Amaflix - book two
By Al Harder and Roger Downs

                          CHAPTER ONE
                            Hat Trick

     With a peal of tires and and cloud of blue smoke, Tommie
fishtailed into the AmaFlix parking lot.  She screamed in delight
and jerked the wheel hard, sending her Mustang skidding sideways
into her private parking space.  She shut the motor off, checked
her mascara, then hopped out.

     "'scuze me.  Miss?"

     She turned, and stood face-to-face with a vision of honky-
tonk perfection.  He stood around six-two, and from the breadth
of his shoulders and close fit of his 501's, she judged his
weight to be in the neighborhood of two-twenty.  His boyish face
and close-cut brown hair were instantly appealing to her.  His
ten-gallon hat and shit-kickers completed the look.

     "Uh, hi, my name's Lance, Lance Ross."  He stuck out his
hand, which she shook softly.  She placed his accent as extreme
South Texan, probably Brownsville or Houston.  "I heard that this
is some kinda fightin' outfit.  That true?"

     "Yeah," she said, smiling as he stole a glance down at her
customary knotted half-shirt and thong, and what was curving them
so attractively.  "Somethin' like that.  You lookin' for work?"

     "Uh-huh.  I don't know what you're lookin' for exactly, but
I done a lotta wrasslin' in high school and college."

     "Any boxin' or karate?"

     "A little boxin', but it's been a long time.  Sorry."

     She shrugged.  "No problem.  My name's Tommie."

     "Good to meetcha."

     Tommie nodded toward the office.  "We can use ya.  Is today
too soon?"

     His grin was infectious.  "Shucks, no.  I got my duds in the
truck."

     "Great.  Get 'em and we'll start ya up."


     Lance, Tommie decided, looked even better in his togs than
in his jeans.  The varsity-style singlet hugged to his muscular
body, narrowing his waist and emphasizing the breadth of his
shoulders.  He stared at the training room in awe, both at the
advanced equipment and at the amazons populating it.

     "Like what you see?" she asked as they passed Michele and
Julia.  Julia was doing flat bench flyes with a pair of enormous
dumbbells, straining her scant togs to the limit.

     "Uh...they never had a gym like this back in school," he
answered.  Michele winked at him from her spotter's position.

     "We like to think we're fairly unique."

     "Tommie," said Patricia, walking up to them.  Lance was
compelled to stare at her as well.  "This is our new charge?"

     Tommie nodded as the dumbfounded Texan tried--and failed--to
avert his eyes.  "Yeah.  He's all signed up for his first match. 
We're goin' to the private studio, I didn't wanna start 'im off
with a big crowd."

     "Makes sense."  She leaned close to Tommie, and whispered,
"Give him the treatment.  I want him to know who he works for." 
She followed this by discreetly tugging her earlobe with her
teeth.

     Tommie moved in and murmured, "That's exactly what I had in
mind.  I'll make sure he's rode hard 'n put up wet."  Not so
discreetly, Tommie ran her tongue around the fringe of Patricia's
ear.  The blonde blinked softly and shuddered, her nipples
stiffening visibly through the thin fabric of her black bikini. 
With a hard swallow, she turned and caught Andrew's arm as he
passed by, and dragged him sputtering toward her office.

     Giggling, Tommie led lance toward the studio.  "W-what was
that all about?"

     She shrugged and pulled the door open.  "Girl talk," she
said.  "After you."


     Studio two was specially designed for semi-private matches,
having five stationary cameras arranged around the ring and a
single section of twenty seats.  It was created so that two
combatants could film a match from several angles without
cameramen present, and later edit the footage into a
professional-looking product.  From here, Patricia had squeezed
several Fortune 500 stockholders into helpless submission in
specially-commissioned encounters.

     "What a setup," said Lance, running his hands along the ring
apron.  He hopped onto it and stepped between the ropes.  "This
must've cost a fortune."

     "This is our smallest studio," she said.  "The rest have at
least two hundred seats."  Tommie closed the door and triggered
the cameras from a wall switch.  "The largest seats five
hundred."

     "Dang," he said, examining the lights suspended from the
ceiling.  She slipped between the ropes and met him at ring
center.  "So, who's my opponent?"  He leaned closer and lowered
his voice.  "I hope it ain't that big black fella I saw.  He
looks meaner'n hell."

     "Nah, it's not him."

     Lance shrugged, then took off his hat.  He walked to the
corner behind him and put it on the ringpost.  "Well," he said,
walking back to her, "Who is it?"

     She batted her huge green eyes at him.  "Me."

     He chuckled.  "Come on now, honey.  You look tough, and I'd
shore like ta wrassle ya in private if ya take my meanin',
but...."

     She smiled, and ran her hands up onto his shoulders.  "But
you wouldn't officially wrassle a girl."

     "Yeah," he said softly as she drew closer, her full, red
lips near.  "No offense--"

     In a smooth sequence of motion, she scooped him up, turned
him upside down, and body slammed him.  The mat shuddered from
the impact.

     "None taken," she said.  He rolled to his knees, his whole
body shaking, his back throbbing.  His legs were weak as he
stood, and his face was flushed with anger.

     "Alright, okay.  If ya wanna do things like a man, then
that's how I'll treat ya."

     Tommie shrugged.  "Bring it on."

     Lance came at her, arms spread, to lock up with her.  She
deftly fell and caught him in drop toe-hold, sending him down
face-first.  Tommie had locked his ankle behind his knee before
he could stand, and sat forward to straddle his shin.  He groaned
as she pushed down on it like a lever.

     "This is nice," she said, grinding sensuously against him,
running her hands over his shoulders.  "You have dreamy delts."

     "Agh...goddamit...."  He planted his hands and bridged back,
trying to gain leverage, but she shifted forward, intensifying
the pain.

     "How 'bout it, cowboy.  Ready to give it up?"

     His eyes teared with pain as he shook his head, determined
to endure.

     Tommie stood, releasing the hold, and Lance gasped in
relief.  He rolled over, gingerly extending his leg.

     "Need some help?"

     He glowered and stood, using the ropes for support.  "No. 
Let's go."

     They moved together, locking up.  Tommie's powerful thighs
rippled as she forced him back into the corner, to press him hard
against the padding with her body.  She hooked him under the
shoulder and heaved him flying.  Yelling, he pitched over and
crashed to his back.  He jumped to stand, then went flying again
as she hit him flush on the side of the head with a dropkick.

     Stunned and panicked, Lance scrambled into a corner.  Tommie
was on him instantly, and began landing lefts and rights to his
body.  The impacts carried incredible force with them, her fists
hammering him, forcing the breath from his lungs.  His body on
fire with pain, he covered up and spun, allowing her to pound his
back and kidneys.

     He offered no resistance as she pulled him across her body,
then pressed him high overhead.  Tommie paraded in a circle,
smiling, before gorilla-slamming him back down.

     She spent the next several minutes putting on a wrestling
clinic, subjecting him to flawless suplexes, saltos, and slams,
then switching to a series of punishing holds.  Her awesome
strength turned leverage maneuvers like headlocks and scissor
holds into torturous ordeals, her python-like arms and long,
rippling legs crushing his trunk and skull.  Tommie completed
each move with surgical precision, careful to maximize the effect
without delivering serious injury.

     Lance was close to unconcious, shifting weakly in the center
of the ring.  Tommie moved to a corner and scaled to the top
turnbuckle.  She took the middle of her flimsy t-shirt and tore
it away, exposing her glistening bosom, leaving her clad only in
her boots and black thong.  With a rodeo yell she leaped high
into the air, and came crashing down atop him.

     Tommie knelt beside the unconscious man, smiling, and traced
a finger down the ridge between his pecs.  A job well done, she
thought, and stood.  Walking to one corner, she took his hat from
the ringpost and put it on, then returned to the prostrate
cowboy.  She dropped astride his chest, trapping his arms under
her legs, and raised her arm in conquest.


     "Welcome back, sugar," said Tommie as Lance's eyes fluttered
open.  He was trapped beneath her.

     "Oh, God," he moaned.  "I'm gonna get some more, ain't I?"

     "Nah.  I figure you've had enough."

     "Oh."  She could see the mixture of relief and
disappointment on his face.

     "Don't take it personal, sugar," she said, stroking his
cheek.  "You got whupped.  Can't be the first time."

     "I've been whupped before, but not like that."  He looked
away.  "Never like that."

     "Relax.  I didn't wanna scare you off, I just wanted ta show
ya what you're in for here.  You're gonna be fightin' women,
Lance, most of 'em every bit as good as me.  You'll hafta train
hard and practice harder to keep up.  And you'll hafta take 'em
seriously.  Otherwise, ya don't stand a chance."

     "Yeah."  He smiled slightly.  "I guess it's better I find
out now what I'm in for."

     "Exactly."

     "Do I...get my hat back?"

     She shook her head.  "Sorry, slick.  I'm takin' a little
trophy of my victory."

     "Well, that's okay, I guess.  Looks better on you anyway. 
You gonna let me up?"

     Tommie slid her hands down over her breasts, then lower,
between her legs.  "In a few hours, maybe.  But first..."  She
planted her arms on his shoulders, then slid her lower body down
his chest, along his abdomen, to come to rest over his hips. 
"...I'm gonna welcome you AmaFlix, Texas style."

     "Mmmm," he groaned, as she elicited and instant response. 
"I think I'm gonna like this.  Those cameras ain't still runnin',
are they?"

     "Of course," she said, sucking on his neck.

     "Oh."  She raised up, and lowered toward him for a kiss. 
"Well, make sure I get a copy."



                           CHAPTER TWO
                      Samantha's Steele Trap

      Samantha's ebony hair gleamed under the bright lights of the
ring.  She was dressed, as always. in a black posing bikini and
black patent leather thigh-high boots.  To Aaron, her opponent for
today, she looked like what he imagined a dominatrix should look
like.

     Aaron Walker was a big man, over six and a half feet tall. 
He'd wrestled for AmaFlix off and on for nearly two years.  His
"straight" job - he was a private investigator and bounty hunter -
kept him out of town quite a bit, but whenever his schedule allowed
he'd wrestle one of the AmaFlix women to make some extra cash.

     He'd even fought one of them - Joanne - to a time limit draw,
something that was a real coup in the post-Dominion days.  Despite
the height and weight advantage he enjoyed over most women at six
feet seven and two hundred eighty pounds, he had no illusions about
how strong women had become.  He was always willing to pit his own
muscles against them, just for the challenge.

     Patricia had introduced him to this world and Aaron would
always be grateful.  The competition was something he loved, even
though he'd lost all but one match.  Still, he was nervous about
this one.

     Looking at the beautiful and deadly woman across the ring, he
knew he had good reason to be nervous.  The tape he'd seen of
Samantha destroying Jax, a martial artist almost as big as he was,
had been sobering.  Aaron had no delusions about his chances - not
great.  Still, he reflected, Jax wasn't trained as a wrestler. 
Maybe I can get the upper hand with my wrestling skill, he thought.

     Aaron had been a collegiate Greco-Roman champion and an
Olympic bronze medallist.  He'd even wrestled pro for a while, like
Bob, in the C. W. A.  His one experience with Raymond Winslow had
been enough for him, though, and he'd found some good money
bringing fugitives back to face justice.

     Aaron brought his mind back top the present, looking at the
hard-muscled woman across the ring.  Samantha was doing her
stretches, her long legs stretched out sideways and her chin
resting on her hands, which were flat on the mat. Seeing him
watching, Samantha blew Aaron a kiss.  Her olive skin gleamed,
emphasizing her sleek musculature.

     Samantha reflected on the last few days as she stretched her
muscles.  She was glad she'd been able to convince Patricia of her
sincerity and that she'd told Winslow to take a hike.  In the back
of her mind she wondered what would have happened if she and
Patricia had gotten in the ring for real.  A shiver went through
her - she knew that only one of them would have been able to walk
out of the ring.

     Samantha returned to the task at hand and smoothly rose to her
feet as Patricia, who would referee this match, entered the ring. 
The tall blonde smiled and picked up the mike.  The seats
surrounding the ring were packed for this match.

     "Ladies and gentlemen," Patricia said in her honeyed voice,
"this wrestling match will be three out of five falls.  In the red
corner, wearing white trunks, standing six feet seven inches tall
and weighing two hundred and eighty pounds, former Olympic bronze
medallist, Aaron Walker!"

     Aaron received polite applause as he waved at the crowd. 
There was no fat on his big frame.  He worked his shoulders and
neck to make sure they were loose and returned to his corner.

     Patricia continued, "In the blue corner, wearing all black, at
six feet even and weighing two hundred and five pounds, Samantha
Steele!"  The crowd erupted in shouts and applause.  Although she'd
been with AmaFlix only a short time, Samantha had a big following. 
The tape of her fight with Jax was one of the best sellers already.

     Samantha waved and flexed her granite hard muscles, turning to
give everyone - especially Aaron - a good look at her.  Samantha
smiled sexily at Aaron and asked, "Ready for me?"

     Patricia called them to the center of the ring and said, "You
both know the rules.  I'll disqualify you if you break 'em.  Shake
hands, good luck."

     Aaron reflected that he was in the ring with two of the
deadliest people in the world and he shuddered a bit. Samantha
gripped his hand firmly and pulled him close, whispering, "The
Mancrusher's gonna getcha."  Aaron just smiled weakly.  Samantha
released his hand and blew him another kiss before sauntering back
to her corner.

     When the bell rang Samantha went into a deep crouch and
extended her hands, flexing her fingers.  She moved toward him
steadily and confidently.  Aaron stayed close to the ropes. 
Samantha feinted at him as if trying to pick up a leg and Aaron
reacted quickly, moving sideways, away from his beautiful
adversary.  Samantha chuckled deep in her throat and said, "C'mon
baby, lemme give ya a big hug."

     Aaron shook his head, saying, "I don't know you well enough
yet."

     Samantha chuckled again and resumed her approach, like a sleek
panther stalking her prey.  Aaron knew he couldn't evade her
forever, nor did he want to.  He just wanted the collision to be on
his terms, not hers.

     Samantha struck suddenly, slipping inside Aaron's guard.  She
grabbed an arm and pulled the big man off balance.  Ducking
quickly, she easily lifted Aaron's weight on her broad shoulders,
then pulled him over in a fireman's carry to dump him flat on his
back.

     Aaron rolled quickly to his knees, ready for a further attack,
but Samantha smiled down at him from her six feet of height and
motioned for him to get up.  He stood up, still wary, and Samantha
extended both hands toward him, offering a test of strength.

     Aaron got to his feet and they locked fingers. Samantha's
hands were nearly as big as Aaron's, and she quickly clamped down
with astounding strength.  A quick jerk and Aaron was chest to
chest with the muscular dark-haired beauty.  Each tried to force
the other down.

     Samantha rolled and twisted her wrists, bringing Aaron's hands
down and forcing his wrists back.  Her teeth were clenched as she
increased the pressure, trying to drive Aaron to his knees.  Aaron
resisted her powerful grip as well as he could, but slowly realized
that his lovely black-haired opponent was crushing his hands with
her steel-trap fingers.  Aaron looked into Samantha's deep brown
eyes and saw no pity, only satisfaction.

     A sudden hard jolt from Samantha forced Aaron down. She
released his right hand, grabbed his left wrist and pivoted,
twisting his arm over her head.  Aaron did all he could to relieve
the pressure.  Samantha pulled him back to his feet.  Maintaining
the wristlock, she bent his hand viciously inward.  Aaron gasped at
the pain in his wrist, bringing a wicked smile to Samantha's
beautiful face. "Awww, does it hurt?" she asked in mock sympathy.

     "Aarrgghh!  Yeah - aah - it hurts!"

     "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, still mocking him, "but you asked
for a match with me.  You must've known I'd hurt you." Another
twist of her arm sent waves of pain into his shoulder and he
flipped to the mat rather than let her dislocate the shoulder. 
Samantha sat down with one booted foot against his ribs and the
other pushing on his head. Straightening her legs and leaning back,
she pulled on Aaron's arm as if whe were trying to yank it off.

     "You know, I actually pulled one guy's arm out of it's socket
with this hold once," Samantha said conversationally. "He was just
too stubborn - or too dumb - to submit."  The sinews in her legs
stood out in bold relief as she stretched his arm still further. 
"Of course, he wasn't as strong as you are," she continued.  "I
wonder how much pressure it'd take to pull your arm out."

     Aaron was bellowing in pain, and Patricia asked if he wanted
to give.  "N-n-not yet," he gasped.  With a remarkable effort Aaron
flipped himself over, relieving most of the stress on his arm, and
got his legs under him. Standing up to get a leverage advantage,
Aaron was able to force Samantha's shoulders down for an instant
before she released his arm and kicked him off.

     Samantha rose to her feet smoothly and stood watching Aaron as
he tested his damaged left arm.  He winced as he tried to move it,
and the brutal brunette said, "Looks like you're down to one arm,
babe.  You're in big trouble now."

     Aaron tried to keep his distance but Samantha quickly closed
in.  A shove and he was up against the ropes. Samantha whipped him
across the ring and almost casually clotheslined him down as he
came bouncing off the ropes. Aaron lay on his back for a few
seconds, dreading the follow-up attack he was certain would come,
but Samantha stepped back again and motioned him to rise.  Not sure
whether he should be grateful or insulted, Aaron slowly got to his
feet.

     With a predatory look in her eyes Samantha leaped at Aaron,
shoving him back into a corner.  She took half a step back and
slammed her sinewy forearm across his chest in a backhand chop,
nearly caving in his sternum.  A second vicious blow followed
before Patricia ordered her to break, and Aaron's legs gave out as
Samantha stepped back.  He slid down the turnbuckles until he was
sitting on the mat. Samantha moved right back in on him.  With one
big hand on each side of his head, she pulled him back up. 
Bringing up a foot and placing it in his chest, the brunette beauty
threw herself backwards and monkey-flipped Aaron all the way across
the ring into the opposite corner.  Samantha stood up and moved to
the center of the ring where she waited for Aaron to struggle to
his feet again.

     There was an amused glint in her eye as she watched the big,
muscular man haul himself up by hanging onto the ropes. When he was
erect again, Samantha made a "come on" motion with her hands. 
Aaron staggered out of the corner and Samantha moved to meet him. 
She moved behind him before he knew what was happening and wrapped
her powerful arms around his middle.  A quick heave and she
suplexed him backwards to crash to the canvas on his shoulders. 
Aaron writhed on the mat, helpless against any attack, but Samantha
backed off, flexing and posing for the cameras.

     Aaron was astounded.  Patricia had beaten him badly when he
fought her, and Darlene had destroyed him without too much trouble,
but he'd been competitive in all his other AmaFlix matches, even
winning a fall here and there. Samantha was every bit the equal of
Patricia in strength and skill, and seemed to be just as confident
in her abilities.

     Samantha stood over his supine body and nudged him with the
toe of her shiny boot.  "You gonna wrestle or just lie there?" she
taunted.  Aaron groaned and rolled to his hands and knees. 
Samantha grabbed his arm and "helped" him to his feet.  Aaron was
heaved up, turned over and slammed down with a loud thud.  He lay
there defenseless to stop Samantha from doing anything she wanted.

     Samantha strolled to the corner and climbed to the top rope. 
She then walked along the rope until she was closer to Aaron's
aching body.  Balancing there easily, she waited for what seemed an
eternity before launching herself high into the air.

     Samantha's two hundred pounds of muscle dropped onto Aaron's
unresisting body from ten feet in the air.  Aaron's lungs were
emptied by the incredible impact, and he felt as if his body was
being driven right through the mat. Samantha grapevined his legs
and held his shoulders down, her blue-black hair hanging over her
face as she smiled down at him.  Patricia slapped the mat three
times, ending the first fall.

     Aaron was revived by Bob, his second, and helped to his stool
for the rest period.  "Gawd, she really clobbered you," Bob
breathed, still awed by the strength and skill Samantha had
demonstrated.  "You gonna be able to keep going?"

     "Yeah, I think so.  She's just toying with me, I know that. 
She coulda beat me in about five seconds - two to knock me down and
three to pin me.  Damn!"

     Samantha called across the ring, "Didja figure out how to beat
me yet?" and laughed.  The bell rang, signalling the start of the
second fall.  Samantha stalked from her corner, a grin on her face. 
"C'mon big boy, let's party," she said.

     Aaron knew his left arm still hadn't regained all its
strength, and he was still short of breath.  He tried to stay away
from Samantha until he'd recovered a bit more. Unfortunately for
him, Samantha had other ideas.  With a sudden lunge she swept his
legs from under him.  He tried to roll away from her, but the
panther-like beauty was too quick.  She crashed a leather-clad knee
into his back, driving it in a second, then a third time.  Aaron
groaned in pain and struggled to crawl away, but Samantha grabbed
his arm and hauled him more or less upright.  She picked him up as
if to body slam him, but instead sent his left shoulder crashing
down across her upraised knee.

     Waves of agony shot through Aaron's arm and shoulder, and he
thought his collarbone might be gone.  He lay helpless on the
canvas for almost a minute while Samantha preened and posed,
showing off.  She walked over to him and squatted down.  "Had
enough of a rest?" she inquired.

     Aaron moaned and rolled over, trying to regain his feet.  He
felt his injured shoulder.  "Don't worry, it ain't broken,"
Samantha assured him.  "I didn't use all my strength, just enough." 
Aaron growled something unintelligible and slowly rose upright, his
body swaying slightly.  Samantha leaped straight up and hit him
with a standing dropkick.  Both boots smashed into Aaron's chest
and he was sent back first into the corner.  Samantha drove her
leather-covered knee into Aaron's gut and he slumped down again. 
Aaron found time to marvel at Samantha's brute power as she yanked
him back up and pressed him over her head.  Samantha had no problem
carrying Aaron's two hundred and eighty pounds around the ring. 
She then gorilla-slammed him hard to the canvas, the impact shaking
the ring.

     Aaron was defenseless as Samantha approached, a smug smile on
her pretty face.  She pulled him to his feet and then wrapped her
sinewy arms around him just under the rib cage.  Aaron expected
another suplex and braced himself, but Samantha had something else
in mind.  She slowly began to close the circle of her arms,
squeezing Aaron in a body vise.  "This's why I was known as 'The
Mancrusher' when I wrestled in the Arena," she whispered.  "Let me
know when you've had enough."

     Aaron pried at her rock-hard arms to no avail. Samantha felt
Aaron's ribs start to bend as she increased the pressure little by
little.  Sweat gleamed on her body, highlighting her lethal
muscles, as she brought her strength to bear on Aaron's aching
body.  Aaron's struggles grew weaker and weaker as the brutal hold
sapped his strength. Finally he dangled limply in Samantha's arms,
unable to breathe, crushed between her constricting arms and her
thick chest.  "I submit," he gasped with his last breath.

     Luckily for him Patricia heard the barely audible words and
said, "He submitted.  Let him go."

     Samantha eased the pressure and lay him down carefully, then
stood up and blew a kiss to the camera.  "That was just with my
little old arms," she said huskily.  "Wait 'til I use my legs on
him."

     Bob had a hard time reviving Aaron.  The big man was having a
tough time breathing.  He was barely sitting up when the bell rang
to open the third fall.  Samantha stood over the two men.  "Scram,"
she said to Bob, "unless you wanna take his place."  Bob hurriedly
left and Samantha turned her attention to Aaron.  "Still a little
woozy?" she asked with mock concern.  She slapped him lightly
across the face.  "C'mon big fella, get up and fight."

     Samantha stepped back and waited while Aaron struggled to his
feet.  He lurched toward her, trying to get a hold, any hold on
her.  She grabbed his arm and whipped him into the ropes.  Aaron
rebounded toward her and she hip-tossed him to the canvas.  He
landed with a thud and lay there, writhing on the mat.  Samantha
quickly sat down behind him and straddled Aaron's head.  She yanked
his skull up hard against her pelvis and locked her ankles.  Her
sinewy thighs were clamped tightly against the sides of Aaron's
head.

     Samantha leaned back and slowly increased the tension of her
inner thigh muscles.  To Aaron it felt like his was caught in a
machinist's vise.  Samantha inspected her fingernails in a show of
nonchalance as she pulverized Aaron's skull with her python-like
legs.  In less than thirty seconds Aaron lost consciousness. 
Patricia raised Aaron's arm and let it go so it dropped lifelessly
to the mat.  "He's out.  Let him go," she ordered.

     Samantha released her vanquished opponent and stood over his
motionless body while Patricia proclaimed her the winner.  Then the
two women, assisted by Bob, slowly brought Aaron back to
consciousness.

     "Unnhh," Aaron moaned as the pain hit him.  "Anybody see the
steamroller that ran over me?"

     Samantha scooped him up in her arms and stood easily. Her deep
brown eyes gazed into his slightly unfocused ones. "It wasn't a
steamroller, it was a mancrusher," she said with a smile.  She
glanced back at Patricia.  "This one's too yummy to share," she
said as she carried him toward the back. 


     Aaron lay at Samantha's feet.  She'd massaged some life back
into him, giving special care to his head, left arm, and ribs.  Now
he looked up at her ebony-clad body in amazement and wonder.

