Global Fighting League Part 1
By Al Harder
In the future women and men fight one another for prestige - and money - in the Global Fighting League.

Author's note:  This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to 
any real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Part 1 - Aaron learns the ropes

Aaron Michaels was a bit nervous.  He'd only been out of wrestling 
school for a week and was scheduled for his first match in the Global 
Fighting League.  The GFL had come about in 2075 as a response to 
the people who were sick and tired of the corruption in boxing and 
the phoniness of pro wrestling.  After declaring that wrestling and 
boxing were meant to be athletic contests, the World Government had 
passed laws prohibiting the predetermination of any sporting event, 
on penalty of death.  To show they meant business, both Don King VI 
and Vince McMahon VIII had been executed by lethal injection.  Their 
successors had come up with a scheme to continue the lucrative 
contests; the new league was closely monitored by government agencies.  
The League encompassed all styles of fighting, and often held matches 
between fighters with mixed styles; pure grappler vs. boxer, judo vs. 
karate, etc.

In order to satisfy everyone involved, the GFL had set up weight 
divisions.  A fighter could only compete in his or her own division, 
or challenge someone in a higher division if they wished; but if a 
middleweight fighter held the light-heavyweight championship, for 
example, that fighter could be challenged by members of the 
light-heavyweight division, but only for the championship.  The weight 
divisions started at flyweight (under 126 pounds), then went to 
lightweight (126-150), middleweight (151-175), cruiserweight (176-200), 
light-heavyweight (201-225), heavyweight (226-250), super-heavyweight 
(251-275) and unlimited (over 275).  There were no gender barriers; 
they were superfluous anyway.  As the twenty-first century progressed, 
women had gained physical parity with men.  In fact, since the Women's 
Rebellion had ended in 2070, after ten years of conflict, it was 
generally agreed that women were men's superiors in many ways.  The 
Constitution of the World Government, however, decreed that all 
persons were to be considered equal.

Aaron was to fight Mike Seymour, a well-seasoned veteran, in a 
light-heavyweight match.  Aaron had wrestled in college, and done 
pretty well.  He'd lost only three times in his weight division, all 
to the same woman.  He'd been recruited for the GFL and survived 
their training school; despite this, he was a bit worried about his 
first pro match.  However, the match went better than he'd thought, 
and he pinned Seymour with a bridging back suplex in less than ten 
minutes.  The wrestlers shook hands at the end and went to have their 
bruises tended to.  Aaron was happy to have his first fight behind 
him, and was praised by the local promoter for a fine match.

In the next seven weeks he won seven more matches in his weight 
class, all against other men.  With a record of 8-0, Aaron was told 
that his next match would be against a cruiserweight female who'd 
had several wins over light-heavyweights - women as well as men.  
He was told that the woman had been observing him since he'd arrived 
and wanted to "put him in his place".  The promoter also told Aaron 
that if he could win just one of his next two more matches that he'd 
get a match - for a great deal more money - when the national tour 
came through Boston in three weeks.


Aaron trained harder than he ever had for this fight.  He felt he 
was ready for anything.  However, a match on the same card as his 
gave him some cause for worry.  It was another cruiserweight vs. 
light-heavyweight match.  He watched with interest as the two fighters 
were introduced.

"Entering the ring first, in the blue corner, from San Antonio, Texas, 
wearing blue trunks and boots, standing six feet one inch tall and 
weighing two hundred and twenty-one pounds, Evan Paul!"  Evan trotted 
down the aisle to a mixed reaction, climbed into the ring and 
stretched.  He was black, with a shaved head, although he sported a 
goatee.  Evan was well-muscled, with a panther tattoo on his left 
shoulder.  "His opponent, now entering the ring area, hails from 
Worcester, Massachusetts.  She is in the red corner, wearing a black 
outfit and boots, standing five feet seven inches tall and weighing 
one hundred seventy-seven pounds, welcome Kim Garibaldi!"  Kim trotted 
down the aisle, high-fiving fans as she went.  Since she was a local 
wrestler, she was very popular with the Boston crowd.  A blonde with 
her hair cut off at her jaw line, Kim sported a good deal of lean, 
hard-looking muscle; her abs looked chiseled from granite, and her 
legs were well-defined and powerful.  A barbed-wire tattoo encircled 
her left bicep, and a scorpion decorated her right deltoid.  After 
the referee had given both their instructions he sent them to their 
corners and signaled for the bell.

