A Starr is Born - Pt 8
Reworked by Wendy C from
a story written by Mistress X.

I stormed through the halls until I found the corner where Aki and Genbo were talking to a set of the company reporters.

"Beat it," I told them. They paused and looked at me questioningly. "LEAVE!" At that, the reporters scurried out. "You too Gen," I said. He craned his neck toward Aki as if looking for approval, then tottered away. The moment they were all out of sight I reached up and slapped Aki across the face as hard as I could. "What the FUCK were you doing!?"

He curled a lip at me amused, as if it were a bull rhino I'd just struck. "You're no better," he said knowingly.

"What the hell does that mean!?" I urged.

"You've hurt men before," he said matter-of-factly.

"I broke a guy's arm, not his neck, and look what good it did me you fat sack of shit!" I raged.

"It did you gooood," he mocked thrusting his hips at me. "He shouldn't have touched you," he added suddenly very cold.

"I touched him!" I corrected. "And I'll go on touching whoever I want. Jesus Aki I'm not your fucking property!"

"We'll see," he said with a smirk. Then he stepped forward and slapped me right on the ass, which I answered with a full on, closed fist hook to his jaw. He just chuckled, then threw up his hands and walked off.

Again I found myself lying awake in my bunk. I'd not felt this bad in some time. I couldn't make heads or tails of this. It wasn't my fault, I tried to make it my fault and couldn't justify it, but I still felt guilty, guilty and dumb. What a fucking moron I'd been. The signs were all there, Aki was a jerk-off. We never talked, just fucked and always his way on his terms, him using me. But I'd still kept throwing myself at him like an infatuated little girl. All because he could fuck so fantastically. Christ, what had I become?

"You okay?" asked Cassidy, pulling back my bunk curtain, dressed in her PJs, eyes half closed.

"What?" I uttered.

"Girl, It's hard to sleep with you sobbin' like that. Are you alright?" she explained.

I wiped my hand over my cheek and found it wet. "Yeah, yeah, it's just......harder not to cry than it used to be. It's uh... heh, I'm still not the master of my own hormones, I guess."

"Well try to get some sleep alright? I'm going back to bed" and let the curtain fall.

"Hey Cass" I called out.

She peeked back in. "Yeah?"

"Men are such pigs, aren't they?"

"Not all of them honey," she said. "Now go to sleep."

One thing was for sure, I was going to need to make some further adjustments. I thought I had coped, that because being a woman was okay, that I didn't mind anymore and that I had it all figured out. Obviously that had been a mistake. I still had a lot left to learn and one was going to be how to pick men.

As it turned out Ed was going to be okay. He wasn't going to be in action for quite some time and the injury would take quite a few years off of the end of his career, but eventually he'd be able to step between the ropes again. Akimoto wasn't admonished either. He blamed it all on Ed's shirt slipping his grip and it'd all been chalked up as an accident, but I knew better. Main event stars get a lot more benefit of the doubt so it seemed.

My time was occupied with more meetings. Big feuds took up a lot more time and a lot more effort it seemed than did on the spot, no stakes matches and I was in the biggest feud in the women's division. I did get my hands on Angel though, but by this time I didn't feel as much like paying her back. But that didn't stop her from working stiff as hell. It was fine by me that she didn't want to practice with me. I didn't particularly want to practice with her either.

Fortunately she was a routine girl, so all I had to do was watch a little tape to learn her spots. The crappy thing was I had to keep sitting in meetings with her. Of course, she was the top women's heel in the business, and she knew it, so it wasn't hard for her to convince Mike to book her going over in almost all of our matches.

I expected as much and she knew it. No, her real delight was suggesting weird stipulations, like an evening gown match. It amused me how taken aback she was when I said I was game for it, but in the end Mike didn't book it. He figured people weren't into that kind of thing anymore, and so booked all our matches as standard singles bouts, albeit with a lot of smoz finishes.

Leading up to Ring Wars, out of our five matches, she won three, one being a no contest and one I won, because Mike insisted I maintain a credible threat. I almost expected her to screw-me and kick out of the finish.

I stood looking at the clock, and shimmying, working my body knots loose. It was almost time. "Don't be so nervous Girl," said Cassidy, dressed in her civvies. "This ain't nothing you ain't done before."