     "Strip," she ordered, in a tone that meant business. Aaron
quickly removed his boots, trunks and jock.  Samantha looked down
at him approvingly.  "Very good.  Now, take my boots off for me." 
Aaron knelt and slowly unlaced the thigh-high patent leather boots,
rubbing Samantha's thighs and calves as he did so.  When he'd
unlaced them all the way she stepped out of them.  Aaron kissed the
legs that had rendered him unconscious, amazed at the power packed
into their smooth, supple length.  Samantha smiled.  "That's nice,"
she murmured.  She stepped back and slowly, teasingly slipped out
of her posing suit.

     Her olive skin was flawless, and she had no tan lines.  She
moved toward him again and Aaron rested his head against her
washboard stomach.  His tongue flicked out, teasing at her pussy,
and she pressed him to her.  He rubbed her legs gently with his
hands while his tongue played with her clit, and he lost himself in
her musky scent.  She arched her back and nearly purred under
Aaron's ministrations.

     Samantha twined her fingers in his hair and gently pulled him
up.  She smiled up at him, then clamped her mouth over his.  Her
tongue invaded him and she crushed him to her, kissing him
hungrily.  She cupped his balls in her hand and ran a finger up his
shaft, making him shudder.  He ran his hands across her broad,
smooth shoulders, feeling the steel beneath the velvet.  She guided
him into her, then put her arms around his neck and wrapped her
legs around his hips.  They writhed together, their bodies twisting
in shared passion as they orgasmed.

     Aaron knelt, and then they lay on the soft matting. Samantha
smiled down at him and nipped the tip of his nose, saying, "You
taste good."  They lay together for a while as their breathing
returned to normal.  Samantha raised herself on one elbow and
asked, "Was it worth it?"

     Aaron smiled dreamily and said, "Yeah, I think so.  I think
next time I'd like the reward in advance, though."

     "Next time?" Samantha asked, raising an eyebrow.  "You
actually want to go through that again?  What are you, a
masochist?"

     "Naw, just a guy who figures the reward is worth the price I
have to pay."

     Samantha laughed and kissed him hungrily.  "I hope you don't
think the reward is over.  I'm just getting started."

     Aaron grinned.  "I think I'm up to it..."

                          CHAPTER THREE
                    ...and Nikki makes three

     Aaron was folding the daily paper into its original shape
when Samantha entered the breakroom, her gym duffle slung over
her shoulder.  "Hey, lover," she said, and walked to him.  She
gave him a hard kiss, pulling him against her.  "What'cha doin'?"

     "Just finishing up an article in the paper.  Something about
the Eagles reunion tour coming this way in a few days."

     "Yeah.  I tried getting tickets.  They're sold out."

     He raised an eyebrow.  "You want to go?"

     "Hell, yes.  I've got everything they've ever done."

     Aaron grinned.  "Well, don't get your hopes up, but...I have
a few contacts, and I might be able to set us up."

     Her eyes twinkled.  "Really?  Oh, that would be great!"

     "Say no more.  I'll see what I can do."

     She kissed him again.  "Y'know, you're a great guy."

     "Thanks.  Don't you feel bad now about beating me up?"

     Samantha laughed, and hugged him closer.  "Of course not. 
It was my way of claiming you."

     "I thought you did a pretty good job of that after the
match."

     "Of course.  But I had to establish my dominance first. 
Otherwise, you men tend to get out of line."

     "I see."  He stroked her cheek.  "You don't really believe
that, do you?"  She didn't speak, but her smug grin gave him his
answer.  "So...what are you doing tonight?"

     "I'm going to be at Patricia's," she said.  "A few more of
my things arrived from my old place, and we have to arrange the
stuff.  I'll have to show you the rooms she's letting me use when
we're finished."

     "I'd love to.  You're...welcome to shack up with me, you
understand."

     She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his nose.  "Of course I
do.  But I'd rather just come over and make extended visits.  I
have more room for my things that way."

     "Makes sense.  I'll see you tomorrow, then."
     "You'd better.  Or I'll come looking for you."

     He winced.  "Okay, okay.  I've learned my lesson."

     They kissed a final time, slowly, passionately, Samantha
moaning low as their hands roamed.  Hesitantly, they parted,
looking into one another's eyes.

     "Just kissing you is better than most of the sex I've had,"
he said.  "I really wish you weren't busy tonight."

     "So do I," she said.  "If the job doesn't take long...."

     "There's a key in the flowerpot by the door," he said. 
"Anytime you want.  Wake me up."

     "Count on it."  With a final light kiss, she pulled away and
walked out.


     "Gee, Ren!"  Stimpy pointed his remote at the hyperactive
Chihouahoua.  "I don't think you're happy enough!"

     With a press of the button, the cartoon cat sent jolts of
searing joy through his friend.  Seconds later, both were
giggling and singing the first verse of the "Happy Happy, Joy
Joy" song.

     Aaron chuckled, shaking his head, then lowered the volume on
his television to a moderate level.  Turning to his computer, he
executed his terminal program, and was on-line less than thirty
seconds later.  After a few keystrokes, he was downloading the
weekly update of wanted fugitives from the National Criminal
Database onto his hard drive.  It would log him off automatically
upon completion.

     He stood up and walked from his terminal and into his
kitchen.  His house was a two-bedroom stucco flat on Port Ellis'
north side, and though small, was in a reasonably exclusive--and
well-patrolled--suburb of the huge city.  He'd lived in larger
apartments, but he found that the exchange of size for privacy
was acceptable.  It's better this way, he thought.  If I'd been
shaken awake by Sir Mix-a-lot one more time, I'd've put Manson to
shame.

     He pulled a Coors from a fresh six-pack, and popped the top. 
The refrigerator door swung closed as he turned--

     "Get one for me, willya?"

     "Shit!"

     He spun at the sound of the voice; at the fringe of the
kitchen stood a woman, her abundant red hair bound into a pony-
tail behind her.  She stood at five-eight or five-nine, and wore
a tight black half-top and glossy, skintight leather pants.  Her
physique was the mix of femininity and hard, smooth muscle he'd
grown so accustomed to since the virus had struck.  Fingerless
driving gloves completed the tough-girl packaging.

     "Who--who the fuck--"

     "Think, Aaron."  She took a slow step toward him, the heels
of her tall cycle boots clacking on the linoleum, and put her
hands on her hips.  "We've met before."  She turned her face a
little, allowing him to look her over.  "I'll be hurt if you
don't remember."

     Her fair skin and high cheekbones were complemented by 
green eyes and a pair of full red lips.  Aaron ranked her looks
in the "exquisite" category, but he still couldn't place her
face.  "I don't remember.  Why don't you--"

     "Let me help."  She turned sideways, and extended her arm,
her sinews rippling under her skin.  His eyes were drawn to a
tattoo on her left shoulder, of a intricately detailed black
rose, highlighted and glowing in white.

     A black rose.

     "SHIT!"  He slammed the beer onto the counter and lunged for
a nearby knife; her tattooed shoulder hit his gut and doubled him
over, bouncing him off his refrigerator.  She took his head into
the crook of her steely arm.  The subsequent DDT onto the hard
kitchen floor sent him spiralling into unconciousness.


     "Wake up, sleepyhead."

     Something cold passed over his forehead, then along his
cheeks, rousing him.  His eyes fluttered open, and he found her
leaning over him, gently moving a moist cloth over his skin.  A
throbbing pain radiated from the top of his head, making him
wince.

     "Sorry about the DDT.  I saw you go nuts and sort of
overreacted."

     "Hrrmm."  He wasn't up for speaking right away.  He tried to
stand, and realized that his ankles and wrists were shackled to
the chair.  She'd stripped him down to his BVD's.

     "N-Nicole...Nicole Sinclair," he managed to say.

     "Finally.  I was beginning to think you were losing it." 
She slid the cloth between his pectoral muscles.  "And you can
call me Nikki.  We're old friends, after all."

     Aside from some weakness, his senses had almost returned to
normal, and it wasn't as difficult to focus his eyes.  "I put you
away.  Three years ago."

     "Mmm-hm.  I'd jumped bail on an armed robbery charge.  How
you tracked me to that old airstrip I'll never figure out."

     "Rodman gave you up," Aaron said.  "Told me where you'd
probably go."

     "That bastard."  She shook her head.  "Figures.  And to
think I felt sorry for him when I heard he'd bought it."

     "He's dead?"

     "Yeah."  She dropped the cloth onto an endtable next to her. 
"A busted drug deal or some shit.  Took one in the forehead."

     Silence followed, as she looked him up and down, wandering
the contours of his powerful frame.

     "How're we gonna do this?"

     She cocked her head to one side.  "What do you mean?"

     "It's obvious I'm not leaving here with my whole skin.  And
you didn't bust out just to re-make acquaintances.  So how're you
gonna do it?"  He nodded to the kitchen.  "I've got some sharp
knives in there.  And there's a false wall in my closet where I
keep some good guns."

     "Well, first I'm gonna give you a show."

     "A show?"

     "Yeah."  She stepped astride his lap, and pulled his head
back by his hair.  He was staring up at her abdominal cage and
firm breasts.  "I want you to see what a busy girl I've been.  I
mean, all I did in prison was lift weights and fight.  And I got
to be the best at both of those.  So I figured you might like to
view the fruits of your labors."

     She took a few steps back, turned, and struck a double-
biceps pose.  The muscles of her arms and back rippled, her
sinews perfectly configured and proportioned.  "Like what you
see?"

     He said nothing, but a surge of blood in his shorts gave his
reaction away.  Captive or not, he was awed by her chiseled
physique, the overhead lights shading her fair skin.  He sat in
silence as she turned and posed for him at length, at various
times discarding her boots, then her top, then her pants.  When
she finally flung her thong underwear aside, he was on the verge
of blowing his wad.

     "My my," she said, running a nail the length of his
erection.  "I guess you do like my looks.  I'm flattered."

     "Let me guess," he said.  "Now that I've tented up, you're
gonna chop it off."

     "Chop it off?  What a waste."  She lowered to sit astride
his lap, and slid her arms around his neck.  "No, I've got other
things in store for your body."  Nikki brought her lips close,
and said, "Starting with this."  She crushed him with a kiss,
their lips and tongues working together.

     "Nice," she said upon parting.  "Let's see what else we can
do here."  She reached below her, and freed his insistent penis. 
It was warm and solid in her hand.  "Aaron-buddy, I believe
you're in love."  His chest tightened as she slowly moved her
thumb over the head.  "Well," she said, trailing him back and
forth over her moist opening, "Let's get to the good stuff."

     Shuddering, she lowered over him, her slick warmth
enveloping his shaft.  With a groan he came, his semen blurting
out of him like a moon launch.  Nikki moaned softly and trailed
kisses down his chin and neck.

     She proceeded to move from rhythm to rhythm, at one moment
rising and falling gently, then battering him mercilessly the
next.  Her screams of passion reverberated in the small living
room, joined occasionally by his own cries of climax.  Their
bodies glistened with sweat from their efforts.

     Hours passed, until finally she collapsed and wrapped
herself around him.  He felt her heart racing in time with his. 
"God, that was incredible," she said.  "You're the best fuck I've
ever had."

     "Thanks," he said.  "I didn't do much.  Of course, I'm not
used to being cuffed to a chair during sex."

     "Get used to it."  She planted another hungry kiss on him,
then reached to her pants on the floor beside her.  Nikki
produced a small key, and, still astride him, unshackled him.

     "You're gonna have to explain this to me," he said, finally
able to stroke her sweaty body and cup her breasts.  "I thought
you were angry with me."

     "I was -- three years ago," she said.  "But once I got into
prison, I turned around.  I knew I was headed nowhere with my
life.  The only reason I went on that robbery in the first place
was because of my fuck-up boyfriend, and when I realized that I
was just another piece of ass to him, I got a whole new
perspective."  She trailed her fingernails along his shoulders. 
"You changed my life, Aaron.  I didn't escape--I got paroled. 
And I wanted to thank you."

     "Well, except for breaking in and thumping me...you're
welcome."  They kissed again.  "So tell me, where are you
staying?"

     She shrugged.  "I dunno.  I thought I might find a halfway
house somewhere."

     "You got a job?"

     "Nah.  But I'm lookin'."  Her delivery left little doubt
that she didn't expect to find anything.

     Aaron's fingers traced the grooves of her impressive back
muscles, and he considered her options.  She's a paroled felon
with no money and no place to go, he thought.  She has a minimal
education, and her only real skills are lifting weights and
fighting.

     Lifting weights and fighting....

     "Okay," he said, "I've just figured things out.  For
starters, you're gonna stay here with me."

     She smiled.  "Come on.  I might be a good screw, but no way
are you gonna trust me to live with you."

     "Well, call me stupid, but...I believe you.  Given the
chance, I think you'll walk the straight and narrow.  Besides, if
you'd wanted to bust me up and rip me off, you could've done that
no problem."

     "True."

     "So that's settled.  The next thing is that I know of a
perfect job for you."

     Her eyes lit up.  "Really?"

     "Oh, yeah.  In fact, I'll bring you down there tomorrow
morning.  You'll be a perfect."

     "What?  What's the job?"

     "Relax.  I'll let you in on it tomorrow.  Let's just say
that it pays phenomenonally well and that you'll fit right in."

     "Aaron...I--I didn't come here to get anything from you. 
You don't have to do this."

     "Well, that's too bad, because I'm gonna help you and that's
that.  Far be it from me to neglect my civic duties and not aid
in the reform process.  I don't need you lapsing back into your
desperate ways."  He touched the end of her nose, which was shiny
and upturned, hardly what he'd expected from a hardened criminal. 
"Where's your stuff?"

     "I...I've got a bag on my bike in your driveway.  It's not
much."

     "Fine.  We'll get you situated and then--"

     "And then," came Samantha's voice from behind them, "I
assume you'll be auditioning her at AmaFlix."

     Nikki sat back slightly and looked over his shoulder as
Samantha stepped from the shadows of a nearby hallway.  The
redhead modestly covered her breasts as Samantha walked to them
and put her hands on her hips.

     "Hi, Sam," said Aaron.  "The funniest thing happened to me
tonight."

     Samantha held up the key she'd found in the flowerpot, then
dropped it.  It hit the floor with a clink.  "I know.  I've been
watching for the past hour and a half."  She looked Nikki over,
and slid a finger along her shoulder.  "Nice tattoo."

     Nikki looked to Aaron, still surprised.  "Um...."

     "Relax.  Nicole Sinclair, meet Samantha Steele, one of the
top fighters at AmaFlix, Incorporated.  If you don't mind the
idea of fighting men for money, she'll be one of the people
evaluating your audition."

     The redhead nodded, as Samantha looked her over.  "What, you
make videos of men and women fighting?"

     "Yeah," said Samantha.  "Stand up."

     Hesitantly, Nikki stepped from Aaron and stood.  Samantha
looked down at her, admiring her powerful body, which was as
thick and symmetrical as her own.  She passed her hands over
Nikki's shoulders, down her arms, across her abdomen, then to the
sides of her breasts.  "Very nice," she said, embracing her. 
"You'll do just fine."

     She trembled as Sam brushed her lips against Nikki's,
letting her breath warm the cool skin of the her face, before
crushing her mouth down passionately.  She bent Nikki back
slightly, her tongue probing and thrashing, her arms holding the
woman almost painfully tight.

     Pulling away, Sam said, "Aaron.  Get over here."  As she
closed for another kiss, she said, "We've got to reform this lost
soul."

     He straightened to his full height.  "God, I love my job,"
he said, and went to them.



                          CHAPTER FOUR
                 Welcome to the Hotel California...

     Samantha whipped Aaron into the ropes, hip-tossing him down on
the rebound.  Sitting behind him on the canvas, she engulfed his
skull in her sleek, muscular thighs.  Leaning back, she increased
the pressure on Aaron's trapped head, until the big man lost
consciousness.  She stood and Patricia raised her hand.

     "Hmm," thought Curt, "I think camera five's footage should be
spliced in right here.  Great close-up of the poor guy's face as
she knocks him out."  A quick, efficient cut and splice and the
tape was finished.  Curt stood and stretched.

     It had been a long day.  He walked to the door of the video
editing room and looked around, not surprised to see that most of
the lights in the big warehouse were off.  A check of his watch
revealed that it was nearly eleven.

     Curt Schilling was the chief video technician and editor for
AmaFlix.  He'd been working for the firm for about four months now,
right after quitting a going-nowhere job at a local television
station.  Patricia was so pleased with his editing that he'd been
made the head of the editing department after only a month -- which
might have caused some friction with Curt's co-workers, except that
nobody crossed Patricia Daniels.  Besides, the other editors
agreed, Curt was damn good, and he didn't lord it over anyone.  He
worked the longer than any of the other editors, mainly because
Patricia insisted he edit all of her tapes personally -- an order
that had been extended to Samantha's tapes just yesterday.

     Curt stretched, his hands reaching the top of the door jamb
and pulling down, releasing the tension in his shoulders.  He
wondered when Patricia would make him get in the ring.  That had
been a condition -- Patricia's condition -- of his employment, but
so far he'd just been too damn busy.  Every week or so Patricia
would stop in and remind him, "I haven't forgotten about you, video
man.  You'll be editing a tape of yourself soon."

     He ran his fingers through his touseled brown hair and yawned. 
Better call it a day, he thought.  I wonder how things went at the
party...

     He locked up and headed to his Miata.  Curt liked the little
sports car.  It might not have a big engine, but it sure FELT fast,
sitting that close to the ground.  Soon he was tooling down the
interstate, the wind blowing his hair around.  He realized he was
starving.  He pulled off, heading for a place he knew would be
open.

     Hooters was still pretty crowded.  He was shown to a table for
one.  He studied the menu, trying to decide if one burger was going
to be enough.  He sensed someone standing next to him and a husky
voice asked, "You ready to order, honey, or you need a little more
time?"

     "Bring me a Dos Equis to start -- I should be ready to order
by the time you get back," he replied.

     "Okay, honey," the voice replied.  He glanced up in time to
watch the Hooters girl -- dressed in the usual tight t-shirt and
orange hot pants -- saunter away.  He stared at her legs -- tanned
to a honey gold, and tautly muscled -- and fantasized briefly about
accompanying her home.  He shook his head and returned to the menu.

     A bottle of cold beer was thumped down on the table a few
minutes later, and the waitress asked, "What'll you have?"  He
looked up at her -- and immediately forgot what he was going to
say.

     "Uh -- I -- um -- I guess I'll have a cheeseburger."  He was
barely able to speak.  The woman's tee shirt was strained to the
utmost to contain her breasts, but that wasn't entirely it.  Her
face was not classically beautiful -- the pug nose and freckles saw
to that -- but was definitely attractive, however that wasn't what
made his breath catch in his throat.  Her arms were well
sculptured, sleek with muscle, but that wasn't it either.  It was
the entire package, the whole person, that was making his palms
sweat -- that, and the feeling that he'd seen her somewhere before.

     "How'dya like it cooked?" she asked, apparently unaware of the
distress Curt was in.  He looked at the name tag pinned to the
shirt, balanced atop one breast.  Laura, he thought.  What a lovely
name.  "Hello?  Anybody home?" Laura asked.  "How -- do -- you --
want -- it -- cooked?"

     "Huh?  Oh -- um -- medium-well, I guess."

     She smiled and said, "Coming right up."  As she walked away he
wiped his hands on his pants and looked down.  Well, almost four
months since I've been laid, he thought.  No wonder I jumped to
attention.

     He was a little surprised by his reaction, though.  After all,
he'd been in the gym with and editing tapes of beautiful,
skimpily-clad women for the last four months and not had this kind
of feeling.  Curt took a long swallow of beer and brought his
breathing back to normal, trying to think where he'd seen her
before.

     A few minutes later Laura was headed back, a tray balanced
over her head.  Her arms showed well-defined sinews as she
maneuvered the tray down to the table.  She put the plate down with
a flourish and asked, "Anything else I can getcha?"

     "Another beer, please," Curt said, and she headed to the bar. 
Suddenly he remembered where he'd seen her.  She'd been on one of
the tapes he'd edited just after he'd started working for AmaFlix. 
Not only that, he realized, she was almost a twin -- although not
quite as big -- of Elaine Lawson, the AmaFlix wrestling coach.  He
took a big bite of the food, not really tasting it.  "They've gotta
be related -- the resemblance is uncanny," he mused to himself.

     Magically, almost, a second beer was placed on the table. 
"Everything okay?" she asked, a twinkle in her brown eyes.  She'd
caught Curt with his mouth full -- like nearly always happened --
and he could only nod and utter muffled approving noises.  Laura
grinned and said, "Enjoy your meal -- I'll be around if you want
me."

     Curt finished the burger and fries and sipped at his beer. 
The place had begun to clear out a bit, and Laura came back over to
ask if he needed anything else.  "One more beer, please," he said. 
When she brought it, he asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

     "Sure, I guess," she said.  She pulled out a chair and sat
down next to him, regarding him warily.

     "I know this sounds like a line, but what the hell.  I feel
like I've seen you somewhere before."  Laura snorted.  "I work at
a place called AmaFlix and --"

     She smiled and said, "Maybe you have seen me then," she said. 
"I make tapes for AmaFlix occasionally."

     "I knew it," Curt said, grinning.  "My name's Curt Schilling. 
I get to edit a lot of the tapes.  I knew I'd seen you someplace."

     "You probably know my big sister, then," Laura said.  "Elaine
Lawson?  She's the --"

     "I'll be damned -- I thought you looked a lot like her!  She's
your sister?"

     "Yup -- she's about five years older than me.  I was twelve
when she left home."  She shook her head.  "Elaine was pretty wild
then.  She's settled down a lot.  I ran into her about three years
ago, when she'd been working for AmaFlix about four years.  It was
kinda awkward at first -- she felt she let me down when she left --
but we got to be friends again.  Anyway, I needed some extra cash,
and she talked me into wrestlin' part time.  I only do it once in
awhile -- when I get too bored with this job."

     In the background someone turned up the radio, and "Take It To
The Limit" filled the restaurant.  "Mmmm, I love the Eagles," Laura
said, closing her eyes and leaning back.

     "Really?  I'm a big fan too."

     "I heard their reunion tour was coming to Port Ellis -- God,
I'd do anything to get a ticket for that sucker."

     Curt was immediately upset that he had no tickets to  tempt
her.  Laura dropped his check on the table and stood up.  "Nice to
meet you, Curt," Laura said with a wink.  "See you in a couple of
days."

     "Whaddya mean?"

     "I'm scheduled to fight the day after tomorrow."  She
disappeared with a wave and a smile.  Curt left her a big tip,
regretting again that he didn't have tickets to the Eagles concert.

     On his short drive back to his apartment, Curt thought about
where he could get the elusive ducats.  He remembered a guy back at
the TV station who'd boasted he could get any ticket in the world
-- if the price was right.  Curt didn't like the guy, but figured
he had nothing to lose calling him to find out about the Eagles. 

     The next morning, before heading for work, Curt made the call. 
"Geez, you really want a tough one, don'tcha?  Eagles tickets ain't
cheap," the scalper said.

     Curt gripped the phone tighter.  "Come on, Lenny, you always
said you could get anything."

     "Yeah, I can get 'em -- but it'll cost ya."

     "How much?"  Curt closed his eyes when he heard the price. 
"That's for two, right?"

     "Hah!  You kiddin'?  That's per each -- prime tickets, right
by the stage."

     "Most third-world nations don't have yearly incomes that big,"
moaned Curt.

     "Hey, that's th' price -- take it or leave it," the smarmy
voice on the other end of the line replied.  "If you don't want
'em, I know plenty of people who'll jump at the chance."

     "I'll take it," Curt sighed.  After making an appointment to
meet the scalper later that day, he hung up.  "It'll be worth it,"
he said to himself," if this gets me in good with Laura." 

     Curt picked up the tickets on schedule -- nearly cleaning out
his checking account to do it -- and headed home.  A check of the
schedule earlier had revealed that Laura was scheduled to wrestle
Lance the next day at eleven.  He vowed to watch this one live,
rather than just editing the tape.

     The next day Curt got to work earlier than usual, determined
to finish the leftover work from yesterday so there was no excuse
not to see Laura's match live.  Elizabeth smiled at him when he
came in and asked, "When you gonna wrestle, Curt?  Patricia must've
forgot about you.  I'll haveta remind her."  He grinned and waved
at the attractive woman and headed for the editing booth.  For some
reason none of the beautiful women here had affected him like Laura
had.  Curt had a hard time concentrating on the job at hand as the
time for the match grew nearer.  The tickets in his pocket seemed
to grow heavy, and he popped a tape into his Walkman and hummed
along with "Take It Easy" as he worked. 

     Laura arrived at nine-thirty, dressed in a sleeveless blue
mini-dress and heels.  She wanted to get in some gym time before
she hit the ring.  Elaine ran over and hoisted the smaller woman
off the ground in an enthusiastic hug.  "Laura, great to see you." 
She deposited Laura back on the ground and looked her over.  "Hmm,
getting a little pudgy there," she teased, poking at Laura's
chiseled abdomen.