Kim and Evan moved out, circling.  Evan reached for a single-leg 
pickup, but Kim quickly slammed a hard forearm uppercut into his 
chin.  She followed up with a hard kick to his belly, and then 
grabbed his head in a front facelock.  Twisting Evan's head, Kim 
dropped to the canvas with a spinning neckbreaker, stunning the 
bigger wrestler.  Kim pulled her opponent to his feet, lifted and 
body-slammed him hard, then stomped on his belly.  "Hurts, don't 
it?" she taunted as he moaned in pain and tried to cover up.  Evan 
rolled away from her and stood up, just in time to catch a dropkick 
that sent him reeling into the corner.  Kim moved in quickly, kicking 
Evan in the belly again.  Evan's legs gave way and he slumped down, 
held up by his arms draped over the ropes.  Kim grabbed him by the 
ears and head-butted him in the nose, resulting in a trickle of blood.  
A second head-butt dropped Evan to his ass.  Pulling him out of the 
corner, Kim stuffed Evan's head between her thighs, and then locked 
her arms around his waist.  Her arms bulged as she snapped Evan up 
into the air before power-bombing him to the mat.  The impact nearly 
knocked Evan unconscious, and Kim was quick to follow up.  She 
contemptuously flipped him to his belly with a boot under the stomach, 
and then sat down on Evan's back.  Pulling his arms up over her 
thighs, she locked her hands under Evan's chin and pulled back.  
Powerful muscles in her back and arms bulged as she used the camel 
clutch to torture her opponent.  "Ask 'im, ref," she ordered.

The referee asked Evan if he'd had enough, but he refused to quit.  
"C'mon, you know you're beat!" Kim growled.  "You can't take the 
pain anymore!"  Evan moaned as Kim pulled back even further, 
stretching his neck and back to the breaking point.  "I'll break 
your neck if you don't submit, I swear I will!" she snarled.  Her 
thighs bulged as she pulled with all her strength on Evan's chin.

"I give!  I give!" Evan gasped.  The referee immediately ordered 
Kim to let him go.  She unlocked her hands and let his face thump 
on the mat, then stood over him as the referee raised her hand.  Kim 
flexed her biceps and waved to the crowd before trotting back to the 
dressing room.  Evan got up much more slowly and was assisted back by 
the trainer's assistant.


Aaron was shocked by the ease with which the smaller woman had 
defeated her opponent.  He hoped for a much better result from his 
match, but knew that if his opponent was as strong and aggressive as 
Kim Garibaldi had been he was in for a great deal of pain.  He turned 
the closed circuit TV off and concentrated on limbering up for the 
match.  The crowd reaction let him know that another bout was 
happening, but Aaron ignored the noise and kept warming up until an 
attendant told him it was time for his match.


Natasha Wentworth checked her image in the full-length mirror one 
last time before exiting the dressing room.  She smiled, showing 
her dimples, pleased with the way she looked.  She hoped the fans 
were impressed - it had taken a lot of hard work to build her body, 
and it was nice when the fans complimented her.  She shook her mane 
of short brown hair into position.

She took stock of herself.  Drawing herself to her full height of 
five-eleven (six feet even in her wrestling boots), she flexed first 
her right bicep, then her left, then both together.  The rock-hard 
muscles grew until they were large, thick balls of sinew - a full 
sixteen inches, at least the last time Natasha had measured them.  
Natasha rubbed her hand over the rose tattooed on her sinewy right 
forearm and grinned.  She put her hands behind her head and flexed 
her abs, smiling as the six-pack of corrugated steel made itself 
apparent.  Natasha was very proud of her abs in particular - no 
punch or kick had ever penetrated the muscular shield.  Putting her 
hands on her hips, Natasha flexed her lats.  The broad muscles 
expanded until it seemed as if she were sporting wings.  Next Natasha 
flexed her thighs, one at a time.  They exploded into thick, sinewy 
tree trunks, twenty-eight inches around, which could crush the life 
out of most anyone, regardless of their size.  A glance behind her 
showed the big, diamond-hard balls of her calves even through her 
boots.  Eighteen inches and growing, she thought.

For tonight's match Natasha was dressed in a pale yellow bikini 
that complemented her honey gold skin.  Black boots, laced up the 
side, rose to just below her knees, and she wore black fingerless 
gloves.  A last touch-up of her lipstick and she headed out the door, 
blowing her image a kiss as she left.

