed. It was the right place, but she couldn't imagine why a famous director like Alfred Hitchcock wanted to meet her in this DIVE!

She paid the driver, considered asking him to wait - just in case, then decided it may violate her instructions. She slammed the door and the driver took off like a shot, apparently eager to get out of the seedy neighborhood! Mitzi straightened her dress, ran her hands over her butt to smooth the wrinkles, took a deep breath - that almost thrust her tightly bound breasts up and out of the low-cut gown - then opened the door and strode inside.

The inside looked much as expected from the drab exterior, right down to sawdust on the floor which forced her to take small, mincing, steps as she tip-toed carefully to the bar. There were only two customers; a man in a dark suit at the table near the door with a fedora pulled low over his face and a shabbily attired working class fellow at the far end of the bar. The working man had been chatting with the bartender until Mitzi came in, but every eye turned to watch as she slinked to the bar, then daintily slid her beautiful, heart-shaped, butt up onto a stool. The bartender left his customer, grabbed a towel and hurried to Mitzi, making a big production out of wiping the bar in front of her.

"What'll it be little lady?" he asked, giving her the once over with undisguised lust.

"I'd like a Gibson," Mitzi said, unable to hide her discomfort as she avoided his eyes and swiveled her stool to gaze around the room, hoping to see the hulking figure of Alfred Hitchcock magically appear. She was disappointed.

The bartender chuckled. "What the hell's a 'Gibson'? Where waddaya think this is, the Hollywood Roosevelt?"

"A Gibson…" Mitzi explained haughtily, "…is a martini with an onion, not an olive. Surely you can make martini’s?"

"We got beer and we got liquor I mix with soda or water. This is a neighborhood bar, not a fancy lounge! What'll it be toots?"

Mitzi sighed and shrugged, "Well, do you have gin?"


"Then gimme a double, one ice cube...you do have ice, don’tcha?" she sneered cheekily.

The bartender swept up a tall glass and, on the way to the rack of bottles, tossed a single ice cube in the air and caught it in the glass. He set the glass in front of her, spun around with the bottle and with a flourish, poured a generous dollop of clear liquid into her glass. "Anything else?" he asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the bar and stare into her cleavage.

She tried to sit as erect as possible on the stool and shook her head. "Thanks, but that'll be all for the moment."

"Two bucks," he grunted when his view of her magnificent breasts was cruelly taken away.

"Put it on my tab," Mitzi said. "I'm expecting a gentleman to join me any moment."

"Sorry toots," he sneered. "Cash up front. We don't get many high class workin' gals in here, but I expect you got two bucks on you somewhere. If not, we can work out an 'arrangement' to cover the drink." Mitzi shivered and dug into her tiny clutch bag for the change from the twenty she'd used to pay for the cab.

As she laid a five on the bar, the bartender offered, "Say, when your 'gentleman' comes in, wamme to water yours down? I'll split the take with you? An if ya wanna rent a room, I got one in the back where I can throw a mattress on the floor. It's halfway clean, private and available by the half hour...cheap!"

Mitzi's cheeks flushed as she finally realized what kind of a ‘girl’ he had mistaken her for. Hitchcock had been right, she wasn't recognized in this part of town - obviously. Instead of answering, she pointed to the five and snapped curtly, "Take the drink out of that...and bring back ALL the change!"

The bartender's eyes flashed angrily. He snatched up the bill and stalked back to the register. He'd had just rung it up when the door opened and all heads turned again - then everyone's jaw dropped, including Mitzi’s! The brunette who walked in was every bit as beautiful - and just as well dressed - as Mitzi! Her dress was black where Mitzi's was white, but every other part of their ensemble was a mirror image of the other. Mitzi couldn't imagine why Kim Novak would be in this part of town - in a near identical dress to hers - unless it had something to do with Alfred Hitchcock!

Kim stopped short, her eyes wide in surprise as she recognized Mitzi sitting on the barstool. After a short hesitation, the icy brunette drew herself up to her full height, took a deep breath to expand her chest and strode resolutely up to Mitzi, grabbed her shoulder and spun her stool around until Mitzi was facing her.

