Almost before Patricia had Andrew out of the ring, Sunny Olsen bounded over the ropes. Her hard, bronzed body glowed under the lights. She wore a powder blue pelvic thong bikini bottom and a sleeveless black tee shirt that hung to just below her breasts. The shirt looked about two sizes too small as it strained across her broad chest. The sleeves had been ripped out to accomodate Sunny's large deltoids. On the front was the depiction of a muscular woman coming through a wall with the legend "Break Out!". On the back were the words, "A Hard Woman is Good to Find". She stripped the shirt over her head, revealing a bikini top matching the bottoms. She wore powder blue wrestling boots that came up to her knees. Outside the ring was Michele Wilson, her second. Michele's close cropped blonde gleamed under the lights as she massaged Sunny's shoulders.
Sunny tied her long, streaked blonde hair back into a pony tail and waited for her opponent to enter the ring. The door to the men's locker room opened and Bob Harper moved steadily to the ring. He was dressed in black shorts, kneepads, and red boots. Sunny waved and called, "Hi, Bob! Let's go!" Elaine, who would ref the match, climbed in and smiled at Sunny. Sunny said in a low voice, "You won't be pissed if I don't take it easy, willya? I don't wanna get on your bad side."
Elaine shook her head. "I'll be pissed if you do take it easy."
Bob was worried as he made his way to the ring. In his first match, not knowing what to expect, Elaine had kicked his ass, despite being nine inches shorter and sixty pounds lighter. Sunny was the same height he was and nearly the same weight. Bob wondered what style of wrestler Sunny was. Judging from her size and obvious strength, he figured her to use a lot of power moves. "You gotta use speed, my boy," he thought. "Keep away and tire her out."
Bob slipped through the ropes and pulled steadily on them, testing the tension. Elaine waved him to the center of the ring. Sunny and Bob were the same height, and as he looked into her clear green eyes he saw total confidence there. Elaine gave them the rules, told them it would be three out of five falls (as usual at AmaFlix), had them shake hands and sent them to their corners.
The bell rang to open the match and Sunny almost flew across the ring. Disdaining Bob's attempts to lock her up, she ducked under his arm and hip tossed him down. He scrambled to his feet only to get hit by a standing dropkick. Her booted feet slammed into his chest with unbelievable force, and he staggered backwards ten feet before landing on his rump. The big blonde was on him quickly, wrenching him back to his feet. She whipped Bob into a corner, his back jarring against the turnbuckles. Sunny's legs seemed to have springs in them as she cartwheeled across the ring. jumped up, and slammed into him elbow first. She reached back with a brawny arm and snap mared him over her shoulder.
Bob lay flat on his back, momentarily stunned by Sunny's onslaught. Sunny bounced off the ropes and leaped high in the air, dropping a solid leg across his chest. Bob's lungs nearly collapsed and he gasped for breath. Sunny was up quickly and climbing to the top rope. Her sinews rippled as she stood, arms outstretched, and launched herself at him with a front somersault.
The impact of Sunny's muscular body dropping from nine feet in the air, as well as the added force from the somersault, drove the rest of the air from Bob's lungs. She trapped him in a cradle, her arms bulging as she locked his head and leg tightly and rolled him onto his shoulders. Elaine slapped the mat three times and the first fall was history.
Steve, who was seconding him, helped get him back to his corner and seated on the stool. "How many fingers?" Steve asked, holding up two digits.
"Thursday," muttered Bob. "Unnhh... Didja get the number of that truck?" Steve waved the smelling salts under his nose. Bob carefully drew a deep breath, relieved when there was no stabbing pain that would have announced a cracked rib. Another whiff from the vile smelling bottle and Bob's head cleared.
He was amazed by Sunny's agility. Such moves by five foot tall, ninety-nine pounds gymnasts were incredible enough, but to see them performed by a six foot two blonde bombshell was stunning -- even if you weren't on the receiving end. Bob quickly revised his strategy. He couldn't out-quick her, and he knew damn well he couldn't out-power her. He'd have to hope her wrestling skills were lacking.
The bell rang for the second fall and Sunny ran across the ring, eager to come to grips. Bob came out of the corner a few feet and waited until the last minute, then dropped to the mat, catching Sunny in a drop toehold. He tried to get her in a leglock, but Sunny straightened out her legs and broke the hold with brute strength. Bob quickly got to his feet, ready for Sunny's next attack.
It wasn't long in coming. She tried to hip lock him again, but this time he was ready. He countered the throw and flipped Sunny over his shoulder. She twisted agilely and landed on her feet, trying to catch him by surprise. Bob was ready for her and was able to trip her again. Sunny slipped away and somersaulted to her feet. She grinned at him. "Hey! You're not bad!" she laughed.
They closed again. Bob was able to slip behind her and suplex her to the mat. Bridging, he strained to hold her shoulders down, but Sunny rolled free at the count of one. Sunny was on her feet before Bob. She anticipated where he would be perfectly, leaped into the air and locked her powerful legs around him in a flying headscissor. Twisting her body supplely, Sunny flipped Bob hard to the canvas.
Bob hit with a loud SPLAT! Sunny maintained the hold, locking him in tightly. Elaine made sure that Sunny's legs weren't on Bob's windpipe, then asked him, "You wanna give?"
"No way!" gasped Bob. Sunny grabbed his near arm and stretched it painfully across her granite thigh, putting pressure on the elbow. "Aaahhh! Damn!" Bob grunted.
"Better give it up, baby," laughed Sunny. "It'd be easy to break your arm!" Bob pushed at her steely legs, trying to escape. "Nobody gets MY legs apart -- unless I let 'em!" Sunny teased. She tensed, and every muscle in her powerful body stood out in bold relief.
"Why're they turning off the lights?" thought Bob as Sunny's legs crushed his head. The corded sinews in her python-ike thighs expanded even more, and Bob knew he couldn't escape. Elaine saw his eyes close and lifted his arm three times, only to have it fall limply to the mat.
When Elaine was certain Bob was out she signalled Sunny to release her victim, ending the second fall. Sunny jumped up and ran laughing to her corner, saying to Michele, "Whew! I thought he had me for a second!"
Bob's eyes flickered open and he saw Elaine's face. "I think your scissors are better," he muttered to her, and she laughed. Bob slowly regained his senses. He saw Steve coming toward him with the smelling salts. Bob growled, "Stay away from me with that or I'll make ya drink it!" Steve laughed, knowing Bob didn't mean it. Bob shook his head ruefully. "Thought I had her with that German suplex," he muttered."
Steve smiled. "You had control for maybe a minute out there," he said, helping Bob back to the corner.
Bob glared at him, then grinned. "Yeah, well, that's better than my last match I guess."
The bell rang to open the third fall. Sunny grinned at Bob and called, "Last fall, babycakes!"
"We'll see about that," he replied. She grabbed for a headlock but Bob countered, catching her arm and hammerlocking it. He pressured the hold, trying to force her wrist up between her shoulders. Sunny suddenly dropped to the mat, pulling her arm from his grasp. Grabbing an ankle, she dumped him to the mat and jumped on top. He was able to slither from beneath her and roll to his feet, panting.
Sunny somersaulted forward and came up driving her feet hard into his belly. Bob wheezed and staggered back, only to hit the ropes and slump to the canvas. Sunny was on him quickly, hauling him up and whipping him across the ring. He tried to grab a rope and stop, but ricocheted off uncontrollably to where Sunny was waiting. She ducked down, waiting until he was on top of her, then straightened up, lifting him high and backdropping him down. Bob hit the mat hard, and the blonde dynamo didn't give him any time to recover. Up again, whipped into the ropes again, this time flying off into a reverse thrust kick that smashed into his chin. Bob felt as if he'd run face-first into a brick wall, a wall moving towards him at the speed of sound.
Bob was semi-conscious now. Sunny picked him up and draped him across her shoulders. He got a vague sense of deja vu as Sunny pressed him over her head and gorilla slammed him back down to the mat. She bounced off the ropes, leaped in the air and dropped elbow first into his belly, dimming his vision even more. He was completely helpless after she picked him up and smashed him brutally over her knee in a backbreaker.
He lay on the mat, face up. Sunny grabbed both his legs and twisted him over into a Boston crab. "Cracked crab anyone?" the deadly beach bunny called as she applied pressure to the hold, bending Bob's back painfuly. Bob quickly screamed his surrender.
Sunny released him and had her hand raised by Elaine. Julia hurried to the ring and gave Bob a quick spinal adjustment, looked him over carefully and nodded. "Nothing broken, you're lucky, ja?"
"Ja," moaned Bob as he slumped on his stool.
Sunny looked at Marge and Julia. "Think some water therapy is a good idea?" she asked. They both nodded....
Sunny and Michele helped Bob back to the jacuzzi. Sunny tore open her boot laces and kicked the boots aside, then squirmed out of her bikini. Michele did the same. Sunny raised an eyebrow.
"Watching the two of you turned me on," the short haired blonde explained. "I was kinda hoping you'd share." Sunny smiled and kissed Michele, then pushed her into the water.
"You're next," she growled playfully at Bob. "Better get those boots off if you don't want them to get wet."
Bob was barely able to get the stubborn laces untied and the boots discarded before Sunny picked him up gently and carried him into the water. "I always like the water," she murmured, "it's so soothing."
The three of them cavorted in the pool. Sunny's playfulness surprised Bob. She ducked under the pool's surface, working on him with her mouth, then surfaced and sprayed him with water. All three were kissing and caressing any flesh that came near, and often Bob couldn't tell whose nipples he was licking or which woman was fondling him, and it didn't matter.
After a while Bob tired a bit and sat on the side of the pool, watching Michele and Sunny nuzzling and stroking each other. Before long he found himself becoming aroused again. Not one to waste such a thing, Michele hauled him back into the steaming water for more fun. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he stood. Bob was kissing both her breasts, his head moving from side to side in a desperate rhythm. Michele threw her head back and moaned in delight.
Sunny, meanwhile, had her arms around them both from behind him and was nibbling at his earlobes. The three of them gyrated and uttered wordless moans of pleasure. Water from the pool splashed high against the tiled walls and ran down.
A mutual decision to rest brought them all out of the pool. Bob looked ruefully at the wrestling boots that lay in a puddle of water thrown from the jacuzzi by their antics and thought, "Oh well, it was time for another pair anyway."
Michele looked at the clock and exclaimed, "Oops, almost forgot -- I promised Sabrina I'd help her pick out a new car." She kissed Sunny and Bob, then grabbed her soaking clothes and headed off.