"Winning a title on a pay-per-view is something I haven't done before," I rebutted.

"Pfft," uttered Angel, standing against the wall with her arms crossed under her balloons.

"It's just a work Girl," Cassidy insisted.

"Sam," called a crew guy, who tossed me a bundle of pink fabric.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's your new T-shirt," he answered. "Mike wants you to wear it to the ring."

I unfolded it to see a pattern of the same stars that adorned my trunks, and underneath it a diagonal cursive print that said “You're a Shining Star.”

"This was Gabby's idea, I know it," I mumbled. "They'd better not expect that to be a catchphrase."

"Ten seconds," called out another crewman, standing under the clock.

I slipped the shirt over my head, and tried to adjust it from squeezing my boobs. Then I gave one last shake before my music hit. Then pop-song notes hit the loudspeaker and I hit the curtain.

I pranced down the much longer ramp, clapping and giving high-fives along the way, trying to look more excited than I was nervous. After I jumped into the ring, I climbed onto the second turnbuckle, and pulled off the t-shirt, revealing my normal ring gear underneath. I looked out into the crowd until I saw a girl near the front row who it looked like it might fit, and I threw it to her.

Then my music and lights died down and for a few moments it was quiet. Then the next song hit and the crowd immediately erupted with jeers. Angel came down the ramp blowing derisive kisses and throwing her hands up like she was eating up all the booing, which she probably was. She made her way to the ring and stood in the opposite corner from me, giving me a dirty look that probably wasn't acting.

The ring announcer stood between us in the center of the ring, microphone in hand. "The following contest," he began, "is scheduled for one-fall and is for the NDW Ladies Wrestling Championship of the World. Introducing first our challenger. Standing to my right and coming out of Santa Monica, SAM STARR!" The crowd cheered. Something else I'd only recently noticed was they never billed the women's weight.

"And her opponent, standing to my left, is the reigning, defending, NDW Ladies Wrestling Champion, fighting out of Aspen, Colorado... ANGEL MADISON!"

She held up the belt and slapped the front plate like she actually owned it. Soon after though she had to hand it to the ref who himself held it aloft, showing the crowd. Then he passed it between the ropes to the time keeper at ringside. Then we centered the ring, the ref pretended to go over the rules, but we really used this time to call the opening spot, something any lip reader could easily tell you. We went back to our corners, I gave one last small stretch and then the bell rang.

I marched to the middle of the ring while Angel took two quick steps and then hit me with a flying double leg dropkick to the shoulder. It was an unorthodox opener, but that was the point. She was trying to sell her wiliness and unpredictability, even if in reality she was anything but. She liked the moniker of “the Foxiest Fox in the Business” but that reputation came almost entirely from the angles and swerves the writers came up with.

I rolled onto my hands and knees, and she hit me in the back with a fairly stiff double-axe-handle. In the moment she dropped to the mat she whispered "snap-mare," She was the heel, so she was leading the match. She hooked me by the chin and pulled my head back, which I sold with an exaggerated grimace. Then I planted one foot on the mat, reached over my shoulder, took her by the back of the head, and pulled. Angel took the signal and bieled over my shoulder, performing the snap-mare.

I bent over to spring to my feet, taking the opportunity to whisper "roll," and the moment I was standing I threw myself to the canvas in an elbow drop, which Angel rolled out from under. I sat up, cradling the elbow, selling the miss. She stood up, and dropped again into a low dropkick, barely making contacts so I could take it without it being called. I don't think she would have cared if it had hurt, but I was saved by her actually having a good ring habit.

She scooped me up with a "Duck the clothesline, German," then tucked my head under her left arm and pretended to lift me up for a snap suplex, but I hooked my ankle behind her leg for the “block”. She pretended to give up on that and when I lifted my head she went for the clothesline. I ducked it as she purposely over rotated, giving me her back. I put her in a waist lock, and she jumped backwards aiding in my lift. I took her over myself and dumped her shoulders first on the mat behind me in a textbook bridging German suplex. Since I maintained the waist lock through the manoeuvre, it counted as a pin, but she kicked out before even the count of one. She pulled the same dropkick again, repeating the sequence.