     "Yeah, right."  Laura felt her sister's rock-hard arms. 
"Losing size there, aren't ya?"  They laughed and embraced again,
then headed back to the locker room.

     "How's mom and dad?" Elaine asked.

     "Why don't you call and find out yourself?"

     "Ahh, he doesn't wanna hear from me," Elaine muttered.  "I let
him down -- I let all of you down."

     "You did what you had to do at the time," Laura replied.  "And
dad realizes that now.  He's just too stubborn to admit it.  I've
got a lot to thank you for, you know, Laura added.  "After you
left, I asked dad to train me.  I guess he was scared I'd leave,
too, so he did it."  Elaine smiled ruefully.  "Anyway, they're
okay.  They're excited about Jim's wedding," Laura continued,
referring to one of their brothers.  "I know they'd all love to
have you at the wedding."

     "I dunno," murmured Elaine.  "I don't wanna crash it and make
a scene."

     "Well, Jim said to invite you, so I'm inviting you.  If you
show up, fine.  If not, well, --"

     "Whatever.  Who're you matched with today?"

     "New guy, Lance Somethingorother.  He any good?"

     Elaine smiled.  "Not good enough yet."  They laughed and
disappeared behind the door. 

     Curt finished the final edit at a quarter 'til eleven and
rushed out to get a front row seat.  He couldn't wait to talk to
Laura and tell her about the concert.  Patricia sat down next to
him and said, "Out of your cave a little early today, aren't you? 
If you're that caught up, maybe it's time to get you into the
ring."  Curt squirmed uncomfortably -- while he knew he'd have to
wrestle some day, he didn't want to start out with Patricia.  The
tall blonde continued, "See Elizabeth later today -- she'll set
something up."

     Elaine, dressed in her referee suit, entered the ring.  Lance
came out of the dressing room, dressed in a blue varsity-style
singlet, white knee pads and over-the-ankle blue boots.  A cowboy
hat was perched on his head.  He carefully set it on the ring post
before ducking through the ropes.  He did some loosening up and
winked at Tommie, who was seconding him.  His broad back rippled
with muscle as he stretched in the corner.

     Laura emerged a moment later.  Curt swallowed hard and stared
as the cute brunette trotted up the aisle and jumped into the ring. 
She was clad in a white, cut-off tee shirt with "Hooters" in orange
across the breasts.  Her chest strained the cotton tee shirt so
much that the lettering was misshapen.  An orange thong-backed
pelvic leotard, cinched in tightly at the waist by a belt,
complemented her golden tan.  Orange kneepads and knee-high orange
boots completed her costume.  Laura sported solid looking arms and
those breathtaking, sinewy legs.  Her chiseled midsection, visible
below the cut-off tee shirt, looked hard as a rock.  She saw Curt
sitting in the front row and winked at him.  Patricia watched Curt
out of the corner of her eye and smiled a secret smile.

     Elaine introduced the two grapplers:  "In the blue corner,
standing six-two and weighing two hundred and twenty-one pounds,
Lance Ross."  The tall Texan waved to polite applause.  "In the red
corner, standing five-two and weighing one hundred and thirty
pounds, Laura Lawson!"  Laura waved and smiled, then blew kisses
left and right.  Elaine gave them their instructions and sent them
to their corners.

     Curt wondered if the size advantage Lance enjoyed would cause
Laura any problems.  He'd seen enough matches to know that the size
and (apparent) strength superiority for Lance meant little against
women these days, especially the women at AmaFlix.  Laura said
something to Sabrina, who was seconding her, and they both laughed. 
Tommie patted Lance on the shoulder and said, "Go get 'er, cowboy!"
as the bell rang.

     Lance came out quickly, crouched low, arms forward.  Laura
feinted a couple of times, trying to pull him off balance, but
Lance evaded her grasp.  He grabbed for her head and caught her in
a headlock, but Laura picked up his foot and leaned backwards,
suplexing him down on his upper back.  They rolled apart and Lance
went for the headlock again.  Laura ducked, grabbed an arm and
whipped Lance into a corner.  He hit hard, his back driving into
the padding, and Laura gave him no time to recover.  She jumped up,
put both hands on his head, thrust both feet into his chest and
monkey-flipped him across the ring.

     Lance landed hard, propelled by Laura's spring-steel legs. 
The freckle-faced brunette went back on the attack.  She leaped
into the air and dropped her solid leg across the man's face,
stunning him.  Hauling him to his feet, she draped Lance across her
shoulders and began spinning, dizzying the tall wrestler.  When she
tossed him to the mat, Lance was totally disoriented.

     Laura quickly climbed the ropes, then dove across Lance's
body.  She lay on top of the tall cowboy and wrapped both arms
around his head, pulling his face hard into the white tee shirt. 
Rolling to the side and taking him with her, she wrapped her legs
around his waist and locked the ankles.  Curt's jaw dropped when he
saw her muscular legs tighten around Lance's middle, the sinews
rippling and twisting as if they were trying to burst out of her
skin.  Laura laughed deep in her throat as Lance tried to pry her
legs apart.  He pushed against her rock hard thighs, but was unable
to make any impression.  He was finding it difficult to breathe, as
Laura pressed his face ever tighter into the valley between her
ample breasts.

     Elaine came close and asked Lance if he wanted to submit, but
he grunted a muffled "NO!"

     "You prob'ly should quit, cowboy," Laura advised.  "I don't
wanna hurt ya."  Lance tried to roll her over into a pinning
position, but Laura countered his every move.  "Okay, if that's how
ya want it," she said.

     Laura began to pulsate her inner thighs, jolting Lance again
and again.  Her python-like thighs, positioned between the ribs and
pelvis, were pulverizing Lance's torso.  It was almost as if she
was punching him with her thigh muscles.  Lance's struggles got
weaker and weaker, as he succumbed to Laura's crushing embrace. 
"So, any new men in your life?" Laura inquired of her sister as she
punished her prisoner.

     "You'll meet 'em later," laughed Elaine.

     "More than one?  I hope you'll share with your little sister,"
Laura teased.  Lance flopped around like a fish out of water, and
she loosened her hold on his head long enough for him to take a
breath.  "Still with us?  Okay, back in the booby trap," Laura said
with a wicked grin.

     Lance sputtered, "No no no I give!" and Laura released him. 
After Elaine raised her hand, Laura helped Lance back to his
corner, then danced back to her own side of the ring.  Sabrina gave
her the water bottle and towel.

     Laura relaxed against the ropes.  Sweat stained her tee shirt,
rendering it translucent, as Curt couldn't help noticing.  She
looked down at Curt, who was trying to hide his erection. 
Laughing, she asked him, "Do you get that way every time you edit
a tape, too?  No wonder you like your job."  Curt reddened.

     The bell rang for the second fall.  Lance had recovered fully,
but was much more cautious coming out of the corner this time. 
Laura put her hands on her hips and said, "Whatsa matter?  You
don't wanna play anymore?"  She moved in quickly, but Lance was
able to slip behind her and secure a bear hug.  Before he had the
hold cinched in, Laura dropped straight down and out of the hold. 
Lance tried to grab her while she was on the mat, but she drove
both feet into his chest and kicked him across the ring and into
the ropes.  By the time Lance had rebounded Laura was on her feet
again.  Leaping into the air, Laura wrapped her arms around one of
Lance's arms, swung her body around behind his back and scissored
the other arm with her sinewy legs.  Already off balance, Lance was
pulled over backwards in the crucifix hold, and nearly pinned.  He
used his weight and leverage advantage to pull free, and both
wrestlers regained their feet simultaneously.

     Lance grabbed one of Laura's legs and yanked, but Laura's leg
didn't move an inch.  The brunette wrapped both arms around the
cowboy's chest and squeezed, eliciting a groan.  He released her
leg and tried to pull back, but Laura had him well under control. 
Her knee thudded into his chest, rocking him badly.  Another knee
lift and Lance's legs buckled.  Laura forced him to his knees,
maintaining the vise-like hold around his chest.  She took a deep
breath and heaved him upward, letting him slip a bit in her arms
until she held him in an inverted bear hug.  Lance felt the blood
rush to his head, and he feared Laura was trying for a pile driver. 
He thrashed his long legs, and Laura couldn't keep him under
control.  Her hands came apart and Lance tumbled from her arms to
his hands and knees.

     Laura took advantage of Lance's vulnerable position to secure
a standing head scissors.  Then she fell to the side, locking her
ankles together.  Lance tried to separate Laura's ankles, and by
rolling her on her back and doing a handstand he was able to
escape.  He dove at her, trying for a headlock, but Laura slipped
away and he found himself flat on his face, one arm twisted
painfully up between his shoulder blades.

     Laura pressured the hammer lock and wiped some sweat away from
her face.  She then placed her free hand on the back of Lance's
head.  "Eat some mat," she suggested with a laugh as she pressed
his face against the canvas.  Lance slapped the mat with his free
hand as Laura pushed his trapped wrist higher up his back.  "Just
how flexible are you?" Laura asked as she held the arm just short
of doing serious damage.  Sweat gleamed on her golden skin, shining
under the harsh ring lights.  Her well-defined arms rippled as she
pressured the hold.

     Lance flailed about with his free hand and was able to grab
the bottom rope.  Pulling himself over to it, he held on
desperately.  "Break, Laura.  He's in the ropes," ordered Elaine. 
Laura let go and stood up, backing away to give Lance room.  He
rose slowly, shaking his damaged arm.  Laura waited until Lance
moved a step away from the ropes, then moved back in.

     Laura pressed Lance back into the ropes again, then whipped
him across the ring.  When he rebounded, he ran right into her
solid shoulder, driving hard into his belly.  He gasped and dropped
like a stone.  Laura lay on her side and trapped his lower chest
between her powerful thighs.  Her strong muscles rippled beneath
her velvety skin as she locked the scissors in tight.  Securing his
near arm, she constricted her legs, driving the air from Lance's
lungs.  He tried feebly to force her legs apart, but Laura laughed
and said, "Ooh, you're gonna get outta this hold . . . . . NOT!" 
She settled herself comfortably and increased the pressure until
she felt his ribs bend, then held it there.  "I hope you appreciate
the view," she told Lance.  "I wanna make sure you see these babies
this time.  Last fall you couldn't see much of anything!"

     Curt watched as her steel-trap legs took all the fight out of
Lance's body.  Laura's thighs looked hard as granite and her
muscles stood out in bold relief.  Laura twisted her lower body so
Lance's shoulders were securely pressed to the canvas and Elaine
slapped the mat three times.  Laura released her hold and stood
over Lance, saying, "One more fall, babycakes."

     Tommie practically carried Lance back to his corner.  He
rubbed at his chest.  A deep breath had him wincing in pain.  Laura
stood casually in her corner, chatting with Sabrina.  Sweat gleamed
on her face, and her dark hair hung in damp tendrils across her
forehead.  When the bell for the third fall rang, she said,
"This'll just take a minute."

     Lance came out slowly, favoring his sore arm.  Laura danced
around him, faking grabs at his head and arms.  She finally ducked
in, picked up one of Lance's legs and took the big man down. 
Stepping over his leg, Laura used a Boston half-crab to weaken
Lance even further.  She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and
looked straight at Curt.  "This's for you, sugar," she said to the
dumbfounded video expert as she blew him a kiss.

     With a quick twist she turned Lance on his back.  Laura jumped
at him and sat securely on his chest, her legs straddling his head. 
Snaking her legs around his skull, she pulled Lance's chin up hard
against her pelvis, then locked her legs into a reverse figure-four
headscissor.  Her bulging calf forced Lance's face up into Laura's
crotch, and her solid thighs applied pressure to the sides of his
head.  Laura smiled down at him and sang, "It's beddy-bye time," 
Her powerful legs tensed as she squeezed the big man unconscious. 
Elaine checked on Lance and told Laura to break.  Laura stood over
her senseless victim while Elaine proclaimed her victor

     Laura carried Lance out of the ring right past Curt.  "I need
to talk to you," he said as she walked by.

     Laura paused, sweat coursing down her body.  "Sure, babe. 
I'll come see ya in a while."  She carried Lance's unconscious body
toward the back. 

     Laura knocked on the editing booth door a few minutes later. 
"Hi," said Curt.  "C'mon in."  Laura, still in the sweat-drenched
wrestling togs, leaned against the wall.  "Didn't you take Lance --
I mean --"

     "He's still out.  I'll get back to 'im later," she replied. 
"Whatcha want?"

     "Well, I was kinda wondering if you were free tonight."

     "I'm s'posed to work."

     "Gee, that's too bad," Curt said innocently.  "Well, can you
think of anyone else who might be interested in seeing the Eagles?"

     Laura's jaw dropped.  "You got tickets?  How?  Never mind --
I don't care how.  She grinned at him.  "You mean it?  You want me
to come with you?  Wow!  I feel a sudden attack of twenty-four hour
flu coming on."  She leaped at him, wrapping her arms and legs
around him and covering his face with kisses.  "Thankyou thankyou
thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyou
thankyou !"  She dropped back to the floor and surveyed his now
sweaty shirt.  "I better shower -- hope you've got a clean shirt. 
What time?"

     "I'll zip home and change, then meet you back here, okay?"

     Laura nodded enthusiastically, then said with a mischievous
grin, "As long as your changing that shirt anyway --" and climbed
him like a tree again, kissing him until he thought he might pass
out.  Stepping back, she said, "That oughta hold ya.  See ya
later."

     Curt dropped weakly into his swivel chair, his knees shaking. 
"Wow -- wonder what she meant by that." 


     Laura quickly stripped and headed for the shower.  Elaine was
already under the water, and she raised an eyebrow at Laura. 
"What, done with Lance already?"

     Laura grinned.  "I'm gonna wait 'til he's a little more awake. 
Guess I squoze him a little harder than I thought.  Anyway, guess
who's going to the Eagles concert tonight?"

     "No shit?  I'm jealous -- where'd ya get the tix?"

     "You know Curt -- one of the editors -- he got 'em somehow."

     "I noticed him out there watching today.  Kinda unusual -- he
generally doesn't come outta his hole.  I think he's afraid
Patricia'll see 'im and remember he hasn't been in the ring yet." 
Elaine looked at her sister and grinned.  "Hmm, maybe one of the
participants in the match had something to do with him being out
there.  Where'd you meet him?"

     Laura turned on the shower and stood under the driving spray,
working shampoo into her curly brown hair.  "He showed up at
Hooters the other night and said he thought he remembered me from
somewhere.  Pretty corny line, I thought, until he mentioned this
place and he said he worked here.  I told him I'd do anything to go
to the Eagles concert, and I guess he took it from there."  She
rinsed the suds out of her hair and sighed as the warm water
sluiced down her firm body.  Elaine started soaping her back. 
"Thanks.  He's kinda cute."

     Elaine laughed.  "So, you'd do 'anything' huh?  Wonder what
Curt's got in mind."  She handed Laura the soap and turned around. 
"You do me."

     Laura rubbed the thick lather over her sister's back.  "Well,
what's gonna happen prob'ly isn't what he has in mind."  They both
laughed, then Laura continued.  "I'm serious about Jim's wedding. 
He really wants you to be there.  They all miss ya back home."

     Elaine rinsed off and looked down at her sister's deep brown
eyes.  "Really?  I'da thought they were glad I was gone."

     Laura grabbed Elaine's wide shoulders and shook her a little. 
"They miss you.  Everyone always asks if I've seen you lately." 
She shook her head in exasperation.  "Damn it, you and dad are so
alike -- both so damn stubborn."

     "I'll think about it," Elaine promised.  As they were drying
off, she asked in a small voice, "They really miss me?"

     "Yeah -- beats me why."  Elaine shoved Laura gently, and the
sisters embraced. 


     Curt changed to fresh jeans, short sleeved shirt, and sports
jacket, then headed back to AmaFlix to pick up Laura.  He was
humming "Life in the Fast Lane" as he pulled up.  Laura was clad in
the blue mini-dress again, her bare arms showing solid muscle, the
belt at the waist emphasizing her large chest.  "Cute wheels,
sport," she said as she slid into the passenger seat.

     "You look terrific," Curt said as he pulled out into traffic.

     "Thanks.  By the way, Elaine said to tell you that you forgot
to stop by the office before you left.  I have a feeling Patricia's
a little annoyed..."

     "Shit! -- 'scuse me -- I forgot!  Well, guess I'll haveta pay
the piper tomorrow."

     Laura hugged Curt's free arm as he maneuvered the nimble
little car through the stream of cars.  "Don't sweat it, Curt.  It
might not be as bad as you think."

     "I guess -- you hungry?"

     "Famished.  Dinner's my treat -- it's the least I can do for
someone who paid an arm and a leg for those tickets."  Curt felt at
his body.  "What's the matter?"

     "Nope, still got both arms and legs."  Laura snorted and
punched him lightly on the shoulder.  "So, if you're buying, where
are we going?" 


     They stopped at a nice place and relaxed over wine and Clams
Cassino.  They reached the stadium with several minutes to spare. 
As they shuffled towards the gate, Curt noticed Samantha and Aaron
a few people away and he called to them.  "How's it going?" the
tall, exotic woman asked.  "I take it you're both fans, too?"

     "Got everything they ever did," replied Laura.

     They went in.  Samantha and Aaron were directed to the upper
deck, while an usher led Curt and Laura to the field level.  "How'd
ya get field level tickets?" the big man grumbled.

     "Guess my scalper's got better contacts than yours," Curt
replied, and Aaron laughed.  See ya later," Curt called as the
other couple headed upstairs.

     Laura and Curt were shown to terrific seats -- fifth row from
the stage.  They spent nearly four unbelievable hours, swaying
along with the well-loved music.  Laura cried a bit as "Desperado"
wound its way to the end.  "What's the matter?" Curt asked.

     "This song always reminds me of our family -- Elaine leaving,
mostly.  Sorry, must be getting melancholy in my old age."  The
tears soon disappeared as the opening bars of "Hotel California"
rang out, and everyone sang along with "Heartache Tonight".  After
four encores the crowd finally let the musicians leave the stage.

     "Wow!  It's everything I hoped it would be.  Thanks again,"
Laura said, kissing Curt's cheek as they waited for the crowd to
disperse before trying to get to the car.  Aaron and Samantha came
downstairs and Laura called, "Wasn't it great?"

     Samantha hugged Aaron's arm and said, "Terrific!  Even if we
couldn't get close to the stage like the beautiful people."  She
gave Aaron a peck to assure him she was kidding.  "So, we're
heading for a club to do some dancing -- you wanna come along?"

     Curt was about to say yes, but Laura spoke up, "Sorry, we've
got other plans.  See you soon!"  With a wave, Samantha and Aaron
headed off.

     "What 'other plans'?" Curt asked as they walked to the car.

     "Trust me, sugar.  We've definitely got other plans." 


     Curt found Laura's townhouse with little trouble and walked
her to the door.  "It's still early.  Wanna come in?" she asked.

     "I dunno -- I've gotta be at work early tomorr--"

     Laura grabbed his arm and hauled him through the door.  "Work
can wait," she said as she smothered him with kisses.  Curt
responded enthusiastically, and they lurched into the living room
locked in an embrace.  Laura worked an arm free and flipped the
lights on, then pushed Curt back onto the couch and knelt astride
him, her tongue dancing with his as their breathing grew frenzied. 
Her mini-dress was up to her hips, revealing a pair of black thong
panties barely concealing her curly pubic bush.  Curt maneuvered
them around so Laura was on the couch and he was above her.  He
lowered his lips to hers--

     --and cried out in pain as Laura locked her steely thighs
around his waist and squeezed.  He grimaced as the athletic beauty
applied just enough pressure to hurt, but not to damage.  She let
up for a moment and Curt gasped, "What's the idea?"

     "The idea, lover, is that if you wanna do this, we're gonna do
it by my rules," Laura said with a smile.  "Even if you don't wanna
do this we're gonna do it by my rules.  Now, you're a pretty big
guy.  You might think I can't do whatever I want with you.  But
honey," she said with another quick squeeze, "you'd be dead wrong."

     Curt remembered how easily this cute, playful minx had handled
a trained wrestler taller and heavier than him, and knew Laura
wasn't boasting.  "Now, I want you, and I know you want me.  This
isn't just 'cuz you got us into the concert tonight -- although
that moved the schedule up a bit.  I've wanted to do this ever
since I saw you the other night.  In fact, I switched tables with
another gal when you sat down so I could serve you."  She pulled
his head down and kissed him hard.  He fondled her large breasts
and felt their hard nipples.  Laura moaned, then unlocked her legs
suddenly and shoved him away.  He staggered to his feet, and Laura
rose to join him in the middle of the living room.

     Curt unbuckled Laura's belt and let it fall.  Laura gently
eased the jacket off his shoulders and tossed it to the floor, then
slowly unbuttoned his shirt.  Her hands caressed his chest as she
kissed him hungrily.  Curt slid the straps of her dress down her
arms and caressed her full breasts.  He found he wasn't surprised
she wasn't wearing a bra.

     She moaned in pleasure as he teased at her nipples, his
fingers gently caressing her aureolae and sending shivers through
her.  Laura unbuckled Curt's belt and unbuttoned his jeans,
giggling when she had trouble easing the zipper past his erection. 
Curt slid the dress down her hard body, skinning her like a rabbit. 
She kicked the dress away and he stepped out of the jeans.  Her
strong fingers kneaded his scrotum, and he nearly came right then
and there, but Laura applied firm pressure to the end of his penis,
and he was able to hold back.  Her panties were moist with her
juices, and he gently teased at her clitoris with one finger.

     Laura sank to the floor and pulled him down on top of her. 
She wrapped those beautiful, lethal legs around him again and
constricted enough to bring tears to his eyes.  She rolled them
onto their sides, her legs still tightly locked around him, and he
looked into her deep brown eyes.  "Too soon, lover," murmured Laura
as she tensed her granite thighs a little.  Curt moaned in combined
pain and pleasure as he surrendered to her hard, sexy body.  He
dropped his head and nuzzled at her ear, tracing its outline with
his tongue.  Laura shuddered and moaned, her legs now loosening and
tightening in a primal rhythm, forcing Curt further and further
into the throes of passion.  His mouth sought her firm breasts, and
she pulled his head down to her ample chest so he could suckle and
fondle them.  Laura's head was thrown back, her eyes half focused
as Curt found her hot buttons.

     Laura rolled Curt onto his back.  Her ankles were no longer
locked behind him, but her solid thighs were still tightly clamped
to his sides.  Reaching down, she gently took him and eased him
into her.  Curt felt her inner muscles grip him tightly, and as she
started her thrusts he matched her rhythm easily, as if they had
done this many times before.

     Curt erupted in a paroxysm of passion the same instant Laura's
orgasm hit.  Their thrashing bodies stiffened as if several hundred
volts of electricity was coursing through them.  Slowly Laura
lowered herself onto Curt's chest.  Both were exhausted.

     Slowly Laura opened her eyes.  Curt's brown eyes gazed into
hers from a distance of about two inches.  Laura brushed some
sweat-dampened hair from Curt's forehead and kissed him lightly on
the nose.  "Mmmmmm," was all she said.

     "The feeling is mutual," Curt whispered.  He gave her a peck
on the chin, then nuzzled her throat.  Laura wrapped her strong
arms around his head, holding him close.  They were still coupled,
and she could feel him getting hard again.  Her legs moved,
seemingly of their own volition, and she held him captive between
them once more.  The pressure she brought to bear was not painful,
Curt decided, but comforting, like being held securely.

     His hands gently massaged Laura's abundant breasts, and he ran
them over her smoothly muscled shoulders and down her sinewy arms
gently.  Laura moaned with pleasure as Curt nuzzled her nipples,
and her legs tensed, sending ripples of pain and pleasure through
Curt's torso.  Before too long they were both ready again.  They
climaxed together once more, and when they were spent they lay
together on the soft carpeting, gently kissing.

     Laura rose from Curt's supine body and went into the bathroom. 
She dampened a washcloth with warm water and brought it, along with
a towel, with her back into the living room.  Gently she wiped the
sweat from Curt's face, then her own, then wiped the combined
juices from both their bodies.  As she worked on Curt's crotch, his
member sprang to attention again, and she giggled.  "How long's it
been between sex, anyway?" she asked playfully.  "You're 'bout the
readiest man I ever met."

     "Must be the company," Curt replied with a lazy grin.  She
grinned back and tossed the towel away.  Curt was about to descend
on her again when she pushed him down and clamped her thighs across
his stomach.

     Laura pressured him enough so he moaned gently, and she smiled
down at him.  "Told ya, we play by my rules," she said.  As she
squeezed, she gently caressed his chest and ran her fingernails
lightly around his ear.  Curt tried to push her legs apart, but she
shook her head.  "Unh unh, honey, not 'til I'm ready," she
admonished.  Tensing her inner thighs, she jolted him hard
momentarily and he gasped.  "That's just a reminder," she cooed. 
She reached down and captured his cock in her strong fingers. 
Gently, she ran her finger up the shaft until he trembled and
nearly exploded again.