Bob and Sunny sat on the edge of the pool and explored each other's bodies, finding where the pleasure spots were. Bob learned that Sunny's ears were exceptionally sensitive, and Sunny found that nuzzling Bob's neck brought an instantaneous erection. "I could get used to this," Bob mused aloud. "The good healthy exercise and the good healthy sex. It kinda grows on you, don't it?"
Sunny smiled and replied, "Depends on the guy. You're one of the good ones." Bob's tongue touched her ear lightly and she shuddered. "Mmmmm, that feels nice." She looked into his eyes and asked, "How're you holding up?"
"There's only one way to find out," Bob replied, and their lips met again....
Studio three was packed to maximum occupancy, as four hundred-plus excited fans awaited the start of Samantha Steele's debut match. Elaine, dressed in her striped ref's shirt and black pants, nodded to Elizabeth Michaels to make the introductions.
"Ladies and gentlemen," blared Elizabeth's voice over the P.A. "The following contest is scheduled for the best of five falls, each to be won by submission or pin. Introducing first, from the city of Port Ellis. He stands six feet two inches and weighs two hundred fifty-eight pounds. The current all-city Shoto-Kan champion... John Jackson!"
The big man stepped from his corner, and gave the crowd a friendly wave. Most of those assembled applauded.
"And his opponent, on her way to the ring...she stands six feet exactly and weights two hundred and five pounds. This is her debut match for AmaFlix. Please welcome... Samantha Steele!"
Samantha traversed the aisle toward the ring, her magnificent body oiled and glistening. She slipped into the ring and walked to her corner.
Patricia settled more comfortably into her reserved ringside seat, studying Samantha as she evaluated her opponent. The dark-haired beauty was an exciting prospect to her, with the same strength, ability, and ring presence she possessed -- not to mention the same raw sexuality. She realized that Samantha could very well be the equal of she or Darlene -- and every bit as saleable.
Having briefed the fighters on the rules, Elaine stepped back to allow them to begin. Jax assumed a low side stance, moving laterally, minimizing his profile. Samantha stood erect, smiling slightly, radiating utter confidence as they circled.
Jax attacked, snapping a kick at her; she sidestepped to the outside and hooked him with a clothesline, knocking him to the mat.
Samantha moved a few steps away, allowing Jax to shake off the cobwebs and rise. He worked his neck around, reducing the pain.
"You got one," he said, grinning.
"Just lucky, I guess," she said. "Shall we dance?"
They began circling again, Jax's stance opening a bit, facing her more directly. Again he lashed out, flashing a right-left at her, twisting his fists at the point of intended contact. Two circular downward blocks deflected the blows, leaving him exposed before her. She scooped him up, turned him over, and body-slammed him down to the mat.
Jax felt himself being pulled up, and pushed back into his corner. An eternity seemed to pass, as he waited for the next impact. His vision cleared, and he saw Samantha at ring center, hands on her hips, waiting.
"Ready to party?"
He wasn't sure whether to be thankful or insulted. Rather than pressing the attack, Samantha was content to let him recover from his blows and resume at his leisure. He couldn't decide if she was being polite -- or smug.
Jax decided to accept her generosity and worry about the reasons another time. He moved toward her again, turning over possible strategies in his mind as she waited for him.
He dropped low and spun, lashing out with a leg sweep. Samantha jumped and avoided the attack, then ducked as he followed with a spinning crescent kick. As he turned to face her again, she met him with a flying dropkick, knocking him ass-over-teakettle to the mat. He flipped deftly back to his feet, using his palms to propel him forward, and went back down as she dropkicked him once more.
Samantha guided him to stand, then pulled him into her arms, across her body. She hoist him overhead and pushed him above her, arms locked, carrying his weight with no visible strain. She made a complete circle of the ring before quickly pulling him back to her and spinning. She fell atop him for a press-slam, the mat shuddering from the impact.
She kneeled beside his incoherent body, hands on her knees, smiling at a ringside camera as Jax moved weakly before her. Samantha watched him for a few moments, awash with satisfaction, before standing and pulling him to face her. Feeding his head between her legs, brushing his scalp against her pelvis, she cinched him between her thighs and slid her arms around his waist. Holding him thus, she levered back; with a slight jump, she piledrove him harshly into the mat, the force shocking his entire body. Samantha slid astride his chest and Elaine counted him out.
She lingered astride him, preening for the cameras, pouting and running her fingers through her hair, before being persuaded to rise and move to a neutral corner. It took the full ninety second intermission for Jax to return to semi-conciousness, after which Samantha again stood by patiently, allowing him to collect his wits.
He staggered out of his corner, angry with pain and embarassment, and dropped all pretense of a skilled attack. He became a fury of power and motion, arms windmilling, screaming at the top of his lungs; she sidestepped him and shoved him chest- first into the turnbuckle. Jax rebounded and flopped into the center of the ring.
Her legs coiled around his midsection, and he gasped as she constricted, sinews rippling. She felt his ribs bending, his breastbone compressing, his feet slapping up and down as she poured on the pressure. She held him at the brink, opting not to seriously injure him, but squeezing the air from his lungs. His face turned dark red, his hands prying desperately, futilely at her, his attempts to free himself in vain. The lights began to swim before him, then things went black.
Elaine's face was the first thing to greet him when he re- awakened. She was lightly slapping his face, and pulling his right eyelid back to check his pupils. "Can you go on?"
"Y-yeah," he heard himself answer, and he pushed himself to stand, using the ropes for balance. His body felt as if it were on fire, though he knew nothing was broken. Samantha was again waiting for him, standing a few feet away.
"How about it, big guy," she said. "Ready to wrap this up?"
He grunted, and hunkered low, unsteady. A tingling surge passed over him as he realized that if she won this fall, the match was over. Gotta come from behind, he thought, while trying to generate a new method of attack. I can't let it end like this.
Jax met her at ring center and locked up, collar and elbow, attempting to use his greater mass to force her back into a corner. Samantha bent her elbows and knees, then pushed, sending him flying back into the ropes. She scooped him up on the rebound and hit him with a power-slam, flattening him. Lying above him, Samantha pulled his face against her pelvis and locked her thighs over his ears, cinching in a head scissors. While Jax thrashed around helplessly, Samantha winked at Patricia and licked her lips, eliciting a laugh and applause from the blonde.
"He's out," said Elaine, having lifted the the man's arm to check for conciousness. "C'mon, let 'im up."
Samantha obliged, releasing his head and rolling to stand. Elaine raised her arm in victory, and Elizabeth declared her the winner.
Jax was still unconcious when she slung him over a shoulder and eased him down onto his stool. Elaine wafted the smelling salts under his nose, and he flinched, coming to.
"How do you feel, big guy?" Samantha patted his shoulder. "Hope everything's in the right place."
He struggled to focus his vision, then shook his head. "Lemme guess," he said. "I came back and won three straight."
"You got it." She grinned. "And Ed McMahon's standing behind you with the big check."
"Great. Now I can retire."
"Hey," said Patricia from behind them. "That was really spectacular. You're a knockout -- no pun intended."
"Thanks. I hope you didn't mind that little lip-licking thing. I just wanted to dedicate the match to you."
"I was flattered. And a little turned on."
Samantha smiled. "Good. That's what I wanted." She nodded back at Jax. "Do you allow the...spoils system around here?"
"Are you kidding? That's half the reason we're in business."
She took Patricia by the shoulders and kissed her, lightly at first, then with increasing vigor, the blonde startled but receptive to Samantha's overture. Parting, she said, "Well, is there someplace we can take him and...you know."
She caressed Samantha's cheek with a finger. "The jacuzzi awaits."
They crouched by Jax and took his arms, then pulled him to stand, supporting him under his shoulders. "C'mon, guy," said Patricia, as they helped him from the ring. "Now comes the consolation prize."
"Huh?" His eyes were still a little glassy. "Didn't I win?"
"Hey, big guy," said Patricia, kneeling beside her pool. She held up a glass of lemonade, a peel stuck on the lip, and said, "C'mon out. I got us drinks."
Crusher splashed over to the ladder, and climbed up to the deck. She stood and handed him the glass. "Thanks," he said.
"Don't mention it."
As she sipped her drink, Crusher stole a glance at her fantastic body, packaged provocatively in a revealing, v-cut black bikini. He could hardly believe that the same woman who had overwhelmed and unmasked him had also treated him to the most fantastic sex of his life -- and was putting him up at her place for an indefinite period. He'd never seen such a beautiful house, a three-story red brick manse on twenty acres of landscaped, lushly-forested ground. It was a far cry from the hotels and apartments where he'd spent his life. She guided him to a lounge chair, where he settled, then stepped astride him and lowered atop his lap.
"Hey," he said, pointing to the glass. "This is great stuff. Fresh squeezed, I bet."
She nodded. "Made it this morning."
Crusher looked down, letting the glass settle in his lap. "Um, look," he said, "I, uh, wanna thank you for puttin' me up and all. I mean, I wasn't expectin' to stay or nothin', but, well...."
"But since I insisted...."
"Yeah, since you, well...talked me into it, I wouldn't'a had anyplace to turn."
"You're welcome. Besides, you're too adorable to let get away."
He sipped more lemonade, then said, "Adorable? That's the first time I've been called that."
"Oh, absolutely. All that blustering and posturing about is so sweet. It's like those lizards with the big frills that try to scare predators away."
"Hey, now. I'm more bite than bark."
She leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. "Of course you are," she said. Relaxing on his chest, she took a swig of her drink, and said, "You know, while you were in my office recuperating, we debuted a girl today. She was really impressive."
"Hm." Crusher drained his glass, then put it on the concrete beside him. "Tell me about her."
"Well, she's a lot like me, except she has dark hair and features. Really beautiful."
"Also like you."
"Why, thank you. Her name is Samantha."
Crusher was about to ask about the new woman's breast size, then stopped himself. Something didn't feel right. "Hey...does this girl wear her hair back in a bun?"
Patricia looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "How did you know that?"
He looked away, then shrugged. "Just a lucky guess. Hey, I'm empty--"
She stopped his hand from reaching his glass, and turned his face toward hers. Putting her own lemonade aside, she said, "Crusher...you know something, don't you?"
Damn, he thought, unable to avoid her piercing blue eyes. Me and my big mouth. Guess I've gotta come clean. "Y'know, you worked me over good yesterday."