"What are YOU doing here?" they said in unison - to the amusement of the onlookers.

The bartender hurried down the bar, leaned over Mitzi's shoulder - glancing down into her excitedly heaving bosom as he did - then looked up grinning at Kim and asked, "Wattcha wanna drink, sweetheart?"

Glancing at Mitzi's drink, Kim pondered, then muttered, "The same...but don't skimp on the ice!"

She hitched up her dress, slid her butt up onto a stool next to Mitzi and swirled around, kneeing Mitzi in the thigh in the process. Mitzi pouted as she massaged her leg, leaned over to her rival and hissed, "Why don't you go back where you came from! I'm here to meet somebody and he won't like you getting in the way."

Kim arched an eyebrow, glanced around at the near empty bar, then hissed, "Oh? Who are you meeting? Maybe I know him...or her. You cant' have too many friends in THIS neighborhood."

The twinkle in Kim's eye as she asked should have told Mitzi she knew more than she was letting on, but Mitzi almost blurted out Hitchcock's name before she caught herself. "I'm sure you wouldn't know this person," Mitzi zinged. "He's very influential in the film community - not your sort at all!"

"Sounds like someone I might want to meet," Kim said lightly, the corners of her mouth curling in a grin at Mitzi's obvious discomfort at the prospect of an impromptu meeting between her and Sir Alfred. "I'll just hang around and have a drink with you until your mystery man shows up. Who knows, he may take one look at me and decide he'd rather...Mitzi Gaynor, what the HELL...."

Mitzi realized Kim was staring at her breasts and she blushed furiously. "What…?"

"What have you done to your boobs? They're at least two sizes bigger than when I saw you last. They're not still swollen from the beating Anne Francis gave them, are they?" she snickered.

Mitzi cupped her breasts, staring at Kim's chest, then sniffed and hissed, "Well, they're sure bigger’n YOURS! And when did you become a brunette?" Then Mitzi wondered aloud. "It couldn't be you're jealous? Changing your hair color when you realized you couldn’t compete with me and Marilyn as a blond?"

Her face flushed, Kim's hand was shaking as she threw her drink in Mitzi's face! Temporarily blinded by the alcohol, Mitzi grabbed Kim's hair with both hands and pulled her off the barstool. Kim fell into Mitzi who kept pulling her hair - and slammed her against the bar. Kim buried her fist low in Mitzi's belly and the winded blonde let out a grunt. Mitzi lost her hold on Kim's hair but wrapped her arms around Kim's as they struggled; both tottering awkwardly in their high heels.

Kim gave Mitzi a hard shove and again rammed Mitzi's back into the bar. Kim bellied up to Mitzi and...BONK! Mitzi headbutted Kim, knocking her onto her ass on the sawdust covered floor. As Mitzi bent over and drew back her fist, Alfred Hitchcock stepped in and pulled her away. He spun her around and flung her into the arms of the bartender who wrapped his arms around her, groping her heaving breasts as he leered over her shoulder at them as Alfred helped the dazed Novak to her feet. She had a trickle of blood coming from her nose, but she was more angry than hurt and struggled in Hitchcock's grasp trying to break free to get at Mitzi again!

Mitzi stomped on the bartender's foot and he yelped in pain, releasing her breasts. She turned, slapped him, shoved him back, then turned back toward Kim who had calmed down as she was cradled in the (surprisingly) strong arms of Hitchcock.

"You better stop squirming," Mitzi growled. "Before I knock you on your fat ass again!"

Kim, straightening her clothing, is angry, and clearly embarrassed that Alfred had to rescue her. Her dress was ripped down one side and her hair was a mess from Mitzi's pulling it. The front of Mitzi's dress had been pulled down to her waist and her left bra cup was hanging loose, exposing the breast - some of the damage likely from the bartender's grabby hands - and her hair was as disheveled as Kim's. Mitzi appeared to have won the brief struggle, which could have ended with a quick Mitzi KO if Hitchcock and the bartender hadn’t have interfered to stop it! If Mitzi could've punched Kim while she was dazed, she could have gone all the way; but now that opportunity had been lost.