     Releasing his midsection, Laura maneuvered Curt easily so that
her mouth could get at his cock.  She wrapped her sturdy thighs
around his head, and Curt saw stars for an instant as she tightened
the vise-like grip.  She relented, and said, "While you're down
there, make yourself useful."  Curt put his tongue to good use,
teasing her clit and thrusting it deeply into her vagina as he ate
her.  His senses were reeling from the pressure Laura maintained on
his head, the musky woman-scent of her, and the wonderful
sensations as Laura took his erect penis in her mouth.  They
brought each other to climax a third and fourth time before Laura
unlocked her legs from his head and rose unsteadily to her feet.

     She gently took his hand and pulled.  Curt got to his feet,
unresisting.  They walked on spaghetti-like legs into the bathroom,
which held a triple-sized shower stall.  Grinning, Laura pushed
Curt in and followed, turning on the water as she did so.

     They soaped each other, exchanging kisses and caresses.  Curt
stood behind Laura and ran his hands over her soapy, slippery body,
paying special attention to her breasts.  Laura moaned gently and
whispered, "Like my tits, honey?"

     "They're perfect -- I can't imagine anything more beautiful. 
Your whole fantastic body -- I just can't get enough of you."

     Laura felt something stirring in his groin, and smiled.  "So
I feel.  I thought you might be tired."

     "Can't keep a good man down," quipped Curt.  Laura groaned,
then turned and wrapped her arms around him.  Their lips met,
tongues jousting, and Laura eased Curt to a sitting position.  Her
sleek legs snaked around him again, and Curt felt them bite firmly
into his sides once more.

     Laura kept a firm pressure on Curt's torso, eliciting a soft
groan.  "Now that I have you here, under my control," she said, "I
think we need to get a few things straight."

     "Like what?"

     Laura pecked him on the check and said, "Be still, lover, I'll
tell you.  First, you're moving in here tomorrow.  Second, we're
gonna be together every night I don't haveta work.  Third -- well,
I haven't decided.  When I do I'll let you know.  Any questions?"

     "I don't have any problem with that.  One question."

     "Yes?"

     "Who does the cooking?"

     "We split it of course.  I'm nothing if not a fair mistress."

     "No problem," he said with a contented sigh.

     Laura slipped him into her again.  "I didn't think so," she
murmured.  The water sluiced down their coupled bodies as they
gently made love once more. 


     The clock radio clicked on and "Tequila Sunrise" filled the
bedroom.  Curt and Laura awoke in each other's arms.  Curt gently
kissed her freckled nose then started to get up.  Laura wrapped her
legs around him, holding him there and squeezing firmly.  "Where do
you think you're going, young man?"

     "I -- uh -- thought I'd get dressed.  I've gotta get to work."

     "I don't think so," Laura said in a sing-song voice.  "Not
just yet, anyway."  She pulled herself closer to him and gently
caressed his face.  "Thanks again for getting those tickets.  I
can't tell you how much they meant to me."

     Curt smiled gently.  "Sometime during the night I think I got
the idea."  She released him but he remained there, looking at her
body.  "God, you're so beautiful," he said as her lips found his. 

     Curt arrived at work after finding fresh clothes at his
apartment.  Laura accompanied him back to his place, then rode with
him to AmaFlix so she could pick up her car.  "See ya later,
lover," she said as she drove away.

     Jim, the computer expert, saw him come in and said, "You're
wanted in the office -- and I think you'll be in deeper doo-doo if
Patricia has to come and find you."

     Resigned to his fate, Curt headed for the office.  "Patricia,
he's here," Elizabeth announced over the intercom.

     The door to the inner office opened and Patricia called,
"Curt, get in here please."  Straightening his shoulders, Curt
walked into the lioness' den. 


                          CHAPTER FIVE 
                          Sunny's Tale

     "Your eyes had better be closed," Sunny's voice called.

     "They're closed already!"  Bob had to shout to be heard above
the wind rushing past them.  He gripped her midsection for dear
life as she veered her motorcycle into what sounded like a shell
and gravel parking lot.  The Harley idled, then stopped as she
flicked the key off.  Nearby were the sounds of rolling waves and
seagulls.

     "Okay," she said, helping him off the bike.  Salty air rose to
his nostrils.  "You can look now."

     He opened his eyes, pulling off his helmet as he did so.  They
stood before an old nightclub, the sides formed of treated wood and
inset with porthole-style windows.  Above it was a wooden sign
reading "WHITECAPS", illuminated by the pale light of the half-
moon.

     "Nice," he said, his gaze wandering over the exterior.  "This
the club you bought?"

     "Yeah."  Sunny led him onto the landing.  Stopping before the
door, she said, "I found out about it through the guy I bounce for. 
He said that it's dead weight for him because his money's tied up,
and he can't afford to get it going.  He offered to sell, and I
jumped.  Wrote him a check right there."

     "Have you had it inspected?"

     She nodded, pulling out her keys.  "Completely.  It's fire-
safe and structurally sound."  The lock turned, and she pushed the
entrance open.  "After you."

     A cashier's cage was to their immediate left as they entered. 
The hardwood floor was covered with round tables, atop which were
the seats and legs of upside-down chairs.  A bar ran the length of
one wall.  A stage and dance floor were arranged in a far corner.

     "Impressive," he said as she closed and locked the door behind
them.  "I expected to see cobwebs and dust.  It looks spic and
span."

     "After it passed inspection, I hired a contractor to clean it
and set it up.  It cost a little more than if I'd done it all
myself, but I want to open soon."  Sunny took his arm, and led him
to the bar.  "Besides," she said as they slid onto a pair of
stools, "I figured it would be a good place for us to come after a
hard day.  Sort of our own personal nightclub."

     Bob put his helmet on the counter.  "Great idea.  You could
make it 'members only' for birthdays and special occasions."

     "Exactly."

     Bob grinned.  "The bar stocked?"

     "Yeah.  Why?"

     He pushed himself onto the counter, then dropped behind it. 
"Name you poison."

     Sunny turned to sit facing him, and put her helmet on the
lacquered surface beside his.  "You can tend bar?"

     "Oh, yeah.  We had some hellacious team parties when I QB'ed
the Wildcats.  They appointed me the resident juice man."

     "Okay.  Long Island iced tea."

     Bob found the necessary ingredients, and mixed them into a
glass.  He handed the finished product to her, and said, "Give it
a try."

     Her eyes lit up as she sipped.  "Perfect!  Just right."

     "Glad you like it."  He poured an amoreta sour for himself,
then leaned over the counter, coming to rest on his elbows. 
"You're really special, Sunny."

     "What makes you say that?"

     Bob shrugged.  "I dunno.  You're just...enigmatic, I guess. 
Most women I've known have been pretty conventional, but you really
take life by the throat.  You're a bouncer, you wrestle, you surf,
you're about to open a club...it's hard to tell what you're gonna
do next."

     Sunny swallowed some more of her drink, then winked at him. 
"That's the way I like it.  It's important to me to keep trying new
things.  Otherwise I get bored."

     "I believe it.  Tell me about yourself.  Other than your name,
age, and so forth, I don't know much."

     She pulled her leather jacket away, the fringe swaying as she
shrugged her massive arms free, and draped it on the counter. 
Sunny's low-cut half-tank was thin and held tightly to her full
bosom.  "Let's see.  I was born and raised here in SoCal, my mom
and dad were--are--hippies who were big into the anti-war
movement."  She tapped a peace symbol that dangled from a leather
strap between her breasts.  "That's where this comes from."

     "Seems a little contradictory, you being a warrior and all."

     "I know.  It's part of that 'duality of man' concept.  Y'know,
Jung.  Anyway, mom and dad were pretty lenient on us kids, maybe a
little too much sometimes.  But they encouraged us to do what made
us happy."

     "Did lifting weights make you happy?"

     "Oh, yeah.  I got pissed off that girls couldn't do stuff like
play football, so I worked out and got strong.  I was always
athletic, and knew I could do it.  The coach wouldn't even let me
try out until my dad--who's a lawyer--threatened a suit.

     "I went after a linebacker slot, and outclassed the boys.  So,
the coach put me in as a publicity stunt, and I broke the
conference record for solo sacks in my first game."

     "Cool!  This is before the virus?"

     "About eight years before.  Anyway, I thought I was on first
string, but the coach had a kid he wanted to get a lot of exposure
for.  He wasn't as good as me, though, and when we started falling
behind, I'd get subbed in and win the game for us."

     Bob downed the last of his drink.  "Win the game?  I thought
you were on defense."

     "I made plays.  I sacked the QB, I forced fumbles, I picked
off passes...I even returned punts.  For touchdowns, usually."

     "Something tells me that your success didn't sit too well with
everybody."

     She nodded.  "The other coaches got pissed that a girl had led
her team to the state championship, and had pretty much won it for
them.  They hadn't been able to injure me--believe me, I took
enough chop blocks to know they were trying--so they started
looking for dirt, to try to get me off the team."

     "I take it they found some."

     "Yeah.  On about the third day of practice before the new
season, I was approached by the head cheerleader.  She wanted to
tell me how much she respected what I was doing.  We got to know
one another, and became best friends.

     "I went to a slumber party at her house--this was big shit for
me, getting to hang out with the cheerleaders--only the other girls
weren't there.  Her parents were gone for the week of that summer,
and we were alone."

     Bob smiled slightly, his chest tightening.  Oh, shit, he
thought, I hope this is going where I think it's going....

     She told me that she wanted to spend some time with me alone,
and after we changed we went out to her pool.  We swam for a while,
and then...."

     He swallowed hard, his face pale with anticipation.  "And
then?"

     Sunny chuckled.  "You pervert.  I'm trying to be
serious here."

     "Go ahead.  In excruciating detail, please."

     The big blonde swept her hair over a shoulder.  "Okay.  We got
to wrestling in the water, and suddenly she wrapped herself around
me and kissed me."

     Bingo!, he thought.  "You, uh, reciprocated, I assume."

     "Not at first.  I'd been attracted to her, but I was still
uncomfortable with the idea of, well, being with another girl.  She
got me out of the pool, and brought me to her shower--ostensibly to
wash off the chlorine.  She peeled away my bikini, and the next
thing I knew I was on the floor of the stall with her face between
my legs."

     Light-headed, Bob nearly collapsed.  "Oh, to have been a fly
on the wall.  Or a video camera, preferably."

     "She was like a snake.  Her tongue must have been a foot long.
We wound up in her bedroom, and that's where I took over."

     "Define 'took over'."

     "I was all over her.  She had a hard, curvy body, and I did
everything I'd fantasized about.  She got out some sex toys, and I
stuck something in every orifice she had."

     Bob's erection went from solid to blazing.  She jumped over
the counter and pulled him into a tight embrace.  "She screamed
like a banshee," said Sunny, unzipping his pants.  "I made her my
little sex slave."  Her hand moved to his member, which was
throbbing.

     "Oh, God," he murmured.

     She led him--not by his hand--to her office, which featured a
futon.  As she undressed them, she moved to the moment in the story
where the rest of the squad had arrived.  The memories of the
subsequent orgy had heated her as well, and when she finally slid
Bob inside her they both came furiously.

     Sunny rode Bob for hours afterward, until they collapsed
together in a spent heap.  "So," he said, stroking her long hair,
"this bisexual thing was discovered by the wrong people."

     "Yeah.  The coach called me into his office, and I could tell
he was pretty upset.  The opposition had told him that they knew
about my...extracurricular proclivities, and that if I didn't quit
the team they'd ruin me.  I didn't care that much about my rep, but
I didn't want Michele getting hurt."

     "Michele?"  He looked at her.  "Not our Michele."

     She laughed.  "Yup.  Y'see, she and the other girls got pissed
off after I told 'em what had happened, so we all quit and formed
a weightlifting team.  I coached 'em.  That's when she cut her hair
short."

     "To protest."

     "Yeah.  The other girls went on to win athletic scholarships,
but Michele and I decided to compete as bodybuilders.  When
Patricia found us in a show up in San Fran--where we won our weight
classes, incidentally--we jumped at the chance to join AmaFlix."

     "You've led a fascinating life.  I guess Michele took some
martial arts along the way."

     Sunny trailed her fingernails along his chest.  "Between
shows, we bounced for some clubs.  I was always big enough to
intimidate people, but she decided to take Kenpo to offset any
size difference.  Now she uses it in her matches."  She kissed him,
then said, "Y'know, if you're ready for some more, I haven't even
told you about how our weightlifting team made the little guy in
our mascot suit into our muscle slave."

     "Oh, Christ."  Bob's erection returned to full strength almost
instantly.  "I'm a dead man."

     "First," she said, "We dragged him into Michele's weight room
and tore off his costume.  Then, we tied him to a bench press...."

     As Sunny took him within her once more, Bob was thankful he'd
taken his vitamins.

                           CHAPTER SIX
                        A Brief Interlude

     The sensation of waking up with Darlene was, Jim decided,
almost as good as making love to her.

     Having her thick, soft hair nestled under his chin, her
smooth body resting over him, her inviting bosom rising and
falling on his...it was everything he'd hoped romance would be
and more.

     She moaned and stirred as he lightly stroked her red
tresses.  He realized how hopelessly smitten he was with this
ultra-feminine dynamo.  It was something he'd spent his life
guarding against, something he never felt he'd have to contend
with.  But Darlene had come tumbling through his defenses like an
armored column, and surrender was sweet.  This beautiful,
radiant, powerful enigma had irrevocably taken control of his
life, and to his surprise, he welcomed it.

     "What are you thinking about?"  The sound of her voice
surprised him.

     "The Cardinals game last night," he said.

     "Yeah, right."  She slid higher upon him and, embracing him,
crushed her lips to his.  She made the kiss last, moaning and
probing with her tongue.  When she parted finally, she said,
"What were you really thinking about?"

     "Mushy stuff.  You probably don't want to hear it."

     Darlene pressed her forehead to his.  "Jim, I'm a girl.  I
love mushy stuff.  So spill it."

     "It's pretty predictable, really.  I'm in love with you."

     She drew back, a surprised smile on her face.  "Jim!  Are
you sure?"

     He nodded.  "Yeah.  Guess that's what I get for being alone
for so long."  He looked down.  "I kinda hope I'm more than just
a good time to you--"

     "Jesus, Jim!  Of course you are!"  She kissed him quickly,
then said, "If I weren't crazy about you I'd never have chosen to
make you mine.  I'm so used to guys who think that love is a trap
that I never thought I'd find one who feels differently."

     "So, can I infer from that that you feel the same way?"

     "Yes, Jim.  I love you.  I knew I would.  And it's always
going to be that way."

     They came together for a mutual kiss, sealing the moment
with tender passion.  As their lips and tongues danced, it became
an event, a memorable testament to their admissions--and to the
future they awaited.

     "Look," she said, "There's something else we need to
discuss."

     "Kids?  Not for another couple of decades."

     "No, stupid.  It's about...the way things are now.  About
relationships, like the one we have."

     "Be direct.  I can take it."

     "Fine.  I don't expect you to be monogamous, and I hope you
feel the same about me."

     Jim was quiet, stroking her shoulder with a finger, then
said, "I kinda guessed that.  I mean, I know we've felt this way
toward one another for a while, but you let Patricia maul me the
other day, and well, I was raped pretty good at the pool party."

     "I knew you'd enjoy it.  'Love' shouldn't mean inhibiting
you.  And besides, since the virus came...everybody's sex drives
are keener than ever before.  I won't quote a bunch of scientific
bullshit at you, but humans have a need to experience multiple
partners now more than ever."  She touched his chin, then said,
"I'm glad you understand."

     "Don't worry.  I'm not the possessive kind.  Just knowing
how we feel about one another is enough."

     "We'll be together most of the time, Jim.  You'll be my
constant."

     "And you'll be mine."

     She nipped his chin, and said, "Now things are getting
mushy.  Let's start the day off right, shall we?"

     As she took his early-morning erection within her, he said,
"Breakfast of champions."


                          CHAPTER SEVEN
             Hell hath no fury like Patricia scorned

     Curt walked into Patricia's office.  The tall blonde smiled at
the nervous man and said, "Hello, Curt.  Please, be seated."  She
rose and walked around the large mahogany desk.  Curt swallowed
nervously and waited for her to announce his doom.  "Curt, I've
been going over the records and found that you've been here for
four months without getting in the ring."  She looked down at him
and repeated, "FOUR MONTHS.  According to your evaluation, you're a
brown belt in Jiu-Jitsu.  Why haven't we had you in the ring yet?"

     "I -- uh -- well, I've been working real hard--"

     "Cut the bullshit, Curt.  And why didn't you come in here last
night, like I told you?"

     "Um -- it slipped my mind.  See, I got these Eagles tickets
and--"

     "WHAT?  You got tickets for the Eagles concert -- you found a
scalper -- and didn't tell ME?"  Patricia put her hands on the arms
of Curt's chair and leaned down so her face was inches from hers. 
"Now I'm REALLY pissed!"  She straightened up and strode rapidly
back and forth.  "I was gonna put you in against Joanne, but now --
yeah, that's it."  She stopped and stood over Curt again.  "I'm not
going to fight you myself -- I'm a little upset with you at the
moment, and I'd hate to do anything PERMANENT to you.  But, I'm
going to see to it PERSONALLY that you get in the ring today."  She
turned to the desk and looked through the schedule.  "Hmm, yes,
here we are, there's an opening at ten-thirty.  Elizabeth,"
Patricia said into the intercom, "could you come in here please?"

     Elizabeth entered quickly.  "Elizabeth," Patricia said, "Set
up a fight between Curt and Darlene for one.  And when Darlene
shows up, tell her I want to see her."

     "Will do.  By the way, I haven't been in the ring for a while. 
When--"

     "Hmmm, you're right.  I'll figure something out, don't worry. 
"We'll get you in the ring real soon.  Curt, sign the contract
and be out there.  It'll be freestyle, one fall -- we don't want to
tire you out TOO badly in your first match.  I'll referee.  See you
later.  Oh, and Elizabeth?" she said as they started out the door. 
"I promise you'll be in the ring tomorrow."

     Curt followed Elizabeth out of the office and signed the
contract she placed before him.  Well, he thought, at least I don't
have to get in the ring against Patricia.  But Darlene -- well,
hopefully she'd let him survive.


     Samantha and Nikki arrived back at AmaFlix at nine-thirty,
meeting Aaron there.  They trooped in to see Patricia together.

     "Hi," the tall blonde said, coming over to give Aaron and
Samantha both a peck on the cheek.  "What's up?"

     "Patricia, this is Nicole Sinclair," Aaron said.  "I met her
a few years ago," he continued, and Patricia raised an eyebrow. 
"Yeah, I put her back in jail.  She's been paroled, and she needs
a job."

     Patricia nodded and told Nikki, "Take off your jacket please." 
She looked the redhead over carefully and nodded.  "Beautiful, and
a good physique.  Can you fight?"

     "Lady, for the last three years all I've done is work out and
fight," Nikki replied.  "Prison life don't exactly lend itself to
higher learnin', you know?  I don't know anything fancy, but I can
fight pretty good."

     Patricia nodded, then said, "Well, we'll give you a tryout
today and see how good you are.  If you do well, you won't have to
worry about money.  Samantha, show Nicole around and take her to
get some wrestling clothes."

     Nikki stuck out her hand, saying, "Thanks Ms. Daniels --
please call me Nikki -- you won't regret it."

     Patricia shook the proffered hand.  "You're welcome, Nikki --
and call me Patricia."  Nikki and Samantha left.

     "I need to talk to you," Aaron told Patricia.  She nodded and
gestured to the couch.

     Sitting beside him, Patricia kissed him softly and said,
"What's on your mind?"

     "It's kinda embarrassing -- I need some help.  I've got a lead
on a coupla bail-jumpers heading this way.  Normally, I don't have
a problem taking on two or three scumbags, but these guys are
tough."

     Patricia nodded, and Aaron continued.  "It's a pair of twins,
both bigger than me.  Six-nine, three twenty-five apiece, and
meaner than shit.  If I could be sure of takin' them separately I
wouldn't be worried, but they never leave each other's side."

     "Never?" Patricia said, smiling.  "Even in bed?"

     "That's the rumor.  Anyway, the bounty's six hundred grand on
both -- it's a murder rap -- and I'd split it with you, if you'll
help."

     "Who'd they kill?"

     "A mother and daughter.  They were out camping in the boonies
and ran into the Patterson brothers -- they think they're some
kinda mountain men -- and the boys forced 'em, at gunpoint, back to
their cabin.  Then it was fun 'n games time for the boys until they
got tired of the women and shot 'em.  These guys," Aaron added,
"are not exactly all there upstairs.  Anyway, rumor has it that
they're heading for the Sierras not far from here."

     Patricia kissed Aaron again, this time pressing him down so he
lay on the couch.  "I'll help you for nothing, silly," she said. 
"Just as long as I get first crack at 'em."  She slowly unbuttoned
Aaron's shirt.  "For now, however, I want a crack at you."


     Nikki and Samantha strode into the bootmaker's shop.  "Trust
me," the exotic brunette said, "I get all my boots here."

     Nikki's eyes were wide as she took in the aromas of fine
leather and boot polish.  Samantha strode imperiously to the
counter, the four inch heels on her black boots not impeding her in
the slightest.  "Emil," she called out, "are you there?"

     A wizened little man emerged from the back and smiled up at
the tall woman.  "Ms. Steele, it's so nice to see you again.  You
are in need of a new pair of boots, yes?"

     "Not today, Emil.  However, my friend here needs some
wrestling boots."  She indicated NIkki.

     "Wonderful!  Please, miss, sit down and let me get your
measurements."

     Nikki sat and watched as the little man went into the back and
returned with two pieces of graph paper, a pencil, two long white
socks and a roll of duct tape.  "Please take your shoes off -- er,
take those things off your feet," he said, sniffing disdainfully at
the motorcycle boots, "and put on these socks."  Amused, Nikki
removed her leather jacket, revealing a white tank top which bared
her broad shoulders, and did as she was asked.  "Good.  Now, please
stand on these pieces of paper."

     "What the hell for?" Nikki asked.

     "To get boots that really fit you I must trace your foot, of
course."  Emil looked at Samantha in exasperation.  "Where did this
one come from?"

     "Relax, Emil, she's been away for a while."  Samantha winked
at Nikki, then added, "She's never had a really good pair of boots
before."

     "So I can tell."  Emil traced Nikki's feet on the paper, then
smiled up at her.  "Good.  Now, how high?"

     "Whaddya mean?"

     "How high do you want the boots to come on your leg?" Emil
asked patiently.

     "Um -- gee, I hadn't thought about it."

     "Bottom of the knee's a good spot," Sam suggested.  "I wear
mine quite a bit higher, but it takes some getting used to."

     "Okay, bottom of the knee," Nikki said.  Emil nodded and began
applying the duct tape to the socks.  "Now what?"

     "He's making a mold of your leg -- so the boots can only be
worn by you."  Sam grinned.  "I work out so much that Emil has to
re-mold my leg every six months, otherwise I'd bust out the seams."

     Emil quickly finished his work and took out a pair of
scissors.  "Front, side, or rear laces?" he asked.

     "Front," Nikki replied.  Emil nodded and cut the tape-covered
socks down her shins, then peeled them off her legs.

     "Now, what material?  I have some nice elk here--"

     "White, shiny -- whaddya call it -- patent leather," Nikki
said.

     "Very well.  And any decoration?"

     "I dunno - what do YOU think?" Nikki asked Sam.

     "I'd go with the rose -- good visual hook," Samantha replied.

     "What rose?" asked Emil.  Nikki showed him her shoulder. 
"Beautiful work," he enthused.  "Good -- a black rose on the white
boots.  May I take some pictures to work from?"  Nikki nodded and
Emil went into the back to get his Polaroid camera.

     "What're these gonna cost?  I don't have much dough--"

     "Relax, Nikki," the tall brunette said, brushing a strand of
red hair out of Nikki's eyes.  "You can pay me back out of your
first AmaFlix paycheck."

     "Thanks, Sam," Nikki said with a smile.  "I really appreciate
what you and Aaron are doing for me."

     "Here we are," Emil said, bustling out of the back with the
camera.  He took several shots of the black rose tattooed on
Nikki's arm, then said, "When do you want them?"

     "Two hours," Samantha said before Nikki could speak.

     "Impossible," Emil spluttered.  "I need at least a month for
these."

     "Now, Emil," Samantha purred, as she stood closer to the
little man.  Standing six-four in her high-heeled boots, she
towered over the bootmaker.  She put her scarlet-nailed fingers
under his chin and tilted his head back so she could look him in
the eyes.  "I'm one of your best customers.  I know that a genius
such as you can have these done in one hour, but I'll be generous
and allow you two.  I will pay more, of course, for the special
service."

     Emil swallowed nervously and asked, "How much more?"

     Sam's pouted as she thought for a moment, then said, "Double."

     "Done," Emil said.

     Samantha patted him on the head and said to Nikki, "Come on,
time to get the rest of your togs.  We'll be back in two hours."

     Nikki struggled back into her jacket as she hurried to catch
up with Samantha's long strides.  Every male head on the street
turned to follow their progress with lust and longing.  "Come,
Nicole," Samantha said, holding open the door to an exclusive
women's shop.  "We'll get you outfitted right."