"Yes, I did. And I unmasked you."
He winced. "Yeah."
Lying against him, curling her arms around his neck, she said, "I subjected you to the most humiliating defeat of your career."
"Yeah."
"So, you're probably wondering why you should tell me anything."
His eyes dropped briefly, and she nuzzled his face. "Despite everything I did, you like me, don't you, Crusher? In fact, you're wild about me. A woman took your measure yesterday in every way, and deep down it excites you like nothing else ever has. And that's why you're going to tell me what you think I should know. Isn't it?"
He regarded her silently, holding her warm, strong body against his, feeling the tightness of her stomach, the swell of her breasts, and realized that he'd never intended not to tell her. "I...I was sent to take you out. By a guy named Winslow."
Patricia leaned back, resting her arms against his chest. "Raymond Winslow."
"Yeah. He told me that he used to own your company, and that he wanted to humiliate you."
"Makes sense. So what about the woman?"
"He...had a woman with him when I was there. She looked like the chick you're describing." He frowned. "Really nice legs."
"So," said Patricia, tracing a fingernail along his breastbone, "If Samantha's a plant, sent by Winslow...then he might be angling to get AmaFlix back, using her to do it."
Crusher shrugged. "I guess. Did this girl look like much to you?"
Patricia snorted. "We could have been sisters. She beat two men at once at her audition, and she blew through Jax today like a tornado. Winslow obviously got someone he knew could seriously challenge me."
"What're you gonna do?"
"I'm gonna kick her ass out, that's what. But first...I'm gonna give her something to remember me by."
"Are...you gonna fight her?"
She nodded. "Oh, yeah. I'm going to show him -- and her -- that nobody comes onto my turf like this and gets away with it."
Crusher bit his lower lip; he didn't like the look she had in her eyes. "Hey, you...you're not mad at me, are you? For not tellin' you about Winslow sooner?"
"No," she said, smiling. "It was just a job to you. You didn't try to fool me. You're okay." She threw herself across him suddenly, kissing him savagely. His hands slid over her body, and into her thick blonde hair, as her lips and tongue met his and danced. She parted finally, leaning back, then undid her top and pulled it away. "If it weren't for you," she said, taking his hands, "I'd still be in the dark about this." She pressed her breasts into his palms, her stiffened nipples responding to his calloused skin. "So we're going to my bedroom now, so that I can properly express my gratitude."
His body was instantly aroused by everything about her, and she wiggled atop his most obvious sign of interest. "I don't think I'll make it to the bedroom."
She untied the laces of her bottom, and pulled it free. Dropping it aside, she pulled back his trunks, and said, "That's okay. We'll start here."
The AmaFlix Story
Book 1
by Al Harder and Mike Shoemaker
Chapter Eleven:
Odds and Ends
It was late on a Sunday afternoon. Only a few people were inside the AmaFlix building -- Jim was watching enthralled as Darlene bench pressed rep after rep at six hundred pounds. Sweat poured down her body, collecting in the crevices between her muscles. Tommie was spotting for her. Both were topless in the heat.
On the mat Elaine was working with both Bob and Steve. Steve was trying to stay out from under Bob's greater weight and get a leg hold of some kind, while Elaine called instructions and encouragement to both of them. Cherrise was working out on the heavy bag, practicing her punching and kicking technique. In a corner Maya was instructing Jax on the proper way to breathe. His previous instructor hadn't bothered with the more technical side of the martial arts, he'd merely taught Jax how to fight. The big man was learning that the mind could be a powerful weapon as well, and it all began with proper breathing technique.
The main door crashed open and a dozen rather large men strutted in. They all wore dungaree jackets with red patches on the sleeves. Seven were black, three Hispanic and two white.
"Hey!" one of the black men yelled. "Anybody home?"
Elaine told Steve and Bob to take five and stood up. "What can I do for you?" she called.
The men sauntered over toward her. One leered at Darlene and Tommie as he passed, "Hey, sweet thang, nice tits. Howdja like a real man?" He shoved Jim and laughed.
Darlene racked the bar and sat up. "Easy, Dar," said Tommie. She tossed the redhead a towel and watched as the group of big, strong looking guys headed over to where Elaine stood, arms folded across her chest.
"Whaddaya want?" she asked. One of the black guys, obviously the leader, walked up to her. He towered over her by about a foot.
"We unnerstan' there's a buncha bitches here who make movies o' them beatin' up guys," he said. "We jus' wanna show these bitches what real men do to anyone that tries ta beat 'em up."
Elaine looked around and said, "Where are these real men you're talking about?"
"Don't get smart with me, girl!" he snarled. "Now, any o' you bitches wanna fight?"
Darlene had heard enough. "I'll fight, you dumb jerk. But not here. There's a nice big ring in the back."
"Le's go then, baby. I cain't wait to get my hands on them titties."
They all headed back to the new studio area. Elaine turned on the lights, revealing the octagonal ring, thirty feet across. Darlene had paused long enough to snag her wrestling boots, and she quickly donned them. Leaping into the ring, she motioned for the leader to join her.
"I dunno -- we ain't much for formal rules," he said as he climbed into the ring. "We mos'ly fight in back alleys, shit like that."
He pulled off his jacket and revealed a powerfully muscled torso. His ebony skin gleamed under the lights. He stood about six-six and probably weighed in the neighborhood of two-ninety. Darlene looked him up and down, then laughed. "I don't think you're man enough to handle me by yourself, babe. Maybe you should ask one of your friends to help you."
"What the fuck you talkin' about? I don't need no help beatin' up a little girl like you!" the big man yelled.
"Humor me, buddy," Darlene said. "Why don't you ask that one?" she added, pointing at one of the Spanish males, who resembled a grizzly bear.
"Jose, the bitch won't fight unless ya get up here, I guess," the black in the ring said. "C'mon in, but don't touch her 'less I give the word, comprende?"
"Si, I unnerstan' Linc," Jose replied. He removed his jacket, showing that his shaggy hair pretty much covered his entire upper body. He awkwardly slid between the ropes and stood beside his leader. He was even taller than Linc, by about an inch, and must have weighed about three twenty-five. The two stood there in their jeans and work boots, facing Darlene thirty feet away.
"Ready, boys?" she asked. Linc leaped at her, confident he could squash her like a bug before raping her. Darlene swayed to one side and lifted a knee into his midsection as he went past. Linc cartwheeled to the canvas. Recovering quickly, he leaped back to his feet, Darlene ran at him and clotheslined him brutally back down. Linc hit the mat hard.
The big man rolled to one side before Darlene could attack again and hollered, "Get 'er Jose!" Before the bear-like man could move Darlene dropkicked him right in the chin as he stood there with a dumb look on his face. He stumbled backwards and crashed into one of the eight corners.
Darlene spun around to face the expected attack from Linc, and it wasn't long in coming. A vicious punch whistled past her head as she moved just enough to make him miss. She retaliated with a wicked punch to his belly. When he doubled over, she clubbed him brutally to the back of the head, dropping him face first to the mat.
Suddenly Darlene's arms were grabbed from behind by Jose, who had recovered faster than she'd believed possible. He lifted her off her feet, trying to crush her in his arms. Darlene didn't panic, but went to work on Jose's arms, trying to pull them apart. Linc had regained his feet and came at her, blood in his eyes. "That's it, Jose, hold her an' I'll teach the bitch a lesson." He moved in, ready to mutiliate the lovely redhead.
But Darlene used Jose for support, lifted both feet and snapped a kick hard into Linc's belly. Hit hard for the third time in nearly the same spot, Linc crashed down, hugging himself. Darlene dug her strong fingers into Jose's wrists and pried his arms apart with little difficulty. Driving her elbow back into his gut, she spun around, lifted the huge man off his feet and power slammed him. The impact of Jose's huge carcass hitting the mat bounced Linc up a foot into the air. He slowly got to his feet, still holding his belly. Darlene grabbed his head, stuffed it between her thighs, then wrapped her sinewy arms around his middle. Heaving up, she lifted him high and sent him crashing back to the mat with a power bomb. Linc lay there, one leg twitching.
Darlene returned her attention to Jose. She performed another perfect power bomb, and Jose was left writhing on the mat. She pulled him up again, trapped his head between her muscular thighs and piledrove him back down. Jose was completely out of it. Linc was trying to roll out of the ring, but Darlene grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him back. "God dammit, help me!" Linc yelled at the rest of the gang.
Before any of them could come to his aid, they were set upon by the rest of the AmaFlix fighters. Tommie busted one guy's nose with a single punch, then kicked a second in the ribs so hard he crashed through the plasterboard wall. Elaine had one of the others down in a full nelson body scissors combination and was gratified when he screamed in pain. She kept his upper body anchored while she pulled down with her legs, stretching his spine until he was sobbing in agony.
Bob and Steve double-teamed another guy, Steve flipping him to the cement floor and Bob wrapping him up with a sleeper hold. Jax faced a man nearly three inches taller and almost nonchalantly dislocated the guy's shoulder with a hand strike, then knocked him out with a snap kick to the chin.
Maya took one of the gang out with a crescent kick to the temple, then damaged another's knee so he couldn't stand. Cherrise was punching her opponent around the room, driving him back with hard jabs and hooks. Her fists had opened a cut over his left eye, and his right eye was nearly closed. One of the gang made it to the ring apron, but Jim yanked at his ankle. "Leggo, ya little shit," growled the big man and kicked Jim in the head. Before he could get through the ropes Darlene was on top of him. She suplexed him over the top rope, then picked him up, lifted him high over her head and threw him outside the ring to the concrete. He landed hard and didn't move.
Jax, Maya and Tommie moved at the last standing gang banger. He held his hands up, saying, "I give, I give, don't hit me."
Jax and Maya looked at each other and shrugged. Tommie said, "Fuck you, asshole," and kicked him viciously in the belly. Straightening him up, she turned him so she could hit him brutally in the kidneys. He bent backwards like a bow, then collapsed to the floor. Tommie looked down at him and said, "Just like a damn bully, big talker when you think you're on top an' ya beg for mercy when you're gettin' beat."
Darlene returned her attention inside the ring. Jose was still unconscious from the piledriver, and Linc was trying to crawl away from her. "C'mon, Linc," she said. "I thought you wanted to get your hands on my tits. Here they are." She shook her chest and did a bump-and-grind.
"Stay away, you crazy bitch! Lemme alone!"