This time however, when I blocked the suplex she whispered "Take the sunset flip," She transitioned the face lock into a reverse waist lock, with me bent over, and her gripping me about the waist from above, with her bent over my back. Angel dragged me backwards until she could put her feet on the ropes, and then she kicked off, bieling over my back. I threw myself back and bombed my shoulder to the mat, so now she was sitting, and I was upside down between her legs. This too counted as a pin, but just like her I kicked out before the count of one. That's when she began to dominate the match.

It was only good ring psychology, the villain had to look strong so that the heroine's eventual victory would be all the more dramatic. It still hurt though. She hit me with stiff clotheslines, potatoes, leg sweeps, face busters, even a power bomb or two for the better part of twelve minutes, with me only getting sporadic bits of offense in here and there. That was okay, that's not where I was getting my heat. Heels got heat from fighting dirty and insulting the crowd, underdogs got heat from surviving. I kicked out of pin attempt after pin attempt, fought through submissions to get to the ropes, and every time I persevered, the crowd reaction got louder.

Angel sold the frustration beautifully. Again that's probably because it was genuine. She didn't like doing the job, and she particularly didn't like doing it to me. I was also method acting in a fashion, but my role was as the weary punching bag. At long last we finally came to the go home spot. Angel signalled it with her “patented” top rope clothesline for the set-up, just like we'd discussed in the pitch meetings.

That was my down so she could go into her dumb cartwheel elbow drop. This time, half way through her cartwheel I rolled right underneath her, so she aborted, and landed on her feet. I jumped up and hit her with a diamond-cutter, as they say, out of nowhere. I leapt up into a horizontal position, grabbed her by the head, and 'dragged' her face into the mat as I fell. It was really a case of her doing a face bump while I did a rather high elevation back bump nearby. She bounced right back up into a “staggered” state, giving me the perfect set-up for the Starr Crash, which I hit. One... Two...
Three.

The crowd absolutely erupted. It was the biggest pop of my life, probably not so much for me winning as Angel losing. Still, she made sure to get her shoulder up at about 3.01. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the ring, almost crying for real. The ref climbed out of the ring then back in carrying the belt which he presented to me, and raised my hand high. It was one of the greatest moments of my career. Of course the fun couldn't last. Angel had insisted if she were going to drop the title, she had to keep her heat, so we still had one more angle to do. Right in the middle of the celebration Dawn and Ruby ran down the ramp and into the ring.

They of course jumped me, to a ruckus of jeers from the audience. Then the three of them “beat me up” for a minute, before they took me out under the ropes and Angel bombed me off the ring apron and through a table. That spot always sucks, there's no way to make it not really hurt. Angel picked up the belt, and stood over me looking at it, almost disdainfully. Then she threw it down on me and walked away.

"Okay, follow the light with your eyes, but keep your head still," said the EMT as I sat back stage. They always made you get a check-up right after a big spot or a gruelling match.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I insisted. I just wanted to shower and get out of there. There was always a big after-party after Ring Wars, and while I did sort of feel like celebrating, I felt more like sleeping.

"Miss?" a voice came from beside me. "Miss?"

"Hmm, yeah?" I answered, realizing he was talking to me.

"I need to take that from you," said the security guy who was standing next to me with a black carry bag. I looked down at my knee where he was pointing to the championship belt that sat draped across my thigh.

"Right, of course," I said and hesitantly handed it up to him. The belt wasn't actually mine of course, it belonged to the company. It wasn't a trophy like in boxing or mixed martial arts, where each new champion got their own personal belt made that they'd get to keep. It was a prop, something to fight over and there was only one that was passed around. I'd carry it to the ring, and in promos, and in public appearances, but other than that it was kept locked up. Still it was often seen as a symbol of recognition. A title, if it was held for a time, usually meant exposure, more matches more money. People wanted to see the champs and buy their merchandise. At this point I'd just kind of wished I'd earnt it on my own, instead of having it given to me as some sort of weird compensation.

"That just about does it," said the EMT. "Everything looks okay, but you call us if you start feeling strange."

"My whole life is strange," I quipped.

"Congratulations Girl!" squealed a familiar voice as it hugged the back of my chair, squeezing the breath out of me.

"I tap Cassidy, I tap!"

"Well I guess that makes me the new champ, don't it?" she said as she circled around. "Where's my belt?"

"Security took it," I told her.

"Damn, that's no fun," she said. "So let's go have some. Let's go party."

"I just kinda want to shower and hit the sack," I said.