     Curt headed back to the editing booth and looked through the
tape library.  "Hmm, here we go, Darlene Adams vs. Pedro Chavez." 
He popped the tape into the machine and watched the beautiful woman
destroy the Hispanic man, using perfect wrestling technique and her
powerful body to totally dominate him for three falls.  Curt
thought about his strategy.  The freestyle rules forbade nothing --
even choking, a big part of jiu-jitsu.  It also meant that either
a submission or sixty-second knockout was the only way the match
could end.  "Hmm," he thought, "how do I keep her from knocking me
out?"  He watched as Darlene finished Chavez off with a suplex
followed by a grapevine pin, easily holding him down for the
requisite three-count.  "Whatever happens, this'll be a change from
last night," he mused, rubbing his midsection, remembering the
sensual squeezing he'd endured at the hands -- legs -- of Laura.


     Sunny Olsen leaped into the ring.  Her long hair whipped
around her face as she looked across the ring at John Jackson.  A
white cut-off tee shirt, with the sleeves ripped out, strained to
cover her deep chest and broad shoulders.  A depiction of a
muscular woman and the legend "To HELL With Physical Correctness"
decorated the front of the garment.  She stripped it off over her
head, revealing her wrestling costume of powder-blue thong bikini
and boots.  Jackson wore white gi pants, his thick, heavily muscled
chest bare.  Elaine called them to ring center and told them, "You
know the rules.  Three-out-of-five, pins and submissions, one hour
time limit.  Good luck."

     Sunny's blue eyes were level with Jax's brown ones, and she
smiled into them, saying, "Should be a good fight."

     Jax shook her hand and covered his right fist with his left
hand, bowing slightly.  Sunny grinned and nodded back.  At the
bell, Jax came out quickly.  His previous matches had taught him
that waiting for his opponent to attack was a futile strategy.  He
hoped to surprise the surfer-girl with a dynamic attack right off
the bat.

     Sunny's strategy was the same as usual -- hit him hard and
fast, get him down and squeeze.  She avoided Jax's backfist, but a
follow-up side kick surprised her and jarred into her chiseled
abdomen, driving her back a step.  Sunny ducked under Jax's palm
strike and drove her shoulder into his well-muscled belly.  Locking
her arms around his waist, she started to heave him across her
shoulder, but Jax drove a double axe-handle blow down between her
shoulder blades.  It broke her hold and momentarily dropped Sunny
to one knee.

     Jax brought a knee up at Sunny's face, but she rolled aside
just in time.  Climbing nimbly to her feet, Sunny caught Jax's arm
as he tried a roundhouse punch and flipped him over her shoulder,
down to the mat.  She dropped her hard, muscular leg down across
the arm she still held captive and applied a Japanese arm-scissors,
trying to weaken the big man's arm.  Jackson got his legs under him
and rolled Sunny up on her shoulders, forcing her to break the hold
or risk being pinned.  She did a backward somersault and came up
grinning.  "Nice counter," she said.

     Jax grunted, working the blood back into his arm.  He tried a
palm strike to Sunny's chin, but the agile blonde slipped sideways. 
Grabbing Jax's extended arm, she whipped him into the ropes.  The
big man was able to hold onto the top rope and keep from rebounding
helplessly back.  Sunny, ready to deliver a devastating
clothesline, just smiled and shook her head as Jax came at her
again, still under control.

     Jax feinted high and dropped quickly, head butting Sunny in
the belly.  She saw the move coming and tensed her steely abdominal
muscles, so that all Jax accomplished was giving himself a
headache.  Quickly wrapping a brawny arm around Jackson's head.
Sunny pulled him to his feet then DDT'd him to the mat.  Jax saw
stars and desperately tried to clear his spinning head, but by the
time he was fully aware again it was too late.

     Sunny had climbed atop the ropes.  She waited until Jax had
rolled onto his back, then her steely legs propelled her high into
the air where she performed a front somersault and landed across
Jax's supine body.  The impact of her muscular, two hundred plus
pounds took the wind out of Jax's sails -- not to mention his lungs
-- and she quickly grapevined his legs and held him down for the
three count.

     Between falls Jax recovered fairly quickly, due to his
tremendous conditioning.  Sunny wiped a sheen of sweat off her face
and considered how she'd attack the big man in the second fall. 
This time, Jax came out more slowly, not sure what to expect. 
Sunny's eyes gleamed as she circled him, much like a shark circled
its prey.  Jax tried a spinning back-kick, but the blonde was gone
when he turned around.  Powerful arms wrapped around his waist
from behind, telling Jax where Sunny had disappeared to, and he was
suplexed onto his shoulders.  Before he could get up Sunny lifted
him, turned and power-slammed him to the canvas, her rock-hard body
landing atop him and making him gasp for breath again.

     The big blonde pulled Jax to his feet, picked him up again and
smashed him across her knee in a vicious backbreaker, following it
up with another power slam.  Sunny leaped to her feet and ran to
the ropes.  Rebounding off them, she dropped a muscular leg across
Jackson's face, stunning him further.  She pulled the big man up by
an arm and whipped him back first into the corner, then cartwheeled
across the mat and hit him with a brutal reverse thrust elbow.

     The ropes held Jax up as his legs buckled.  Sunny pulled him
out of the corner and pulled his head down, trapping it momentarily
between her husky thighs.  Locking her arms around his waist, Sunny
heaved him up, jackknifed his body and power-bombed him to the mat
with a resounding crash.

     Jax lay on the canvas, defenseless.  Sunny flipped him on his
belly and sat down on his back.  Wrapping her big hands under his
chin, she pulled him into a camel clutch, stretching his neck
backward.  She hauled back hard, using all the muscles in her legs
and back to add leverage.  Corded sinews in her forearms stood out
in bold relief as she pulled steadily back on Jax's head.

     Jax was in excruciating pain, but he didn't want to submit. 
Elaine asked him, but he grunted a negative.  Sunny said, "You
better give, baby.  I don't wanna pull your head off."  She pressed
her forearms in on the sides of Jax's jaw, adding another element
to the growing agony.  Finally, nearly unconscious, Jax submitted.

     The rest period went by too fast for Jax to fully recover. 
Lance tried to massage the kinks out of his neck, but Jax was still
in considerable pain when the bell rang for the third fall.  Jax
tried to fend the deadly blonde off with kicks and punches, and
Sunny contented herself with circling, looking for an opening.

     Suddenly, there it was.  She stepped in, trapping Jax's leg
between her muscular arm and rock-hard torso.  A quick leg
sweep sent the big man down on his back, and Sunny drove a knee
into Jax's hamstring, trying to knot up the muscle.  Twining his
leg around hers, she spun across his body, grabbed his other leg
and dropped back.  Jax tried to twist out of her powerful grasp,
but only succeeded in moving his leg into a more awkward position.

     Sunny secured the figure-four leglock and applied pressure,
but the pressure point was off a bit -- right against Jax's knee. 
He immediately screamed in anguish as the joint nearly came apart. 
He howled, "I GIVE, I GIVE, AAAARRRGHH!" and Sunny quickly released
him.

     Jax's knee began to swell immediately, straining the fabric of
his pants.  Elaine hollered for Julia, then tried to aid the
stricken fighter.  Sunny's powerful fingers ripped the seam of
Jax's pants, revealing an ugly contusion and badly swollen knee.

     Julia came out and took one look, then ordered, "Quickly, get
an air splint on that leg and get a stretcher in here."  She
applied and inflated the splint, immobilizing Jackson's leg.  Maya
Torres appeared quickly and clasped her student's hand as he was
carefully lifted onto the stretcher.

     Tears ran down Jax's face, and Sunny looked close to tears
herself.  "Shit, I'm sorry," she said.  "I didn't wanna really hurt
you..."

     "Not -- your -- fault," Jax said through gritted teeth.  "I'll
-- be -- okay."  Julia supervised as the stretcher was taken back
to the trainer's room, accompanied by Maya and Sunny.


     Sunny sat slumped in a chair, head in her hands.  "Damn, I
never wanted to injure anybody," she muttered.  Maya put a hand on
Sunny's shoulder, and the blonde looked up with a tear-streaked
face.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

     "I know," Maya said.  "It was an accident -- these things
happen.  Nobody blames you."

     Julia came out holding up X-rays of Jax's leg.  "His anterior
cruciate ligament is badly strained," she announced solemnly, "and
his tibia nearly snapped right below the knee.  Even vith
accelerated healing he vill be in an air cast for at least two
days.  It vill be at least a veek before he should get in the ring
again."

     "Can I see him?" Maya and Sunny asked together.

     Julia smiled.  "Vell, as long as you don't try anything too
strenuous..."


     Jax was still lying on the stretcher when the two women walked
in.  He tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace of pain. 
Before Sunny could speak, he said, "Hey, blondie, I'll be okay. 
You look like you're taking this worse than I am."

     Sunny shook her head.  "First time I ever really hurt anybody
-- I mean, I know it hurts when I slam you guys and stuff, but I
never -- injured -- anyone before.  I'm real sorry."

     "No sweat," Jax replied.  "I'll get even when we have a
rematch."  Sunny smiled and shook her head.

     "What have you learned, Grasshopper?" Maya asked gently.

     "You mean, aside from 'don't get in the ring with her, you
knucklehead'?  Well, I learned that nearly having your leg broke
HURTS, dammit."

     Maya laughed softly, then said, "I can help you deal with the
pain.  Would you like that?"

     Jax snorted, "No, I'm really enjoying the pain.  Yes, please,
sensei, help me."

     Maya took Jackson's hand and said, "Close your eyes, breathe
deeply..."


     Sunny headed out the door where she ran into Steve and Elaine. 
"You okay?" Elaine asked.

     "Asking the wrong person, aren't you?"

     "Yeah, I figured you'd be tearing yourself up because you
injured someone."  Elaine put her hands on Sunny's smooth, hard
arms and shook her gently.  "This is a tough business, and
sometimes you hurt people, but it -- wasn't -- your -- fault!"

     "I'm sure Jax doesn't blame you, does he?" Steve chimed in. 
Sunny shook her head.  "Get this:  you are NOT a bad person." 
Sunny smiled slightly.  "That's better."

     "I guess you're right," she said.  "It just hit me hard for
some reason.  I need -- I dunno, I need something."  Elaine grinned
at Sunny and jerked a thumb at Steve.  Sunny smiled back and said,
"Hmm, I won, didn't I?"

     "True."

     "And Jax isn't in any kind of shape to do anything but heal
for a while..."  Sunny eyed Steve and said, "You'll do."

     "Do?"

     "You know."

     "Oh, that."

     "Yeah, that."  She kissed him and said, "You're a good guy,
Steve, you know that?"

     "Well, don't spread it around.  I got a reputation to live up
to."

     Sunny laughed and said, "Well, shall we?  I believe the
jacuzzi's free for the moment..."

     "After you -- ulp!"

     Sunny slung him over her shoulder and said, "We'll go
together."

     Elaine grinned after them and thought, "If I weren't scheduled
to ref a fight..."  She headed back toward the ring.


     Darlene grinned at Patricia and said, "How bad do you want him
scared?"

     "Scare 'im good -- don't hurt him too bad, though.  I don't
want him to quit -- he's too good a tape editor."

     "No problem.  You gonna ref?"

     "Yep.  Get him in a hold he'll want to submit to, and I'll
pretend not to hear him.  I'll teach Curt that next time he's got
a lead on a good thing he'd better let me in on it," the blonde
growled.


     Laura ran into Curt just outside the editing booth.  "Hey,
lover," she said, and Curt shivered to hear that word spoken about
him.  "Howzit goin'?"

     "Patricia's pissed at me for not telling about my contact for
the Eagles tickets.  She's scheduled me for a match today."

     "Yeah?  Well, maybe I'll stick around then.  I just came by
for some unfinished business with Lance," Laura said, stretching up
and brushing his cheek with her lips.  "Don't forget, you're coming
home with me tonight."  She rubbed her breasts, barely covered by
a straining tank top, against his arm.  Curt felt a familiar
pressure and swallowed hard.  Laura gave his arm a quick squeeze
and she headed off calling "Lance!  Getcher tight buns out here,
honey!  I'm not finished with you yet!"


     The tall Texan poked his head up from the weight pit, where he
was spotting Tommie for lat pulldowns.  "Jeez Marie, that's th' gal
who whupped me yesterday.  What's she want?"

     "You, sweetie," Tommie told him.

     "That mean what I think it does?"

     "Yup, pardner, she beat ya and she gets ya -- for now,
anyway."  Tommie waved a thick arm.  "Laura!  He's over here!"

     Laura, in red hot pants and that overworked tank top, came
over and told Lance, "Let's go, Tex.  I'm gonna turn you every way
but loose."  Lance gulped, but quickly followed Laura into the
storeroom.

     He was barely through the door when Laura grabbed an arm and
whipped him into the soft mat on the floor.  She stripped the tank
top off and Lance's eyes bulged when he got a look at her
unfettered chest.  She laughed and plopped down on top of him,
running her hands across his sweaty chest and down his arms. 
"Mmmm, feels good," she said.  Lance reached up for her tits but
Laura wrapped her thick legs around his torso and jolted him with
a quick squeeze.  "We do this my way, cowboy," she said.

     Lance nodded and said, "Whatever you say, ma'am."

     "MA'AM?"  Laura squeezed again, forcing some of the air out of
Lance's lungs.  "That's a little TOO respectful, Tex.  My name's
Laura, remember?"  She released him for a moment and stripped his
shorts and jock strap off.  Pouncing on him again, she kissed Lance
deeply, then nibbled on his neck.  Lance decided he could respond
to that, and gently caressed her shoulders while he used his tongue
to tickle Laura's ear.  Before too long they were thrashing and
rolling on the pads in wild abandon, their cries of ecstasy echoing
in the room long after they were spent.  Laura smiled at Lance and
said, "You weren't in any kinda shape to do that yesterday.  Good
thing you recover quick."

     Lance muttered, "The more I find out about this place the
better I like it."

     Laura laughed and kissed him lightly.  "I gotta go see my
sweetie fight.  Catch ya later."

     "Doesn't anyone ever get confused about who's screwin' who
around here?"

     "Nah," Laura said, pulling her pants back on and slipping into
her high-heeled sandals.  "It doesn't really matter anyway.  If two
people feel a mutual attraction, they do something about it. 
Nobody gets territorial about sex.  Where's the fun in that?"  She
stretched her tank top back on and waved at Lance.  "Ta-ta, Lance. 
I'll see you around."

     Lance sat back and put his hat back on.  "Well, I'll be. 
Daddy didn't tell me nothin' about women like these."

     Tommie stuck her head in the door.  "That's 'cuz we're a new
breed -- your daddy probly didn't know nothin' about women like
us!"  She came in and stripped her tee shirt over her head and
started peeling her shorts down.

     "I've rode two broncs in one day before," Lance said, "just
not one right after the other."  Then Tommie was on top of him and
he surrendered himself to passion again...


     Nikki laced up the boots that fit her like a second skin.  Her
fingers traced the black rose stitched to the shiny white leather,
and she smiled.  Samantha stuck her head in the door and called,
"Let's go Nikki.  Time's a-wasting."

     Nikki put the black leather jacket on and headed for the ring. 
Bob was already there, in a red varsity singlet and red boots. 
Nikki swallowed nervously.  None of her previous fights had been in
the ring, and she worried that an experienced opponent, like Bob,
might give her some trouble.  Nikki shrugged mentally and thought,
"What th' hell, give it your best shot."  She made sure her red
hair was well secured in a pony-tail and climbed into the ring.

     Bob looked Nikki over, noting the broad shoulders and sinewy,
well-defined legs.  She took the leather jacket off, revealing
chiseled abs and muscular arms.  She was dressed in a black and
white thong bikini, in a zebra-stripe pattern, and the knee-high
white boots.  Thin black leather bands encircled her arms just
above the swell of her biceps, accenting them.  Elaine called them
to the center of the ring.

     "This is a tryout match, one fall, ending with a pin or
submission.  Ready?"  Both Bob and Nikki nodded.  "Shake hands and
return to your corners."

     Bob extended his hand and said, "Good luck."

     Nikki shook Bob's hand and said, "Thanks."

     The bell rang.  Nikki moved nervously out of her corner.  Bob
moved in quickly, trying to take advantage of her nervousness.  He
grabbed at her leg, but Nikki moved out of his reach.  She
halfheartedly tried for a headlock, but Bob slipped it and ducked
behind her, trapping her in a bear hug.  With a quick heave, he
suplexed her to her shoulders and bridged, trying to hold her down. 
Elaine slapped the mat twice before Nikki jerked her shoulder up
and slipped out of the hold.

     "She looks scared," Patricia murmured.

     Samantha smiled and said, "After all, it's just her entire
future that's on the line here."

     Bob got Nikki in a headlock, but she shoved him off into the
ropes.  He rebounded and drove a shoulder into Nikki's chest,
sending her stumbling backwards.  Nikki charged back at Bob, but he
caught her in a drop toehold.  He maneuvered up her back and
trapped her in a chinlock.  Nikki tried to pull on Bob's arm to
ease the pressure, but he used his leverage to wrench her head
cruelly backwards.  Elaine asked Nikki if she wanted to submit. 
"No fuckin' way," she grunted.  She was able to get to her knees,
relieving some of the pressure on her neck, then get to her feet. 
She tried to loosen Bob's hold, but he was able to maintain the
leverage advantage.

     Nikki was getting frustrated.  She'd fought in prison, but
hadn't gotten much technical instruction, relying on her speed and
killer instinct to get her through.  She'd never fought someone
with better wrestling skills before, and she wasn't sure how to
react to someone like Bob.  Bob slipped the chinlock into a
sleeper, and Nikki's vision began to dim.  Angrily she decided
enough was enough.  Suddenly Nikki did a split, her legs sliding
out to the sides.  Bob was pulled off balance, and he dropped with
her.  When Nikki sat on the canvas, Bob's chin was driven into the
top of her head.  Nikki saw stars, and Bob was nearly knocked out
by the impact.  He lost the hold and fell to his back, holding his
jaw and groaning.

     Nikki got to her hands and knees.  Shaking her head, she
regained full consciousness.  She got to her feet and walked over
to where Bob was trying to stand.  She hauled him up by the arm and
whipped him hard into a corner back first.  Bob's lower back
erupted in pain as he hit the turnbuckle.  Nikki attacked while her
opponent was dazed, delivering a powerful forearm uppercut that
snapped Bob's head back.  Bob would have fallen except for the
ropes.  Nikki blasted him twice more with the devastating shots,
stunning Bob badly.  A couple of shoulders into his gut dropped the
big man to a seat on the mat.  The muscular redhead picked him up
again and whipped him into the ropes.  Bob bounced off into a
brutal knee that Nikki drove into his belly.  Bob did a flip in the
air and landed on his back.

     Nikki's frustration had overcome her earlier apprehension. 
She stomped Bob in the belly, doubling him up.  She moved behind
him and took his chin in her powerful hands.  Driving her knee into
Bob's spine, she yanked back on his chin.  "How do you like it?"
she growled as Bob groaned.  "Hurts, don't it?"  Her arms bulged as
she pulled his head even further.

     Elaine asked Bob if he wanted to give, but he grunted, "No!" 

     Nikki released the agonizing hold and slammed a forearm into
Bob's back, then stood up.  She kicked him in the head, then pulled
him upright again.  She picked Bob up and slammed him to the mat,
shaking the ring.  Bob writhed in pain on the canvas.  Nikki
stomped Bob's belly again, then draped him across her broad
shoulders.  Pressing him over her head, she slammed him again.  Bob
struggled to rise, and Nikki "helped" him up, then clotheslined him
viciously down to his back.

     Nikki lay across Bob, trying for the pin, but he kicked out at
the count of two.  "Haven't had enough yet?" Nikki inquired.  She
hauled him to his feet again and threw him into the ropes.  She
drove a shoulder into his belly when he rebounded, doubling him
over.  Standing up quickly, Nikki stuffed Bob's head under her arm
and DDT'd him to the canvas.  Aaron winced at the impact,
remembering the same maneuver being given him on a hard tile floor. 
The padding in the ring didn't cushion the blow all that much, and
Bob was out.  Nikki rolled him over and sat on his chest while
Elaine counted to three.

     Patricia and Samantha climbed into the ring.  Bob was brought
back to consciousness and helped to his stool, where he held his
aching head.  Patricia, Elaine, and Samantha discussed the match
quietly.

     "She's got good instincts, but she's pretty raw," observed
Elaine.

     "True," allowed Samantha, "but she's gonna sell tapes."

     "I agree," Patricia said.  "She'll need more technique, but we
can teach her that easily enough.  We'll hire her and smooth some
of the rough edges, but not too many -- we don't want her to lose
that killer instinct."  She turned to Nikki, who was anxiously
waiting for their decision.  "You're in, Nikki," Patricia said. 
"You'll sign a contract this afternoon.  Elaine, Samantha, Darlene
and I will all work with you.  You've got good natural ability,
we'll help you sharpen it."

     "That's great!  Thanks, thanks so much."  Nikki shook
Patricia's hand.  "You won't regret it."

     "Now, let's see if Bob's recovered yet."  He was just getting
to his feet.  "Nikki," said Patricia, "there's one other thing you
should know about the way things work around here.  We operate on
a 'spoils' system."

     "Huh?"

     "You know -- 'to the victor -- or victress -- go the spoils'?"

     Nikki grinned.  "That mean what I think it does?"

     Bob put his hand on her shoulder and said, "Nice match, Nikki
-- you're damn tough."  He grinned and added, "And I can assure you
that you've guessed correctly."

     Elaine pecked Bob on the cheek and said, "Bob knows the way to
the storeroom -- don'tcha Bob?"

     Nikki grabbed her leather jacket with one hand and Bob's arm
with the other.  "What're we waiting for, then?"


     Curt climbed awkwardly through the ropes and looked across the
ring.  Darlene, in her white, lacy pelvic thong leotard and sheer
half-tank top stood there chatting with Patricia.  The redhead
glanced at him and called, "Glad you finally made it, Curt.  Ready
to suffer?"  He licked his lips nervously and slipped out of his
tee-shirt, leaving him clad in red shorts and white sneakers. 
Darlene adjusted her knee pads just so and sauntered to the center
of the ring.  Curt met both women there.

     "This is a one fall freestyle match," Patricia announced. 
"Submission or sixty second knockout will end the fight.  In the
red corner, standing five feet eleven inches tall and weighing one
hundred seventy pounds, Curt Schilling."

     Laura, sitting at ringside, called, "Go get 'er, tiger!" 
Patricia and Darlene both laughed.

     "Curt's opponent," continued Patricia, "standing six feet tall
and weighing two hundred pounds, Darlene Adams!"  Darlene waved and
flexed to the applause of the crowd.  Curt wondered again how the
heck he was going to beat this dynamo who'd beaten guys nearly
twice his size.  Patricia, in her silver bikini, ordered them to
"shake hands and come out fighting."

     Curt offered his hand.  Darlene took it and looked him up and
down, then stepped very close.  Her breasts brushed Curt's chest
and she whispered sexily, "I'm gonna make your bones ache."  She
released his hand after a short but crushing squeeze and strolled
sexily back to her corner.

     When the bell rang Darlene raced at Curt.  Startled, he moved
away as fast as he could, until the beautiful woman was chasing him
around the ring, to the amusement of the crowd.  Darlene caught
Curt by one arm without too much trouble and started spinning
around in the center of the ring.  Curt was forced to run as fast
as he could as Darlene whipped him around in circles.  Finally she
released his arm, sending him face-first into the corner padding. 
His chest slammed into the top turnbuckle, stunning him.  Darlene
paraded around the ring until Curt had recovered somewhat.  Darlene
said, "Wanna go for another spin?"

     Curt shook his head and moved out cautiously.  Darlene grabbed
at his arm, but he caught her wrist.  Spinning around, Curt thrust
his shoulder into her armpit and tried to flip Darlene to the mat. 
She put a hand in the middle of his back and pushed hard, taking
away the leverage advantage.  They stood there for a few seconds,
Curt straining to flip Darlene, without success.  Darlene slowly
flexed her captive arm until she'd caught Curt in a chin lock, then
yanked him back into her chest.  Locking the hold in securely, she
flexed her steely bicep against Curt's jaw until he was afraid his
jaw might break.  A quick twist caused enough pain to drive Curt to
his knees.

     Curt tried to pry Darlene's granite-hard arm away from his jaw
with no success.  Suddenly, Darlene released his neck and caught
Curt's wrists in her opposite hands.  Pulling back hard, she forced
Curt's arms across his own throat as she stretched them behind him. 
A hard thigh planted against his back kept him captive, and Curt
fought to pull his arms loose.  Darlene abruptly released Curt's
wrists, and he fell forward onto his face.  Once again Darlene
posed to the appreciation of the crowd as she waited for Curt to
recover.