Darlene's expression turned stern and she grabbed Linc's arm, pulling him to his feet. "I think it's about time you learned not to call women 'bitch', you asshole," she said. She got him across her shoulders, face up. Her arms bulged as she pulled down hard on his chin and leg. Linc was in agony from the pain in his back. "Now, you sonofabitch, apologize to all these fine ladies for your language or you'll need a lot of therapy before you can walk again!"
Linc screamed as Darlene pulled down hard, threatening to fracture his spine. "I -- I'm sorry," he blubbered when she let up a bit. "I didn't mean it!"
"That's better," Darlene said. "Now, what was this about? We've never had any trouble from you guys before."
"Some guy -- had a jacket that said Shoto-Kan -- he said ta teach ya a lesson, break up the place a little, throw ya around," Linc gasped. "Promised us a hunnerd each."
Jax growled, "I'll get that bastard Kove."
Maya touched his arm. "You must be calm, grasshopper," she said. "Anger will not help you." Jax bowed in acquiescence.
Darlene dropped Linc to the canvas and told him, "Get the hell outta here. Carry the ones that can't walk."
Elaine released her victim reluctantly, and Bob slapped his opponent awake again. Jose was just coming to. "And if you see the jerk who promised you money to come here and do this, tell him it didn't work. You might also remind him that it's not nice to fool with AmaFlix."
The gang members limped away, carrying their wounded with them. Darlene checked on Jim's condition. "You okay, honey?" she asked.
"Nothing broken," he said. "But that jerk tore my Dockers!"
Everyone laughed, and Darlene said, "Well then maybe we should get them off you so you aren't embarrassed by wearing torn pants!" She started after him with a gleam in her eye.
The shower had been hot and wonderful, and Samantha hummed as she towelled her hair. Her match with Jax had gone perfectly, and the sex afterward -- with him and Patricia -- had left her drained and satisfied. She felt more than sated, she felt pure, complete, as if the day's events had carried with them both physical as well as spiritual significance. She realized that no matter what the circumstances of her involvement with AmaFlix might be, the end results were completely gratifying.
She pulled on a pair of black thong panties, and tied a short silk robe around her. Her thoughts turned to the deal she'd struck with Winslow, and immediately her spirits sank a little. It had seemed so simple at first, a way out of the underground circuit and into something high profile, not to mention lucrative. Now that she'd begun the operation, her commitment was wavering. She'd made the mistake of getting to know the fighters of AmaFlix, and had come to enjoy the relationship.
Especially Patricia. The enigmatic blonde was a fusion of beauty and strength that she'd not encountered before. As Patricia's pale blue eyes came into focus in her mind's eye, her chest tightened, and she glanced away from her reflection. The physical union they'd shared had been magic, their bodies joining and responding to produce the rarest kind of pleasure.
Her reverie was broken by a rapid knock on her hotel door. She gave herself a quick once-over, then answered it. Winslow stood there, dressed in a dark blue suit, his face tight and unhappy.
"Steele," he said, pushing past her. "I instructed you to check in with me at regular intervals. You haven't contacted me since we met in my office."
"I'm sorry," she said, closing the door. "I've been gaining their confidence. It's going more slowly than I anticipated."
He took a step toward her, to stand inches from her. "This isn't Mission Impossible, goddamit. All you were supposed to do was get some idea of her fighting technique and then trash her in the ring. You don't need to gain confidence with them!"
"Look, it may not be necessary to come to blows with her. You might be able to accomplish your objective non-violently-- "
"Like Hell!" His teeth were grinding as he spoke. "This is only about violence! I don't just want AmaFlix back -- I've got my own nationally-recognized wrestling organization, for Christ's sake! This is about crushing Patricia Daniels, humiliating her, taking the thing she values most in the world away from her and rubbing her nose in the stench of defeat!" He took her by the shoulders and tried to shake her. "Do I make myself clear--"
She jerked him by his collar and turned, to slam him into the wall beside the door. Pulling her face close, she said, "Look, you arrogant prick, if you ever put your hands on me like that again I'll break them one bone at a time!" Her eyes flashed with anger. "I should have known better than to take this assignment from you. You're stupid, cruel, and thoughtless -- with no respect for honor whatsoever." She opened the door and shoved him into the hallway. "If the job I'm doing isn't good enough for you, then I quit. Find someone who's as lacking in human decency as you are to do the job." She slammed the door in his face, leaving him sputtering in the hall.
Samantha growled and shook her fists at the ceiling. As angry as she was, she realized she'd done what she'd wanted -- and intended -- to do all along. She wasn't a spy, or an agent -- she was a warrior, living to pit her skills and abilities against others in the purest kind of competition. Parting with Winslow was the only honorable thing she could have done, and was the first step in her mind toward redemption.
The second step -- admitting her cooperation with Winslow to Patricia -- was the only path that remained. She didn't look forward to the blonde's reaction, or her possible wrath, but she decided that she'd take whatever was meted to her. She doubted she'd be forgiven, but at least she'd be free of the burden of her guilt. She was scheduled to fight tomorrow, and fight she would; then, after her victory, she would present herself to Patricia and own up to her misbehavior. If she were fortunate, she'd be pardoned. Finally at peace with herself, she untied her robe and entered the bedroom. As she slid under the sheets, she wished she had someone to share the evening with. Her mind allowed Patricia's phantom to crawl into bed with her, to touch and caress her, to tell her she was absolved of her sins.
Dismissing her fears, she closed her eyes and became one with the fantasy.
"C'mon Steve, apply some pressure!" Elaine was in a training session with Steve Willoughby, and he had a standing side headlock on the wrestling coach. Steve tried to increase the pressure of his hold, but felt he was already doing his utmost. "Jeez, Steve, a two-year old can squeeze harder than that," Elaine taunted. She easily pulled his hands apart and freed herself.
Elaine then grabbed for Steve's leg, trying to dump him on his back, but he pulled the leg, slipped to the mat and caught her in a drop toehold. "Good, nice move," complimented the muscular brunette. Steve rolled up her back and caught her in a reverse chinlock, but she slipped the hold, spun on the mat to face her opponent and rolled him over. A quick move and she barred his arm, forcing the elbow to bend in the wrong direction. Steve grunted in pain and tried to push her chin back, but Elaine tucked her head down and gave him no way to get leverage. Steve endured the pain for a few seconds before tapping Elaine on the shoulder. She released the hold, jumped up and pulled Steve with her.
"Damn," Steve said, "I thought I could hold that chinlock on you." They walked to the side of the mat and toweled off.
"The drop toehold was a good move," Elaine said, "but you've got to use the leverage advantage it gives you a little better. Take a bodypart and weaken it, don't go for a rest hold that doesn't cause your opponent pain. Lie down, I'll show you." Steve dropped face down and Elaine locked his legs in the drop toehold position. "Now, take an arm and hammerlock it, or lock an ankle behind the opposite knee and pull on the foot, like this." Steve's knee and ankle were both on fire. "Take out a leg and you can do some real damage." She released him and they stood up.
"I see what you mean," Steve said. "It's a little easier for you to do it to me, though. When I do that to you, you just straighten out your leg and I can't hold you."
"You need more work on leverage. Use the right leverage on the right spot, and I don't care how strong your opponent is, it's gonna hurt and it's gonna be tough to get out of."
Steve shook his head. "I dunno -- it seems so easy when you explain it, but I just can't do it when I want to."
Elaine smiled and said, "That's why you need to practice. Practice, practice, practice. Hi Patricia."
The tall beautiful blonde was dressed in a yellow bikini and white sneakers. She put one hand on Steve's shoulder. "Hi Elaine, Steve." She gave Steve's shoulder a light squeeze. "How's our new guy coming along?"
"Pretty good," Elaine replied. "He's a quick study. Knows some holds and counters now, and his wind is excellent."
"Is he ready for a match?"
"Well, he needs to get stronger, but I'd say he'll give a good account of himself."
Patricia beamed. "Great! Steve, come with me. You'll be wrestling Joanne this afternoon."
Crusher scrawled his name at the bottom of the paper. "All set," he said.
Annie checked the contract and smiled. "You and Michele, tonight at eight, freestyle. Looks good."
Patricia barged in with Steve in tow. "Annie, sign this stud up for a match with Joanne this afternoon. Joanne," she added, turning to the Oriental woman's desk, "you sign too. Is three o'clock okay with you?"
Joanne stood up and smiled. "Finally! I was worried you'd forgotten about me. Yeah, three's great!" She hurried around the desk while Annie got the contract ready. Holding out her hand, she said, "Hi Steve. So you think you're ready for me, huh?"
Steve shook the smaller woman's hand and said, "Well, Elaine thinks I won't get killed, anyway." Joanne laughed.
"Okay, I need you to sign here and here," Annie told Steve. He complied, then Joanne signed.
"Well, see you at three," said Joanne as she shook his hand again.
Patricia looked at Crusher. "What're you doing here, cutie?"
"I need ta fight!" he blustered. "I'm gettin' soft doin' nothin'." He looked uncomfortable. "I -- uh -- that is...," he stammered.
"He's signed for a match with Michele for eight tonight. That okay?" asked Annie.
"Great! I can't wait to see it," said Patricia. "Just be ready," she warned Crusher, "Michele's pretty tough."
"I can handle myself, or don't you remember how much trouble I gave you?" boasted Crusher.
Patricia laughed. "Eight tonight, huh? Well, there should be SOMETHING we can do until then..."
Andrew agreed to be Steve's second. At three Steve grinned at him nervously and said, "Well, here goes nothing."
The lights were on, bathing the ring in a harsh glare. Joanne was already in the ring with her second, Elizabeth. Joanne was dressed in a red thong bikini with red fringe dangling from the top. Leather fringe hung from the tops of her knee high red boots. Her long black hair hung in a braid to the middle of her back. Her arms and legs were slender and smoothly muscled, and her abdomen was taut. The smile had left her face now, and she appeared to be all business.
Elaine was refereeing the match, and she called them to the middle of the ring to begin the announcements. "This is a three out of five fall match, pins and submissions." Steve and Joanne nodded. Elaine looked at a sheet of paper and introduced Steve first. "In the gray shorts, standing five feet eleven and weighing a hundred and sixty-six pounds, Steve Willoughby." Steve waved at the camera. "And in red bikini and boots, standing five feet four inches tall and weighing a hundred and thirty-eight pounds, Joanne Wing." Joanne barely acknowledged the introduction as she maintained her concentration on the job at hand.
