Carnival Cavalcade Wrestling
CCW Chaos, episode #5: Out of the Shadows
In a room somewhere backstage…
Last week, in this room lit by a dusty hanging bulb with nothing but an old wooden table in it, Cassie Rae and Sunny Austin came to terms with Cassie’s reversion to her old CCW fetish girl look — a white string bikini — and the hypersexualized persona she adopted in order to maneuver The Pack’s Gothica into the match they’re going to have tonight.
This week, Cassie, in that white string bikini, and Sunny — as always in her orange-and-white bikini — using the room, and the table, to feverishly make out.
Sunny, on her back with Cassie straddling her hips, kneeling, moans as Cassie’s soft little belly presses again her flat, toned stomach; Cassie’s bikinied breasts play and move among hers, and Cassie’s mouth kisses and bites the side of her taut neck. Sunny reaches up and draws her short, round nails across Cassie’s back, eliciting a little moan from her.
SUNNY: “Cass…wanted to feel you…like this…so bad…”
Cassie, panting, puts her hands on the table to either side of Sunny’s head and stares into her eyes.
CASSIE: “Wanted to feel you…wearing this…not a fetish girl…your girl. (she closes her eyes, head back) Oh god, Sun…”
Cassie moans, her body shuddering. Sunny sits up, wraps both arms around Cassie, and holds her tight.
SUNNY: “I love you, Cass…so much…no matter what…”
Cassie melts into Sonny’s embrace, moaning. Hands gripping Sunny’s hips, Cassie lays her head on Sunny’s shoulder and lets herself go.
Smiling, eyes tearing, Sunny brings her hand to the back of Cassie’s head. She lets her fingers play in Cassie’s hair as she slides her arm down to encircle Cassie’s waist. Cassie’s hands caress Sunny’s hips.
Cassie cries, her little belly heaving against Sunny’s slim middle.
Sunny gently rocks Cassie, holding her tight.
SUNNY: “Mmmm…beautiful girl…”
In the arena…
Sarah Lawrence and Josie Myer are already in the ring for the first match. Sarah, eyes closed, runs her hands through her blue hair, releasing a deep breath. The combo keeps her calm, as intended, but it also draws a whistle and catcall from a guy in the front row.
GUY: “Love you, Sarah! So hot!”
Sarah, her face scarlet, tugging at her black half-tee, turns to Josie.
SARAH: “Ohmygod that’s so embarrassing.”
Josie, grinning, steps back out of her flip-flops.
JOSIE: “Why? You’ve got a fan. That’s awesome.”
Sarah, clutching her hands in front of her chest, rolls her eyes.
SARAH: “We’ve wrestled twice and gotten killed”
Josie, completely at ease, puts her foot on the second turnbuckle and stretches her hamstring.
JOSIE: “That’s why we’re here, as far as the company and the fans are concerned.”
SARAH: “This is so weird.”
JOSIE: (switching legs, smiling) “Yet here you are for your third match. Partner.”
Josie winks at Sarah who, despite her best effort, smiles, blushing.
The Tale of the Tape
Underneath girl Sarah Lawrence is 21, 5’5”, 130lbs, with dyed blue hair and green eyes. She’s wrestling in a cut-off half tee-shirt, black, with a punk band on it, plaid-patterned, skin-tight pants that stop just below her knees, and black Doc Marten boots. Sarah’s record is 0-2. Josie Myer, also an underneath girl with an 0-2 record, is 24, 5’6”, 125lbs, with a curly mop of dark brown hair and brown eyes. She wrestles barefoot in a plain, black sports bra and cuffed, gray, low-rise sweatpants. The Russian Farmhands are a star team. Anya is 28, 5’9”, 160lbs, with dyed dark-red hair and green eyes. She wrestles in a black singlet, red knee pads, and black boots. Olga is 30, 5’10”, 165lbs, with brown hair and brown eyes. She wrestles in a dark-red singlet, black knee pads, and dark-red boots. Olga’s record is 3-3. Anya is 3-4.
Ring announcer Jimmy Swift introduces the Russians, and the sisters make their way to the ring to their dirge of a theme. Neither looks happy, as Anya was decisively beaten by CCW Champion Betty Magnum in a non-title match two weeks ago.
Sarah stares, slack jawed, as the Russians climb through the ropes.
SARAH: “Why do they keeping putting us with these monsters?”
Josie’s expression answers her.
SARAH: “So they’ll destroy us…”
JOSIE (stretching her ribcage): “It’s in the name, dude. We’re underneath girls. We’re here to end up underneath them.”
SARAH (hands in her hair): “Then why have these matches at all?”
JOSIE (hand on Sarah’s cheek): “Because we might not end up underneath them. (smiling) I’ll start this time. Want me to stay in until they pin me?”
SARAH: “No, we’re a team. (she gives Josie an awkward little hug) Tag me when you need me.”
Referee Clark Sierra calls for the bell.