     Curt played possum, feigning greater injury than he had. 
Waiting until Darlene's back was turned, he leaped at her and
caught her in a full nelson.  Wide as her shoulders were, it was
difficult to get his fingers locked behind her head, and he wasn't
able to get as secure a lock as he wanted.  Darlene laughed and
said, "Is that the best you can do?"  She pulled her arms down
steadily, easily breaking the hold.  She spun behind him in a blur
and quickly secured her own full nelson.  "This is how you're
supposed to do it," she said as her hands pressed his chin down
into his chest.  She picked him off the floor and shook him until
Curt felt as if his arms were being torn from their sockets.

     "Aarrrgghh!  I give -- I give," Curt yelled.

     Patricia stepped closer and said, "What was that?  I didn't
quite hear you."

     "I said -- aaaahhhh -- I said I give!"

     The tall blonde shook her head.  "Sorry, just can't make it
out."

     Darlene threw Curt aside and he collapsed to the mat.  She
knelt astride him and grapevined his legs, not applying too much
pressure.  Then she wrapped his head in her sinewy arms and pulled
his face into her chest.  Curt felt Darlene's firm breasts to
either side of his face.  He smelled the sweat on her damp
half-tank for an instant before his nose and mouth were crushed
into Darlene's cleavage.  His frantic cries were muffled by
Darlene's body as he tried to submit again, and soon he didn't have
enough air to speak.  He started slipping unconscious, but before
he was completely out Darlene loosened her grip long enough to let
him breathe.

     "Take a deep breath, Curt," she advised, then mashed his face
into her chest again.

     "No wait I give I giiiuummmphhh--"

     "What did he say?" Patricia inquired.

     "Sounded like 'I giiiuummmphhh' to me," laughed Darlene.

     "That's what I thought he said," Patricia giggled.

     After about half a minute Curt was barely moving.  Darlene let
him go and stood up, watching him try to get his breath back.  She
knelt and gently raised his head from the mat.  "Cu-urt," she sang,
"time to get u-up"

     Curt slowly came awake again and opened his eyes to see
Darlene's beautiful face looking down at him.  "I-I'm glad that's
over," he muttered.

     "Over?" Darlene said.  "Who said it was over?"  The muscular
beauty stood up and hauled Curt to his feet.  With ease she lifted
him, then slammed him to the mat.  Curt rolled to his hands and
knees and tried to crawl away, but Darlene dropped an elbow into
his back, driving him hard into the canvas.  She rolled him onto
his back again and wrapped her sinewy thighs around his head. 
Pulling his face high into her crotch, she locked her ankles and
slowly increased the pressure on his trapped skull.

     Curt again tried to submit, but his words were muffled by
Darlene's crotch.  His tormentress didn't use anything near her
full power, just enough so Curt couldn't get away.  She leaned back
casually and asked Patricia, "Who do you think'll win the Super
Bowl this year?"

     The blonde sat next to her and said, "I think the 'Niners have
a pretty good shot to go all the way."

     "I dunno -- I like the Bills."

     "Yeah, they'll probably get to the Super Bowl and lose again,"
laughed Patricia.

     "Maybe they should try and get the Super Bowl in Buffalo --
it'd put the warm weather teams at a real disadvantage."

     "Yeah, but who'd go to the game?  Eskimos?"

     Curt was frantically trying to escape from Darlene's head
scissors, but couldn't move and soon ran out of air again.  His
arms and legs flopped loosely to the canvas, and Darlene looked
down at him.  "Think he's learned his lesson?"

     "I guess so," Patricia replied.  Darlene loosened her
grip enough to let the man breathe again, and Patricia asked, "Curt,
if you get a lead on tickets for a special event again, are you
going to let me know?"

     "Uh-huh."

     "Good.  Now, do you want to submit?"

     "Uh-huh."

     "Let him up, Darlene."

     "Damn -- just when I was getting comfortable."  The tall
redhead unlocked her legs and stood up, grinning down at Curt. 
"Well, you've had your cherry busted big time, huh?"  She picked
him up and slung him over her shoulder.

     Laura stood up and called, "Hey, Dar, go easy on 'im, willya? 
He's gotta move into my place tonight -- I don't want 'im TOO
tuckered out."

     Darlene grinned and said, "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."  She
headed off to the showers with her trophy.


                          CHAPTER EIGHT
                    Elaine makes a New Friend

     "He's here!  He's here!"

     Elaine ran with giddy steps into the office, toward the
office window.

     Patricia and Annie looked up from a computer terminal,
puzzled expressions on their faces.  "Who?" asked Patricia. 
"Who's here?"

     Elaine had pulled the blinds up, and was studying the
parking lot.  "There he is!  Oh, wow!"

     "Who the hell are you talking about?"

     The entrance to the office swung open, and all activity in
the room ceased.  Standing in the doorway was a man of Grecian
proportions, his polo shirt and jeans hugging to a titanic
physique.  He pulled his sunglasses away, and Patricia rated his
looks in the "dark and handsome" category.

     "Hi," he said, the door swinging shut behind him.  "I hope
this is the right place.  I'm--"

     "Mike Anderson," said Elaine.  "Six feet three inches, two
hundred ninety pounds, active wrestling record of four hundred
and fourteen wins against eleven very questionable losses. 
You've held the World Wrestling Alliance championship belt five
times, the tag team belts three times, and too many state and
regional belts to count.  You're the greatest wrestler in the
history of the sport."

     He smiled as she gave his hand a vigorous shake.  "I'm
flattered."

     Annie leaned over to Patricia.  "I'm surprised she's not
tearing his clothes off," she murmured.

     "You must be Elaine Lawson," he said as she released his
hand.

     She nodded and smiled broadly, her eyes twinkling.  "I'm so
glad you came.  I never dreamed I'd actually meet you--"

     Patricia cleared her throat to draw their attention. 
"Elaine, where are your manners?  Introduce us to your guest."

     "Oh."  She led Mike over to where they stood.  "This is
Annie McDonald, the receptionist."

     "Hello," he said, and nodded.

     "And this is Patricia Daniels, owner of AmaFlix."

     He shook her hand warmly; her easy, seductive smile made
Elaine bristle.

     "Charmed," he said, his gaze dropping down over her body for
an instant.  Her half-top and thong clung like body paint,
straining to contain her.  "Very charmed."

     Elaine glared at Patricia in "back off, he's mine" fashion. 
The blonde offered a smirk.  "So tell me, what's such a
noteworthy athlete doing in our humble establishment?"

     "I invited him," said Elaine, taking his arm in hers.

     "Yeah," he said as she grafted to him.  "The WWA was touring
California, matching up against the big organization out here. 
It's run by some guy named Winslow--"

     "We're familiar with him," said Patricia.

     "Yeah, well, he's a snake, but he's paying us top dollar to
fight his people.  Elaine and I have had a correspondence going
for a while, so when she found out we'd be in the neighborhood,
she asked if I'd like to see your operation."

     Elaine's grin returned.  "This is so wonderful."

     "Yes, it is."  Patricia nodded toward the training room
door.  "Why don't you show him around?  Then we can all meet
later for lunch."

     "Great!"  Elaine pulled Mike through the office.  "You're
gonna love the weight pit.  We've got everything."

     Mike managed to blurt, "Good to meet you!", before he
disappeared through the door.

     Patricia stared after him, tracing her fingers over her
abdominal cage.  Annie bent around to look at her, and said,
"Earth to Patricia."

     THe blonde blinked.  "Hm?  Oh."

     Annie gave a sly smile.  "You've got that look in your
eyes."

     "Why, whatever do you mean?"

     "Oh, just that I almost saw crosshairs on his chest."  She
pointed at Patricia, and said, "You want him for something, and
you want him bad."

     She leaned back on her arm.  "Do you know what Mr. Anderson
represents?"  Annie shook her head.  "He represents the past,
Annie.  He represents a time when the best wrestlers, the best
football players, the best pure athletes were--with rare
exception--men."  She bit her lower lip, thoughtful, then
continued.  "Mike Anderson and those like him are the best male
athletes in the world.  And even though things have changed,
they're still trapped in that mindset."

     "And you'd like to awaken him."

     "Yeah."

     "Interesting.  And just imagine what a feather in your cap
it would be if you beat him."

     "And got it on tape."

     Annie leaned back, resting her hands on her stomach. 
"Sounds great.  Do you think you can get him to sign?"

     Patricia rolled her eyes.  "Are you kidding?  He's a man. 
I'll just provoke that ego, get him to thumping his chest, and
the next thing y'know I'll be squeezing him unconscious for all
the world to see."

     "He seemed fairly humble.  He might surprise you."

     The blonde stood, and tapped Annie's desk.  "Maybe, but get
a contract together anyway."  With a wink, she said, "I can be
very persuasive."


     After a whirlwind tour and a few hurried introductions,
Elaine had conveniently found some trunks, kneepads, and boots
for him and persuaded him to practice with her.  Mike stood in
the ring with Elaine, testing the ropes and turnbuckle padding. 
The studio had no matches scheduled for taping, and they were
alone.

     "I've got so much to learn," she said, rocking back and
forth on her feet.  "I'll bet you can teach me anything."

     "Well," he said, turning toward her, "I'm happy to help.  I
just wasn't expecting to be doing this today."

     "Oh, I hope you don't mind."

     She had a bright-eyed little-girl expression that melted his
heart.  "Of course not.  In fact, I'm looking forward to it." 
She smiled, radiant.  "What first?"

     "Well, I've always wanted to get better with my escapes. 
You know, reversing locks, geting out of scissors.  I can apply
'em great, but I usually just power out when I'm stuck.  I need
to polish my technique."

     "In case your opponent is stronger."

     "Right."

     "Then pick a lock.  I'll show you what I know."

     Giddy, she moved behind him and wrapped her thick arms
around his diaphragm; he felt her full breasts against his back,
and her soft cheek on his skin, and wondered if he'd be able to
take the session seriously. "Let's try the reverse bear hug."

     "Okay--"  He gasped as she clamped down, her awesome
strength completely unexpected.  He was stunned:  this petite
powerhouse was putting more pressure on him than most men he'd
faced!  Burning bile collected in the back of his throat as she
bore down.

     "Uh," he said, barely able to breath, "F-first you have to
break the connection..."  He stopped to gasp in some air.  "...at
it's weakest point."  He found the top of her wrist and the tips
of her fingers.  "You bend the hand back--"  This was easier said
than done.  Elaine's grip was like welded steel.  He slowly,
painstakingly managed to pry her hand open, and remove it from
her opposite wrist.  "A-and then you--"

     Elaine's arms were suddenly gone.  He yelped as she took his
ankles and dumped him forward.

     "Hell--"  He rolled over, and she landed atop him.  Her
powerful legs coiled around his waist, and she trapped his face
in the valley between her breasts.

     "Gotcha," she said, giggling.

     "Mmmrf," he answered, startled.  She wasn't applying the
kind of pressure he'd expected--after all, if her arms were that
powerful, her legs should be cutting him in half--and he realized
she was playing.

     She raised up slightly, keeping her breasts on his cheeks. 
"What do you do now?"

     "Uh," he said, his voice muffled.  "I don't think I've ever
quite been in this situation before."

     Elaine leaned further up, her palms pressing his shoulders
down.  After a measured silence, she said, "That's a three count. 
I win."

     "Is that so?"  He smiled as she slid back somewhat, to
position herself face-to face with him, her hands to either side
of his head, her legs still locked around him.  "I didn't realize
we'd switched to pinning combinations."

     "This is wrestling," she said, her lips descending toward
his.  "You've gotta be prepared for the unexpected."

     "Do tell."  They kissed, softly at first, then with greater
passion, as Elaine smothered him, their tongues meeting and
probing.  Mike's hands roamed over her back, across the smooth
skin of her buttocks, to take the sides of her pelvic thong and
pull it toward him.

     When she finally pulled away, she searched his eyes, trying
to peer into his heart and gauge his affection for her.  He'd
underestimated her infatuation for him, and now realized that to
reject her advances--and not make love to her--would be like
denying Lancelot the grail.

     "You wanna go somewhere?"

     She shook her head.  "No.  Right here.  Right now."

     With another quick kiss, she unlocked her legs, and moved to
kneel beside him.  She undressed them an article at a time,
extending the moment, carefully placing each piece to one side. 
When she'd finished, his interest had gone from insistent to
raging, and was reflected in a most obvious way.

     Tapping his erection, she giggled, and said, "Excited, isn't
he?"

     "Oh, yeah.  Mr. Happy wants to get to know you pretty
badly."

     He leaned forward to touch her, and she simultaneously took
his member in one hand and pushed him down with the other.  "Just
lie still," she said.  "Let me do everything."

     Slowly, almost reverently, she took him within her mouth. 
He grunted and shifted at the sensation of her skillful
ministrations.  Elaine drew the ordeal out, sensing when to slow
down and give him time to re-establish control, until finally she
knew he'd contained himself as long as possible.  He drew several
quick breaths, and she took him completely within her, embracing
his thighs.  He came so hard his ears bulged, his whole body
wracked with hot, intense pleasure.  She lovingly swallowed the
discharge, then squeezed and licked away the remainder long after
the climax.  He lay before her, gasping and wet with sweat.

     "Looks like Mr. Happy's still at attention," she said,
massaging his unflagging erection.

     "God...ohh...."  He swallowed hard, then said, "At this
rate, he'll never be soft again."

     Elaine giggled, and crawled over him, still holding his
erection.  She ran the head against her lower body, gasping at
the proximity of something she'd fantasized about for so long. 
With murderous deliberation, she slowly, achingly, painstakingly
started pushing down onto it, moving a milimeter at a time, her
soft, wet folds holding him warmly.  When she'd gone down
completely, he climaxed again, bucking and raising her six inches
into the air.


     Led by Elaine, they made love for hours, she carefully
orchestrating each phase of their union.  Every touch, every
caress, every command she gave seemed the product of an extensive
fantasy.  When finished, they lay together, her atop him, him
still inside her, both of them soaked and exhausted.

     "Jesus," he said, cradling Elaine, who snuggled against him. 
"You wrestler chicks can fuck."

     She giggled, nestling her head under his chin, wiggling her
hips.

     "Something tells me that you've been thinking about this for
a while."

     "Yeah," she said, and traced her tongue around his nipple. 
"It's been a dream of mine to seduce you."

     "Well...did it measure up to the fantasy?"

     She launched up and kissed him furiously.  "It was a million
times better.  Still is."  Her hips began to move again, sliding
him back and forth within her, as she discovered new reserves of
energy.

     "Oh.  Good," he said, as a familiar pleasure began its
inevitable buildup.  "Let's shoot for a million plus one this
time."


                          CHAPTER NINE
                   Some boxing, for a change...

     Cherrise whipped her Harley into the parking lot with a
snarl of exhaust and skidded to a stop.  She turned the
motor off and sat there for a moment.  She was dressed in
black leather pants and a red lycra top that left her
chiseled midriff bare.  She climbed off the bike and studied
the man from behind mirrored sunglasses.  Not bad, she
thought, taking in his wide shoulders, narrow waist and well
muscled arms.  She heaved the big bike onto its stand.

     The big man stood at the door to the AmaFlix
headquarters.  His shaved ebony skull gleamed in the sun and
his shoulders strained the white tee-shirt he wore.  He
seemed undecided about whether to enter or not.  Cherrise
walked up to the door and tapped him on the shoulder.  "Hi,
can I help you?"

     He jerked around, startled.  Cherrise was pleased to
note his eyes were on the same level as hers.  "Oh, sorry,
I didn't hear you coming," he said in a deep voice.  "You
work here?"

     "Yeah.  Anything I can do for you?" she asked.

     "I dunno - I heard they was hirin' fighters for makin'
movies.  That right?"

     "Umm hmmm.  You a fighter, honey?"

     "Golden Gloves heavyweight champ.  I had two fights as
a pro, but the guy who runs the boxin' game in this city's
dirty - you dig?  He wanted me ta throw a fight an' I
wouldn't do it.  So, I heard 'bout this Ama - Ama-somethin'
place makin' fightin' movies an' I figgered 'Why not?'.
This the place?"

     "You bet, honey," Cherrise replied.  "C'mon in and sign
up.  My name's Cherrise," she added, sticking out her hand,
"Cherrise Littleton."

     "Scott Jones," he replied, shaking her hand.

     "Okay, Scott.  Let's get you hired on."  Cherrise said.
Scott picked up the bag lying at his feet and followed her
through the door.


     Scott was amazed at the extent of the facilities inside
the training area.  "Wow!  This place must be doin' all
right," he muttered.

     Cherrise smiled.  "Only the best for AmaFlix, Scott,"
she replied.  She opened the office door and ushered the big
man in.  "Anybody home?" she called.

     Joanne appeared from behind a partition.  "Hi Cherrise,
what's up?"

     "Got a new guy here.  Says he boxed in the Golden
Gloves, now he wants ta get paid for fightin'.  Scott,
this's Joanne."

     Joanne smiled up at Scott and shook his big hand.
"Good to meet you, Scott.  I need you to fill out a couple
of forms."

     Cherrise squeezed Scott's shoulder and said, "I'll be
back in a few minutes and show ya around, okay?"


     Cherrise headed for the weight pit, where Patricia and
Samantha were urging each other on.  Patricia was curling
three hundred pounds for reps, her golden skin shining and
her face flushed from the effort.  Samantha was spotting for
her.  Patricia's biceps bulged as she heaved the massive bar
up again and again.  Patricia's cotton crop top was soaked
with sweat and nearly transparent.  It clung to her chest,
leaving nothing to the imagination.

     Samantha, her own sweat covered body attesting to the
iron she had pumped earlier, was saying, "You can do it,
just two more, come on!"  Patricia brought the heavily laden
bar to her chest twice more and went for another, but she
couldn't raise it all the way.  With a sigh of
disappointment she let Samantha take part of the weight and
they put the heavy bar down.  "Great!  Twenty-two reps, same
as me," the dark-haired beauty enthused.

     "Damn!  I thought I could beat you," Patricia gasped,
wiping the sweat from her face.  "Oh, well, at least we're
even again."

     "Hi Boss," greeted Cherrise.  "Got a sec?"

     "Sure," the blonde replied, looking up at her.  "What's
up?"

     "There's a new guy signing up, a boxer.  I'd like to
have first shot at him," Cherrise replied.

     "This must be our lucky day," mused Patricia.  "First
Tommie finds some cowboy outside wanting to wrestle, then
Mike Anderson shows up to talk to Elaine, now this.  Great!"
She grinned at Cherrise and added slyly, "You drag him in,
or did he really volunteer?"

     "Honest, he was standing outside when I got here.  I
didn't shanghai him."  Cherrise licked her lips and smiled. 
"I'd like to do other things to him, but not shanghai him."

     Patricia laughed and stood up, still having to look up
at Cherrise.  "Okay with me, if Marge thinks he can really
box."

     "Great.  Thanks, Boss," Cherrise grinned, then grabbed
Patricia and kissed her lightly.  "I appreciate it."


     Marge Summers watched Scott with a critical eye as he
sparred with Tommie.  The big gloves on Tommie's fists
blurred as she tried a combination against the big man,
which he avoided, tapping her a couple of times in the ribs
before she could back away.  "Time!" called Marge.

     Tommie and Scott tapped gloves.  "Not bad, man," the
husky blonde said.

     "Thanks," Scott replied, still a little uncomfortable
about being in the ring with a woman.  "You're pretty good
yourself."

     Marge said, "Tommie, grab a shower, or Lance, or both."
Tommie grinned and headed off.  "Scott, you're a damn good
boxer.  We're lucky to have you walk in."

     "Thanks," the big man answered.  "I know I coulda been
a pro champ if I had a good manager - and honest promoters.
It's just a little weird - fighting girls I mean."

     "Women," Marge corrected softly.

     "Sorry - women."  Scott shrugged.  "No offense
intended."

     "Well, Patricia wants you signed for a bout this
afternoon.  Is that okay with you?"

     "The sooner I fight, the sooner I get paid," Scott
replied with a cocky grin.

     Cherrise bounded over.  "So how's he look coach?" asked
the tall woman, putting an arm around Scott's shoulders.
"He a keeper or what?"

     "He knows his stuff," Marge replied.  "I've set the
match for two.  Fifteen rounds - okay, Scott?"

     "Sure."

     "See you later, Scott."  Marge headed off to talk to
Patricia.

     Cherrise gave Scott a peck on the cheek.  "I knew you'd
do a good job, just lookin' at ya."

     "Thanks.  So how about a tour?"

     "My pleasure, sir.  Over here's the weight pit..."


     At one forty-five Scott was having second thoughts.
"Bare knuckles?  You're kidding, right?" he asked Jax.

     "Nope.  No tape on the knuckles either.  You can have
your wrists taped if you want, but it's not required."

     "Damn, man, this could get messy," Scott muttered.
"Wonder who I'm fightin'."

     "Me, honey," came Cherrise's voice.  He turned and
looked up at the big woman standing behind him.

     Cherrise was dressed in a yellow thong bikini that
complemented her black skin perfectly.  Her wrists were
taped.  On her feet were white boots.  Behind her was
Tommie, evidently her second for the fight.

     Scott's mouth dropped open as he took in the ebony
hardness of Cherrise's body.  Wide shoulders, washboard
stomach, hard legs, well defined arms - it was quite a
package.  She opened and closed her fists, causing her
forearms to ripple.  "Well, whaddya think?" she asked.

     "I'm fightin' you?"

     "Yup.  And you better give me your best shot or I'll
take you out in the first round," Cherrise warned.  "I'm a
damn good boxer, and strong, and I've done this before.
You've never been hit by somone's bare fist, have you?  It
can hurt -- a lot!  So you better take me seriously if you
don't want your clock cleaned in less than three minutes."
She stalked off to the ring.  The pony-tailed blonde
followed her.

     "Is she kidding?" Scott asked Jax.

     Jax shook his head.  "I've seen stuff here I wouldna
believed a month ago.  These women can straight out fight.
I've seen 'em box, wrestle, and just plain fight, and I
haven't seen a guy yet, no matter how big, beat 'em."  He
lowered his voice.  "You ever hear of the Dominion virus?"

     "Yeah, a little.  Ya mean it's true?"

     "All I know is, these ladies are strong, man.  They can
hurt ya bad if they want.  You better be ready to fight as
hard as you can.  You want your wrists taped or not?"

     "I guess so.  Better safe than sorry."


     Scott bounced nervously from foot to foot, waiting for
the bout to begin.  He looked across the ring at his
opponent.  Cherrise's body gleamed under the harsh lights as
she shadow-boxed in her corner.  Marge, the referee,
signalled them to the center of the ring for the
introductions:  "In the blue corner, wearing black trunks,
standing six feet five inches tall and weighing two hundred
and thirty-one pounds, the Golden Gloves heavyweight
champion for Port Ellis, Scott Jones!"  Scott waved to the
large crowd as they applauded politely.  "In the red corner,
wearing a yellow bikini, standing six feet four inches tall
and weighing two hundred and fifteen pounds, Cherrise
Littleton!"  Cherrise acknowledged the loud cheers with a
wave.

     "Okay, you know the rules," said Marge.  "When I say
break, take a step back and defend yourselves.  In case of a
knockdown I'll direct you to a neutral corner.  Any
questions?"  Both fighters shook their heads.  "Shake hands
and come out fighting."

     Cherrise looked hard at Scott as they shook hands.
"Better be ready, baby.  I am," she warned.  Scott returned
to his corner and put in his mouthpiece.  The bell rang and
Scott moved out quickly, gracefully, in spite of his bulk.
Cherrise moved out to meet him in the ring's center.  Scott
jabbed a couple of times, establishing a distance between
them.  Cherrise bobbed from side to side, her fists up
protecting her face.  Scott jabbed a couple of times more
and Cherrise slipped the punches easily.  Stepping in,
Cherrise fired a left jab of her own which Scott blocked
with a forearm.  Cherrise quickly jabbed again, her fist
seeming to blur as she tried to tag Scott's face.  Scott
avoided the punch and countered with a right, trying to
sneak one in to her body.  His fist thudded off Cherrise's
armored belly, causing no apparent damage.  The big woman
responded with a left hook at Scott's jaw that he blocked at
the last second.  Her fist hit his forearm with enough force
to numb it, making him wonder what would have happened if it
had connected with his jaw.

     He backed off a bit, circling to avoid being pinned in
the ropes, flicking out his left to keep her off balance.
Cherrise moved in cautiously, her shoulders tensed, her
fists bunched menacingly before her face.  Scott tried a
right cross that Cherrise deflected with her shoulder, and
she responded with another lightning-fast left hook that
grazed his chin as he jerked his head back.  Scott blocked
another jab and the bell rang, ending the round.  Cherrise
nodded to Scott, saying, "You're pretty good, baby."  Scott
just nodded and they moved to their corners.


     Scott took a swallow of water and spat into a bucket.
"Pretty good first round, man," said Jax.  "Be careful how
you block those punches, though.  Taking bare knuckled
punches on the forearms ain't the best way to do it."

     "Yeah, I think I figgered that out," Scott said,
shaking out his arms.  "It's what I learned to do, though.
It'll be tough ta break the habit." 


     In the other corner Tommie was massaging Cherrise's
broad shoulders.  "He's fast.  How's his strength?" she
asked.