"Oh come on," she pleaded. "You gonna be a stick in the mud, tonight of all nights? I can't let you do that. I'll tell you what, we'll compromise. There's still a few matches left on the card, you go take a
Cat nap and then we'll go to the party, awake and refreshed. Eh?"

"You know what these things are like Cass," I told her. "It's going to be like a frat party with grown men."

"That don't sound too bad to me," she said.

"I just feel like, like I'd feel out of place, being on this side of it."

"You need to make up your mind Girl," she said. "First you're uncomfortable in your own skin then you're really comfortable. Now you having doubts again?"

"It's not like that," I said. "I just don't feel like that'd be my thing anymore."

"Well you go hit the showers," she slapped me on the shoulder. "Then you come and see. We'll find out for sure."

Chapter Seventeen

I was in my bunk, fully intent on not going to the after party. The problem was Nigel had called me about six times in the last 20 minutes, probably under the pretence of congratulating me on the title win, but really to discuss future opportunities that it could bring. I put him straight to voice mail every time, but he didn't know how to take a hint. My phone buzzed for the seventh time and that was it. Without even checking it I rolled out of bed, pulled my nightie up over my head, and went straight for the closet.

Frat party or not, it was going to be a high end thing, where guys would get drunk and pee themselves while wearing expensive silk shirts. That's why I needed to dress for a weirdly semi- formal event. It wasn't entirely lost on me that I was perhaps motivated by the chance to actually wear one of the nicer dresses I'd bought.

First I tried on a scaled yellow, knee-length dress, but in this light I realized it looked too much like a cocktail dress. Then I toyed with the idea of wearing pantyhose, but decided that would come off as too formal. After that I realized I'd need makeup, not the subtle, enthusiastic girl-next-door style I'd learned to apply with my ring-gear either. Something bolder a little darker, I had some red mahogany lipstick I'd been waiting for the opportunity to want to try on.

I realized I'd need to get dressed first, and match to that, so I went back to the dresses. I looked at a loose baby blue number, that was too much of a day-time color and the sun was long since down. Ultimately I settled on a thigh length black hobble with a frilly false waist hem and silver embroidering around the collar. It went perfectly with a set of silver one-inch heels I had. I added a silver hoop bracelet and a pair of dangling silver and zircon earrings, clip-ons. Ear piercings were too much of a hassle to keep open with fast healing gynomorph skin. I glanced at the alarm clock and realized I'd been dressing for an hour. "Jesus," I thought. "I'm a walking stereotype," I quickly applied some eye-shadow and the red mahogany lipstick and hit the door.

When I got inside to the party, most people were acting as expected, like somebody had spiked the punch-bowl, which was probably because the punch bowl was filled with whiskey from the start. In the old days one would have seen a lot more cocaine at a party like this, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. A lot of guys were walking around with their shirts off, not too strange considering most of them worked with their shirts off, but then Ryan Rogers walked across the room wearing nothing but a jockstrap. He had a cute butt if I were honest about it. Typical Frat Party still. A few people were keeping it together though. "I saw your match" came a deep voice that I realized was addressing me.

"Uncle Jerry asked me to congratulate you. He um, he said he couldn't make it tonight."

I looked up to see Luke, still perhaps unfortunately, fully dressed. He wore a navy pin-stripe button-up, straining against his rippling frame and a pair of bulging black slacks. He had a dixie-cup almost disappearing inside his enormous hand and I took note of a bandage on his forehead. "What happened?" I questioned, and without bothering asking for permission as I reached up and gently touched it.

"Oh that," he said dismissively. "It's nothing, it's a gig. Won't even show in a week," A gig, to juice to get color, was an old wrestling trick. When somebody needed to bleed they'd hide their face and use a small concealed sliver of razor blade to make a short slice in their own forehead. If you did it right it wasn't too dangerous, but with the heart pumping and the sweat running it could look like a murder scene.

"Does it hurt?" I poked it playfully, knowing full well what it felt like.

"A little yeah," he said, half facetiously. "You, need a drink?"

I looked at him more closely, at how his wavy brown hair just barely tickled the bandage, at his broad, round, chin, at his big brown eyes. I used to hate that face. Why? "I'd love one," I answered. He nodded and turned toward the catering table. "Don't you ruin that forehead," I called to him.