Her opponent was being introduced first, and she waited for the 
announcer to call the match.  "Ladies and gentlemen, our next 
contest is a cruiserweight bout.  Introducing first, in the blue 
corner, at six feet even and weighing one hundred and ninety-seven 
pounds, he is a kickboxing and Muay-Thai fighter from East Orange, 
New Jersey.  Please welcome Brian Mellon!"  Natasha sneaked a peek 
through the curtains and saw a man who looked extremely fit, but not 
muscle-bound, with shaggy brown hair trot towards the ring.  He was 
wearing loose blue shorts with lightning bolts decorating the legs.  
The fans greeted Brian with a combination of cheers and boos.  Taking 
a deep breath, Natasha stepped through the curtains and began her 
journey toward the ring.  Even before the announcer started to 
introduce her, the crowd leaped to its feet cheering.  Natasha saw 
signs proclaiming, "Natasha's the Queen",  "I Love Natasha", and 
"Squeeze Me Till It Hurts".

"His opponent is now entering the ring area.  Fighting out of the 
red corner, standing five feet eleven inches tall and weighing one 
hundred and eighty-seven pounds, she is a grappler and street fighter 
from Manchester, New Hampshire, Natasha Wentworth!"  Natasha climbed 
through the ropes and waved to her fans.  The adulation warmed her; 
she could almost feel herself drawing strength from the crowd.  The 
referee called Brian and Natasha to the center of the ring for their 
instructions.  After she had finished, Natasha offered her hand and 
Brian shook it.  They returned to their respective corners and waited 
for the match to begin.

At the bell Brian danced out of his corner, hands up to protect his 
face.  Natasha, came out low, her legs bent at the knees, hands in 
front ready to grab her opponent.  Brian opened with a flickering 
jab that Natasha ducked.  She countered by stepping inside his guard 
and slamming her elbow into his belly.  She was gone before Brian 
could react.  He straightened back up and tried a kick at Natasha's 
belly, but she caught his foot easily.  She twisted and Brian was 
dumped to the mat on his face.  Natasha kept his foot imprisoned and 
bent his leg so his foot was against his buttocks, putting strain on 
his thigh and knee.  She twisted his foot, giving him more pain to 
contend with.  Pinning his foot with her hips, she slid up his back; 
when he reached back with his right arm, Natasha captured it as well.  
She quickly secured the hammerlock and applied pressure.  She could 
feel his joints and ligaments stretching.  Natasha's biceps were 
pumped up, giving the fans a good luck at the mounds of muscle as 
she put more pressure on Brian's arm.  Brian reached his other arm 
out and grabbed the bottom rope, forcing the referee to order Natasha 
to break the hold.

Natasha let Brian go and stood up.  She watched him as she circled to 
her left.  "Come on, stud," she said with a sexy pout, "I need some 
action."  Licking her lips, she added, "Let's get it on."  Brian got 
up and eyed her warily.  She crooked a finger at him.  "Nowhere to 
go stud.  Come and get me, or I'll come get you."

Brian resumed his boxing-type stance.  Natasha went back into her 
crouch, every once in a while feinting grabs for his legs.  Brian 
snapped a kick at Natasha's chin, but she avoided it with by 
sidestepping.  He stepped in and threw a hard left hook that smashed 
into Natasha's belly, but her rock-hard abs absorbed the blow easily.  
Natasha laughed.  "Gotta do better than that, stud," she taunted.  
Furious, Brian recklessly moved in to attack, but Natasha grabbed 
his arm and whipped him into the ropes, maintaining her grip on his 
arm.  As a boxer Brian wasn't used to grappling and wrestling moves, 
and he had no counter for the maneuver.  As he rebounded, Natasha 
yanked him toward her and buried her knee into his belly.  Brian's 
abs were very strong, but no match for the power of Natasha's leg.  
He doubled over from the force of the impact.  Natasha pulled him 
across the ring and repeated the move there.  This time Brian did a 
flip over her knee and wound up on his back, with his arm still 
captive.  Natasha dropped a leg across his arm, then maneuvered 
Brian into an armbreaker; his arm was stretched across her 
tree-trunk thigh with the elbow being bent the wrong way.  Natasha 
didn't apply her full strength to the hold; she wanted to hurt Brian 
enough to make him submit, not cripple him.  "Give up," she told 
Brian.  "You know you want to."

