Bob and Susan, Wrestling Rivals 
by Any Given Sunday


The crotch of Susan's yellow bikini stretched taut as she applied the
pressure to her favourite groin spread hold. Bob had a grandstand seat for
the spectacle and would normally appreciate the view, but his own legs were
even further apart, his feet trapped by Susan's yellow wrestling boots.
Susan shook her head to remove her shoulder-length bleached-blonde hair
from her face, smiled at Bob, and said 'Wanna give?' in a smug voice.

Susan's tone reminded Bob of the fireside sessions he had shared with this
woman years ago. Five years older, she had taken the shy teenager and
initiated him into the world of mixed wrestling. The contests between the
stronger male and his more skillful and wily opponent usually ended with
him drained of energy
and trapped in a pinning or submission combination. And then she would
tease and taunt him, knowing that this would stoke his desire to get her
back on the mat for one more fall.

A stab of pain from his groin alerted Bob that Susan was now pulsing her
outer thigh muscles to increase the punishment. He half rose, gasping 'No
no no' to the referee, and then collapsed flat on his back in an attempt to
relieve the pain of the hold. This was what Susan was waiting for. She
hoisted Bob's feet onto her shoulders, pushed forward to roll him up,
gripped his upper arms, and somersaulted into a schoolgirl bridge. Bob
struggled frantically but he was firmly pinned. The referee, a stout middle-
aged lady with a severe bun, slapped out the three count on the canvas.

Bob stayed down catching his breath while the MC made the announcement:
"Ladies and gentlemen, after seven minutes of the contest, the first fall
goes to Susan 'The Snake' Jenkins". He was in unfamiliar territory,
trailing in a match against Susan, because since those fireside days his
subsequent professional career had eclipsed that of his old opponent. He
had competed against the top women that Europe had to offer and had even
had an admittedly brief title fight with the Ladies' World Champion. He had
always acceded to Susan's periodic requests for a contest but she had no
answer to his size and strength and he was able to despatch her
comfortably. He had to admit though that she seemed in better shape for
this fight than she had ever been.

Susan leaned back in her corner, drank eagerly from her water bottle, and
removed some of the sweat from her armpits and body with a towel. It had
been a hard-fought fall and she had earned the pleasure of looking down on
Bob, stretched gasping on the mat in his usual blue pants and boots. Bob
was a nice enough guy and had always given Susan a match despite their
respective records, but a part of Susan wondered if he just enjoyed giving
her a another drubbing. Besides, dammit, she had OWNED Bob before his
string of victories over her, and she wanted respect rather than charity.
She had sweated blood in the gym in the weeks leading up to this contest in
order to put Bob back in his place.

It seemed to Bob that he had barely returned to his corner before the bell
went for the second session. He moved forward haltingly to tie up, only for
Susan to duck under his arms. Her head slammed into his midsection and she
pulled his legs from under him, rolling him up for a folding body press. He
wriggled out at the count of two, but his female opponent dragged him feet-
first into the middle of the ring and forced his legs apart into the groin
spread again. Before Susan could apply full pressure, Bob worked his feet
free and planted his boots inside of Susan's to reverse the situation. He
had little hope of making a woman submit in this position but was instead
delivering the 'insult' of placing her in her own favourite hold. Before
Susan could produce her own reversal, Bob seized her left boot, twisted her
leg, and fell on her inner thigh to assume a classic toe and ankle lock.
Susan went for a face bar counter to break the hold and the two rolled
apart, and rose back up, breathing heavily.

Bob moved to tie up again and Susan sidestepped, slipped her right hand
around the back of Bob's neck and threw him in a head mare, following him
to the mat for a head lock from behind. She pulled his head backwards and
downwards towards her crotch, wrapping her legs around his head in an
attempt to set up a figure-4 head scissors that could end the match. Bob
managed to turn them both face down and then was able to slide his head
out, aided by the patina of sweat on Susan's thighs. He pushed her right
shin into the crook of her left knee and then hauled back on Susan's ankle
for his own figure-4 submission hold. Susan gasped with pain and stretched
for the ropes to force the break.

On his third attempt Bob succeeded in tieing up with Susan, and the two
wrestlers tried strength toe-to-toe. To Bob's surprise it was Susan who was
the stronger, emerging with an armlock. The lady grappler spun him into the
ropes and rammed a yellow boot firmly in his abdomen. Susan went for the
rope throw again, but his time Bob planted his feet, reversed the hold, and
sent Susan for the ride instead. As she rebounded into the ring he picked
her up by the waist, spun her round and dropped her lower back onto his
outstretched knee. She struggled back to her feet at the count of six and
Bob dived for her legs, wrapping them round his waist and turning her for
the boston crab. He leaned back into the hold and almost immediately heard
the familiar sound of Susan pounding the canvas and screaming her surrender
to the referee. The referee moved quickly to protect the stricken woman,
but Bob had already released her, having too much respect for his old
adversary to do anything as cheap as try to inflict extra damage.

Bob was back in his comfort zone and sauntered to his corner. He looked at
Susan, lieing like a broken doll in the middle of the ring, and allowed
himself to speculate about possible spectacular finishing moves with which
to end the match. Susan had really worked hard for this fight, but she
would have to face the fact that she was too old to compete at this level
and consider hanging up her boots. She was finally back on her feet and
being helped to her corner as the MC announced: "And after four minutes of
the second session, the equalising fall to Bob Dalton in the blue corner".

The bell tolled for the third and final round, and Susan tottered into the
ring unsteadily. In a mirror-image of the start of the previous round, Bob
dived to headbutt Susan's midriff and snatched her legs to finish affairs
with a folding body press. Susan managed to roll out from underneath but
Bob was straight back on her with a standing bear hug, his wrists clasped
above her bikini bottom and his arms crushing her small ribs. Susan flushed
red and groaned in agony, but the referee's enquiry met with a high-pitched
"No!". After almost a minute of this punishment, Bob bulldozed Susan into
the ropes and threw her onto her weakened back with a hip toss. Susan rose
quickly before Bob could follow up and grabbed his left wrist for an arm
lock. She turned his wrist a further time and swung her leg over his arm to
complete the step-over arm lever. Susan sat back on Bob's left shoulder-
blade and the referee moved round to ask Bob if he wanted to quit. With a
grunt of exertion he pulled his arm out of the hold, causing Susan to flip
and land heavily again on her sore back.


Susan listened to the referee count, her back on fire. She started to rise
at 'seven' but her legs almost betrayed her and she only just got her knee
off the canvas in time. Bob hauled her the rest of the way upright and
jolted her head back with a forearm uppercut. A rush of anger and adrenalin
surged through her with the impact, and she smacked her own forearm into
Bob's chin. He was obviously startled by her resistance and she took
advantage to twist his arm and send him into the ropes. When she saw him
returning towards her she flung herself backwards and planted both feet
squarely on Bob's jaw. The dropkick made such a sweet connection that Susan
almost forgot to break her own fall as she landed.

Through the white mist, Bob heard the count "... Nine, Ten, Out!". He
opened his eyes to see Susan standing in the middle of the ring, one hand
raised by the referee and the other still clutching her back. He knew that
Susan would expect him to suck it up and congratulate her like a man, and
he promised himself he would visit her in the dressing room, but somehow he
couldn't countenance that broad grin of hers just now, and besides, this
was her moment. He rolled unnoticed under the ropes and began the lonely
walk back to the showers. As the applause for Susan still echoed behind
him, he thought ruefully that she had convincingly resurrected their old
rivalry.