"Go to your corners and come out fighting at the bell." Steve held out his hand and Joanne shook it before they separated. Steve looked Joanne up an down. He knew enough not to underestimate the woman's strength. He wondered what type of match Joanne would fight.
At the bell, Steve moved out cautiously. Joanne came out low, standing almost sideways to Steve, feet wide apart. Steve grabbed at Joanne's leg, but she moved back just out of reach. A grab at Steve's arm followed which he avoided. Joanne moved in. pivoting on her near foot and attempting a leg sweep that almost caught Steve, but he was able to slip sideways and make her miss. Joanne kept Steve on the defensive by moving in again.
Steve moved away from the ropes and tried to get behind Joanne. She matched his movements easily, keeping him in front of her. Steve feinted a grab for her head then went for a leg again, trying to get her on the mat. He secured a good grip but before he could pull backwards Joanne had locked her arms around his upper body. She twisted quickly to the right, wrenching her leg free of Steve's grip, then shot her legs out behind her, allowing her weight to force Steve to the mat.
Joanne lay on top of Steve, her arms tightly locked around his chest. Steve tried to get his arms under hers to break the hold. Before he knew it Joanne released his chest and had trapped his arms behind him. She locked her hands together and pulled hard, forcing his arms closer together. Steve's shoulders began to hurt as Joanne pulled his arms higher. She shifted her weight backwards and Steve felt his joints begin to creak. A sudden lift and she was rolling him up on his shoulders, trying for a quick pin. He allowed himself to rotate through and all the way over in a forward roll and Joanne could no longer maintain the hold. They both got to their feet at the same time.
Joanne grabbed at Steve's arm but he retreated far enough to stay out of her grasp. She stayed low and managed to hook an ankle with her foot, tripping him to his back. Steve desperately rolled away as Joanne pursued him, trying to keep out of her clutches.
A sudden burst of speed and Steve got far enough away from Joanne to regain his feet. He feinted a grab at her wrist then spun to his right, ending up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed hard, but made no impression on her muscular abdomen. He lifted and tried to dump her to the mat, but Joanne spun within his grasp and flipped him away. Slipping behind her again, Steve grabbed Joanne's left ankle and yanked, trying to force her to the mat. Joanne rolled to her left and snapped her other leg across, her right foot catching Steve hard on the outside of his right knee. Steve yelped in pain as the knee was forced inward by Joanne's kick, and he let go of her ankle as he crashed to the mat.
Joanne was on top of him in an instant. They rolled on the canvas for a few seconds, each trying for the upper hand. Joanne came out of the tussle with a double armbar. Steve was face first on the mat with Joanne on top of him, her solid body pressing him to the canvas while his arms were wrenched straight out behind him, trapped by Joanne's sinewy upper limbs. Steve tried to slip to the side and relieve some of the pressure, but Joanne's steely legs were spread out on either side of his body, limiting his movement.
Joanne pressed her forehead into Steve's back and forced his arms higher, doubling the pain in Steve's shoulders. Then, with a supple move, she rolled to one side, pulling Steve over onto his shoulders. His arms were completely immobilized by Joanne's hold and his legs were jack-knifed over so his toes touched the mat. Joanne pressed his shoulders to the canvas while Elaine slapped the mat three times and the bell was rung. Joanne released him then got to her feet while Elaine said, "Winner of the first fall with a double armbar pin, Joanne."
Steve stumbled to his corner, still favoring his right knee. "Need some ice on that knee?" Andrew asked. Steve nodded and held the cold pack to his knee while Andrew massaged the kinks out of his shoulders.
"She really knows her way around the mat," Steve said as he worked his arms, trying to relieve some of the pain.
"She wrestled on her high-school team -- this was before the virus hit -- and did pretty well in her weight class," Andrew replied. "You're probably not going to beat her on the mat."
"Now he tells me," grumbled Steve good naturedly.
Elizabeth was saying to Joanne, "You're probably not going to get him winded, he's got pretty good stamina."
"Yeah, I know," replied Joanne. "I'm faster than he is, though, and his knee's a little damaged. I wonder how he'll stand up if I work on his knees some more."
The bell rang for the second fall. Steve tested his knee and found that it would hold his weight. Joanne came out slowly, looking for an opening. Steve tried to slip behind her but Joanne was ready for him and swept at his leg, forcing him to back off. They each grabbed for the other's wrists, and ended up locking hands in a test of strength. Because of his height Steve had a leverage advantage and he rose up on his toes, trying to force the smaller woman to the mat. The muscles in Joanne's sinewy forearms rippled under her velvet skin as she fought to bring his arms down. Slowly Joanne forced Steve's hands back to her shoulder level. Sweat poured down Steve's face and he gritted his teeth as he tried to get the advantage back, but Joanne controlled him easily. They came together chest to chest, their sweat mingling and dripping to the mat as each fought for dominance. Steve's grip began to weaken as Joanne's strength took its toll on him.
Joanne could feel Steve's grip slacken, and she rapidly took advantage of it. Stepping back quickly she brought her right foot up into Steve's chest and pulled backwards. As Steve was pulled off balance, she straightened her right leg, propelling his body high into the air. She maintained her hold on his hands and fell backwards to the mat, sending Steve in an arc to land with a loud SPLAT flat on his back.
The impact drove most of the wind from Steve's lungs. Joanne rolled atop Steve and knelt on his shoulders in a pin attempt. He convulsively lifted one shoulder the first time Elaine slapped the mat, and Joanne couldn't keep him from squirming away.
She released his hands and turned her attention to his legs. Before Steve knew what was happening she had his right leg locked against her side and was turning him over into a Boston half-crab. Joanne strained backwards with the hold, putting pressure on Steve's lower back. Shifting her grip on his leg, Joanne was able to push his knee inward. Her muscles stood out in bold relief as she put agonizing stress on the joint. Steve moaned in pain as his back and knee were pushed to the breaking point. He tried to pull himself forward, as he'd been taught, to relieve the pressure but Joanne had him well tied up.
Elaine asked, "Wanna give it up, Steve?" Steve shook his head, and Elaine told Joanne, "He won't quit."
Joanne readied herself to change the angle of the pressure, letting up for just a second as she did so. Steve was alert to the change and was able to turn himself to his side and grab Joanne's ankle. She lost her balance and fell, letting Steve's captive leg go. Steve tried to pull himself to his feet, but Joanne was all over him before he got to his knees. She grabbed his right ankle and yanked, sending Steve back down to his back. Joanne swiftly maneuvered Steve into a stepover toehold. She put pressure on the ankle and knee again, leaning forward to force Steve's shoulders down. Steve rolled from shoulder to shoulder in an attempt to avoid being pinned again. He was able to work his way to the ropes, where Elaine ordered Joanne to release him.
Steve used the ropes to pull himself up. He could barely put any weight on his right leg. Elaine asked if he could continue, and he nodded.
Hobbling badly, Steve moved away from the ropes. Joanne swept his left leg, and he crashed to his back again. She grabbed both his legs and pulled him to the center of the ring. Dropping his left leg, Joanne twined his right leg around her left one and spun around, then picked up his left foot again. Dropping back, she forced his right lower leg across his left knee, trapping it there by crossing her right leg over it, trapping Steve in a figure-four leglock.
When Joanne forced Steve's right leg down, excruciating pain shot through his right knee and ankle. Joanne leaned back and flexed her granite hard legs to their fullest, putting unbearable stress on Steve's knee. The vicious hold had Steve in agony. Before Elaine could ask him he screamed, "Oh Gawd, it hurts, I give, I GIVE! Gawd, it hurts!"
Elaine ordered Joanne to let Steve go, and it took a few seconds to get their legs untangled. When he'd been released, he lay in the middle of the ring in agony. Andrew tried to help him back to his corner, but Steve couldn't put any weight on his right knee at all. The cold pack couldn't begin to ease the pain.
"Oh God it hurts," Steve kept repeating as Andrew tried to help him. "What'll I do now? Oh God it hurts."
"Well, that was impressive," Elizabeth said as she toweled the sweat from Joanne's face and shoulders. "I'd say you've got him where you want him now."
"Yeah, now it's time to give him the works and finish him off," Joanne replied.
When the bell rang for the third fall Steve stood up on his left leg. His right leg wouldn't hold any weight. Joanne wasted no time moving in. She easily maneuvered behind him and wrapped both arms around his middle. A turn and throw and Steve crashed down on his back again. He struggled to rise, but Joanne had other ideas. She hauled him up onto her shoulders face down and hurled herself backwards, driving Steve violently into the canvas and forcing all the air from his lungs. The fallaway slam was followed by a brutal moonsault from the top rope, further weakening her opponent.
Steve was nearly out of it. His knee felt as if it was shattered, and he was having a hard time breathing. Joanne grabbed his arm and pulled, forcing Steve to rise. She draped him over her shoulders again, walked to the corner and climbed to the second rope. Balancing carefully, she stood there with her helpless victim hanging across her shoulders for a second or so, then threw herself back. The fallaway slam from the second rope crushed all remaining breath and resistance from his battered body.
Joanne cradled Steve and locked her hands together, then rolled him up onto his shoulders. Elaine slapped the mat three times and Joanne stood over Steve and had her arm raised in victory. "The winner of the third fall by a cradle pin, Joanne. Joanne wins the match three falls to none."
Elaine signaled for Julia and the big trainer was in the ring quckly. She prodded at Steve's knee and grunted, "Stretched ligaments, nothing torn. He'll be okay by tomorrow. Lots of ice, ja? Keep the zvelling down."
Steve nodded and Julia reassured him. "Don't vorry, Steve, tomorrow you'll barely remember you vere hurt this bad." She wrapped his knee gently with a flexible cold pack and an Ace bandage, then left.
Joanne squatted next to him and smiled. "I guess I don't know my own strength," she said gently, putting a hand on Steve's arm.
He couldn't be mad. She'd done what she had to, no more. "I think I do, now," he said. "If you ever forget how strong you are again, just ask me." He winced as he move his leg. "If I could walk I might be able to take a shower."
Joanne picked him up in her arms and stood easily. "The least I can do is help get the sweat off you," she said as she carried him toward the showers.
The AmaFlix Story
Book 1
by Al Harder and Mike Shoemaker
Chapter Twelve:
An Old Enemy, Some New Twists
Water sluiced down over both their bodies as Joanne and Steve washed each other in the shower. "I wondered what those waterproof cushions in here were for," Steve murmured as he leaned back.