Brian still had his legs free and enough ring sense to know where 
the ropes were.  He reached out and draped a leg across the bottom 
rope.  Once again Natasha had to release him.  She rose quickly and 
waited for Brian to get up.  This time Natasha attacked aggressively 
before Brian was expecting it.  She slammed a punch into his belly, 
thrilling as her fist penetrated his gut, then whipped him across 
the ring.  When he rebounded from the ropes this time he was met by 
a brutal clothesline that smashed him to the canvas, dazed and in 
pain.  Natasha felt the usual rush as she used her power to batter 
her opponent.  "Uh-uh - no resting," Natasha taunted as she pulled 
him up with a handful of hair.  She whipped him into the corner; 
Brian was being held up only by the ropes.  Natasha sauntered slowly 
over to him and smashed a backhand chop into his chest.  His legs 
completely gave way and Brian slumped to a sitting position on the 
mat.  "No sitting down on the job either," Natasha chided, and 
pulled him to his feet before leaning him back in the corner.  This 
time she sent a series of kicks into his belly before spinning around 
and smashing him in the jaw with a reverse crescent kick.  This time 
Brian dropped face-first to the mat.

Natasha continued to punish her helpless opponent, dropping a knee 
across Brian's spine.  His back arched, bringing his head into range, 
and she grabbed his chin with one hand and pulled back savagely, 
stretching his neck.  Brian moaned in pain, and the referee asked if 
he wanted to give up.  "No!" he grunted.  Natasha reached back with 
her other hand and grabbed one of Brian's ankles.  Rolling back, she 
planted both knees in Brian's back and bent him like a bow.  
"Aaarrrrggghhh!" Brian groaned.  Asked again if he wanted to submit, 
Brian replied, "N-no."  Natasha's muscles bulged as she continued to 
dish out pain to her helpless foe.  Sensing that she couldn't make 
Brian submit from this hold, Natasha released him and stood up.

Standing over her prostrate opponent, Natasha gave the fans a quick 
double bicep pose that brought them to their feet.  She bent down 
and grabbed a handful of Brian's hair, pulling him to his feet.  
With a surge of power she lifted him off his feet, turned him over 
and bodyslammed him hard.  Planting a boot on Brian's chest, Natasha 
again flexed her biceps, eliciting another roar from the crowd.  As 
she bent down to pick Brian up again he rolled under the bottom rope, 
attempting to get some time to recover on the outside of the ring.  
Natasha wasn't about to allow him to do that, though, and went right 
out after him.  She put her hand on his shoulder and spun him around, 
slamming an elbow into his jaw as he turned to face her.  Brian 
reeled into the safety barrier and Natasha gave him a closer look at 
it, smashing his head into the thinly-padded railing.  She snaked 
her arms under his and clasped her hands behind his head in a 
well-applied full nelson.  Brian was powerless in her strong arms as 
she forced his head down.  Releasing the hold, Natasha turned him 
around again and drove her boot into his abdomen, doubling him over.  
She drove his face to the floor with a vicious axe kick; Brian lay 
face down, motionless.

Natasha realized that the referee was about to count them both out 
of the ring, so she picked Brian up over her shoulders and rolled 
him back into the ring.  Brian was twitching spasmodically as he lay 
on the canvas.  Natasha climbed to the top turnbuckle and launched 
herself at Brian, dropping her leg across his chest.  Brian, 
barely conscious, writhed in agony as her full one hundred 
eighty-seven pounds crushed him into the mat.  Natasha leaped to her 
feet and paraded around the ring, arms raised, showing her 
magnificent hard body to the appreciative crowd.  A sheen of sweat 
highlighted the bulging muscles and deep crevices of her body.  She 
circled the ring once, giving them her sexiest pout, occasionally 
blowing kisses, and generally putting on a show.  When she got back 
to where Brian lay, she called out, "Time to finish this poor guy 
off!"