The Russian Farmhands vs. Sarah Lawrence & Josie Myer
Olga, the bigger sister, starts for the Russians. She’s big, she’s powerful, but she’s also slow and a bit clumsy. Josie avoids her easily, staying on her toes, moving smoothly and quickly around the ring. Olga fakes a lunge and tries to for a two-handed grab, but Josie is quick enough to duck and shoulder roll away.
Sarah cheers Josie from the apron, which angers Olga more. She makes herself big, arms and legs wide, and traps Josie in the corner. Sneering, she grabs for Josie’s frizzy curls, but a dive through the Russian’s legs saves Josie and she stabs Olga in the back with a standing one-footed dropkick. Olga stumbles forward, her chin crashing hard into the top turnbuckle.
Josie dashes to the opposite corner and works a beautiful double back handspring into a hard elbow to Olga’s back. The Russian crumbles to her knees in the corner.
Josie goes back to the opposite corner and charges, toes digging into the canvas. Anya yells something in Russian across the ring and Olga drops to her stomach on the mat. Josie sails over Olga — both knees up, intended for the Russian’s back — and crashes diaphragm first into the corner.
Olga gets back to her feet and pulls breathless Josie out of the corner by the hair. Dazed, gasping, Josie makes a vague attempt to tag Sarah, but she’s two yards from her corner.
On the apron, Sarah grips the top rope with both hands.
SARAH: “Come on, Josie…”
Olga, smart enough to know her opponent can’t breathe, lifts a knee to Josie’s stomach. Josie drops to all fours — what little air she got back driven from her — then falls to her side, arms wrapped around her softened middle.
Anya tags in, a big smile on her face. She throws Sarah a glare, then stalks Josie. She winds her fingers into Josie’s wild, curly hair, hauls her to her feet, and scoops her up for a standing powerslam.
The Russians’ finisher.
Josie, weak but aware, kicks her feet and shakes her head.
JOSIE: “No….”
Sarah jumps into the ring and charges at Anya, but a simple big boot catches her right in the chest and sends her sprawling.
With Josie still in her grip, kicking and struggling in vain, Anya drives her into the canvas with the standing powerslam.
JOSIE: “AAAwwwwwwwwgaaawdd…”
Smiling wide, Anya makes a show of settling across Josie’s chest and pinning her far arm down at the bicep. Josie groans her surrender.
Still in the ring, Sarah sits up in time to watch the referee count Josie down for the easy pin at 2:14.
The Russians embrace and collect their mild boos from the crowd as the referee raises their hands.
Anya and Olga dominate for a much-needed win. Sarah and Josie sink to 0-3 and start their CCW careers.
Sarah scrambles to Josie, who’s rolled to her side, knees and feet together, wheezing for breath.
SARAH: “OK. Breathe, Josie. Nice and slow. I’m here.”
The referee gets to a knee next to Sarah.
SIERRA: “Is she OK?”
SARAH (nodding): “I think so.”
SIERRA: “How about it, Myer? Can you make it to the back on your own?”
Panting, chest heaving, Josie rolls onto her back and grips Sarah’s wrist.
JOSIE: “Pretty sure…those girls’re…top heavy. (she nods, smiles) We should…remember that.”
In the underneath locker room…
Cassie, in nothing but a towel and flip-flops, emerges from the dank, industrial shower tucked away in a corner to find Melora O’Brien, Riley Slade, and Tiffany Green, all in their gear, standing around Judy and Joanna Mulray — who haven’t been seen in a month and haven’t wrestled in six weeks — in street clothes.
CASSIE (smiling): “Judy. Joanna. Hey. Been a little while. You caught me coming out of the… (she reads everyone’s face) What’s wrong?”
Judy steps forward.
JUDY: “Cass, Joanna and I just spoke to the commissioner. We’ve decided to retire.”
Cassie, holding her towel in place, looks around at the other girls’ faces. Joanna won’t meet her gaze.
CASSIE: “Are you guys sure? I mean…we have such a good group in here now.”
JUDY: “We do, babe. I think that’s why we’ve hung on this long but, let’s face it, Joanna and I are never going to win any titles, or get shots at titles. Then we look at Sunny, and Tiana when she was here. (Cassie stiffens) Every girl in this room now has a chance to break out, make it to the other locker room. (she shakes her head) That time has long since passed for us.”
CASSIE: “But…you’re not gonna wrestle anymore? Just like that?”
Judy steps closer to Cassie, keeps her voice between them.
JUDY: “It’s time, Cass. All the Pack stuff…what they did to Jessica, to Chloe. Jo and I aren’t up to it. This has gotten to be…more than wrestling.”
Cassie, holding her towel in place, wraps the other arm around Judy.
CASSIE: “Well, I’m gonna miss you guys. Jesus…”
Judy gives Cassie a warm smile.
JUDY (hugging Cassie tight): Take care of these girls, Cass. And let them take care of you, OK?”
Cassie and Judy share a glassy, heartfelt look.
CASSIE: “I’ll try.”
In the arena…
Sunny Austin — gorgeous, lithe, and calm — is already in the ring for the next match. Hands on the ropes, one foot on top of the other, Sunny takes deep breaths, using her tight, flat abs to keep them steady. She tilts her head back, eyes closed, letting the ring lights play across her face, neck, and chest.