Hitchcock told Kim, "I'm not surprised by Mitzi's success, Kim. She's the champ of Frank's league. You know that, don't you? You should be more careful who you pick fights with."

Mitzi pointed an accusing finger at Kim and growled, "She started it!"

The bartender backed her up - sort of - telling Alfred, "Yeah she did, but the blonde's been playin' the bitch since she walked through the door; all stuck up and all. I was hopin' that hot brunette might take her down a peg - or two!"

Alfred was obviously trying to get Kim fired up because as he watched her rearranging her dress, he told the bartender. "I'm sure you would've enjoyed that, but I'm afraid Mitzi's too much woman for her." Hitchcock had a well-earned reputation for abusing female stars and he dropped Kim on her butt to hurry to Mitzi and fawn over her as if she'd just won a major award or something.

“Hey, I didn’t need your help. I was about to knock that puffed up bimbo on her backside when you got in the way,” Kim protested. “You fellas step aside and let us continue an’ I’ll make mincemeat outta her.”

The bartender’s eyes light up and he offers, "We got a ring in back you can use. Some of the fellas like to work off their frustration and on Friday nights an’ we do a card with 5-6 fights. I got gloves and the whole magilla....if you're serious..."

Alfred smiles and says, "Good idea, my man. Let's take 'em in the back. We'll settle this once and for all."

The bartender grins and mutters, “Whatever you say, Gov. You rented the whole place for the night, we’ll do it however pleases you.”

“Close the place up," Alfred says, gesturing toward the front door. The bartender turns off the 'open' sign and locks the front door so they won't be disturbed. By the time he’s done, Kim and Mitzi are on their feet, each glaring daggers at the other, with Hitch between them. The bartender takes them to the back room where Kim immediately starts stripping out of her tattered dress, then begins rummaging around in an equipment bin for a pair of gloves.

While Kim was getting ready to fight, Mitzi took in the dismal, dimly lit, room. It had seen better days. The former dance floor, was scuffed and worn from thousands of feet. In the center hung a glass ball that had once reflected light, but now the mirrored facets hung loose in their metal fittings. There were cobwebs at the ceiling corners.

A raised platform - about a foot off the floor - which had once served as a modest bandstand, now acted as a ring and had been shoved into the middle of the room. Ropes, strung between 2x4’s bolted at the corners, were slack hemp strands, wrapped two or three times around each corner post - posts which had clearly been replaced several times over the years. The stretched canvas ring cover was spotted with blood and water, more in the corners where it was deeply discolored by the fluid spilled by fighters and their cornermen.

Mitzi's mind flashed back to a stage in Korea where, ten years before, she’d fought Sheree North and she started to have second thoughts about this - not just because she had an important fight with Debbie Reynolds in 24 hours, but because Kim Novak looked so eager!

Mitzi looked at Alfred and muttered, "And here I thought Frank's place was a dump!" She briefly thought Alfred may be having second thoughts himself that this wasn't a good idea and asked hopefully, "Aren't you worried I’ll ruin Kim's face? I know Frank will be furious if 'his champion' gets hurt the night before my big fight.”

Hitch pondered a moment, then with a touch of irritation said, showing he hadn’t even considered Mitzi’s situation, "Don't worry my dear, there'll be plenty of time before we start shooting your scenes." He gave her ass a spank. "OK now, no more delays! Get your dress off, but keep the rest on. I want you ready in..." he glanced at his watch. "…two minutes!"

While Mitzi and Alfred had been chatting, Kim had stripped to bra and panties and was getting her fists taped by the bartender. She was all business as she attended to the requirements of getting ready to fight while Mitzi hurriedly got down to bra, panties, and stockings. Once they stripped, Mitzi got her hands taped while Hitch talked to them in the middle of the ring. He gave the bartender a measuring tape and told him, "OK, let's see what we have."