Grabbing Brian by one ankle, she pulled him to the center of the 
ring.  Moving to his head, she dropped to a seat behind him and 
pulled his head between her huge thighs.  Locking her ankles, Natasha 
leaned back, straightening her body as she poured power into the 
scissors.  Brian screamed as Natasha's immense legs applied 
bone-crushing pressure, and he quickly signaled his surrender.  When 
she heard the words, "He submitted - let him go," Natasha felt a 
thrill throughout her body.  Her muscles seemed to grow stronger, 
and she felt the usual tingling in her loins with the knowledge that 
yet another foe had fallen to her strength and skill.  At the 
referee's order Natasha released the hold and rose majestically to 
her feet.  She allowed the referee to raise her arm in a symbol of 
victory, then put her boot on Brian's chest and flexed her other arm.  
After posing for a few seconds, she knelt next to Brian.  "Sorry I 
was so rough on you, stud," she whispered.  "Better luck next time."  
She kissed him strongly, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, 
dominating him.  When she rose she checked his crotch.  Sure enough, 
the shorts were tented upward a considerable amount.  Laughing, she 
exited the ring and returned to the dressing room.

Meghan Flynn was waiting for her.  "Great match, baby," the redhead 
told Natasha, giving her a hug.  They embraced warmly and kissed, 
Natasha's hands explored Meghan's sinewy body, while Meghan did the 
same.  Meghan finally broke the embrace, saying, "I've got a match 
in five minutes."

Natasha's eyes devoured Meghan.  The redhead was about an inch 
shorter and five pounds heavier than Natasha, and her body was solid 
muscle.  Meghan wore a lavender bikini that showed off her body 
perfectly.  Her boots were white, and she wore white kneepads and 
padded gloves.

"Who're you fighting?" Natasha asked.

"Some guy named Aaron - he's a light-heavyweight.  He's a newbie - only 
eight fights.  I've kept an eye on him - he thinks he's really something.
I'll give him a good workout," she added with a wicked grin.

"Aaron Michaels?"

"Yeah - you know him?"

"He's like my kid brother.  I heard he was around, but I haven't been in
touch with him yet."  Natasha smiled and added, "Give him hell, baby."

"You bet your ass I will," Meghan replied, and headed out the door.


Aaron trotted down the aisle as the announcer bawled out his 
statistics: "In the blue corner, from Manchester, New Hampshire, 
wearing a white singlet with black boots, standing six feet two 
inches tall and weighing two hundred twenty pounds, Aaron Michaels!"  
Aaron stretched in his corner and awaited his opponent.  "In the 
red corner, from the Emerald Isle, wearing a lavender suit and white 
boots, standing five feet ten inches tall and weighing one hundred 
and ninety-three pounds, Meghan Flynn!"  Down the aisle trotted a 
fit-looking woman with long red hair that hung in a braid to between 
her shoulders, blowing kisses to the crowd.  Aaron had learned that 
Meghan was trained in Thai boxing as well as jiu-jitsu, and he 
expected her to try and keep him at bay with her kicks before trying 
to grapple him down and submitting him.  In addition to her white 
boots and pale purple thong suit, she wore white, lightly padded 
gloves on her hands, designed to protect her knuckles from too much 
damage when she punched while still allowing her to use her hands to 
grasp and apply holds, as well as white kneepads that extended a 
short distance down her shins.  She was lightly tanned; her arms and 
legs were solidly muscled, but not overly so.  Her midriff was bare, 
showing off her washboard abs.  Aaron hoped his reach and weight 
would give him the advantage in this fight.  They got their 
instructions from the referee; as always in the GFL, the fight was 
to a pin, submission, or knockout.  Meghan and Aaron shook hands.  
"Think you're something, don't you?" Meghan murmured, her green eyes 
boring into him.  "Get ready for your first loss."  Aaron and Meghan 
returned to their corners, not breaking eye contact, each trying 
for the psychological advantage.

At the bell Aaron came out of his corner cautiously, looking to 
grapple with Meghan.  She was in a boxing stance, hands up protecting 
her face, advancing steadily.  As they closed with each other Meghan 
flashed out a kick that caught him on the outside of his left thigh; 
he tried but failed to capture her leg.  Spinning away, Meghan 
cracked him across the cheek with a backhand punch; Aaron saw it 
coming and rolled with it.  As Meghan moved to follow up, he ducked 
under her and took her down with a fireman's carry.  Before he could 
take advantage, however, she kipped back to her feet.  A faint smile 
crossed her face and she nodded to him.  Aaron tried to close with 
Meghan, so he could use his superior weight, but she kept him away 
with jabs and kicks.  He felt his eye starting to swell, and his 
left thigh was beginning to cramp up.  She was uncannily accurate 
with her kicks; each one found exactly the same spot, and he didn't 
have to look down to know his thigh was becoming badly bruised.  Her 
legs were very powerful, and she was unbelievably quick.  She 
feinted high with her fist, then drove her boot into his midsection 
with amazing force, stunning him and doubling him over.  Now she 
moved in, pulling his head between her thighs and falling to her 
side in a perfectly executed headscissors.