Joanne grinned as she continued rubbing a soapy sponge over his chest. "Patricia thinks of everything," she said. "She ordered these pads when one of the guys accidentally knocked himself out in here -- he wasn't alone at the time, of course."
Steve laughed. The knee, after his "therapy" with Joanne, felt nearly normal. He ran his hands across Joanne's slippery breasts, and her mouth descended on his. She moaned in pleasure as he put one hand between her legs, parting the wet lips of her pussy and stroking lightly. She nibbled at his neck and whispered, "You think you're up to another session?"
"'Up to' is right," he replied as her hand found his erection. She laughed and they began once more. "Of course now we'll have to wash again..."
Patricia and Crusher were lying in the steam room. "I want you to be careful tonight," she was saying. "Don't be so stubborn you won't give up if she hurts you. I want you bruised, but not broken."
"Yeah, well maybe I'll bruise her a little," he said
"Just don't be so macho you don't quit when you've had enough," Patricia replied. "I know it doesn't take long to heal, but even a day of limping around is too much." She kissed him deeply, her hands roaming over his hard body. "God, you're beautiful," she said.
"I think that's my line," he whispered...
The cameras started rolling at eight o'clock. Patricia, clad in her silver bikini, would announce and referee the match. "In the red corner, weighing two hundred and fifty-five pounds, standing six feet two, Crusher Cane!" Crusher, dressed in his normal wrestling outfit of black singlet, black boots and black knee pads, stepped forward and waved. Michele walked out of the dressing room and Patricia introduced her. "In the blue corner, standing five feet eight inches tall and weighing a hundred and seventy-six pounds, Michele Wilson."
Michele's scalp gleamed through the short blonde hair. She wore a black thong bottom and gold top, and her feet were bare. Her body tapered from her broad shoulders down to a narrow waist. Her legs looked to be carved from ivory by a master sculptor. "Nice legs," said Crusher.
Patricia called them to the center of the ring and went over the rules. "The time limit's sixty minutes. A submission or sixty second knockout wins it. Good luck."
Michele and Crusher shook hands and returned to their respective corners. Patricia stepped close to Crusher's corner and heard him mutter, "I feel naked without my mask."
"If you win maybe I'll give it back," grinned Patricia. "Just so I can take it away again." Crusher glowered. "Go get her, Crusher," the tall blonde added.
Sabrina massaged Michele's shoulders while they waited for the bell. "Hit him hard and fast. Don't let him get you on the mat -- he's a good wrestler and might get a sleeper on you. Hurt him before you get in close."
At the bell Michele moved out in a well-balanced stance. Crusher approached warily, watching for a kick or punch. Michele feinted high with a punch and tried to sweep Crusher's legs, but he stepped out of range. Before Michele had recovered, Crusher went in low and caught her around the waist, slipping behind her. He tried to pick her up, but Michele grabbed Crusher's wrists and pulled down so that he couldn't get enough leverage. A quick move and she'd dropped out of his arms and was rolling to her feet facing him.
Crusher didn't give Michele time to get set. He knew his best chance was to force her down, immobilize her with his bulk and maneuver her into some hold he could knock her out with. He grabbed at her leg and pulled, trying to dump her on her back. Michele did a backflip, pulling her leg away and landing on her feet, ready to fight. Crusher's eyebrows went up. "Nice move," he said.
Now Michele spun to her left and tried a spin kick, but Crusher deflected her right foot and attacked while she regained her balance. He grabbed her arm and whipped her into the ropes, ready to clothesline her as she bounced off. Michele somersaulted under Crusher's arm and came up behind him. She tried a dropkick but Crusher anticipated some kind of offense and dropped straight down. Michele's feet met no resistance and she thudded to the mat. A quick jerk of her body and she flipped back to her feet to face Crusher. He stopped when he saw she'd regained her balance. "Nice move yourself," Michele grinned.
Crusher tried to close the distance but Michele was unwilling to let him get too near. She stayed away, occasionally flicking out a jab to keep him off balance. "C'mon, stand still so I can crush ya," the big man growled. He went for a headlock but Michele danced back out of harm's way. She was wary of what he might do if he could get her down and use his size against her.
Crusher maneuvered Michele back towards the ropes. He attacked quickly, kicking at Michele's well-muscled stomach, but she spun along the ropes and his kick missed, leaving him vulnerable. The wiry blonde drove a side kick at Crusher's knee, collapsing it inward. He moaned and dropped to one knee. Michele struck quickly, driving two hard kicks to Crusher's kidneys. He flailed out with his arm and knocked her leg out from under her before she could kick him again. Michele was up quickly, ready to renew her assault, but Crusher had regained his feet. He flexed his knee a couple of times and winced, but found it would hold him up. He limped along the ropes, watching Michele closely as she readied another onslaught.
Michele attacked once more, but Crusher had been misleading her with his limp. His knee wasn't all that injured, and he waited until Michele was too close to get away before he struck. Crusher's huge arms enveloped Michele in a bear hug and Crusher took the blonde down.
Michele struggled under Crusher's smothering weight, trying to loosen his vise grip. Crusher squeezed for all he was worth, trying to take her air away and slow her down. Michele pulled her right arm free and thrust her fingers into Crusher's trapezius muscle, digging for a nerve ganglia. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, but she found the right spot and applied all the pressure she could.
To Crusher it felt like an electric shock running down his left arm. The pain from Michele's strong fingers was excruciating, and the nerves in his arm jumped and twitched. His grip loosened and Michele rolled free. Both fighters were a little slow getting to their feet. Michele took deep breaths, replenishing the oxygen in her blood, while Crusher rolled his head around and shook his arm, trying to get all the feeling back. He glowered at his opponent. "Thought I had ya there," he growled. "But it won't be long now, girlie."
Michele shook her head and grinned. "C'mon big man, let's see what you've got."
Crusher moved in again, trying to grapple with her while she was still short of breath, but Michele's magnificent conditioning allowed her to recover before he arrived. She waited until he was about to wrap his arms around her again and brought her arms in fast and hard, driving her fists into both sides of his rib cage simultaneously. Crusher stopped dead and a loud gasp escaped his lips from the pain.
Michele wasted no time. Her fists blurred as she drove punch after punch into Crusher's body, slamming him backwards. He stumbled when she snapped a kick into his solar plexus and went down hard when the followup spin kick crashed into his chin. Michele picked up one of his legs, ready to take out the knee, but Crusher had enough strength and sense left to drive his other foot into her shoulder, forcing her back.
He rolled to his knees just as Michele ripped another kick at his face. Crusher got his arms up in time to absorb the impact, and he grabbed Michele's foot. A quick twist and he'd dumped the sinewy blonde to her back. He pursued her, wanting to keep her on the mat and wear her down.
As Michele tried to roll away, Crusher landed on her back. His two hundred fifty-five pounds of bone and muscle forced her down. He locked a massive arm around her chin and wrenched her head back. Sweat poured from both their bodies, pooling on the mat and making it hard for Crusher to hold on. Michele bucked like a wild mustang, trying to throw Crusher off. He hung on grimly, using the time to recover from the beating Michele had given him just seconds before.
Michele felt his weight shift, and she reached back, wrapped one ropy arm around his head and flipped him over her head. He rolled away and once more they both stood up. Crusher was breathing hard and rubbing at his belly, while Michele worked the kinks out of her neck. They circled each other carefully while their bodies recovered.
When Michele felt ready she went on the attack. Spin kicks, back fists, straight punches and kicks rained at Crusher's head and body. He blocked most of them, but some got through, and he was forced back until he was in a corner. He tried to mount a counterattack, but Michele was a whirlwind of punches, kicks and elbows, not giving the big man time to strike. A reverse kick smashed into Crusher's forehead, snapping his head back into the turnbuckle. He slumped a bit. Michele's dynamic attack had taken its toll. She retreated a step, then did a forward handstand and wrapped her legs around Crusher's head. She snapped forward again, pulling him out of the corner and sending him crashing to the mat. The impact freed Crusher's head and he rolled to his hands and knees. Before he could rise Michele had driven her knee into his kidney, smashing him down face first. A quick move and she'd locked one of his ankles behind his other knee. Using her legs, she kept pressure on his ankle, immobilizing his lower limbs. She now had free rein with her arms, and sank the fingers of both hands into Crusher's thick trapezius muscles. Her powerful hands found the proper place and she squeezed, punishing the nerve ganglia.
Crusher 's arms flopped uselessly as Michele's practiced digits pressured the pain centers. He yelled in agony from the torment she caused. Her forearms ripppled and sweat poured from her body as Michele redoubled her efforts, trying to end the match here. She knew she had him trapped, and she didn't want to give the big man any more chances.
Patricia leaned close and asked Crusher if he wanted to quit. "Arrrggghhh! No way! I'm gonna crush her! Aarrrgghh!" Michele now relaxed and squeezed in a rhythm, increasing the pressure each time she squeezed. Crusher was incoherent from the excruciating pain. Finally he gasped, "Okay, I submit! Aaahhhh! I quit, all right? Get her off me!"
Patricia ordered Michele to release her hold. The bell rang and Michele's hand was raised in victory. Crusher slowly climbed to his feet, his handsome face still etched with pain, and raised her other arm. "Nice match," he said.
"Ready for what comes next?" the crew cut blonde asked.
Crusher looked at Patricia in confusion. "She's the conqueror, Crusher. If she wants you, she can take you -- for now."
He shook his head and muttered, "I don't know if I'll ever get used ta this." Then, looking down at Michele's perspiring face, he grinned. "But I'm gonna have fun trying." He picked Michele up in his arms and they headed for the storeroom.
The studio was empty when Samantha entered, save for Patricia, who stood in ring center, dressed for action in her silver bikini and white boots.
"What's going on?" Samantha hopped up to the apron, and stepped into the ring. "I thought I was fighting now."
"You are," said Patricia.
"I don't understand."
"Why don't you have Winslow explain it to you," said Patricia.
"Oh." Samantha looked away briefly, then met Patricia's gaze again. "You know."
She nodded.
"Well...I don't guess it would help if I told you I broke it off with him. I was going to tell you after my match."
"Oh, right, like I'm supposed to believe that."
Samantha shrugged. "You'd be hard pressed to. But it's the truth."
"Bullshit." She tensed. "And I'm going to send you back to him a piece at a time."
Samantha nodded. "Do what you think you must."
Grimacing, Patricia charged and took Samantha around the waist; she ducked under and went behind, pulling her to her knees. Patricia brought her to her stomach, and locked her legs around Samantha's waist, pinning her arms behind her. She prepared to crush the woman--
--and then realized that she wasn't resisting.