He wagged his index finger to indicate he wanted the bartender to measure Kim's bust. Wide-eyed, her was eager to comply. Kim lifted her arms and let him draw the tape around her bosom. He pursed his lips, leaned in close to read and said with an approving nod, "38 inches!" Then he measured her waist and hips, telling Alfred, "24; hips 37." Finally, he led Kim to a scale near the door, had her step on it, nudged the counterweight a couple of times until it balanced, then said, "It’s 125 right on the nose, Mr. Hitchcock."

Alfred nods with apparent satisfaction, then tells Mitzi, “Now it’s your turn.”

Mitzi, who had watched nervously, muttered something about it being, "cold" in the room as the bartender stepped in front of her; eyed her bosom with a connoisseur’s eye; then nodded approvingly.

“We got some good stuff here, Mr. Hitchcock,” the bartender said, glancing at Alfred. Kim gave a disapproving scoff. He pulled the tape around Mitzi’s chest, looked at the numbers and appeared surprised. He adjusted the tape again and checked his reading. Still not satisfied, he held the tape up again, this time with his thumb under the tape as he tried to make it look like it was taut - and leaving some slack. “38 inches,” he finally told Alfred. “Although in that little bra, they look bigger.”

“I tried to tell you,” Mitzi whined. “This bra is too small; s a 36B. I wear a 38C. My poor boobs are about to die of constriction…either that, or explode right out of it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hitch sighed, ignoring her protest. “What else have you got?” Then eyeing the bartender suspiciously, “And measure her the same way you did Kim.”

The bartender is visibly rougher with Mitzi - who is less compliant than Kim - and when he's done he tells Alfred, “She measures 38-22-37.” Then with his hand on her back, his fingertips splayed over the swell of her dancer's butt, the bartender steers Mitzi over to the scale. She balks, pouting to Alfred, "I don't like being weighed and measured like livestock." After a scathing glare from Hitch, Mitzi reluctantly steps onto the scale and the bartender does his thing. His eyebrows arch in surprise as the balance beam settles at 122 pounds.

“Evenly matched, I’d say,” Alfred declares. “Now, both of you over to the table, I want to see you arm wrestle before we get to the boxing.”

Mitzi protests she's really not very good at arm wrestling; stating she’s only done it once, but Alfred insists. They clasp hands and the bartender holds their clasped fists as they await Alfred’s signal. As soon as he says, “Go.” Mitzi grunts angrily and powers Kim's arm halfway to the table. Wide-eyed with surprise, Kim grits her teeth. Her chest heaving with her excited breathing, Kim slowly forces their arms back vertical...then slowly starts to bend Mitzi's arm back. Mitzi's lips quiver and her arm shudders as she strains to reverse Kim’s momentum. Then, suddenly, Mitzi’s arm goes limp and BANG, slams to the table. Kim stands up, leans over the table and gently slaps Mitzi’s cheek.

"That was just your arm. Your ass will hit the floor a whole lot harder in a minute or so!"

Mitzi ruefully grouses to Alfred, “I TOLD you I’m not very good at nonsense games. Besides, arm wrestling really doesn’t prove anything!”

Alfred reminds her, “I agree. I recall you lost spectacularly to Shirley MacLaine too."

Still rubbing her wrist, Mitzi reminds him, "Yes, but I beat Shirley in our fight!"

Alfred laughed, remembering how close her fight with MacLaine had been. "At the time, I thought you got a generously favorable decision." While he and Mitzi reminisce, Kim and Joe, the bartender, retire to the opposite corner. “You'll beat Kim too,” Alfred assures Mitzi. “She’s a pretty fair wrestler, but I’m told she's not very good at boxing. Go out and give her a boxing lesson…champ!" he adds, giving Mitzi’s bottom another firm SPANK.

As Alfred helps Mitzi with her gloves, she remarks about “…how small they seem. The only boxing gloves I’ve ever worn seemed bigger; with more padding. Are you sure these are right?"