The Tale of the Tape
Underneath girl Sunny Austin is 24, 5’11”, 140lbs, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her current record is 4-12. She wrestles barefoot in an orange-and-white bikini. Anna Konda, the current Tri-County Champion, enters this match at 17-1. She is 32, 5’7”, 138lbs, with golden brown hair and light brown eyes. She wrestles in a snake-print bodysuit and ballet flats laced up her calves.
Jimmy Swift gives Konda a powerful introduction worthy of perhaps the most dangerous wrestler in the company. As she slinks to the ring in her ornate robe, the Tri-County title strapped over it, Konda soaks up some cheers from the crowd, some boos, but, mostly, respect.
The last time Sunny wrestled Konda, she was made to scream her submission in a sharpshooter that injured her back and ankle. As she stands in the ring, waiting for the Tri-County Champion to finish her slow, patrician, sensual entrance, Sunny is acutely aware of her place. Yes, she won a tag match last week over star-quality opponents but, in this match, everyone in the arena expects the barefoot, bikinied underneath girl to lose.
Knowledge like that used to intimidate Sunny. But the Sunny Austin in the ring now is a skilled, determined young athlete, very likely on the cusp of stardom…if she can just win that first singles match.
Referee Roger Clayton calls for the bell.
Non-Title Match
Anna Konda vs. Sunny Austin
Unfortunately for Sunny, in this singles match — against as good a wrestler, with as killer an instinct, as there is in CCW — all Sunny can think about is what happened in that room, on that table, with Cassie.
It was unexpected. It was exciting. It was real. And it was so sexy and satisfying.
Cassie gave herself to Sunny completely, in the most intimate, vulnerable way. The way Cassie’s belly felt against hers, the way Cassie’s mouth felt on her neck. The sounds Cassie made when she let go. She’d let Sunny have her in a way Sunny knew Cassie never had with Tiana Miles.
It was a feeling, a gift, Sunny had never received from anyone.
Sunny didn’t notice the pain her in her shoulders when they got stretched, in her stomach when it got punched. She didn’t feel Anna Konda hold her up for a perfect delayed vertical suplex, didn’t register the thunderous impact on her back and hips….
And she doesn’t think of anything but Cassie as Konda’s arms encircle her neck, cut off the oxygen to her brain, and send her to a deep, black sleep she does nothing to resist.
The referee calls for the bell at 2:23.
Anna Konda releases the sleeper with a quizzical look and watches alongside the referee as Sunny, flat on her back, one hand resting her on her stomach, sleeps peacefully on the mat, a slight smile on her face.
The Tri-County Champion improves to a company-best 18-1. Sunny, put to sleep in the middle of the ring, drops to 4-13. Although, for tonight anyway, it doesn’t seem to matter.
In the underneath locker room…
At the little, cracked monitor, Melora, Sarah, and Josie watch the replay of Anna Konda putting Sunny out, while Tiffany and Riley talk on the long bench away from the lockers. Everyone is in their ring gear.
JOSIE: “Yeesh, it’s been a long time since Sunny’s gone down that easily.”
SARAH: “Is it a surprise though? Anna Konda is, like, deadly, isn’t she? And she’s a champion.”
MELORA: “She is, but Sunny can give anyone in this company a hell of a fight. (she looks past Sarah to Josie with a slight smirk) I think it was something else.”
Josie and Sarah exchange a look.
JOSIE: “What?”
TIFFANY: “You thinkin’ Cassie, Mel?”
Melora nods.
Sarah, Josie, and Riley look confused.
RILEY: “What about Cassie?”
Tiffany gives her a look.
TIFFANY: “Cassie was wearing that bikini she’s gonna wrestle in tonight when she disappeared with Sunny before. Then Cassie came back here and showered again.”
MELORA: “With the bikini in there with her.”
Sarah and Josie exchange another confused look, but Riley’s face blossoms.
RILEY: “Oh. Oh! (she looks from Tiffany to Melora, wide-eyed) You think they…?”
TIFFANY: “Ain’t no way Sunny gets put out that fast otherwise.”
MELORA: “And she was smilin’ while she went, as well.”
TIFFANY (laughing): “Was she? Shit, that’s definitely it then.”
RILEY (clapping): “Oh, I’m happy for them.”
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SARAH: So, wait. Cassie and Sunny are…together?”
JOSIE: “Fuck. That’s hot.”
MELORA: “They don’t show it to the cameras, but you’ll see it back here. They’re really beautiful with each other, to be honest.”
RILEY: “Yeah. I think they love each other for real.”
TIFFANY (laughing): “Which is amazing because I don’t think either of them bitches is gay.”
MELORA: “That’s this crazy fucking company we’re in for you. Before Sunny, Cassie had a thing with Tiana Miles a while back but that…was different.”
Riley’s gaze drops to the floor.
RILEY: “Yeah…”
TIFFANY: “Tiana, that girl was definitely gay.”
Sarah and Josie share a look. Then Josie shares one with Tiffany, who smiles. Josie shrugs.
JOSIE (giggling): “I’m bi.”