Patricia's anger subsided briefly. Didn't Samantha realize the danger she was in? She was ready to decapitate the treacherous bitch, to make an example of her -- and she wasn't fighting back.
With a snort, she unlocked her, and crawled away. Samantha slowly turned to face her, on her knees, eye-to-eye with her.
"Fight back, Goddamit," she said, and slapped her. "I want to tear you apart!"
"Please do," said Samantha. "I deserve it."
"Fight back!" Patricia leaned forward and clasped her hands in Samantha's, their arms rippling, their bodies slamming together. She strained to gain leverage, but Samantha equalled her effort. Their foreheads met, their battle of wills intensifying. Samantha adjusted her position slightly, to more directly press their breasts together, matching their nipples. The dark-haired woman moved her head to the side, and gently nibbled Patricia's nape.
The blonde relaxed her effort, staying close. A shudder passed over her as Samantha trailed her lips up her neck, to gently chew an earlobe. "W-what are you doing?"
Samantha moved to face her, and slid her breasts against Patricia's. "What we both want," she said, and kissed her. The blonde pulled back slightly, keeping the contact light, before fulling indulging, allowing their tongues to meet and join. They released their grip on one another, and Samantha pulled Patricia's top away, to cup and fondle a breast.
The blonde launched forward and forced Samantha to the mat, lying across her, a mixture of desire and confusion on her face. Succumbing to the former, she pulled away Samantha's own breastcover away, and lowered to suckle her.
"That's it," said Samantha, running her fingers through Patricia's hair, pulling her close. "Take me. Take me."
They made love for hours, alternating between slow, tender caresses and vigorous groping, each skillfully triggering repeated climaxes for the other. Once done, they lay together, kissing and touching.
"I really did quit Winslow," said Samantha, playing with Patricia's hair. "I...I care for you. And I love this place. I never realized this kind of operation could exist until I got here."
Patricia brushed a kiss against her. "I still don't see why you changed you mind. I'm sure Winslow promised you the stars."
"I told you. I care about you." She paused, searching Patricia's eyes. "A lot."
They kissed again, with passion, punctuating their mutual desire.
"Tell me something," said Samantha. "How did you find out? I've got to know."
Patricia smiled. "I've got Crusher staying with me. He let it slip."
"Crusher, hm?" Samantha giggled. "I'll have to come over and show him what I do to informers."
"You'll have to come over and stay."
"For how long?"
Patricia shrugged. "As long as you like. You can gather your belongings and ship them to my estate."
She traced the ridges of Patricia's back, and said, "You may never be able to get rid of me."
"That's fine," she said. "We'll have great fun ganging up on Crusher. He's staying with me, too."
"Both of us? Are you sure he can handle it?"
"Well, when we've drained him, he can lie back and watch the two of us."
Samantha giggled. "This sounds positively decadent."
"No doubt about it. When we finish here, I'll need your home address, so I can direct the movers."
"You'll get it." She rolled atop Patricia, gently sliding their nipples together, their bodies priming for yet another encounter. "And now, you'll get something else."
"I can't wait--"
The doors to the studio crashed open. They turned to see Darlene, motioning frantically to them. "Patricia, get out here! We've got company!"
They rolled to stand, and began shrugging back into their togs. "Who? Who is it?"
"It's Winslow." Darlene looked back the way she'd came. "And he's brought friends."
They entered the training facility seconds later, to see Winslow standing in the center of the room, surrounded by a dozen AmaFlix regulars. Flanking him were a pair of tall, broadly-muscled men, clad in suits and wearing dark sunglasses.
"All right, you asshole," said Patricia, passing through the ring of fighters and stopping before him. "Did you come to sic your goons on me? Bring 'em on--"
"Oh, don't worry, I'm here to challenge you, but not with these schmucks." His thugs looked at one another, red-faced. He pointed at Samantha, and said, "I hired that bimbo over there to knock you off--"
"Watch it," said Samantha.
"But she didn't have the stomach for it, and backed out on me."
"I know," said Patricia. "She told me everything."
"Perfect, because I've got something much better in store for you. I've brought somebody with me, and I'm willing to bet a hundred grand that he can put you down."
"Yeah?" Patricia smirked and crossed her arms. "Let's see the money. It better not have choo-choo trains on it."
Winslow reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a slip of paper. "A cashier's check," he said, handing it to her. "Perfectly legit. All you've gotta do is agree to fight my man."
"Patricia," said Samantha, "This feels like a setup. He knows how tough you are. He's too cocky."
"Oh, Please." Patricia moved a step closer to Winslow. "I don't really think it's dawned on him that I can beat anybody he brings in here. I'm not worried." She handed the check to Darlene.
"You should be." Winslow was grinning like death himself. "Volker!"
At the sound of his shout, a shadow filled the open side exit. They watched as a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black jumpsuit strode in, a pair of heavy pneumatic jaws swinging from his left hand. He raised his arms overhead, his huge shoulders straining the fabric of his costume, and all present suddenly realized that he wasn't carrying the mechanism.
It was grafted to him.
Darlene took Patricia by the shoulders. "He didnt' say he was bringing some kind of bionic man here! You don't have to do this!"
Volker moved the jaws to surround an adjacent water cooler. The mandibles slammed closed and shattered the bottle, spraying liquid against the wall and across the floor.
"Your move," said Winslow, beside himself with glee.
Patricia studied Volker as the man pitched the ruined water cooler to the floor. He strode over to the ring and climbed into it. She guessed that he stood around six-six, and probably weighed over 300--without the claw.
"I beg you, fraulein," he said, slamming his mechanism closed. "Please fight me. I vant to tear your pretty body apart. I vant to hear your screams of pain as I break you into meaty pieces."
Patricia stood silently, passing her gaze to Winslow, then back to the big German. With a sigh of determination, she walked over to the ring and slid through the ropes.
"Patricia--" began Elaine.
"I've got to do this," she said, standing across the ring from Volker. "I've gotta prove to dirtbags like Winslow that he can't barge onto my turf and expect to get away with shit like this." Motioning to volker, she said, "Bring it on."
The combatants went into a crouch, sizing one another up, as the AmaFlix regulars crowded around the ring and cheered for Patricia. The air was charged with intensity as they circled the ring, waiting for the proper moment.
Volker charged first, lunging and swinging his jaws down from overhead. The metal whished past her, just inches away, as she ducked and rolled. The ring shuddered as he hit the turnbuckle, the crash jarring the observers. Patricia rolled to stand, trembling, knowing that if the blow had connected, they'd have been scooping her brain back into her cracked skull.
The big man wheeled to face her, his jaws whining as they opened and closed. "Vhat's the matter, little girl?" He snapped them at her, making her flinch back. "You don't vant me to give you a big hug?"
"Not until I get to know you better," she said.
Patricia ran some strategies through her mind, and concluded that she'd have to test his right side, and stay away from the pincers. If he got her inside them, she was certain he could snap her like a twig.
In a blur of motion, she jumped and landed a dropkick to his chest, putting the full force of her awesome legs behind it. She rolled back to stand, to find Volker upright a few feet away, rubbing his chest. A twinge of fear gripped her, as she realized he'd taken a move that would've knocked almost anyone ass-over-teakettle and hadn't budged.
"German engineering," he said with a smile, and started toward her.
He swung the mechanism sideways at her, forcing her to duck low and move beside him. His backhand strike came like a freight train, the metal colliding with her ribs and knocking her flying. She hit the ropes in midair and tumbled to the ground, her body stinging.
Desperately, she dove aside as his claws smashed the mat where she'd been, making the ring tremble. He chased after her, slamming blow after blow into the ring, making her roll and tumble to avoid the attacks. The blow she'd taken had been monstrous, and she knew that if many more connected, she'd be out of it.
She dove and came up directly behind him, and before he could turn she clamped her arms around his waist. He jerked and struggled as she wrenched him off his feet and brought him to his hands and knees.
"Okay, you fuck," she said, moving higher to allow her legs to embrace his waist. Clamping in a full nelson, she said, "My turn!"
Volker grunted, his muscular body under siege from her steely grip. He attempted to buck her off, but she was unyielding, and poured on the pressure. He staggered to his knees, then to stand, desperate for a means of escape.
Patricia saw him swing the jaws behind him too late; one mandible made solid contact with her temple, rattling her and sending her to her back. Volker took some moments to recover as she shook the cobwebs loose, her vision hazy.
"Get her!" Winslow was beating the apron furiously. "Now's your chance! Get her, goddamnit!"
With a gutteral growl, Volker stomped forward and set the jaws around her waist. She thought to jump, but with a whine of servomotors the mandibles clamped shut around her. She groaned as incredible pressure closed in around her body, making each breath a painful fight. He leaned forward, keeping her on the mat, pushing his weapon to the maximum as he attempted to squash the life from her body.
Patricia thrashed and screamed, beating the jaws that held her, slamming her palms against the mat. All around her were the panicked faces of her friends, yelling for her to fight back, to resist this seemingly unbeatable onslaught.
"Give up!" Winslow was close by, pounding his fists against the mat. "Go on, submit! You're beaten! Give it up, you whore!"
Her vision went red. As if watching herself from a distance, she saw her hands take the mandibles and begin to pull. Her forearms and biceps swelled as she fought to break Volker's grip.
"Nein, fraulein," said the German as he leaned over her. "No one breaks free of the iron claw. No one."
She continued, her body hard and tense, pulling against the machine's unyielding force. The high-pitched sound of the servomotors preceded the first sign of her success. The claws separated ever-so-slightly from her bruised, red skin, allowing her to suck in a lungful of precious air. Charged with fear and excitement, she continued to pull, the pistons in the clamping assembly contracting against the pressure.
It was unmistakable to all observers: Patricia was slowly, excruciatingly forcing the machine open, defying the awesome force driving it. Sweat covered her body as she fought, her muscles standing out in bold relief.
"Nein!" Volker's face was twisted in panic as she pushed her way up from the mat, verging on escaping. With a quick step forward she put her leg behind his and dumped him to his back. Now with leverage, she applied her greatest pressure, the muscles of her shoulders and back bulging. Blue smoke rose from the main shaft, and pneumatic fluid leaked from the piston openings.
"Yes!" Darlene screamed and high-fived Samantha. "Get 'im, girl!"
"No!" Winslow looked around helplessly. "No way! This-- this can't be happening!"