"Oh yes,” he smiles. “These are 'professional' gloves. Those big ones are the kind showgirls use for exhibitions. I want you to really lay into Kim; teach her a lesson. You'll be able to feel the difference between these gloves and the powderpuff gloves you used before."

Across the ring in her corner, Kim is bouncing up and down, throwing shadow punches, warming up and looking both angry and confident at the same time. Joe tells her, "Be careful kid. That blonde looks like she's done this before."

Kim sneers, "Oh that? That fighting league of Sinatra’s is a joke, hon. I'm from Chicago; I grew up kicking ass 'the Chicago way.' Watch and learn; I'm going to enjoy doing this as much as you're going to enjoy watching it."

After the bartender has checked Kim’s gloves, he inspects Mitzi's fists and ties her glove laces tight around her wrists, Alfred tells the bartender, "Since there's only two of us, I'll be Mitzi's second; you referee and act as Kim's. Alright?" Joe agrees and motions for both women to join him in the middle of the ring. He reminds them, "Go to the farthest corner if your opponent gets knocked down. Anything else, I'll tell you when it occurs to me."

"What about a mouthguard or something?" Mitzi asks, her brow furrowed with concern.

"Oh yeah..." the bartender says. "Just a sec..." He goes the same locker in the corner that held the gloves, rummaged around on the floor for a second and came up with two worn, well-chewed, rubber mouthguards. He shook the dust and dirt off and handed one to each woman, "There'ya go! NOW; are you princesses finally ready to fight?"

Both women look at the disgusting, used, filthy rubber guards, then with a little smirk, Kim slaps hers in her mouth and spins around to storm back to her corner. Mitzi carried hers back to Alfred, looking pleadingly at him for support, but he just took the guard and held it to her mouth. Reluctantly, Mitzi opened her teeth and let him push it past her lips.

Kim, in the other corner, watched the little drama with smug condescension. She popped her mouthguard in and the bartender patted her ass and said, "Go out there an' beat the crap outta that snotty bitch." Then he walked into the ring and yelled, "OK ladies, BOX!"


At first, Novak is overconfident and doesn't pay as much attention to technique as she should have. The eager Gaynor comes straight at her and Mitzi makes Kim regret her hubris. In the first minute, Mitzi's jab sets up a whipping left hook that twice buckles Novak's sturdy legs. Working her jab, Mitzi keeps pumping her fist in Novak's startled face and Kim never sees the big, overhand, right that slams into her jaw. Reeling back in disarray, Kim's back hits the slack ropes and, in her confusion she allows herself to be trapped in her own corner!

Mitzi sets up outside Kim's right shoulder, using her left shoulder to hold Kim jammed up as she pumps several low rights into her lush body. A sharp left hook to the head and two more rights to the body send Novak, shaky-legged, stumbling along the ropes.

The bartender/referee - who is supposedly neutral - keeps muttering, "Get that fine ass offa the ropes, hon."

Novak brawls her way off the ropes and they stand toe-to-toe as they bang away mid-ring; their sweaty bodies leaning on one another as they trade hooks to the body and overhands to the head. As the seconds tick down, Novak lands several hooks with both hands to Mitzi's body and Gaynor’s gurgling as her butt hits the strands for the first time. It's all Kim Novak in the final fifteen seconds; brutally bludgeoning Mitzi’s body to the bell to close out the first.

Alfred patted Mitzi on the back when she sat on her stool, telling her, “That was a good round. But you have to stay inside on her, don’t let her extend her arms.” He stood in front of her, fists clinched and poked at Mitzi’s tummy, telling her, “Work her body; work her body!”

Novak shakes off her rough start and charges across the ring, trapping Mitzi in her corner to start the second; checking chin with a curling right; then plowing a left uppercut in under Mitzi’s jumping jugs that lands so hard it almost jettisons Mitzi's right breast up out of her bra cup! Groaning in pain, clinching around Kim's shoulders, Mitzi exposes her body as Novak, working with cruel, workman-like, efficiency, starts breaking her down. Two and three punch combinations punish Gaynor who gets stood upright in her corner, letting Novak harvest her heaving melons with such brutality it leaves her in a stupor!