Outside the star locker room…
Wink McLean, mic in hand, tuxedo on point, stands with CCW Champion Betty Magnum, who does not look happy.
MCLEAN: “I’m here with Betty Magnum, the CCW Champion, who is currently a champion without a belt. Betty, last week, Outlaw An-”
BETTY: “Everyone knows what that piece of trash did, Wink. And everybody knows stealing that belt don’t mean a goddamn thing. I’m the CCW Champion, Annie Hook. The one thing you did right in stealing my belt was smearing my blood on it, because everyone in this company knows what I went through to earn it.”
MCLEAN: “Betty, do you have a plan to get the CCW title back? Have you gone to Commiss-”
BETTY: “I don’t need the commissioner or anyone else. (she grabs the mic from McLean). Annie Hook, here’s my plan. You bring the belt, the Cowgirls, a branding iron, a whip, or whatever the hell else you want to this arena next week. I’m giving you a shot to actually earn that title. If you beat me, take it home; it’s yours. But y’all are gonna have to kill me before I let that happen. Go find Annie Hook and see what she thinks of that, Wink.”
Magnum thumps the mic into McLean’s chest and walks off.
MCLEAN (composing himself): “Th-Thank you, Betty Magnum. I will try to find Outlaw Annie Hook to get her comments on what we just heard but, for now, let’s get back to the ring.”
In the arena…
Tiffany Green and Riley Slade are already in the ring for the next match. They’re both dressed to wrestle, as usual, except for one thing: Riley has white skippy sneakers on her feet.
TIFFANY (pointing): “Trying something new, or are they coming off?”
RILEY: “No, they’re staying on. I don’t like being out here barefoot. Makes me feel…I dunno, weak. Plus, I watch Sunny wrestle and she’s like…an angel ballerina out here, if that’s even a thing.”
TIFFANY (laughing): “I don’t think Sunny wears shoes ever. That girl is crazy.”
RILEY: “Even that new girl looks so natural out here barefoot. I just don’t feel it. Which is weird because back home, I ran around town with no shoes on all the time. Here? (she shakes her head) I just feel so…small when I wrestle as it is. (she shrugs) So I’m tryin’ these skippies. I dunno.”
Tiffany’s expression hardens.
TIFFANY: “So, you know we ain’t winnin’ this match.”
RILEY (nodding): “I know. But Tiff, I gotta favor to ask you.”
TIFFANY (throwing shadow punches): “Anything, baby girl.”
Riley looks Tiffany straight in the eye.
RILEY: “Don’t protect me.”
TIFFANY (nodding, earnest): “You go it.”
The Tale of the Tape
Tiffany Green is 27, 5’7”, 140lbs, with short black hair and brown eyes. She wrestles in a green-camo bra top, black athletic leggings with white stripes down the sides, and two-tone black & white boxing shoes. Tiffany is an underneath girl with an 1-6 record. The youngest wrestler on the roster, Riley Slade is 19, 5’4”, 115lbs, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. An underneath girl with an 0-4 record, she wrestles in a tee-shirt knotted into a crop top, cutoff booty jean shorts, and, for the first time, white skippy sneakers. All-American Amy Steel, a star, enters with a record of 12-3. She is 26, 5’8”, 160lbs, with dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes. She wrestles in a garish, patriotic-themed bra top with matching short shorts, knee pads, and boots. Her partner, BRICKHOUSE is a brawling star. She is 28, 5’9”, 160lbs, with dyed dark-red hair and green eyes. Her record is 16-4. She wrestles in a black, sleeveless bodysuit with a brick pattern down the front and red & black boots.
Jimmy Swift gives Steel and BRICKHOUSE the big intro they deserve, and they amble to the ring to Steel’s loud, obnoxious pyro and music. They’re all smiles and smarmy grins when they pose in the ring, staring at Tiffany and Riley, who both manage to stare back.
Referee Randy Hickman calls for the bell.
All-American Amy Steel & BRICKHOUSE vs. Tiffany Green & Riley Slade
Tiffany starts with BRICKHOUSE and immediately eats a hard clothesline. She springs back up, ready to swing, but the big brawler boots the Oakland girl hard in her solid abs and takes her over with a vertical suplex.
Tiffany lands hard on her back, most of her breath driven from her, but BRICKHOUSE only gets one from the referee before Tiffany kicks out of the nonchalant pin.
BRICKHOUSE brings Tiffany back to her feet, blocks a half-hearted right hook from the Oakland girl, then scoops her up for a hard body slam.
Tiffany gasps and writhes as BRICKHOUSE hooks her leg for another pin, but Tiffany uses her abs and legs to power out at two.
Still calm, operating like the machine she is, BRICKHOUSE shoots Tiffany to the ropes. But she drops her head too soon, looking for a back body drop, and Tiffany, on the rebound, drops to one knee and stands BRICKHOUSE up with a stiff uppercut.
Tiffany runs BRICKHOUSE over with a clothesline, then another, then ducks a clothesline from the big brawler and debuts a nice standing dropkick that sends BRICKHOUSE to the canvas. Tiffany stacks the big brawler’s shoulders on the mat and leans into the cradle pin.