He came back and handed me a cup which I was surprised to note actually had punch in it. It did still smelled vaguely of alcohol though. "You look good" he said and paused to rub the back of his head nervously. "I mean, um, that's a nice dress......is all," He was totally hitting on me! Sure, he was going about it in a really grade-school sort of manner, which was charming in a fashion. But he was definitely hitting on me. Still, as much as I would have kind of wanted to, I'd learned from Aki not to just jump in bed with the first guy who smiles at me.

"Oh shit," I murmured. I'd forgotten about Aki. I searched desperately around the room until I saw him, his eyes glued on me like one of those staring paintings. It was like the crowd of people moving between us didn't exist. He didn't look happy, he looked pissed off and drunk.

"Hey Girl!" came Cassidy out of nowhere. "I knew you'd make it," She leaned on me her words slightly slurred. "I knew you couldn't resist."

"No, um... actually," I began, still looking towards Akimoto. "No. It's just exactly what I said it would be, isn't it?" I claimed, "just a bunch of half-naked drunk guys running around trying to hit on us."

"What's wrong with that?" Cass questioned, without even a hint of banter.

"Let's, um, let's get out of here, let's find someplace quieter," I said. "The three of us," I took them each by the arm and dragged them toward the door. "I'm hungry, aren't you guys hungry? Let's go find some real food."

We hailed a taxi and the driver took us to a 24 hour diner nearby. It was a cosy little place and we were occupied while we waited for our food by autograph hounds. Luke signed the most naturally, but I got a few too. I had to be really careful to sign them as Sam Starr. After that we sat and chatted, Cass and I ate breakfast food, while Luke sat across from us and watched, he didn't maintain that physique by eating just anything after all.

It was a nice night all things considered, and I was starting to calm back down, that was, until Cassidy opened her drunk mouth. "You know Sam likes you," she blurted.

"CASSIDY!" I shouted, knowing not what else to say.

"Really?" Lucas chuckled anxiously.

"She doesn't know what she's saying," I insisted.

"I've seen you get all RED FACED when he comes around," she said with strange inebriated emphasis.

"Shut up Cassidy," I snapped.

"I don't know what to say," Luke added.

"Say 'she's drunk.'" I told him.

"Uncle Jerry talks about you a lot," he said. "I've meant to come and talk to you, but I didn't think... that………Really?" and he sort of smiled and blushed at the same time.

I now found myself between a rock and a rock hard place. On one hand I didn't want to confirm it because I really didn't want to move so fast anymore. Then on the other hand I didn't want to deny it because......fuck, it was true. I wasn't so in denial as to not realize he was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. "Oh god dammit," I finally said. "Okay, fine. You're... Okay. Let's take this slow and figure this out. I don't know if I like you or not," I lied. "Let's say we..." my heart began to pound, "see......each other a while?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he said.

"You..." I said, "oh, geez, unless you....... you already have a girlfriend. Of course you have a girlfriend. Look at you. How could you not?" I rambled. Perhaps he wasn't hitting on me back at the party and maybe I had been imagining it all.

"No, it's not that," he said. "I kind of live in the gym, I don’t get that much time to get out. It's just that... you're not... I don't know how I feel about you being......not a typical...girl?"

It hit me like a truck. For a moment I had completely forgotten what I was, that I wasn't always like this and that that might put people off. How had that happened? It had been the most forefront thing in my mind for over a year now.

"So figure it out," Cassidy spoke, hovering over her eggs. "That's what she sayin'. She wanna date you, not marry you."

"I uh..." I stuttered. "Ye... yeah. Um, that's right," I said with a bit of actual conviction. "Yes. I want... to... date you Luke," I blushed. "On the down-low of course," I added. It was a perfect excuse actually to avoid Aki's ire.

"I don't know," he said.

"You looked for me," I stated.

"What?" he questioned.

"When everybody thought I was missing in Naples, I heard Jerry on the phone. You went looking for me."

"Oh that," he said. "Uncle Jerry asked me to. I would have done that for anybody."

"And that's what's so sweet about it," I insisted. "You come off as the nicest damn guy in the world, I used to hate that about you but now, I want to see if that's true."

"Why?" he questioned.

"I don't...….I don't actually know" I said. "I used to be a real piece of shit. I realized that after I got a bit of a different perspective. It was really me I didn't like. I think.......I think I like nice guys."