Nobody punches tit like Kim Novak and even when Mitzi manages to finally fight her way out of the corner, Novak keeps coming; forcing Mitzi back onto the ropes with two hard, overhand, rights that leave Gaynor set up for more juicy left uppercuts that just crush her vulnerable tits.

At one point, Kim’s fist slashes down between Mitzi’s breasts and gets caught in her cleavage. As Mitzi digs her fists into Kim’s kidney’s, Kim pulls and yanks until she snaps the fragile lace and Mitzi’s heaving breasts are bared! Grinning, Kim uppercuts Mitzi’s bare boobs, forcing a squeal of pain from the hard-breathing dancer. Mitzi mouth-breathing; her poor hand position outside Kim's shoulders leaving her body vulnerable while Kim's elbows at her stomach block Mitzi's inside punches. Novak rips away short and mean to Gaynor's suffering midriff; leaning on her; backing her around the ring; beating her at will. Novak steamrolls Gaynor into the final minute, then steps back and walks Mitzi into stunning short right uppercut! Gaynor's legs give way and she falls into Novak; arms wrapping around Kim’s shoulders as she’s ferociously hanging on to stay on her feet.

Novak, steps back quickly and let's Mitzi lean into the very same punch again...

Mitzi drops to all fours; her unfettered breasts slapping sweatily together; eyes dim with pain-shock. She spits out her mouthguard and pants rapidly; chest heaving as she struggles to get air into her searing lungs.

Novak, all smiles, turns to strut away as the bartender moves in to count over Gaynor's trembling body. Mitzi rocks back onto her knees, then slowly struggles to her feet - taking two quick backsteps to regain her balance when she almost falls. The bartender picks up her mouthpiece, asks if she's alright and, when she nods, shoves it in her mouth without bothering to clean it. As Kim bounces eagerly out of her corner to attack again, Alfred Hitchcock suddenly calls, "Time!"

Kim protests briefly, but Alfred waves her away with a flick of his hand as he takes Mitzi’s elbow and guides her to her stool.

Alfred wipes Mitzi’s face with a towel, then splashes water on her face, then growls at her, “It’s clear Kim has more upper body strength; she’s too strong for you to fight like that. Turn it into a fight below the waist; use your legs to push Kim around and set her up for a knockout.” Mitzi nodded glumly, leaning back to try and expand her chest as she inhaled deeply. Alfred stares at her bare breasts, then instead of trying to repair her broken bra, reaches around behind her, unfastens it, pulls it down her arms and tosses it aside. Mitzi opens her mouth to argue, then seeing the look on his face thinks better of it and accepts she’s going to finish the fight topless.

The savage action resumes as Novak marches to center ring, bumps shoulders with Mitzi and immediately starts cranking that double hook to her gut! Mitzi gamely tries to fight back and punches by both girls stroke jaw; rocking first one, then the other back on her heels. Both are firing gunslinger punches from the hip - but it’s Kim Novak who’s able to finish every combination by going back to Mitzi’s available tits and her cruel ‘jug mugging’ soon has Mitzi gasping out sobs as her body is folded back over the top rope; Kim’s hard fists digging into her exposed body with icy blonde gusto.

Gaynor desperately tries to clinch; her chin on Novak's shoulder; Kim chugging gut-churning uppercuts and rib-wrecking hooks into her vulnerable and exposed body...

Mitzi slumps to her haunches; shoulders hunched; arms hugging her mid-section. Novak winds up to slug her, then abruptly pulls away just in time; her fist, already on its way when Mitzi went down, sailing harmlessly over Mitzi's head! The bartender takes his time with the count, giving Mitzi a chance to catch her breath but even with extra time, she still barely makes it back to her feet at “NINE!”