1…
2…
BRICKHOUSE, with a grunt of effort, powers her shoulders off the mat.
Tiffany stalks BRICKHOUSE as she gets back to her feet and peppers her with three quick jabs and an overhead right that sends the big brawler reeling into her corner.
All-American Amy Steel, looking fed up, tags BRICKHOUSE’S shoulder and heads into the ring.
Riley bounds up and down in the opposite corner.
RILEY: “Tiff, Tiff, tag me!”
Tiffany takes a step toward Riley, then hesitates just long enough to get snatched up from behind and dropped on her neck and shoulders by a Steel back suplex. Tiffany rolls to all fours, trying to recover, but the All-American punts her in the ribs, sending Tiffany back to her back.
Riley reaches as far into the ring as she can, trying for the tag. On the mat, Tiffany reaches for Riley. The referee takes a good look as their fingertips almost brush, but Steel grabs Tiffany by the head and pulls her to her feet in the center of the ring.
HICKMAN: “No tag.”
With Tiffany battered and dazed, and herself bored, Steel wraps the Oakland girl up in The American Eagle, her standing octopus submission hold.
Racked with pain — and with no clue how to escape — Tiffany drops to her knees and cries out her submission at 2:42.
The referee calls for the bell but Steel, grinning, keeps Tiffany locked up and screaming.
STEEL: “Let’s send this trash back to th’hood. Should we? Yeah!”
The All-America Monster cranks the hold tighter and Tiffany screams in agony, submitting repeatedly.
The referee gets in Steel’s face.
HICKMAN: “That’s enough now, Amy, come on. She gave up, that’s it. The match is over.”
Steel’s face is twisted by sadism.
STEEL: “Not until she agrees to go back to the ghe-”
Riley tattoos the sole of her skippy into the side of Steel’s head. She releases Tiffany and falls to the canvas like a dead oak.
Riley tries to see to Tiffany, but BRICKHOUSE snatches her up and buries her in the mat with a hard standing powerslam.
Referee Hickman goes nose-to-nose with BRICKHOUSE, arms waving, fingers pointing.
HICKMAN: “That’s it now, BRICKHOUSE, back off! You touch these girls again and I’ll reverse the decision. (he points up the aisle) Get your partner and get to the back!
On the canvas, Tiffany crawls to Riley and covers the smaller girl with her body.
The easy win improves the stars’ records and sends the underneath girls deeper into defeat. Business as usual in CCW.
In the deputy commissioner’s office…
Cassie, a robe and flip-flops added to her white string bikini, stands opposite Jules Moreno’s desk, referee Jessie Motley next to her.
Jules, this week’s power suit a deep red, drums her fingers on the light-colored desk.
JULES: “I’m still not convinced this is going to work.”
CASSIE: “I’m not either.”
Jules turns her palms up.
JULES: “Well then what the hell are we-”
CASSIE: “This is the best chance we have to cut the heart out of The Pack. We don’t know who this masked leader is and we may never know. Shauna didn’t know, but Gothica might.”
JULES: “And if she doesn’t?”
CASSIE: “Then we get her away from The Pack, and we keep her away from Hollander.”
JULES: “Yeah that’s the other thing. He’s going to lose it when he finds out you played him.”
CASSIE (smiling): “Well, maybe that’s where you come in.”
JULES (shugs): “I’ll try.”
Cassie turns to Motley.
CASSIE: “I think everything is set, but I wanted to thank you, Jess. I know you try to be a straight shooter here — and we underneaths really appreciate that — but Jules and I feel you’re the referee we can trust the most.”
MOTLEY: “I don’t love what y’all want me to do, but I understand what we’re up against with The Pack, so…(she shrugs) I’ll do it.”
CASSIE: “Thanks, Jess. (they shake hands) OK, I want to see if I can find Sunny before my match. (she looks from Jules to Motley and back) Anything before I go?”
JULES: “Just one thing. Shauna asked to see Jessica Kelly at the hotel tonight. Jessica agreed. I sent two security guards over there with her. Any idea what that’s about?”
CASSIE: “No. And I don’t love the sound of it.”
In the arena…
Teresa Salazar is already in the ring for the next match, the biggest of her CCW career by far. Despite her 1-5 record, Teresa has parlayed her one win into a chance at a title. She is all business in her corner, stretching, shaking her arms and hands out, feeling like the pro’s pro she is.
Teresa keeps her slight lower-belly pooch nice and tight as Jimmy swift brings mic to mouth.
SWIFT: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall…and it will determine the number one contender for the Tri-County Championship.”
The Tale of the Tape
Teresa Salazar is an underneath girl. She is 44, 5’8”, 135lbs, with brown hair and brown eyes. She wrestles in a backless, blood-red singlet, cut high over her hips, black knee pads, and black boots with a blood-red flame pattern embroidered in them. Sizzlin’ Scarlett Jackson is a star with an 8-3 record. She is 26, 5’5”, 130lbs, with dyed bright-orange hair and light-brown eyes. She wrestles in a shiny orange & white bra top, shiny orange booty shorts, shiny white knee pads, and orange basketball sneakers with white highlights.