As it turned out keeping it all on the down-low was neither necessary…….nor strictly possible.

Dating Luke was hard. It was difficult for us to keep it secret since we were both semi-famous and surrounded by people at almost all times. He was also very strict about his gym schedule. At the same time there was something special about having a relationship with a man that was more than physical. Needless to say I'd never done that before, hell I'd never done that with a woman before.

It was nice, and Luke's own reservations about it didn't last long either. Guys are a simple animal. They're pretty easy to please if you just push them a bit. We couldn't do anything fancy of course. No expensive restaurants or movie shows, where people would recognize us and word would spread. That was okay, it just added to the intimacy.

One day we had sneaked out for a drive. We found an empty field outside the city limits and just lay together in the grass. I lay in the crook of his arm with my eyes closed, almost asleep. He held me differently than Aki had. Just as firmly, but there was a different conviction to it, Aki had been possessive, somehow Luke felt... protective. "Case," he said.

"Mm-hmm," I answered.

"Have you ever kissed a guy?" he asked.

"Nope," I answered. I had, but only in the throes of sex, which I knew wasn't what he meant. I climbed up onto his torso and lay along his chest. "Why do you ask?" I moved in close to him. "Fishing" I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him in gently, pressing my lips against his for the first strictly romantic kiss of my life.

"Mmm," he uttered. "This one's a keeper."

"You took the words right out of my mouth Babe," I said. "And the tongue" I giggled. "Jesus," I gasped. "I just realized, I don't even know your name."

"What?" he said.

"Well it's not 'Luke Power.'" I said mockingly. "Jerry is your... mom's brother? So it's not Norman either."

"It's Darrow," he chuckled. "Lucas Darrow."

"I kind of like it," I said as I rolled back to his side. "Casey Darrow" I whispered.

"What was that?" he asked.

"It's um..." a beeping emanated from the grass nearby, and Lucas picked up his phone. Phew, saved by the bell. I thought silently.

"Crap," he said. "The show is about to start. We gotta get back to the arena."

"No rush," I said. "I'm not on the card tonight, and you're wrestling at the top. We've got two hours, easy."

"That would be true," he said. "But I've got a live promo in the first half."

"Dammit," I cursed. "Well, let's go then."

We made our way back to the arena, and Luke rushed to the back stage screen where the interviews were filmed. Mike was there out of frame, and so was Aki. I stood back and watched from the shadows.

"Dammit Luke where have you been?" Mike yelled. "We're about to go live and you're not even dressed. Screw it we'll have to do it in your civvies. Ready?"

"Yeah," said Luke, shaking his shoulders and positioning himself on the taped X on the floor.

The camera operator called out. "We're live in 5... 4.... 3..." dropping a finger with each number, he didn't count two or one, but mouthed them silently instead.

"We're here live with former NDW Heavyweight Champion Luke Power," said the interviewer who looked positively mousy next to Luke's hulking form. "Champ, or should I say Ex-Champ, tonight will be the first time you match against current Heavyweight Champion Tsunami Akimoto, who took the belt from you several months ago. He's a month away from tying for the fifth longest single heavyweight title reign in NDW history and rumors are circulating that if you put up a good showing tonight, since you never got your title rematch, you'll be slid right into the number one contender's spot. Is there anything you want to say about that?"

"Yeah there is Pete," said Lucas, altering his voice slightly, speaking less gently and slipping into character. "We all know there's no love lost between me and Akimoto, even less with that shifty weasel of a manager of his. Now, I'm not gonna stand here and moan about how I was cheated out of the title, it's not in my character. Let it go down in the books as fair and square. But let's make one thing perfectly clear. If a win tonight it puts me back in the title picture, then we’ll......."

Aki ran in from out of frame and hit Luke with a forearm. I almost gasped but I could tell from Mike and the crew's reactions it was a work, part of the angle. Aki threw Luke into a stack of hard shipping boxes. Then he pulled the entire stack down on top of Luke. He started stomping and kicked a box right into Luke's head. He dragged Luke up to his feet and when Luke tried to throw a worked punch Aki reversed it into a Fujiwara arm-bar, a legitimate submission if you put it on snug.