Very aggressive, Novak senses victory in her grasp. She pins Mitzi’s butt on the ropes, her upper body bent forward; grunting as Kim's gloves smash her battered belly. Novak gets 'big girl' on Mitzi; shouldering her back after working downstairs to land a right to Mitzi's jaw - then she goes low again, ripping into Mitzi’s middle with two crushing left hooks! Mitzi can't take any more as her body is broken down by Kim's sustained barrage. Novak’s walking Mitzi down; jamming her in corners and piling on with hard, straight, rights and wide sweeping left hooks.

Frustrated by her inability to put Mitzi down for the count, Kim throws elbows, shoulders and even headbutts Mitzi once when the opportunity presents itself! Kim's ham-fisted body attack keeps Mitzi trapped, crouching against the ropes; her head bobbing and ducking; meekly covering up. Gaynor’s stopped punching and is just grunting as Kim bangs away to both flanks; digging hard to Mitzi's unprotected ribs.

Again, Mitzi is saved from further punishment when Hitchcock interrupts by calling, "That's it, TIME!"

With Mitzi pouting and mouth-breathing, Novak helps herself to a couple of slaps to Mitzi’s jiggling bare breasts, then just as the bartender reaches them, a short, inside uppercut, drops Mitzi face first to the mat. Kim steps on Mitzi's back as, with a toss of her sweat-slick hair, she prances proudly back to her corner, leaving Mitzi for Alfred and the bartender to peel off the mat and drag back to her corner where they drop her ass on her stool.

Mopping Mitzi's brow as she slowly recovers, Alfred tells her, "OK, that’s enough playing around. I want you to go out there and finish her off this round." Mitzi nods silently, but she can't bring herself to say anything as Alfred instructs, “She drops her left hand when she throws a right. Get your right over the top and knock her out. Remember, there’s an important part in my next movie riding on this.”

At first Mitzi refuses to go out for the fourth round, but after coaxing, cajoling - and finally threatening by Hitch; and some ridicule shouted across the ring by Kim; Mitzi stands up - reluctantly.

Alfred pushes Mitzi out for the fourth round and Novak resumes the carnage! Gaynor's proud legs are shot and she's having trouble breathing. She fears she has a couple of broken ribs but Hitch assures her they’re just bruised. As Kim measures her, Mitzi suddenly lunges and claps Kim a sweeping right to the mouth. Unhurt - but irate at the show of 'disrespect' - Novak unleashes a furious flurry of leather that nearly bludgeons Mitzi into unconsciousness. In fact, Kim holds back and deliberately doesn’t knock Mitzi down or out simply to inflict more pain and punishment - just for the fun of it!

A savage beatdown ensues as Kim pins Gaynor in her corner with a forearm across her windpipe to hold her up while she drives brutal rights into her belly and breasts. Several times Mitzi starts to slide down, but Novak bends her knees, gets up under Mitzi to prop her back up; leaning on her until she recovers; then resumes the beating.

Novak continues to heartlessly pound Gaynor's bare breasts and dig deep into the front of her panties; then rocks her head violently with cuffing bows to the side of her jaw. Mitzi's eyes grow dim as she slips across that gray line between light and darkness.

Finally, even Alfred has seen enough and he tells the bartender to stop the carnage. Hearing that, Kim steps back, winds up and sends Mitzi into dreamland with a huge uppercut that rocks Mitzi back over the top rope where her body teeters briefly half out of the ring, then tilts back into the ring. Mitzi sat back with her butt on the middle rope; let out a soft groan; elbows tucked in and face twisted in agony. The ropes sagged under her weight and both corner 2x4’s bowed inward.

Then Mitzi tilted forward and dropped to all fours, then rolled onto her side, holding her middle in both hands. Although there was still over a minute on the timer Alfred had seen enough. Mitzi was a mess; exhausted and struggling to breathe. From the redness of her belly Alfred knew it had to be aching. Looking up at him, their eyes met and Mitzi answered his unasked question with a slow, disconsolate, shake of her head.

Kim snarled, “You had enough?” And while the look on Mitzi’s face said she had, she was too proud, too stubborn and, probably too winded, to vocalize it. She just slumped forward and flopped on her belly at Kim's feet, not moving as Novak posed with a foot on Mitzi's butt and let the bartender raises her hand as Alfred looked down with contempt on 'his' fighter.