Swift introduces Scarlett, and she makes her way down the aisle, walking to the heavy beat of her music rather than dancing to it. She climbs the ring steps, vaults over the top rope, and stares a hole in Teresa as the arena lights bounce and play off her shiny orange-and-white bra top, booty shorts, knee pads, and basketball sneakers.
Senior referee Jack Blake calls for the bell and we’re off.
Tri-County Championship Number One Contender Match
Sizzlin’ Scarlett Jackson vs. Teresa Salazar
Despite the fact cheating has decided the winner in the last four falls between these two women, they are beautifully matched professional wrestlers with offsetting technical skill and Scarlett’s speed rivaling Teresa’s veteran know-how. All that comes into play for the first six minutes of this match, which are an even series of basic holds, reversals, strikes, blocks, counters, and standoffs.
At 6:15, the crowd applauds as Scarlett and Teresa, neither winded, neither hurting, circle each other anew, center ring.
At 6:20, Teresa fakes an eye rake and lifts a knee to Scarlett’s abs, catching them unflexed. Teresa throws some clubbing forearms down onto Scarlett’s back, then drives an elbow to the back of her head, sending Jackson to the mat.
The referee warns Teresa about the rabbit elbow as she puts the boots to Scarlett’s shoulders and back. She risks a dash to the ropes and drops an elbow to the small of Jackson’s back on the rebound. Teresa uses both hands to spatula Scarlett onto her back, reclines across her chest, and hooks her leg with both arms.
Referee Blake is in position.
1…
2…
Scarlett cries out and forces her shoulder off the mat. Teresa resets and hooks her leg again.
1…
2…
Scarlett kicks out. Teresa hooks both legs with her arms and rocks back onto Jackson’s shoulders.
1…
2…
Scarlett kicks out.
Teresa, moving fluidly, pulls Scarlett to her feet and goes for a scoop slam, but Jackson works an inside cradle, putting Teresa’s shoulders on the canvas.
1…
2…
Teresa puts her abs and legs into the effort and gets her shoulders off the mat.
In a flash, Scarlett grabs Teresa by the boots and looks for a figure-four leg lock, but Teresa gets one boot to Jackson’s rear end and shoves her chest-first into the corner, where Scarlett sags, shaking her head.
Teresa scrambles to her feet, runs to the opposite corner and charges, looking for a Stinger Splash.
Scarlett moves.
Teresa crashes hard in the corner, taking the top turnbuckle right in the belly. She staggers backward out of the corner, holding her stomach, and Scarlett catches her from behind with a perfect schoolgirl roll-up.
1…
2…
With a guttural cry and an effort that strains her abs, Teresa powers out at the last moment. The referee waves the count off, telling the timekeeper Teresa got her shoulder up before three.
Scarlett, shaking her head, watches Teresa slowly push back to her feet, one hand on her stomach.
Jackson’s eyes narrow.
She drives her knee into Teresa’s navel, doubling her over. Before the veteran has any chance to recover or escape, Scarlett grabs Teresa around the chest and between the legs, hoists her off her feet, and drops Teresa belly-first across her knee.
Memories of her pregnancy, her c-section, and all 44 of her years erupt in Teresa’s brain as she curls into the fetal position on the mat, her abs destroyed and on fire.
Scarlett pulls Teresa onto her back, drives a boot to her forehead to keep her there, then dashes to the top rope.
Moaning, breathless, hands trying to wring the pain from her lower belly, Teresa is oblivious as Scarlett soars from the top and annihilates her with every bit of a SuperFly Spash.
Teresa, splattered out on the canvas, has absolutely nothing left as Scarlett kneels, straddling her chest, and hooks Teresa’s leg for the decisive 1-2-3 at 9:45.
Scarlett springs up, smiling, screaming her glee as the referee raises her hand.
SWIFT: “Here is your winner and the number one contender for the Tri-County Championship, Sizzlin’ Scarlett…Jackson!”
On the mat, Teresa rolls to her side, arms wrapped around her middle, and cries. Her record is now 1-6.
Scarlett, now 9-3, spares Teresa a glance but that’s all before heading up the aisle, smiles and high-fives all the way to the back.
In a room somewhere backstage…
Sunny, bikinied and barefoot, her hair and makeup redone, eases into the room and closes the door behind her.
SUNNY (smiling): “Mel told me you were in here, and, oh god, are you.”
The robe and flip-flops are on the floor. On the table, Cassie is lying on her side, knees and feet together, in nothing by the white string bikini. She props her head on her hand and stares at Sunny with slow blinks and a soft voice.
CASSIE: “Come lay with me.”
Sunny obliges, mirroring Cassie’s pose on the table, their hips and breasts inches apart. Cassie’s fingers wander to the curve of Sunny’s side and hip.
CASSIE: “So, I have to go wrestle. But I wanted to tell you a couple things first.”
Sunny stacks her arms on the table and uses them as a pillow.
SUNNY: “Mmmm, tell me.”