Meghan leaned back and poured power into the scissors.  Aaron tried 
to pry her legs apart, to no avail.  He twisted so that she was 
sitting down rather than on her side, then did a headstand and popped 
himself loose.  Meghan rolled swiftly to her feet, but Aaron was slow 
to rise.  She wrapped her arms around his chest while he was still 
bent over and prepared to toss him back to the mat; desperately Aaron 
stood up and dropped backwards to the mat, driving the air from her 
lungs.  Her grip loosened and Aaron rose quickly; he knew he had to 
capitalize on this small advantage.  As Meghan rose, Aaron slipped 
behind her.  Catching her around the waist, he threw himself backward, 
executing a perfect belly-to-back suplex.  He tried to bridge for 
the pin, but Meghan had enough energy left to twist out of his 
grasp.  She spun away from him and they got to their feet at the same 
moment.  She snapped a kick at his face but he was ready for it.  
He blocked her foot, then grabbed it and swept her other leg, sending 
her to the mat flat on her back.  He twisted the captive leg, trying 
to weaken it; she kicked him off, sending him across the ring to the 
ropes.

Meghan stood, shaking her leg and rubbing her back.  Aaron moved off 
the ropes.  Another kick thudded into his thigh, and it gave out.  
Aaron dropped to one knee; Meghan grabbed his head in a front 
facelock, pulled him up, and buried her knee into his midsection.  
The force of her knee drove the air from Aaron's lungs; she repeated 
the move and he dropped to the mat, with Meghan still maintaining her 
hold.  He fought to breathe; her weight was across his back and well 
distributed.  Shifting her muscular forearm, she tried to establish a 
choke, but Aaron kept his chin down to prevent it.  Meghan released 
his head and maneuvered around so that they were facing in the same 
direction; her sinewy thighs clamped around his sides.  She strained, 
trying to turn him over so she could lock her ankles in a 
bodyscissors, but Aaron was able to prevent her from accomplishing 
it.  She tried to slip her forearm under his chin again; for an 
instant she was off balance, and Aaron felt it.  He twisted to the 
side, spilling her to the mat.

Quickly rolling the other way, out from between her muscular legs, 
Aaron staggered to his feet.  His left leg was barely able to support 
him, and Meghan attacked immediately.  Aaron was expecting her kick; 
dropping to the mat, he again swept her other leg out from under her, 
sending her to the canvas.  As she rose, he caught her with a side 
suplex; he knew he had to work quickly to keep control of the match.  
Meghan stood up into a belly-to-belly suplex; as they hit, with 
Meghan on the bottom, Aaron heard the air leave her lungs in a rush.  
Meghan struggled to her feet, and Aaron was ready.  He was well 
positioned behind her, and locked his arms around her waist, then 
executed a perfect German suplex, adding the bridge to pin her 
shoulders to the mat.  Meghan hit hard, stunning her for a moment.  
Aaron strained to hold her shoulders down, but she rolled away just 
before the three count.

Meghan realized that Aaron was quick and skilled.  She figured she'd 
better try to put him away quickly, before he could get another of 
those damn suplexes and maybe a pin.  Meghan scrambled to her feet 
and snapped a roundhouse kick that caught Aaron under the jaw.  
Aaron saw stars and crumpled to the mat.  Moving quickly, Meghan 
pulled Aaron up by the hair.  Wrapping her strong arm around his 
head, she DDT'd him hard, stunning him.  She quickly flipped him to 
his back.  Cradling Aaron's leg, Meghan lay across his chest.  Aaron 
tried to kick free but was staggered by the DDT and his leg was too 
weak from the battering Meghan had administered; she held on long 
enough for the pin.

Meghan had her hand raised while Aaron regained his senses.  As he 
got up, Meghan offered her hand, then pulled him into an embrace.  
"Natasha says hi," she whispered.

Aaron was flabbergasted.  "Natasha Wentworth?  She's here?"