“Ouuwww Alfred,” Kim pouts. “Why’d you try to stop me? You ‘promised’ I could knock the bitch out.”

Kim refuses to let Mitzi up, and instead forces her to crawl out of the ring. They’re all enjoying humiliating her; Alfred who is disappointed by Mitzi’s failure; Kim, who is furious because it took too long to knock her out; and the bartender just because he enjoys seeing ‘stuck up’ women being humiliated.

Alfred watched frowning as Kim dressed, then they both had to help the bartender put most of Mitzi’s clothes on her since the poor girl was so badly battered she couldn’t lift her arms to dress herself. Once Mitzi was at least semi-clothed, Hitch told the bartender, “Get her out of here.” Then turning to Mitzi, he said, “I’m sorry about your …pathetic effort. I’d hoped you could knock her out, Miss Gaynor. I’m really quite disappointed in your failure to put forth a professional effort.”

Mitzi looked at Hitchcock and muttered something about, “…gonna beat her wrestling…” but if any of them heard her, no one believed she actually meant it!

Alfred and Kim followed Mitzi and the bartender back out to the bar and sat at a corner table while Mitzi, groaning every step and holding onto the bartender for support, wobbled toward the door. The bartender roughly wrapped an arm around her waist and closed a big, rough, hand over her bruised, aching, belly as he half-carried, half-dragged, her to, and then out, the door to the sidewalk.

There, the bartender rifled through Mitzi’s purse, taking all her money since she stiffed him on his tip. He left her $5, “…for taxi fare. You can flag down a cab when you can stand up without help,” he said as he dropped her on her butt, turned and went back inside, leaving her sitting on the curb with her feet in the gutter with the rest of the trash and sobbing.

And it's starting to rain! The rain mingles with Mitzi’s new, running the rest of the makeup that hadn’t already been destroyed by Kim’s gloves, her sweat, her tears or the water the bartender had thrown into her face between rounds.

After the bartender drops Mitzi at the curb, he returns, draws three beers from the tap, and joins Kim and Alfred at the table to talk about the fight.

Kim says, “She won’t be champ for long…she’s got no heart.”

Hitch nods and shakes his head sadly, “You’re probably right; but she’s got a great body. I bet the right manager could have made that girl a star…”
* * * *
Outside in the rain, Mitzi’s luck finally changes. A taxi stops and when she looks up, Mitzi gasps. The taxi driver is her lover Nikki - making her third pass by the club. She gets out and lifts Mitzi out of the gutter, then helps the beaten, bloody, exhausted and half naked woman into the back of the cab. It’s quite a contrast from the Mitzi who - dressed to the nines - had arrived a little over and hour before!

“Wha…what are you doing here?” Mitzi groans, looking up at Nikki who is horrified at the shape Mitzi is in.

“I found a note in your room with this address. I wanted to see what you were up to, so I borrowed a friend’s cab and came down to see. What the hell happened to you?”

Mitzi won’t admit everything, but she does tell Nikki she lost a fight to Kim Novak. Then she makes Nikki swear not to tell, saying, “Cyd can never find out.”

On the way home, Nikki helps Mitzi make up a lie about how she was attacked by a “gang of Mexican street girls.” When they arrive, Cyd meets them at the door and grills Mitzi - but only after physically attacking Nikki and slapping her around; blaming her for what happened to Mitzi.

“You bitch,” Cyd screamed. “You never should have taken her out the night before a fight! Look at her; out all night dressed like some common street walker! And where’d you get those bruises?" Mitzi's left eye is swollen shut from Kim’s punches; and her left breast is covered with dark bruises where Kim had punched, groped, grabbed and squeezed it during their clinches.

The next night, Mitzi's still in no shape to wrestle…even after spending the day in bed recovering from her beating instead of finishing her preparations. It’s going to be a rough night when you…

…continue to “Mitzi In Hollywood” #26: Debbie Reynolds - “Fightin’ In The Rain”