CASSIE: First, I know I can beat Gothica, but I have no idea if the rest of this is going to work. No matter what happens though, you and I will face it together. (she draws her fingers along Sunny’s slim stomach) I love you. And I want you in my life.”
Sunny smiles, eyes closed.
SUNNY: “I love you too, babe.”
Cassie fingers move up along Sunny’s side.
CASSIE: “Second, you lost to Konda that fast because of what happened in here before, didn’t you?”
Sunny opens her eyes to find Cassie smiling at her.
SUNNY: “Totally.”
They laugh, then kiss. Cassie caresses Sunny’s cheek.
CASSIE: “The last thing I want to tell you is…(she swallows) This is the room where Tiana attacked me.”
Sunny sits up.
SUNNY: “Cassie!”
Cassie gets up on her knees.
SUNNY: “Cassie!”
Cassie grabs Sunny’s face with both hands.
CASSIE: “Listen to me.”
Sunny lays her hands over Cassie’s
SUNNY: “Fuck, Cass, why would you-”
CASSIE: “You know why. (she stares hard into Sunny’s eyes) Babe, what happened in here earlier just…happened. It surprised me. It overwhelmed me. But it felt amazing. Safe. (she kisses Sunny) Perfect.”
They grab each other in a tight embrace. Feeling each other’s skin. Breathing. Warmth. Heat.
Sunny angles her mouth to Cassie’s ear, her voice a soft whisper.
SUNNY: “Beat her and come back to me.”
In the commissioner’s office…
Hollander, with bald, mustachioed security chief Duke Derringer at his side, sits at his big, dark desk, staring at the monitor, practically drooling.
HOLLANDER: “Duke, why don’t you have a seat?”
DERRINGER: “That’s all right, Hollis. I’ll stand.”
HOLLANDER: Suit yourself. But I told the truck to get lots of nice closeups in this match, of Gothica…and Cassie Rae. It’s gonna be great and, after the match, I’ll either have Gothica back where she belongs (he snatches a document off the desk) or, if not, I’ll hold Cassie Rae to this contract for five fetish-girl matches of my choosing.”
Derringer shifts his weight.
DERRINGER: “Sounds great.”
The commissioner places the contract back on the desk next to the framed photo of Gothica.
HOLLANDER: “You ever find your two missing guards? I hope four’ll be enough out there.”
Derringer straightens.
DERRINGER: “Four will be enough. I have the other two…on assignment.”
In the arena…
Indeed, Derringer’s four remaining security guards surround the ring, one on each side.
Cassie Rae, in nothing but her white string bikini, and Gothica, her string bikini black, with black bands added around her wrists, ankles, and neck, are both in the ring.
Cassie, sitting on the top turnbuckle, back arched, legs crossed, is completely at ease.
Gothica, hands on her soft hips, paces in her corner, her rounded little pot belly jiggling ever so slightly with each step. She stares at Cassie, sneering, growling.
Cassie shares a quick glance with referee Jessie Motley as Jimmy Swift, trying to keep his eyes on the hard camera, gets the signal from the timekeeper.
SWIFT: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and will determine…ownership of the wrestler known as ‘Blonde.’”
The Tale of the Tape
Cassie Rae is an underneath girl with a 4-15 record. She’s 34, 5’3”, and 130lbs, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Entering with an 0-14 record, Gothica is 22, 5’4”, 135lbs, with dyed black hair and green eyes. She is The Pack’s high priestess.
Swift introduces the participants. Cassie gets more catcalls than she ever did as a CCW fetish girl and plays to them all. Gothica, infuriated by Cassie’s demeanor, ignores the mostly negative reaction she gets and stares daggers at Cassie.
GOTHICA: “Can’t lose…need her back…”
The referee calls for the bell.
For Control of “Blonde”
Cassie Rae vs. Gothica
Screaming, Gothica charges at Cassie, who’s still sitting on the top buckle. As calmly as she’d sip a cup of coffee, Cassie splits her legs, lets Gothica crash chest-first in the corner, and works a perfect sunset flip from the top, putting the Pack priestess’s shoulders on the mat immediately.
Referee Motley is right where she should be.
1…
2…
Gothica screams “No!” and pushes her shoulder up off the mat. She scrambles to her bare feet, Cassie gets back to her hers, and they circle to begin the match in earnest.
After 90 seconds of some basic moves and strikes, one thing is clear to Cassie: Gothica is out of shape. Attacking with hit-and-runs and weapons every week or two is no substitute at all for a one-on-one professional wrestling match and, by the 2:00 mark, Gothica’s beathing is labored and her feet are flat as she moves around the ring with her mouth open.
Moving quickly, efficiently, on the balls of her feet, Cassie easily fakes Gothica into an off-balance lunge, scoops her up, and delivers her to the canvas with a hard body slam. Writhing, the wind knocked out of her, Gothica moans, one hand on her back as she tries to get back up.
It’s then, at 2:15, Cassie realizes she has Gothica completely under control and, unless she makes a huge mistake, will be able to pin the Pack girl at her leisure.
Cassie’s body shudders with a full flush. In almost 10 years of wrestling, this is the first time she’s faced an outmatched opponent.