     "Pretty good - that body punch stung a bit," Cherrise
replied.  "Any suggestions?"

     "He seems ta like ta block punches 'stead o' slippin'
'em.  If he keeps that up for much longer you can bet he
won't be able ta raise his arms after the third round.  Jus'
keep jabbin', an' throw a body punch every so often."


     The fighters came out for the second round and resumed
the feeling out process begun in the opening round.  Scott
tried a couple of combinations that Cherrise slipped away
from, and Cherrise kept throwing left jabs and hooks that
the big man blocked with his forearms.  Sweat poured down
Cherrise's face and chest, making her skin shine like
anthracite.  A flurry of punches late in the round by Scott
drove Cherrise back a few steps.  He drove a left into her
jaw that stung, and she countered by throwing a short right
to the jaw that Scott barely blocked.  The round ended with
the two of them exchanging jabs in the ring's center.  Scott
tapped Cherrise on the shoulder, saying, "You're pretty good
yourself."


     In the corner Jax ran a damp sponge over Scott's shaven
skull and across his face.  Scott shook his arms out again,
wincing as the numbness wore off and they started to hurt.
"Damn, she's strong and quick," he muttered.

     "Told ya man, these women are serious. "  Jax applied
some ice to Scott's aching forearms, trying to hold down the
swelling.


     "You should start pressin' him a little more now,"
Tommie advised Cherrise.  "Keep on top of 'im, don't let 'im
breathe.  You gonna start usin' your right more?"

     "Yeah, I think so.  It's time ta shake 'im up some."


     Both fighters advanced cautiously, respecting the
other's ability.  Scott flicked a left jab, but Cherrise
anticipated it and fired a right hook at his body.  Her
rock-hard fist crashed into his short ribs, sending him
staggering to the side.  Scott nearly went down from the
power of her punch, and Cherrise was quick to take
advantage.  He was able to block the next left and right,
but a vicious left hook got through and twisted his head to
the left as it smashed into the right side of his chin.

     Scott's vision blurred and he stumbled against the
ropes, covering up as well as he could.  Cherrise waded in,
pummelling him with lefts and rights to the body and head.
Scott blocked most of them, but some got through.  "Get
outta there man," Jax screamed as Cherrise pinned the big
man against the ropes.

     Scott slipped a wicked left that might have broken a
rib or two and moved sideways and away, escaping for the
moment.  He wheezed as he tried to get his wind back, and
his arms were heavy and sore from the battering Cherrise had
given them.  He backpedaled furiously, trying to fend her
off.  Cherrise didn't get overconfident, she contented
herself with throwing stinging jabs at his face, not giving
Scott a chance to rest.  She tried to maneuver him back into
the ropes again, but Scott was too ringwise to let himself
be trapped.  Scott was able to score with a jab to her chin
that did no real damage, and Cherrise countered with a
combination that would have knocked him down if he hadn't
ducked away in time.  The round ended with Cherrise chasing
Scott across the ring.


     Cherrise sat in her corner and let Tommie mop the sweat
from her glistening body.  "Don't get cocky," the husky
blonde advised.  "He's still got somethin' left."

     "Yeah, I know.  Don't worry, I ain't gonna get
careless."


     Scott slumped on his stool, chest heaving, while Jax
worked on him.  "C'mon, man, you gotta be smart.  Don't let
her inside on ya.  Stay away for this round, at least."

     "I dunno if I can, man," Scott gasped.  "She's damn
good.  I'll try to keep 'er off balance, but it won't be
easy."

     "Stick an' move, man!" Jax advised as the bell rang for
the fourth round.


     Cherrise moved quickly to the attack, trying to keep up
the pressure on the big man.  Scott weaved from side to
side, occasionally flicking out a left jab to keep Cherrise
at bay.  The tall woman stalked her opponent like a black
leopard hunting it's prey.  A lightning-quick left jab was
barely blocked, and Scott grunted as Cherrise's big fist
smashed into his forearm.  She tried a right hook to the
body that the big man deflected with his left bicep, her
fist thudding against the tough muscle.

     But Scott's reflexes were slowing from the damaging
blows, and more of them were getting through.  A left jab
hit his nose and snapped his head back, then Cherrise
followed up with a right cross that twisted his head to the
side.  He moved inside and tied her up, feeling the amazing
power that coursed through her muscles as he hung on for
dear life.  Marge ordered them to break.  Scott stepped back
and wearily raised his arms.  Cherrise grinned at him and
said, "Ready or not, here I come again."  Her left hook was
a bit wild, and Scott stepped inside the punch, delivering a
right-left to her belly.  She stepped back and grinned
again.  "Can't hurt me there, baby," she teased.  A wicked
left hook to the belly staggered him, and Cherrise followed
up with a second left hook.  Pain lanced through Scott's
body as the powerful blow crashed into his side just below
the rib cage, and he staggered sideways and into the ropes.

     Cherrise measured her next punch carefully, but the
bell rang before she could deliver it.  She smiled and said,
"Next round, baby, you're mine."


     Scott stumbled to his corner and collapsed onto the
stool.  Marge checked on him:  "You okay, Scott?  You're
taking some nasty shots out there."

     "Yeah, I'm okay, at least for another round," he
replied.  She nodded and walked away.

     Jax wiped Scott's big torso with the damp sponge and
checked his face.  "You're nose is bleeding a little," he
reported, trying to stop the trickle of crimson fluid.
"Other than that you look okay."

     "Man, my arms are dead," Scott answered.  "I can barely
lift 'em to my waist."

     "Try ta stay the hell away from 'er, then.  If ya can't
do that, tie 'er up.  Don't let her unload on you, Scott."

     "Good advice, brother," Scott said.  "I dunno if I can
follow it though."


     "Belly okay?" Tommie asked.  Cherrise nodded.  "You've
got 'im in trouble now," the husky blonde continued.  "It's
just a matter of time."

     "Yeah, I figger he'll go down pretty soon now," the
ebony beauty replied.  "He's tough, though.  It may take
longer than one more round ta knock 'im out."


     The fifth round opened with Cherrise moving
purposefully across the ring.  Scott had been slowed down
considerably by the punishment he'd absorbed, but Cherrise
knew he was still capable of hurting her.

     "She moves just like a big cat," Scott thought as he
watched Cherrise stalk him.  He tried to move away, but pain
and fatigue caused him to stumble.  She was on him in an
instant, ripping a vicious right hook into his body.  The
punch crashed into his side, and Scott's knees buckled.
Fortunately for him, this caused Cherrise to miss her
follow-up punch, a left that whistled just over his head.

     He lurched against Cherrise's sinewy body, trying to
clinch.  Scott felt her sweat-slick, velvety skin against
his chest as he desperately held on.  Cherrise bulled him up
against the ropes, her arm and leg muscles bulging as she
tried to fight her way free.  Marge ordered them to break,
and Cherrise moved back a step.

     Scott tried to mount an offense, but the clumsy punches
he threw were easily evaded by his lovely adversary.
Cherrise snapped a left jab into his nose again, then her
right caught him on the left cheek.  He could feel his face
swelling as he kept retreating, escaping most of the power
of her punches.  Every once in a while he'd clinch again,
leaning against her, letting her hold his weight.  Cherrise
was finding it tough to put Scott down.  He'd absorbed
incredible punishment, but somehow he stayed on his feet.
She got a bit careless, and one of Scott's wild punches
caught her high on the temple, staggering her for a moment.
Before either one could follow up, the round ended.


     "Man, he's tough," Cherrise panted as Tommie wiped her
down.  "I shoulda had 'im, but I just can't seem to get a
clean shot at 'im."

     "Yeah, well, watch out he doesn't get lucky," Tommie
advised.  "If he really connects he can still hurt ya."


     "Man, she's tough," Scott gasped as Jax applied an ice
pack to his swollen cheek.  "I've never been hit that hard
in my life."

     "Keep away from 'er if you can, bro'," Jax said.
"She's gonna beat ya to a pulp if ya don't."


     Scott rose slowly from his stool when the bell rang.
Cherrise moved easily, still on her toes, while Scott was
reduced to plodding away from her.  Her left jab snapped his
head back twice as she doubled up with it, testing Scott's
remaining defenses.  Nodding slightly, as if confirming her
suspicions, Cherrise danced around him.  Scott tried to
retreat, but she was too fast for him.  A wicked right hand
thudded into his belly, dropping his arms.  A left hook
grazed his jaw as he ducked away, but the follow-up right
smashed into his side, buckling his knees again.  He fell
back against the ropes.

     This time Cherrise made no mistake.  She dug her left
fist into his belly, doubling him over, then brought her
right hand up from her boots.  The impact of the tremendous
uppercut against Scott's chin straightened him up.  His eyes
crossed, then closed, and he fell straight to the canvas
like a giant tree, out before he landed.


     He came to with the scent of ammonia in his nostrils
and Marge, Tommie, Jax, and Cherrise all bending over him.
The big blonde trainer, Julia, he remembered, was there too.
"What's your name?" she asked.

     "Scott Jones," he muttered.  "And I'm at AmaFlix and
just got the snot beat outta me."

     She laughed deeply.  "Ya, you'll be all right.  No
lasting damage.  Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get my
weightlifting done."

     "You ready to stand up?" Marge asked.

     "I'll give it a try.  If I can't make it, I figure
there's SOMEONE here strong enough ta hold me up."  Scott
struggled to his feet, grateful for the support of Jax and
Cherrise.  He looked at the woman who'd just knocked him out
and said, "Never laid a glove on you, did I?"

     "Oh, I dunno - I seem ta recall gettin' hit a coupla
times," she said with a smile.

     "Man you're tough," they said together, then laughed.

     "If this's gonna turn into a mutual admiration society,
I'm leavin'," proclaimed Tommie.  "I got better things ta
do.  Anybody seen Lance?"  She headed off.

     Patricia came up and shook Scott's hand.  "Well done,
Scott," she said.  "Best boxing match I've seen in a while."
She looked him up and down.  "Hmm, I wonder how you'd do
against a wrestler..."

     "Don't get any ideas, Boss," Cherrise said, putting a
hand possessively on Scott's shoulder.  "I saw 'im first."

     Patricia pouted, then stood on tiptoe and kissed the
black woman hard.  "Okay, I guess," she said, "but I think
I'll pull rank when it's time for his next fight.  Later,
Scott," she said, pecking him on the cheek.

     "What was that all about?" Scott asked, still feeling
woozy.

     Jax murmured, "I think you need ta know somethin' -"

     "Never mind," Cherrise put her hand over Jax's mouth.
"I'll explain things.  Come with me, baby," she said, taking
Scott's hand and guiding him toward the back.  "See, there's
this tradition here..."



                           CHAPTER TEN
                        Mike gets set up

     The AmaFlix main arena was filling with the usual throng as
Elaine and Mike entered.  They stopped at the sight of the crowd,
which occupied most of the seats.

     "Where would you like to sit?"  Mike motioned to a mostly-
empty row near them.  "This okay?"

     Elaine giggled, and took his hand.  "We've got special seats. 
Patricia wants you to have a good view of this one."

     "Really?"  As she led him down the aisle, he asked, "Who's
fighting?"

     "She is."

     They came to a roped-off front-row section.  Already present
were several AmaFlix regulars, among them Sunny, Darlene, Jim,
Steve, and Samantha.  Elaine and Mike stepped behind the rope and
took two chairs.

     "Hey, everybody," he said with a wave.  "Good to see you
again."  They smiled and nodded in reply.

     The arena filled shortly thereafter, and Elizabeth Michaels
came to the ring.  A microphone lowered from the ceiling, which she
took in hand.

     "Ladies and gentlemen," she began.  "The following is a
Patricia Daniels special encounter, with no time limit and no
rules.  The match is to be decided by submission or sixty-second
knockout.  Introducing first, from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania...he
stands six feet four inches and weighs two hundred seventy-seven
pounds.  Please welcome...'Iron' John Maxwell!"

     To her right, a thickly-muscled man in denim overalls threw
both his fists into the air.  A shaggy beard and mustache gave him
an unkempt, feral appearance.

     "Wait," said Mike, pointing.  "Patricia's going to fight him?"

     "Yeah!"  Elaine cuddled closer.  "You'll love it."

     "B-but--"

     Elaine tweaked his nose.  "Relax.  She knows what she's
doing."

     "And now, introducing the owner and operator of AmaFlix.  At
six feet one inch and two-hundred two pounds, please
welcome...Patricia Daniels!"

     The door to the locker room swung open, and Patricia emerged,
a loose silk robe tied around her.  She took easy strides to the
ring, smiling as the assembled fans cheered wildly for her.  She
slipped between the ropes and moved to ring center.

     Patricia took the microphone from Elaine, and said, "Your
attention please."  The crowd noise slowly subsided, and she
continued.  "We have a very special guest with us this evening.  He
is one of the greatest champions the sport of professional
wrestling has ever had.  You've probably seen him in commercials or
any number of magazines.  Please welcome...Mike Anderson!"

     She gestured for him to rise.  Embarassed, he stood and waved
as the crowed cheered.  Mike caught Iron John staring his way,
sneering.

     When things quieted, Mike reseated himself, and Patricia spoke
again.  "I'd like to dedicate this match to Mike, and extend to him
the offer of participating with our operation any time he'd like." 
She handed the microphone to Elizabeth, then untied her robe and
pulled it away.  Mike chewed his lower lip as he took in the sight
of her body, her awesome, well-curved physique revealed by the
silver bikini she wore.  White boots rose to her knees.

     Elaine sighed.  "Beautiful, isn't she."

     Mike drew her closer.  "So are you, girl."  He kissed her
forehead.  "You'd be in any man's top ten."

     The brunette squealed and smothered him with a kiss.

     Elizabeth stepped from the ring, and Iron John met Patricia in
the middle.  He stood before her, flexing and unflexing his huge
fists.  Patricia had her hands on her hips, her weight shifted to
one side, a smug smile on her face.

     "Good luck," he said, extending his hand and grinning.  "I've
seen you fight before.  I'm honored to be here."

     Patricia's smile faded.  She'd been wrong about this man.  He
was polite and articulate, far from the brutish ogre she'd hoped
for.  The point to the match was to intimidate Mike into accepting
a contract with her, which she'd intended to do by brutalizing
Maxwell.  She wasn't sure she could do that now.

     Patricia shook his hand.  "Good luck yourself--"

     Maxwell threw his arms around her and ran.  He slammed her
hard into the turnbuckle, adding his bulk to the impact.  She
reeled, breathless and stunned.

     "Stupid bitch!"  The man clubbed her across her back with his
forearm, sending her to her knees.  With surprising speed, he
scooped her into his arms, took three steps, then fell atop her for
a power slam.

     "Yeah!"  Maxwell turned to the jeering crowd and tapped his
chest.  "I'm gonna be the first, dammit!  I'm gettin' that ten
grand!"

     He bounced from the ropes, priming to drop an elbow onto her. 
He leaped--

     --Patricia was gone, rolling to one side.  Maxwell crashed to
the mat like a sack of wet cement, his weight jarring him
senseless.  He struggled to rise and maintain the offensive, but
Patricia was on him in an instant.  She grabbed him by the straps
of his overalls and hauled him to stand, then pulled him across her
body.  Patricia's physique rippled as she elevated him above her,
his arms windmilling, his face panicked.  A moment later she sent
him flying across the ring, where he once again landed with a
resonating crash.

     "Ooh!"  Mike winced.  "That hurt to watch."

     "It gets better," said Elaine.  "She's just beginning."

     Dazed and numb with pain, Maxwell struggled to sit up, and
suddenly found himself constricted around his waist by Patricia's
legs.  The air left his body as she bore down, compressing his
abdomen in a vise grip, making him beat the mat with his hands and
feet.

     Elizabeth moved in, and said, "Maxwell!  Do you--"

     "Back off!" yelled Patricia.

     "But--"

     "I said back off!  I'll let you know when the match is over!"

     Elizabeth trotted to one side as Patricia began loosening,
then tightening her grip, punching him with her muscles, sending
jolts of pain through his body.  Maxwell's vision began to blur, as
conciousness faded.

     To his surprise, she released him, and he sucked in sweet
lungfuls of air.  He felt himself being pulled to his feet.

     "Okay, big man," she said, facing him, her hands on her hips. 
"It won't be a cheap shot now.  Hit me."

     Maxwell didn't argue.  He mustered his remaing energy and
drove his huge fist into her chiseled abdomen.  It was like hitting
a thin layer of rubber over sheet steel, and he drew his hand back,
his fingers numb with pain.  The blonde hadn't reacted to the punch
in any way.

     "Okay," she said.  "My turn."


     The remainder of the match was a Patricia Daniels masterpiece,
as she squeezed, slammed, and otherwise pummeled her foe, never
losing control of the encounter.  During the closing moments, when
Patricia had Maxwell helpless in her rear leg scissors, she
directed her sensuous lip-lick at Mike, who was transfixed by the
sight.  One sleeper later, she was standing over Iron John, her
glistening bosom rising and falling with each breath, her
statuesque body posed in heroic fashion.  Elizabeth declared her
the winner, triggering the cheers of the crowd.

     As the spectators filed out, Patricia slid from the ring,
leaving Julia behind her to check on Maxwell.  She walked to Mike,
who was standing with the others.

     "Did you enjoy it?" she asked.

     "Um...yeah.  You really smoked him.  It was damned impressive,
considering he's a pro."

     Patricia raised an eyebrow.  Elaine took him by the shoulder
and asked, "A pro?  How do you know?"

     "I've faced him.  He's pretty tough.  You made him look like
a chump."

     "Oh."  Patricia's smile widened, as the ramifications of her
victory became clearer.  Not only had she beaten a huge man, but
she'd beaten a trained professional wrestler.  That was why he'd
managed to get the upper hand initially, and had absorbed more
punishment than the usual lumbering oafs that sought to beat her. 
Considering her intention was to arouse Mike's competitive
curiousity, she'd been even more successful than she'd intended. 
"I'm glad you think I did well."

     "'Did well'?  That's an understatement.  You dismantled him."

      "Yeah.  I guess I did."  She looked at Elaine.  "Look,
I'd...like to take Mike to my office for awhile.  If you'd rather
I didn't--"

     "No."  Elaine smiled, and rubbed his shoulder.  "He'd enjoy
it.  I want what's best for him."

     "Huh?" he asked.

     "Thank you."  Mike watched, transfixed, as she leaned forward
and gave the brunette a soft, passionate kiss.  When they parted,
Elaine was grinning.

     Patricia took Mike's hand, and led him to the aisle.  "Um," he
said, looking back at Elaine.

     "I'll see you later," she said, and turned to leave.

     "C'mon," said Patricia, pulling him behind her.


     She led Mike into her office, then closed and locked the door
behind her.  "Please, have a seat," she said, and guided him to the
couch.

     "Comfy," he said, as he eased back.  "This is big.  Deeper
than most couches I'm used to."

     "Yeah.  nice and roomy." She leaned against her desk, facing
him.  Her arms were crossed.

     Mike gave her a wry smile.  "Why do I feel like I'm being
examined here?"

     "You are."

     "Interesting."  He let some moments pass, before he said,
"Well, tell me.  What's your conclusion?"

     Patricia reached behind her and unfastened the top knot of her
bikini.  A few seconds later, she'd pulled it free and dropped it
onto her desk.  "My conclusion," she said, as she took slow steps
toward him, "Is that I'm incredibly attracted to you."

     "Oh, really."

     She turned him to lie across the couch, then slid to straddle
his lap.  "Yes," she said, and pressed his hands over her jutting
breasts.  "And here at AmaFlix, we have the right of conquest over
our beaten foes."

     "Define 'conquest'."

     "In this case, it means that we can take the men we defeat in
battle and do with them as we please."

     "Ah," he said.  "What does that have to do with me?"

     "Well," she said, sliding her aching nipples against the
calloused skin of his palms.  "Although I thoroughly dominated Iron
John, I don't have any interest in him sexually.  So, I'm going to
substitute you."

     Mike laughed.  "That's okay, I guess, but remember that it
wasn't me who got clobbered out there.  I've beaten him, too."

     "Maybe."  She leaned over, to lie across him, and embrace his
neck.  "But not like that.  Not so thoroughly, so completely that
you left no doubt in anyone's mind that he never had a chance.  No,
all I did was prove that I'm better than any professional wrestler
alive--"

     He leaned forward suddenly, wrapping his arms around her,
pulling his face close.  "Lady, I think I understand what you're
implying, and you don't have to be so roundabout.  I don't go
shouting my reputation from the rooftops, but I know I'm damned
good at what I do--maybe not the best, but as good as anyone who's
tried.  Thinking that there's no one better is a nice fantasy, but
I've taken enough lumps in my time to know better."  He stroked her
cheek, and said, "That was a good trick, setting me up to see that
match, and then getting me back here to prod me, but you didn't
have to go to all the trouble.  I'll take on anybody who wants a
piece of me."

     Patricia looked away, embarassed that she'd been figured out. 
"I'm sorry," she said.  "I...should have come right out and asked."

     "No problem.  Don't take this the wrong way, but you're
female, and women don't always go for the simple solutions.  They
like to set things up.  Guys tend to go straight at things. 
There's something to be said for both approaches."

     "So...you're not mad?"

     "Heck, no.  I'm just a little at odds with myself.  I mean,
here I am, holding this exciting, hard-bodied, beautiful woman, and
part of me wants to cover you with hickeys. The other part of me
remembers what you did to Maxwell and wants to hop a flight to the
Yukon."

     She giggled.  "Just understand something, Mike.  Whatever
happens--and I'm sorry, but I believe I'm going to beat you--I'll
still think you're a great fighter.  I've just got to prove myself. 
I've never had an opportunity to face someone who's considered the
best at what he does, and I've got to do this."

     "You'd be less than great if you didn't try."

     Patricia smiled, touched.  She forced him down with a deep,
probing kiss, her tongue thrusting, searching, her mouth pressed
hard to his.  His hands roamed into her hair, and his arms held her
tightly to him.  She broke the kiss, then said, "Mike Anderson, you
are a truly wonderful man.  So wonderful that you may never get out
of here."

     He shrugged.  "I can think of worse fates."  He stroked the
small of her back.  "Now are we gonna boink, or what?"

     She shuddered.  "We're boinking," she said, and kissed him.

                         CHAPTER ELEVEN
                    Julia jams at the Apollo

     A large, mustachioed blonde man thrust open the doors
to the AmaFlix offices.  He was broad shouldered and dressed
in a suit that screamed Savile Row.  "Have no fear, Apollo
is here," he proclaimed in a deep voice.  He saw Annie
sitting at a desk and sauntered over.  "Hello, you lovely
creature," he said.  "I'm here to help this company make a
lot of money."

     "And just how do you intend to do that?" Annie asked,
somewhat amused.

     "Why, I will allow you to make a video of me crushing
some unworthy opponent, of course," he replied.  "With my
devastating looks and unbeatable fighting form, the women
will rush to order it.  I have," he confided, "quite a
following among the ladies.  And who can blame them?"  He
looked at his reflection in the window and smoothed his
blonde locks.

     Annie, not sure whether to laugh in his face or throw
him out, buzzed Patricia.  "Yeah, what is it," came
Patricia's voice across the intercom.

     "Patricia, can you come out here?  There's someone
you've just GOT to meet."

     "Just a sec."  The inner office door opened and the
strapping six-foot blonde woman emerged.  "Well?" she
inquired.

     "Patricia Daniels, this is Mr. -- what did you say your
name was?"

     "Just Apollo, my dear woman."

     "That's right, this is Apollo.  He says he's here to
make us money," Annie said.

     Patricia held out her hand, which Apollo kissed.
"Apollo, eh?  Hmm - let me guess, you're a wrestler of some
kind."

     "Indeed, my dear," he replied condescendingly.  "I've
been plying my trade on the Continent -- that's Europe, of
course --  and have recently relocated.  I found your
advertisement in the local newspaper and decided to grace
your company with my presence."  Apollo used a finger to
smooth his mustache, left and right.  "I guarantee that
women will be breaking down your doors to purchase any video
in which I wrestle."

     Now both Patricia and Annie were having trouble
refraining from laughing.  "Do you realize the types of
videos we make here?" Patricia asked.

     "I presume they involve men involved in either
fisticuffs or wrestling, against other men.  Presumably, one
is the villain and one the hero -- I'll be one of the
heroes, naturally -- and the hero does battle with the
forces of evil."

     "Not exactly," Patricia said with a smile.  "Our videos
involve real fighting -- sometimes straight wrestling,
sometimes 'fisticuffs', as you put it, and sometimes with no
real rules -- between men and women."

     "Egad!  I couldn't imagine doing battle against one of
the fair sex!" Apollo exclaimed.  "I am shocked that this
sort of thing goes on!"

     "We pay well, of course," said Patricia, noting
Apollo's eyes light up at the mention of money.  "However,
I'm afraid it will have to be against a woman."

     "As unsavory as that sounds to me, my dear, I find
myself requiring additional funds to continue my journey.  I
have no wish to stay in this - this - place for very long.
I will agree to wrestle one of the fair ladies here for a
reasonable fee."  Apollo noticed a speck of lint on his
jacket and quickly removed it, regarding it with distaste
before dropping it to the floor.  "When would this encounter
take place?"