Luke yelled in a way that didn't sound fake to me and my heart skipped a beat. Aki brought him to the ground and elbowed Luke in the head a few times, then started tearing his shirt off and kicking him in the ribs. He mounted Luke and started hitting him in the face.

"Get off him!" I screamed as I found myself on Aki's back, hooking at his neck and face. Aki shrugged me off and I rolled to the floor. Looking up I could see Mike desperately tapping the camera operator on the shoulder and making the cut gesture with his thumb. The red light on the camera went off and suddenly people were all over the two of them, about ten security guys came out of nowhere to pull them apart.

"What in God's name has gotten into you two?" Mike screamed. "And what exactly the fuck do YOU have to do with all of this?" he addressed me. "You know what, not now! Get an EMT over here!" he called. "You three, in the conference room NOW!" he said turning back to us.

Mike, Aki and I sat in silence in the conference room, with only the regular loud ticking of the old clock on the wall being heard. Mike's face was so red he looked like he was about to catch fire, but I was looking at Aki shooting daggers at him, giving out the kind of hate I'd never known as a man, trying to kill him with my eyes.

After an interminable wait the door opened and in came Luke and an EMT, Luke had an icepack to his face and was rubbing his arm. "He'll be okay," said the medic. "But I don't think he should perform tonight," Aki sneered at this announcement.

"Well that's just a good god damn," said Mike. "There goes the god damned main event! Now I gotta cook up something on the fly and for what? No seriously, for what? What god dammit, what? What's this about?"

"She's mine" Aki said spitefully.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" Mike demanded.

"He tried to take her from me" Aki added.

"Now wait just a god damned minute!" I shouted springing to my feet. "You don't own me!"

"Hell in a hand basket," said Mike rubbing his hands over his face. "This is all about snatch isn't it?"

"Fuck you Mike!" I yelled.

"Don't you fucking test me," he pointed. "So what…..you're fucking them now?"

"No," I said. "I'm..." I looked over to Luke. He nodded in confirmation. "Cat's out of the bag now. I'm dating Lucas."

Aki bounded to his feet and screamed something very foreign that had the distinct feeling of profanity.

"And what does he have to do with this?" Mike thumbed at Aki.

"She's mine!" he yelled.

"Shut up Aki, I'm asking her," Mike ordered.

"I..." I crossed my toes and looked at the floor. "I WAS sleeping with him."

"You were what!?" Luke cried.

"It was before we were together Luke," I pleaded.

"For god sake, if I made company policy there would be no fraternization," said Mike. "So what are we going to do with this? Hell, there's only one thing we can do with this. Everybody saw the lady riding to the rescue, that went out live after all. We HAVE to make an angle out of it. We were going to have these two feud anyway, but guess what shiny britches," he looked at me. "Now YOU'RE the prize."

"That's outrageous!" Luke yelled.

"Oh come on," said Mike. "This is pro-wrestling. This is the world where child custody is decided with a ladder match," He turned to Aki. "And you are sure as hell going to lose."

Again Akimoto spouted something irate and unintelligible.

"You will lose or you will be prosecuted for that little stunt, prosecuted and deported to that turd in the pacific you call a country! And I don't want anymore of this shoot crap either. Are we clear?"

Aki held his breath.

"Are we clear!?"

"Hai," he said reluctantly.

"Now get the fuck out of here," Mike ordered. "We'll figure this out tomorrow, right now I gotta salvage this show," Aki stormed out, making sure to bump hard into Luke's hurt shoulder as he passed. We turned to the door, but Mike stopped us. "Wait a second you two," We turned back
to him. "I know you had a hard time last year Casey, it didn't stop you from stepping on my toes though. Just... the two of you... mazel tov."

I knocked on the bus door. "Come in," he called. I peeked inside and saw Luke sitting alone on the couch.

"So this is the home away from home eh?" I asked as I slowly climbed up the steps, my arms behind my back, my hips swaying. "It's a lot like ours except it smells worse and has less throw pillows. I bet the closets aren't as packed either."

"Hey Case," he mumbled, his ice bag held up to his face.

I plopped down beside him and gently pulled his hand down to reveal the swelling and bruising. "That son of a bitch," I said through my teeth.

"It looks worse than if feels," he insisted.

"Oh it does huh?" I responded. "You want Momma to kiss it and make it better?" I leaned in and kissed him on the side of the face.

"Ow," he said softly.