Cassie risks a look at the referee, then they both look at Gothica, still struggling after the slam. Cassie strides behind Motley, says “stay close” as she passes, then circles around to her opponent.
Cassie pulls Gothica the rest of the way to her feet, lifts a quick knee to her stomach to keep her subdued, then snapmares Gothica over her shoulder and cinches in a reverse chin lock.
Grunting, kicking her feet, Gothica fights to free herself, but Cassie keeps her locked tight and in place on the mat. Cassie lowers her mouth to the Pack girl’s ear.
CASSIE: “Aubrey, listen to me. This is a set-up. Blonde is gone. You can’t get her back. We sent her away last week.”
Gothica claws desperately at Cassie’s forearm and bicep. She growls at Cassie through grit teeth.
GOTHICA: “You’re a fucking liar. (she takes several panting breathes) And my name’s not Aubrey.”
Cassie cranks up the pressure on the chin lock. Gothica squirms, squeals.
CASSIE: “I’ll call you whatever name you want, but you need to hear me. Blonde is gone, and Jessie’s got chloroform in her pocket. We’re gonna put you out. Make sure you lose.”
Snarling, Gothica thrashes on the mat, but she can’t break the hold. The crowd starts to boo as Gothica’s breathing gets deeper, harder, her belly heaving as her struggles grow weaker.
CASSIE: “Baby, listen to me. Come home to us. The Pack is over. Jessica is back with us. Brunette is gone. Blonde is gone. Tigre and Zehra got destroyed last week. (she tightens the chin lock even more) Gothica, let go and come back to us. Don’t make us put you out, embarrass you. Please, babe! You can’t win. Let us help you.”
Gothica’s eyelids flutter.
GOTHICA: “No…No!”
Gothica reaches up with both hands and rakes Cassie’s face. Crying out, Cassie releases the hold and falls over backward. Gothica, completely out of breath, crawls for the ropes.
Seething, Cassie gets up, meets Gothica near the ropes and cracks her across the jaw with an elbow. A few of the scratches on her face starting to bleed, Cassie shoots Gothica into the ropes, hits the near strands herself, and blasts Gothica in the temple, center ring, with a flying forearm.
Gothica hits the canvas like a crash-test dummy and flops out spread-eagle, her pale, heaving stomach the only indication she’s alive.
Still on her knees, Cassie slams her hands down on Gothica’s belly and face and bears down, her palm sinking into the Pack girl’s squishy middle.
The crowd counts the 1-2-3 along with the referee and explodes as Motley calls for the bell at 3:52.
Cassie lays her hand on Gothica’s belly, now red, and puts her other hand on the defeated girl’s forehead. Cassie brings her face close to Gothica’s.
CASSIE: “Get some sleep, girl. We’ll talk soon. I promise.”
Cassie gives Gothica a quick little belly rub, then bounces to her feet, all smiles and poses, to get the glory, and her hand raised, for her second-ever singles win.
Feigning an exuberant hug of the referee, Cassie puts her mouth next to Motley’s ear.
CASSIE: “Put her out. Jules is sending Jack and the refs down to take her to the back. Go with them. No EMTs, no trainer’s room. Straight to the back door. The security guards will lead you. There are two ring attendants waiting to take her to a hotel. The password is Midred Burke. Make them say it to you.”
MOTLEY: “Got it.”
CASSIE: “Thanks, babe. I owe you.”
Cassie makes a big show of celebrating her win, posing all sexy on the second turnbuckle, blowing kisses, playing to the crowd in her skimpy bikini.
On the mat, referee Motley pulls a small wad from her pocket and presses it to Gothica’s nose and mouth just as she starts to stir…
In the underneath locker room…
Cassie Rae, still barefoot and bikinied, a big smile on her face, opens the door…
…to horror.
Melora and Tiffany lie unconscious on the backs near the long bench, burns on their arms.
Riley is face down on the long bench, out, a burn on her back.
The two new girls are piled in the corner near the little rusty chair. Both their stomachs burned.
Teresa, half out of her singlet, blood visible on her scalp, lies face down at Cassie’s feet.
And hanging from the ceiling by her ankles, arms dangling, wearing tattered ring gear, is Chloe Suzuki.
Cassie runs to Chloe, who’s barely conscious.
CASSIE: “Hang on, Chloe. Oh god, please. I’m gonna get you down. I promise. I’ll get you…down…”
As Chloe’s body turns into the scant light of the dank locker room, Cassie sees it. The Pack symbol, carved, burned into Chloe’s skin, just like it was with Jessica.
But Chloe is hanging upside down, and instead of seeing this…
Cassie sees this…
She stares at the symbol as Chloe starts to moan.
Cassie’s hand grips her hair.
CASSIE: “Oh my god…it’s a T and an M. It’s a fucking T and an M.”
A T and an M.
T.
M.
Tiana. Miles.
Cassie drops to her knees and vomits all over the cold concrete.
Then she notices.
Melora, Tiffany, Riley, Teresa, the new girls, Chloe…
…but no Sunny.
Sunny is gone.
Fade Out