She had the match right before us," Meghan laughed.  "Let's go back 
to see her."

Aaron stumbled toward the ropes.  "I'm not sure I can make it that 
far," he admitted.

Meghan pulled his arm across her shoulders.  "I'll help you back," 
she offered.

Aaron limped back to the dressing room, supported by Meghan's broad 
shoulders.  As the trainer was checking out his leg Sam Billings, 
the promoter, came by and shook Aaron's hand.  "Good match, kid," he 
said.  "You gonna be ready for next week?  You gotta win, ya know."

"Ask him," Aaron replied, indicating the trainer.

"He's okay - a day or so and he'll be ready to go."

"Good.  Remember, you win next week and you get a match when the 
tour comes through."

"I remember," Aaron said as he took the envelope with his pay for 
tonight's match from Sam.

As Sam left Natasha entered.  "Got your ass kicked, huh?  Guess you 
need me around to keep the bullies away."

Aaron grinned.  "Hey, Tasha, good to see you.  I had no idea you were 
here in Boston."

Natasha's brown eyes sparkled with pleasure at seeing Aaron.  She 
kissed him on the cheek.  "Good to see you, little bro.  Keeping out 
of trouble?"

"Except for the fight I just lost, yeah."

Meghan grinned at Aaron.  "You did okay - most guys don't even get 
close to pinning me," she bragged.  "See you later tonight, baby?" 
she asked Natasha.

"I don't think so - my little bro here and I have some catching up 
to do.  See you tomorrow though."  Meghan kissed Natasha hard and 
left.  Natasha turned back to Aaron, who was gaping at her.  "So?  
Don't you like my taste in women?" she asked.

"I didn't think you were gay," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Well, I am and I'm not - I go out with guys too, Aaron.  So does 
Meghan.  Most of the girls around here are bi's - it's no big deal, 
as you'd figure out if you weren't so young and stupid," she added.  
Natasha saw Aaron gazing at her rose tattoo.  "You aren't a prude, 
are you?"

"No, just surprised - but I forgot how much you liked to play hockey 
and tackle football."

She grinned at him.  "Got a lot of cheap feels playing football, 
kid."  He laughed.  "That's better," she continued.  "Now, I guess 
you're old enough - how about a beer?  We've got some catching up 
to do."


Aaron's match the following week was anti-climactic; Aaron beat his 
opponent in less than ten minutes; Meghan, who was also on the card, 
took her larger male opponent apart in even less time, securing a 
submission with an armbreaker in only three minutes.  Aaron 
congratulated Meghan on her win, and she said, "Just wait until we 
tangle again - I'll have you begging for mercy in record time."  
Notwithstanding this promise, Aaron was attracted to the pretty 
fighter, despite the fact that she was involved with Natasha.

"Want to go out for a cup of coffee?" he asked.

"No, but I'll take a beer," she laughed.

They finished the night at her apartment, where Meghan kept her 
promise.  She was lying on top of him, her legs around his head.  
She had his cock and balls in her hands and told him, "You're in a 
very precarious situation, lad.  I told you I'd make you beg for 
mercy."  He moaned as she gently squeezed his balls, then moaned 
in real pain as her legs squeezed his head.  "Come on, big boy, 
beg!" she ordered, putting some real power into her scissors hold.  
He complied immediately, and Meghan grinned.  "I win," she said, 
releasing his head and moving so her crotch was over his face.  
Aaron put his tongue to good use as she took him in her mouth.  
They orgasmed at the same instant; his face was covered with her 
sweet juices while she swallowed his load.  She gently squeezed his 
head again, merging pleasure and pain into one cataclysmic 
experience.

The next morning they sat, nude, in Meghan's kitchen drinking 
coffee.  "God, you're beautiful," she told him.  "That's one reason 
I challenged you in the first place, you're such a specimen."

"You're the most incredible woman I've met," he replied in kind.  
"When can we do this again?"

"Didn't you know?  I'm heading back to Ireland tomorrow - seems they 
want me as a local favorite there.  Word is that I'm to get a chance 
at the local belt."

"Damn!  I wish you were staying."

She kissed him hard, her tongue marauding into his mouth.  "Don't 
worry, pet," she said when she released him.  "We'll meet again, 
depend on it.  Don't you get hurt in the meantime, okay?"  They 
made love on the kitchen table.