Foul Play at the Pillow Fight

Story Submitted by Terry:

Cristine had the following curious fact listed in her profile:

"I've won every pillow fight that I've ever had.  No one beats me."

It made me smile, and the rest of her profile made her out to be a potential special someone, so I contacted her and as it turned out, she was about as sweet as I hoped she would be.

Cristine was an instructor at an autism school during the week, and she taught tango classes on the weekends.  Still, she was able to arrange her schedule in such a way as to allow for a date.

Our first date was on a Friday night, and although she appeared tired after a long day at work, I was very impressed with her, and we had a nice time together.

Over the course of the date, I mentioned the pillow fight statement in her profile, and she said, "Are you challenging me?"

I flirted back, "I sure am."

She pointed at me and said, "You're on."

Ah, a pillow fight with a new date.  I took it to mean that she liked me, and it made me like her all the more.

Late that night, after our date, she sent me a text: "Tomorrow morning.  10AM.  My place.  Bring a pillow."

I couldn't wait to hit her with soft bedding.  I found a suitable weapon in my closet, wrapped it in a clean pillowcase, and placed it at the ready.

The following morning, I went to her place and carried my pillow up to her apartment.  She let me in and led me to her living room, which she had laid out with multiple pillows and blankets.  Clearly, she took pillow fighting very, very seriously.

She grabbed a red, square pillow, stood in fighter's stance and asked, "Are you ready?"

I hoisted my pillow up high and nodded.

She sprang at me with her pillow and smashed me in the face with what felt like a boxing glove made of cement.  My nose throbbed and I fell to the ground.

She stood over me.  "I win," she said, beaming down.

I yelled, "What the hell was in that pillow?"

She unzipped it and pulled out a hardcover biology textbook.

"I always win," she said.

"Holy shit," I said, stumbling up, "You could've broken my nose."

She rolled her eyes and said, "Don't be a sore loser."

I felt my nose, and it was tender to the touch.  She had bruised it, at best, and done far greater damage, at worst.

She cringed at me and said, "Ooh.  You're swelling up real bad.  Why don't you go take care of that?"

I made for her bathroom and shouted, "Why would you hit me with a book?"

She called after me, "I always win pillow fights."

I left shortly thereafter.  My nose was in pain for at least a week, but nothing was broken.  Nothing, that was, except for any desire to spend more time with someone like her.