     "Annie, prepare a contract for this gentleman for a
best three-of-five fall fight at three this afternoon -- if
that meets with your approval, Apollo?" said Patricia.

     "Three today -- hmm, I shall need to cancel an
appointment with my masseuse, but I can always reschedule.
That will be quite acceptable."  Annie quickly produced the
form and Apollo signed with a flourish.  "Now I'll be off.
Until three o'clock.  Ladies,"  he bowed and exited.

     Patricia and Annie burst out with uproarious laughter.
"If I hadn't seen it I wouldn't have believed it," Annie
said, wiping away tears.  "He really thinks he's God's gift
to the world -- not to mention women!"

     "'As unsavory as that sounds' -- Jeez, what a turkey!"

     "You gonna take him yourself?"

     "No, I'm planning on being busy later today.  Who shall
we use?  Hmmm."

     Julia came in the door.  "Who's the idiot that just
left?" she asked.  "He saw me and asked vhat I looked like
before the sex change!"  Patricia and Annie hooted in
laughter again.  "Vhat's zo funny?" Julia asked, her eyes
narrowed.

     "You must've met Apollo, the man who thinks the world
revolves around him," replied Patricia.  "He's signed up to
fight at three today.  Any ideas who he should meet?" she
asked mischievously.

     An evil smile spread over Julia's face.  "Ya, I have
zomeone in mind to teach him a lesson," she said, grabbing a
pen.  "Vhere do I sign?"


     Word had gotten out about Apollo and Patricia decided
to use the new octagonal ring for this bout.  Apollo came
out first, striding imperiously to the ring.  He was deeply
tanned and well muscled.  He wore a white singlet and gold
colored boots.  Patricia, who would referee, made the
announcement:  "From the Continent, standing six feet three
inches tall and weighing two hundred and seventy pounds,
Apollo!"

     The tall man gracefully entered the ring and walked to
Patricia's side.  "Dear me, there are certainly a lot of
people here.  And what a quaint shape for a wrestling ring!"
He smoothed his hair and said, "I do hope you have obtained
a worthy opponent for me my dear."

     "I think we can accomodate you," Patricia said with a
smile.  She saw Julia emerge from the locker room.
"Apollo's opponent stands six feet six inches tall and
weighs two hundred and twenty-five pounds.  Originally from
Stockholm, Sweden, Julia Pieterson!"  Julia walked
purposefully to the ring.  She was wearing a white bra that
strained to contain her melon-sized breasts and red thong
bikini bottoms.  Red boots laced up to her knees.  Her
ivory-colored braid was coiled and pinned to the top of her
head.

     Apollo said, "I'm shocked!  I thought you wanted me to
wrestle a woman, not some man who changed his -- um -- mind,
so to speak."

     "Look buster, Julia's all woman and always has been.
She's your opponent.  If you don't want to fight her, fine.
You can just pay the thousand dollar penalty fee and you can
leave," Patricia said with a hard stare at the tall man.

     "Oh - er - well, you have convinced me," Apollo
smoothed his mustache.  "I hope you don't take it amiss when
I defeat her quickly, I don't wish to perspire."  He leaned
closer and whispered, "Perspiration stains my singlet badly,
you see, and I don't look my best."

     Julia slipped between the ropes and looked at Apollo
with cold blue eyes.  Her muscles stood out in bold relief
as she regarded the big man.  Patricia said, "This is a best
three out of five wrestling match with a sixty minute time
limit.  Pins and submissions will win a fall.  Choking,
biting, low blows, and eye-gouging are grounds for immediate
disqualification."

     Apollo looked shocked.  "My dear woman, as if I would
stoop to such tactics."

     Patricia shook her head in exasperation.  "Shake hands
and go to your corners."  Julia offered her large hand and
Apollo gingerly shook it.  They retreated to their corners.

     "What are you doing here?" Apollo asked Pedro, who was
in his corner.

     "I'm your second."

     "Ah, my valet.  Very well, my good man.  Do I look all
right?"  The bell rang before Pedro could answer.

     Julia moved to the middle of the ring and motioned
Apollo to join her.  The arrogant man moved in and the two
behemoths locked up in a collar-and-elbow hold.  Julia
flexed her enormous arms and threw Apollo off easily,
sending him back into a corner.  He smoothed his mustache
and regarded her warily.  Julia motioned him out.  "Come on,
little man," she said.  "Come out und fight."

     Apollo emerged from the corner and circled Julia .
Smiling, Julia offered her hands in a test of strength.
Apollo seemed to take the bait, but ducked at the last
minute and grabbed one of Julia's legs.  She flexed her
massive thigh muscle and watched with amusement as Apollo
tried to pull her leg out from under her.  He began to get
frustrated when he couldn't budge her thick lower limb.  He
let go and stood up.  "Care to try the other leg?" Julia
asked.  Apollo quickly moved behind the broad-shouldered
blonde and slipped his arms under hers.  Locking his hands
behind her neck, he secured the full nelson.

     "You might as well surrender now," he said as he
pressured the hold.  "You haven't a chance, you know."  His
large biceps bulged as he tried to force her head down.
Julia flexed her arms, shoulders, and neck.  Her huge arms
expanded as she tested Apollo's strength.  "No chance,"
laughed Apollo.  "I can keep you here as long as I want."

     Julia paid no attention to Apollo.  She yanked both
arms down hard, forcing Apollo's arms apart.  She bent down
and grabbed Apollo's ankle.  She then straightened up,
dumping the big man on his ass.  Apollo scrambled away as
Julia turned to face him.  "You're not as good as you
thought, yes?" she said.  Apollo regained his feet and
regarded Julia thoughtfully, his finger smoothing his
mustache again.  Julia crooked a finger at him.  "Come, Mr.
Apollo, let us zee how good you really are, not how good you
think you are."

     Apollo moved out cautiously and circled Julia.  She
moved to keep him in front of her.  Moving in suddenly,
Apollo drove a forearm uppercut into Julia's jaw, driving
her back.  A grab and pull by Apollo sent Julia to the mat
via a fireman's carry.  

     Julia was a little slow to rise and Apollo leaped on
her back.  He wrapped his thick arm under her chin and
yanked back savagely, stretching her neck backwards.  Julia
grunted and grabbed Apollo's arm with her big hands.  She
was able to get to her knees and then to her feet, picking
Apollo up as if he were weightless.  She took three backward
steps and smashed Apollo into the corner padding, pressing
him between the turnbuckles and her muscular bulk.  Apollo
gasped in pain and released his chinlock.  Julia turned
around and drove her shoulder into Apollo's gut, taking the
wind from his sails.

     Patricia ordered her to break, and Julia stepped back
for a second.  Apollo held himself up by the ropes.  Julia
grabbed for his arm, but he brought a foot up into her
chiseled abdomen.  Heavily armored with muscle though it
was, the kick surprised the brawny blonde and she grunted in
pain and doubled over.  Apollo hopped up onto the middle
rope and leaped through the air, over Julia's back.
Dropping headfirst, he wrapped his arms around her middle
and rolled into a sitting position, ending up with Julia's
shoulders pressed to the mat.  Patricia counted to two
before Julia was able to wrench herself out of the
predicament, breaking Apollo's grip and rolling away.

     Apollo quickly got to his feet and leaped at Julia
again, hoping to take her by surprise.  Julia rolled to the
side, however, and they got to their feet together.  "Zo,
you are fast, Mr. Apollo," Julia said with a smile.  "Goot.
This could be interesting."

     She moved to the center of the ring and Apollo circled
her again, looking for an opening.  He feinted for a
headlock and ducked to grab a leg again, but she was ready
and brought her knee up into his chest, sending him
careening back into the ropes.  He grabbed the rope and held
on to keep from being thrown back at his big opponent.  She
moved in and pressed him into the ropes, stretching them,
then whipped him across the ring.  This time Apollo couldn't
stop himself, and Julia wrapped her brawny arms around his
waist and lifted him off his feet as he bounced back to the
center of the ring.

     Julia smiled in satisfaction as she pressed Apollo to
her massive chest, her muscular arms bulging.  Apollo gasped
in pain and Julia said, "Now, you vill giff up or I vill
crush you, yes?"

     "You're joking, of course," Apollo ground out.  "Apollo
doesn't submit to anyone."  He had one arm free, and he
drove the point of his elbow down into Julia's shoulder.
She grunted and her grip loosened enough for Apollo to drop
free.  He rolled away and stood up quickly, while Julia
rubbed at her sore shoulder in the center of the ring.
Apollo slipped behind Julia, snaking his powerful arms
around her waist.  He felt Julia tense her steely abdominal
muscles, expecting a bear hug, but Apollo heaved her up into
a German suplex, sending her crashing backwards to the mat
on her shoulders and bridging desperately to hold her
shoulders down.  Julia was surprised and hurt by the move,
but was able to escape before Patricia slapped the mat for
the third time.  She rolled free and both wrestlers rose to
their feet.

     Apollo straightened his hair again, saying, "As you can
see, I am by far the superior wrestler.  Why don't you give
this up now?"

     Julia replied, "I think you talk too much."  Apollo
feinted high and tried to pick up her leg again, but Julia
wrapped her massive arms around his chest.  A quick heave
brought him across her shoulder, facing the ceiling.  His
legs hung down her back and Julia's hard shoulder was
planted in the small of his back.  She began to apply more
and more pressure to Apollo's chest, taking his breath away.
"Now, Mr. Apollo, you VILL submit to me or I VILL crush
you!"

     Apollo felt like his back was breaking and he could not
breathe.  He tried to loosen the vise-grip of Julia's arms,
but it was no use.  He flailed around with his arms, hoping
to get lucky and find a vulnerable spot, but Julia avoided
his desparate attempt to hit her and increased the pressure
of her iron grip.  After about thirty seconds in the brutal
hold Apollo had had enough and managed to gasp, "I submit,"
loud enough for Patricia to hear.  She ordered Julia to
release him.  Julia dropped him to the canvas like a sack of
cement, and he lay there for half a minute trying to get his
wind back.  Pedro helped him back to his corner.

     "Oh my," wheezed Apollo, "I can't believe I fell for
that.  And she's so bloody strong!"  He saw Patricia smiling
and asked her, "Are you certain she's a woman?"

     "Oh yes," the beautiful blonde replied.  "The question
is, how much of a man are you?"

     "That's hardly fair," Apollo muttered.  Turning to
Pedro he asked, "Is my clothing mussed at all?"

     "I don't get you, man," Pedro said.  "Don't you get it?
This is a fight.  It don't matter what you look like."

     "My dear boy," Apollo huffed.  "Appearance is
everything.  Anyway, I'm a much better wrestler than she is.
I'll win easily, you'll see."  He brushed his hair back and
added, "I'll give her a wrestling lesson, in fact."

     The second fall opened with Apollo being cautious.  His
ribs and back were still sore, but not too bad.  Julia kept
the big blonde man in front of her.  Her hands flexed
menacingly as she reached for his head, trying for a
headlock.  Apollo ducked to one side and tripped her to the
canvas with a drop toehold.  He slithered up her back and
caught her left wrist, hammerlocking it.  Pressing her into
the mat and pressuring the hold, Apollo said, "Now YOU will
give up!  I am the superior wrestler and you WILL submit to
ME!"

     Julia gritted her teeth against the pain and struggled
to her knees.  Reaching her free arm back she caught Apollo
around the head.  She didn't have leverage to flip him over
her shoulder, but she was able to get her feet under her and
get to her feet.  Apollo pushed her wrist up hard between
her shoulder blades, trying to force the big blonde to
submit.  Julia smashed her free elbow back into Apollo's
ribs, eliciting a moan from the white-clad man.  A second
elbow smash loosened his grip enough for her to wrench her
arm free.  She turned into him, bulled him into the ropes
and sent him across the ring.  He flew off the opposite
ropes and Julia clotheslined him down, her sinewy arm
smashing him across the chest.

     Apollo lay on his back, slow to recover.  Julia bounced
off the ropes herself, then tried to drop an elbow across
his chest.  Apollo saw her coming at the last moment and
rolled out of the way.  Julia hit the canvas hard, stunning
her for a moment.  Apollo rolled across her and cradled her,
but Julia used her brute strength to break the hold before
Patricia could slap the mat twice.  They both rose slowly to
their feet.  "As I said, a wrestling lesson," Apollo said.

     Julia said nothing.  She stepped in and tried to grab
one of Apollo's legs, but the big man wrapped his arms
around her waist and side-suplexed her to the mat.  Bouncing
off the ropes, he tried to drop a leg across Julia's chest
but she sat up and he landed painfully on the canvas.  Julia
was up first, and she yanked Apollo up by one arm, then
picked him up and body slammed him.  "Helping" him again to
his feet, she picked him up and hit him with a back breaker.
Apollo rolled around on the canvas in agony while Julia
leaned against the ropes until her breathing returned to
normal.

     Apollo struggled to rise, holding his back.  Julia
moved behind him, securing him in a full nelson.  Dropping
backwards, she then wrapped her hugely-muscled thighs around
his midsection and pressured both holds.  Apollo heard his
shoulder joints pop and felt his ribs bend as the muscular
blonde pulverized him with the double hold.  "You wanna
give?" Patricia asked.

     Apollo didn't answer for a moment.  He concentrated on
freeing his arms.  Julia's big hands were locked together
behind his head, and she pressed his chin down into his
chest.  Flexing her bulging muscles, she began to pull down
with her legs, causing Apollo's spine to lengthen,
threatening to tear him apart.  "You're -- making -- me --
look -- bad," he muttered from between clenched teeth.

     "I think you'd better submit, yes?" she whispered in
his ear.  Apollo tried to force Julia's hands apart, but her
grip was like steel.  "Goot, struggle some more.  That vill
make you even more tired, yes?" Julia taunted.

     Finally admitting he couldn't free himself, Apollo
moaned, "Aaarrrrgghhh!!  Very well, I submit."  Julia
released him and stood over him for a second, then returned
to her corner.

     "Anything I can do?" Pedro asked as he assisted Apollo
back to the corner.

     "No, I don't believe so."  Apollo regarded his muscular
opponent with narrowed eyes.  "Perhaps it's time to stop
being a gentleman," he murmured.

     "What'd you say?" the Latino asked.

     "Oh, nothing, young man.  How's my hair look?"

     "Huh?"

     "Never mind."

     Apollo came out for the third fall quickly, attacking
Julia before she'd moved too far from her corner.  Using his
weight, he pressed Julia against the ropes in the corner.
Before Patricia could order him to break he slammed a sinewy
forearm into Julia's throat.  Then, when Patricia stepped
closer to see what he was doing to Julia's throat and he
knew she couldn't see his leg, he drove a knee up into
Julia's crotch.

     The brawny blonde went down, coughing and gagging.
Apollo stepped back with a satisfied look on his handsome
face.  Patricia hadn't seen the vicious blow, but she knew
Apollo had done something underhanded, and told him, "I'm
not sure what you did, but I'll be watching you real close."

     "I did nothing prohibited," Apollo replied.  He stomped
a big boot into Julia's belly twice before Patricia ordered
him to back off because Julia was still in the ropes.
Apollo broke for a second, then grabbed Julia by the arm and
pulled her up.  Draping her over his shoulders, he smashed
her to the mat with a fallaway slam.  Arrogantly, he lay on
top of her while Patricia counted the fall.  At the count of
two, however, Julia jerked her shoulder up.  Apollo was
surprised she'd been able to move.  He rose, then decided to
try a few more stomps to Julia's stomach.

     Julia caught Apollo's foot on the way down in her big
hands.  She twisted and pushed, dumping the overbearing man
on his ass.  She got up slowly, still having trouble
breathing.  Apollo got up quickly and hit her with a flying
dropkick in the chest.  The force of the blow drove Julia
back into the corner again, but she didn't go down.  Apollo
tried to whip her across the ring, but Julia wouldn't move.
Her thigh muscles bulged as she resisted the big man's pull.

     Apollo decided to try another kick at her stomach, but
Julia cought his foot.  A quick trip and Apollo was on his
back and Julia had his leg captive.  She drove a knee into
the outside of his thigh, twice, three times.  Apollo felt
his quadriceps start to knot up under her onslaught.  A
twist on his leg and Apollo flopped over onto his stomach.
She bent his leg back toward his head, squatting in a Boston
half-crab.  The pressure on Apollo's back and leg was
enormous, and Patricia stepped closer to ask if he gave.
"Patricia," said Julia through clenched teeth, "don't ask
him until I zay zo."  The lovely referee stepped back, a
smile on her face.  She could tell that Julia was going to
extract revenge for whatever Apollo had done in the corner.

     Julia's tremendous conditioning allowed her to recover
quickly.  She drove the knuckles of one hand into a pressure
point just above Apollo's captive knee.  Apollo howled in
agony as Julia used her knowledge of nerve centers and
pressure points to inflict incredible pain on the helpless
man.  Julia released Apollo's damaged leg and sat down,
putting her full weight onto the small of the man's back.
Turning so she faced his head, she captured one of Apollo's
arms as he flailed around trying to dislodge her.  Her
steel-trap fingers tightened found the place she wanted and
she closed her grip on another nerve center, eliciting
another scream from Apollo.  "Zo, does this hurt?" she
asked.  "After vhat you did to me, you're lucky I don't
crush your balls instead of your arm!"

     When the arm was useless, Julia let him go and stood up
again.  Disdainfully, she flipped Apollo over onto his back
with one foot, then dropped down again, this time sitting on
his chest.  Apollo tried without success to force her off of
him, but couldn't budge her.

     Julia told Patricia, who was about to count the fall,
"No, not yet."  She placed her titanic legs on either side
of Apollo's head.  She pulled his chin up hard against her
pelvis and locked her ankles, then leaned back, supporting
her upper body with her arms.  Slowly, Julia began to crush
all resistance out of Apollo.

     At first he thrashed around, trying to unseat her, but
his struggles got weaker and weaker.  Julia's thigh muscles
stood out like chiseled stone as she finished off the
conceited man.  As his vision faded and consciousness began
to drain away, Apollo tried to surrender.  His cries of
submission were muffled by Julia's crotch, however, and he
sank further and further into dreamland.  Finally, Julia
released her torturous hold and let Apollo's head flop to
the mat with a thump.  She got up and placed one finger on
his chest, then told Patricia to count.

     Patricia slapped the mat three times and raised Julia's
hand in victory.  Julia slapped Apollo's face, then took the
smelling salts from Pedro and waved them under Apollo's
nose.  He came around slowly, and Julia leaned close to him.
"You are a dirty wrestler.  Don't come back here again or I
vill make you sorry," she ordered the woozy man.  "I vant
you to get dressed and get out NOW!"  Apollo struggled to
his feet and wobbled towards the locker room.  Pedro started
to help him, but Julia clamped a big hand on his shoulder.
"Not zo fast," she said.  "Him, I don't vant.  You, however,
are very cute.  Come vith me, NOW!"  She slung him over a
shoulder and headed for the back...



     "Patricia?"  Elaine poked her head through the door to the
AmaFlix video control room.  "You wanted to see me?"

     "Hm?  Oh, yes.  Please, come in."

     Elaine stepped inside, and closed the door.  The blonde was
seated before a monitor, a stack of videotapes on a rolling tray
beside her.  The small room was dim and packed with expensive
electronics.  High-definition screens were set into cabinets and
hooked to a variety of editing and playback machines.  Toward one
end sat three Video Toaster workstations, each hooked to NewTek
Screamers and two gigabyte magneto-optical storage devices.

     "I looked for you in your office.  I thought that's where you
went after Julia's match."

     "Sorry.  I should have told Annie where I'd be."  Patricia
paused the frame on the video she was playing.  Suspended on the
screen was an image of Mike Anderson, advancing on a prostrate
opponent, closing for the kill.  It was a scene Elaine had
witnessed more times than she could count, a scene that had
thrilled her--and continued to thrill her--on every conceivable
level.

     "He's very impressive," said Patricia, tapping the screen with
her fingernail.  "There are maybe a handful of professional
wrestlers I'm aware of who might be on his level."

     "Uh-huh," said Elaine.  Her hands were clasped before her.

     "You're probably aware that he and I will be fighting
tomorrow."

     "Yeah.  I am."

     Patricia let the video roll.  In a matter of seconds, Mike had
whipped his opponent into the ropes, caught him on the return, and
power-slammed him for the victory.  When it finished, she stopped
the VCR and turned the monitor off.

     "Like I said, he's impressive."  Patricia allowed silence to
reign for a few moments, then said, "I didn't call you in here to
help me."

     "You didn't?"

     She shook her head, her thick hair rustling.  "No.  I realize
what a conflict that would be for you."

     "Then...why--"

     "I'd like you to help Mike."

     Elaine crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.  "I don't
understand."

     "I was fairly familiar with him before he came here.  It's
been easy gaining access to information that will help me."  She
swivelled her chair to face her.  "He doesn't have that luxury. 
He's facing me on my turf, by my rules.  He's at a real
disadvantage, and I want to offset that as much as possible.  Give
him whatever you feel he needs, from video to coaching him
personally.  Get the others to help, if necessary."

     "Patricia...."  Elaine bit her lower lip.  "I can't do that. 
I'd be betraying you.  I--I could never choose one of you--"

     "You're not.  You're making this as fair as possible.  It's
for both of us.  Do you understand?"

     Elaine sighed, studying her feet.  "Yeah, I do," she said
finally, looking up.  "I just don't like it very much."

     Patricia reached out and took her hand.  "Just remember that
this is the honorable thing to do.  I want the playing field to be
level.  I want my victory to be clear and undeniable."

     Elaine nodded.  "Okay," she said, and Patricia released her
hand.  She turned and opened the door.

     "Elaine."

     She stopped.

     "I am going to beat him.  You realize that."

     The brunette shrugged.  "You should.  But who knows?"

     Patricia watched as the door closed behind her.  And slowly,
deep within her psyche, a small seed of doubt spread its tendrils.


     Elaine found Mike in the training area, seated and stretching. 
His legs were spread to either side, and he was slowly lowering his
chest to the floor.  The AmaFlix regulars using the room were
looking Mike's way, and Elaine could tell that most of them
expected him to be in a body cast tomorrow.

     She moved around behind him as he struggled to complete his
stretch.  He stiffened as she put her hands on his back and eased
him forward.

     "Relax," she said.  "Take it slow.  Breath."

     His chest touched the floor.  He grunted, her arms keeping him
flat, a welcome strain entering his inner thighs.

     "Okay," she said, easing him up.  "That's good."

     "Thanks," he said.

     "No problem.  Now bring your legs together."

     Elaine led him through a complete body stretch, gently
massaging and kneading his muscles with her strong fingers during
and after the movements.  When she finished, she rolled him onto
his back and straddled his waist.

     "Wow," he said, exhaling.  "I didn't think a stretch could be
so thorough, so...."

     "Erotic?"

     "Yeah.  That's the word."  He met her eyes, then said, "No one
seems to think I'm gonna leave the ring in one piece."

     "I dunno.  They're probably right."

     "Thanks."  He frowned.  "This is weird.  I haven't been
considered the underdog in a long time."

     "Look," said Elaine, caressing his chest.  "As much fun as
this is, I'm not here just to rub you down."

     "No?"

     "No.  Patricia...asked me to help you."

     "Define 'help'."

     "'Help' as in give you videotapes of her matches, coach you as
best I can."

     "Oh."  He grinned.  "Thanks, but no thanks."

     Elaine raised an eyebrow.  "You don't--"

     "Don't take it the wrong way, please.  I'm just going to take
it as it comes.  Judging by the match I saw yesterday, she can do
it all, so I'm not going to waste my time hunting for a weakness."

     She shrugged.  "Yeah, I guess you're right."

     "Tell me...if you're Patricia, and you're looking at tapes,
trying to find a weakness in me...what do you notice?"

     "I figure she'll come to the same conclusion about you that
you've reached about her."

     Mike smiled.  "I'm flattered."

     "It's the truth."  Elaine stood, and helped him rise.  Leading
him toward the nearby storeroom, she said, "Well, if I can't coach
you, then I'm at least going to relax you.  No one will be able to
say you lost the match due to a lack of sex."

     "Can't argue with that."

     As they entered, squeals and grunts of passion were coming
from one side.  They looked to see Julia, atop Pedro, her huge body
ramming down over his thighs, her bright blonde hair jostling with
each downward thrust.  She leaned over and pinned his wrists to the
mat they occupied, leaving no doubt as to who controlled the
encounter.  To Elaine, the scene painted a broader picture, of the
new world they lived in, of the realignment and redfinition of
gender roles--and of the freeedom that dominance afforded.

     "Ooops," said Mike.  "Guess we should--"

     Elaine pulled him in by his tank top before he could leave,
and kicked the door closed.  She wrestled him to floor beside Julia
and Pedro, and said, "There's plenty of room.  And the view is
great."

     She denuded them and mounted him in record time.  As she
ground away, he looked over at Pedro and said, "I've fallen and I
can't get up."