Patricia screamed, and in an explosion of sparks and fluid the jaws were rent apart, bent back at a ridiculous angle. Volker's eyes were wide as he viewed his once-deadly tool, now torn asunder.
Through clenched teeth, Patricia hissed, "German engineering, my ass!" She landed a series of boots to his gut, doubling him up. Volker rolled to his hands and knees, and she jerked his head between her thighs.
Winslow winced as she piledrove the German into the canvas. She stood triumphantly over the man's body, chest heaving, her fury abating somewhat. Patricia took Volker's heavy mass in her arms and pitched him overhead in clean-and-jerk fashion, his arms and legs flailing about. She circled the ring, parading the man body before them, before dropping him harshly to the mat.
"Lights out," she said, and wrapped her arms around him, locking in the sleeper. He struggled weakly as the blood flow to his brain ceased. In moments, he slumped in her arms, unconcious.
Draping him over a shoulder, she walked to the ropes and dumped him to the concrete before Winslow. "That check had better clear," she said, as she dropped to stand before him. "If it doesn't--"
"It'll clear," he growled.
"Fine. Take this idiot and get the hell off my property."
Winslow's jaw twitched, as his anger and frustration welled within him. With a final, intense glare, Winslow and his men turned and made for the door out. They watched him leave in silence.
As the exit clanged shut, Patricia turned to face the others. "Your attention please," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "I will be holding a wild pool party at my estate this evening, starting at six. You are to bring your skimpiest swimwear, tops optional. You will be expected to fully indulge yourself in the pleasures of the flesh. I will deal with any wallflowers personally."
The announcement was met with laughter and applause. "Sounds like an offer we can't refuse," said Tommie.
"You got it." As the group broke up, she walked to Darlene and Jim. "Hey, Dar, I need to borrow him for a while. Do you mind?"
"Mind? Hardly." She kissed Jim on the ear, and said, "I'll catch you later. If you're still concious." She winked at Patricia and walked toward the weight pit.
"Come with me," said the blonde, taking his arm. "I need you for something."
"Um...what?"
She closed the door to the office, and locked it. With an evil smirk, she stepped toward him, backing him toward her desk. "A lot's happened in the last few days, Jimbo," she said, unlacing her top. She pulled it free, and dropped it to the carpet. "But I haven't forgotten what I told you the first day you came." She took him by his tank top and jerked him to her, then wrapped her arms around him, clinching him tightly. "I owe you a big squeeze, computer man, and I'm gonna give it to you."
Jim swallowed hard as she lifted him and walked to the couch. Still holding him, she crawled onto it, staying atop him. "Uh, is this a good kind of squeeze?"
She giggled, then curled her arms around his neck and kissed him, her tongue probing deeply. Pulling back, she said, "The best kind, Jimbo. The best kind."
"Oh." he said, as she began to pull away his clothing. "That's a relief. I don't know what I'd've told Blue Cross."
The party was in full swing by seven. Patricia's pool was nearly overflowing with half-naked, laughing people. She surveyed the scene from her deck, a lemonade in her hand and a broad smile on her face. "Just what the doctor ordered," she thought contentedly as she sipped at the icy glass.
Her brow creased as she noticed what was taking place at the far end of the pool. "Tommie, c'mere," she called to the pony-tailed blonde who was at that moment licking Andy's earlobe while Cherrise worked on his crotch with her mouth. Tommie reluctantly separated from the others and walked over to the deck, her nude body gleaming with sweat in the light of the tiki torches. Patricia indicated the tete-a-tete across the yard and whispered some instructions....
"Yeah, but you need to multi-thread the program -- it'll speed it up at least fifty percent," Steve said to Jim. "With OS/2 it's easy -- just put each function in its own thread and --"
"Not so easy if it's gotta interface with a Windows application, though," Jim argued. "You can't do too much about -- what th' hell!" Tommie's sinewy arms locked around Jim's chest and she lifted him out of the chair.
"What're you do -- ulp!" Annie's strong fingers clamped Steve's mouth shut and she yanked him backwards. Marge, Elaine, and Joanne stood behind her, laughing.
"This's a party, dammit! Stop talking and get with it!" the beautiful redhead laughed as the other three women descended on the programmer-turned-wrestler. He was tossed into the pool, and immediately under passionate attack by his four abductresses.
"Same goes for you, skinny," Tommie announced to her captive. "And I've got just the group to help you relax!" Jim, still captive in Tommie's bear hug, felt himself turned around to face...
Patricia, Sunny, Michele, and Sabrina. The women grinned wolfishly as they regarded Jim. "Something's blocking my view," Patricia said as she grabbed Jim's trunks in one scarlet-nailed hand and ripped them apart. "That's better," she said with a grin.
Michele licked her lips and moved closer while Jim sputtered in protest. "Sounds like a li'l putt-putt boat, don't he?" she asked lazily. She cupped his scrotum in one hand and pulled his face closer. Tommie lowered Jim so Michele could kiss him, thrusting her tongue deeply into his mouth.
Jim's penis leaped to attention, and Patricia laughed. "Mr. Happy seems to have awakened!"
Tommie laid Jim on the grass bordering the pool and held his arms. Sunny and Patricia each took a leg, spreading them apart. Michele pulled her mouth away from Jim's and he started to protest, "You can't do this to me, stop it, c'mon, cut it -- ummph!"
His voice was smothered by Michele's crotch, her dripping pussy spread wide across his mouth. "There's a better use for your mouth than making all that noise," she said in a mock-serious voice. "I suggest you put it to work."
Jim could feel one of the women stroking his cock, licking it, until he could barely hold himself back. His cries of protest only made Michele laugh again. Her steely legs came together on either side of his head, just sitting there. "I said, get busy, or I might haveta 'persuade' ya a little," she said. Jim shrugged mentally and began the pleasant toil. Michele began to writhe and moan as he brought her to orgasm. In the meantime, Jim felt his cock enter a warm, moist place. Firm muscles worked his penis expertly until he was ready to explode.
Jim, Michele and the mystery woman all came at the same time, a titanic explosion of passion and fury that seemed to last for hours. Michele slowly rose to reveal Sabrina lying spent across Jim's abdomen, his penis still captive in her pussy.
Michele traded places with Tommie and the pony-tailed blonde wasted no time. Her mouth descended on Jim's, tasting Michele's juices as she explored his mouth with her tongue. She slid her body down his as Sabrina slid away. Tommie guided Jim gently into her, then nuzzled and nibbled at his ears and neck until he was completely erect again. He came again, and Tommie's orgasm was barely a second behind his. The second orgasm in five minutes nearly caused Jim to pass out, and Tommie watched him carefully to make sure he was still conscious.
"Better not fall asleep yet," she said with a chuckle. "The best is yet ta come!" The four other women laughed loudly at that. Tommie slid aside and relieved Sunny, while a recovered Sabrina took over for Patricia.
The two towering blondes grinned at each other as they loomed over Jim's helpless body. "Top or bottom?" Patricia asked.
"Bottom," her compatriot replied. Patricia lowered herself on Jim's face, saying, "You know what to do, do it!" Sunny lowered herself so she could work on Jim with her mouth.
Jim didn't even notice when Sabrina let go of his leg so she could kiss and fondle Sunny. Michele moved around and Patricia buried her face in the crew-cut blonde's bush. Jim's senses were overloaded and he felt as if he were floating. Somewhere down near his legs (or thereabouts) something was going on that felt good. Tommie, Sabrina and Sunny were thrashing around down there and wonderful things were happening. The six of them were enveloped in a passionate frenzy that finally ended with a monstrous multiple orgasm.
Fluids, both male and female in origin, covered all six as they lay there recovering. From across the lawn came a burst of applause and calls of "Encore, encore!" Patricia extricated herself from the knot of eroticism to rise majestically, a Phoenix rising from the flames of passion, and bowed to her audience. "That's more like it," she said, looking down at Jim with a smile. "Now, Jim, you'd better have fun or next time it won't be so easy on you."
Darlene walked over and Patricia gave her a long kiss and tight embrace, then whispered in her ear, "Keep him under control, willya?"
Darlene stood over Jim, gazing down fondly at his weary, exhilarated face. He looked up at the tall redhead, her hard body gleaming as she regarded him with a smile. She shooed the other women away and knelt next to him. "What happened to you?" she asked.
"I got caught in a sexual cyclone," Jim replied. "It was just like the Wizard of Oz. I was just minding my own business and then I was being picked up and thrown around, then suddenly I was in Oz."
"Let that be a lesson to you," Darlene murmured. "We take fun seriously around here." She caressed his cheek gently. "Now, are you gonna have fun?"
"I'm not sure I'm up to it," Jim moaned.
Darlene kissed him, then gently sucked at his ear lobe. Feeling something stirring, she raised her head a bit and whispered, "Oh, I don't think that's a problem."
Jim glanced down and said, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore..."
Steve lay recovering in a lounge chair, Joanne lying across him, her head against his chest. He stroked her hair, and she moaned, shifting her warm, hard body more comfortably against him.
"You're awfully quiet all of a sudden," she said. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Hell, yes. I feel fantastic. I'm just thinking."
"What about?"
He shrugged. "Mainly about how great things have become for me. I mean, before I got here, I was a bachelor computer programmer. Now...well, I'm not sure what my job description is, but it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Across the pool, Darlene and Jim had coupled, and she sat across his lap, holding him upright, rising and lowering slowly as they kissed lightly and whispered to one another. "Looks like Jim and Darlene have it bad for one another," he said.
"You could say that," said Joanne. "Seems to be a lot of that sort of thing going on lately."
Steve nodded, and noticed that the ever-voracious Patricia had subdued Crusher, and was lavishing tender attention on him. They'd wrestled on the nearby grass for several minutes, before Crusher had collapsed with exhaustion, allowing Patricia to claim her conquest. She'd mounted him, and several intense orgasms later, the big man was completely helpless before her, as she rubbed and kissed him. Steve mused that Crusher had likely never met a woman he'd considered for more than an evening's amusement, but now -- like it or not -- he'd been claimed by the awesome blonde. Steve suspected he liked it very much.
"So," said Joanne, shifting to look up at him, "I take it you're pleased with the state of your life now?"
"That, Ms. Wing, would be an understatement." He cradled her face in his hands, and kissed her. "This is Eden. All we're missing is the serpent."
Her hand went between his legs, rousing him. "Got it right here."
Steve squirmed as she skillfully massaged him. "Eve, hand me an apple."
End Book 1