"Oh, poor baby."

"No," he said. "You're leaning on my arm. He really wrenched it."

"You want a massage?" I inquired. "If you're a good boy I might even give you a..." I whispered in his ear. "happy ending."

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said decisively. "We both have the night off now, and if this bus is like ours, it locks."

"I thought you wanted to take it slow?" he questioned.

"Call this an acceleration," I said. "Come on Luke, you're clearly the sweetest guy I'm ever gonna meet... I wanna TASTE it," I added some randiness to my voice.

He stood me up and squared me with himself, before lifting me off the ground and kissing me full on the lips, not a peck, but a full, passionate kiss. I was putty in his arms. He put me down and I slumped instantly to my knees, his zipper was right in front of me, too good an opportunity to pass up. I unzipped his fly and yanked his pants and underwear down in a quick, eager fashion.

"Oh my Gosh," I said. "Lucas?"

"What?" he asked tensely.

"How do you fit this in those trunks?" It was a trunk itself, a big, purple, circumcised elephant's trunk, accompanied by two perfect Easter eggs. This laid to bed the question as to whether or not Luke used steroids. That was a firm no. "Hey there big guy. Nice to meet you, what's that? You want a kiss too?" I put my full lips up to the head and let them part reluctantly around it, my tongue exploring. Luke's knees quivered. "Luke, couch, now," I pulled off and said. He lay down and I was on top of him, picking up where I left off, working at getting my own pants down with one hand.

"The door," he moaned. I lifted away from him, hopped across the little room with my pants around my ankles, and yanked the bolt locked, then went right back, shaking my pants off along the way. I ran my hands over his majestic abs and pulled his shirt over his head. Then I reached back, and undid my bra through the blouse I had on. Then taking his hands had him do the same to me, stripping off my blouse and bra in one motion. His beautiful brown eyes grew wide at the sight of my naked melons, and his hands were instantly on me, now of their own accord. Before I knew it I was on my back and his weight was pressing into me. His thumbs circled my nipples as he kissed my neck and worked down until he had to pull his hand away to make room for his tongue.

"Ugh!" I cried out. My hands were in my panties furiously stroking myself. I came the instant his tongue touched me. "My panties, take off my panties" I begged. As he sat up and grasped the hem I twisted around and grabbed my jeans from the floor. I reached in the back pocket and produced one of the condoms I’d brought with me. "Put this on" I gasped and he yanked my underwear down. He ignored me for the time being, instead kissing his way down my belly and then hooked my thighs and pinned my shoulders to the carpet with my legs in the air.

He kissed my lower lips relentlessly and with his tongue. "Gawd!" I moaned and came again. Luke explored me for a while, bringing me to a third orgasm before he lifted me onto the couch and finally opened the condom and rolled it on his gigantic cock. He climbed on top of me and made love to me. He spread me open and thrust into me, firmly, but tenderly at the same time, not erratic or frantic like Aki had done, but slowly and deliberately. Every stroke had its purpose, I was not his first. I'd never felt anything like it. No man had taken care of me like this before. He was a better lover than any of my previous men, he was better than I had been with by far, I knew.

With the pheromones I was certainly putting out at that moment, it was miraculous he could control himself as well as he did. I gazed between my breasts and between my thighs where a column of glistening flesh speared into me again and again, splitting me in what seemed like ridiculous proportions. I thanked heaven for gynomorph elasticity, I thanked heaven for gynospores. I thanked heaven for putting this stallion on the earth and sending him to me. "GAHHH!!" I came again, again and again, my body desperately tried to milk him. It knew its purpose and craved fulfilment. My hands fell from my breasts and I went limp long before Lucas himself finally orgasmed inside me.

We lay there gasping afterward. I rode his heaving chest like an ocean tide. "This was..." he panted, "much better... than what I had planned tonight."

I giggled.

"I... didn't hurt you did I?" he asked. He had been the first one to ask me that.

"You can... hurt me like that... any time you want" I answered then kissed his lips lightly.

"You know I'm gonna have to work at least six more times with Akimoto, right?" he said.

"Yeah," I answered.

"He's gonna be stiff as hell," he added.

"Don't say stiff," I quipped. "You're going to get me all riled up again. Besides, this is worth it isn't it?"

He curled his massive arm tightly around me. "It's worth anything."