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This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.
The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author’s permission.
This story takes place in the entirely fictional city of Springfield, California, so don’t go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD’s, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex.
This story is about two of my favorite things: Lesbians and professional wrestling. And the story is a bit wordy, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.
“Ringside Seats . . .” Part 1
“Good God, what a shot! That knocked her head clean off! We have One! Two! Three! And it’s over! Demonica wins with the Clothesline of the Damned, and Good Girl Gabriel is left laying in the ring!”
As Tiffany Thurman, known to local wrestling fans as Demonica exited the ringside area, she was clutching her neck. Gabby, her opponent that evening, had botched a German suplex and Tiffany knew she was going to be hurting in the morning. What made matters worse was that Tiffany was going to get chewed out for throwing a stiff clothesline right after that. It didn’t matter to John Wells that Gabby was a horrible worker. She was a hot piece of ass who constantly sucked up to him, so Tiffany was going to be the one taking the blame. But the crowd had been relatively into the match, so it probably wouldn’t be too bad.
She wandered through the back curtain and into the backstage area, heading for the locker room. She got a couple high-fives on the way from the ring crew and other personnel, and she returned them with a smile. For all the politics and sore muscles and the occasional broken bones, she loved her business . . . most of the time. She, her father and grandfather used to watch professional wrestling all the time. The biggest thrill of her life had been when her dad and grandfather had taken her to the Great American Bash in 1987 to watch the Wargames match-up with the Horsemen and J. J. Dillon versus the American Dream, the Russian Nightmare and the Road Warriors with Precious Paul Ellering. She had been hooked ever since. Now, at the age of twenty-eight, she was an eight-year veteran of the squared circle. She had started working out when she was fourteen years old and had never stopped. She had gotten a degree in physical therapy with an emphasis on sports therapy, but that had just been to make her family happy. She had started training at a pro wrestling school when she was eighteen. Tiffany had been the only girl at the school, which meant she got some unwanted attention. But she felt she was good and that she could make it to the major leagues if she just stuck to it. She had even gotten breast implants when she was twenty-two to help retain some of her “femininity” that might have otherwise been lost due to her rigorous exercise regiment.
She got into the locker area and went to wash her hands, then stared at herself in the mirror. Her makeup had run quite a bit in that match. “I look like a depressed clown,” she told herself. No one had ever been able to convince Tiffany that she was attractive, even though most people found her to be so. She may have been a little too muscular for some potential suitors, but she didn’t care. She washed the black, red and white face paint away to reveal a tanned face, beautiful green eyes and good skin. She let her medium-length brown hair out from the confines of her headband, then started to remove her trademark black leather costume. A couple of the other girls wandered through, but most of them didn’t speak to her. She intimidated some and others stayed away because she was often at odds with the guy who signed their paychecks. But some had other reasons. As Tiffany grabbed a towel and popped back into the showers, a couple of girls quickly exited with looks of disdain on their faces. Tiffany could have sworn she heard the phrase “dirty dyke” filter back through the pungent air.
“You’d think that wouldn’t matter anymore, but still . . .” she muttered to herself. But it was true in a sense. Tiffany had eventually accepted that she was in fact a homosexual. Of course, she had tried very hard to convince herself otherwise for many years back in the day, to the point she had gotten involved with some guys she probably shouldn’t have. One of them had left her a present. After her shower, she wrapped a towel around herself and went back into the locker room, only to find someone waiting for her.
“Mommy!” came a delighted squeal as Tiffany’s seven-year-old daughter bolted through across the floor only to be swept up in her mother’s powerful arms.
“Hey pumpkin!” Tiffany said, an enormous smile on her face. While her life may not have kağıthane escort gone in the direction she originally intended, Sally Thurman was one thing that Tiffany wouldn’t have changed for the world. Sally’s father had been a useless piece of garbage who had charmed Tiffany’s pants off and then disappeared, but she wasn’t bitter about it. “Where’s Aunt Betty?”
“Right here,” came a voice from the door. Betty was Tiffany’s older sister and often acted as a babysitter. While she wasn’t thrilled about her younger sister’s choice of occupations, the two were close and both absolutely doted over Sally. Anyone who watched Tiffany in the ring would probably be amazed at how gentle those powerful arms could be when wrapped around that little girl. “Don’t worry, we didn’t watch the match.”
Tiffany was still smiling as she rubbed noses with her daughter. Sally had issues when it came to her mother’s matches. She didn’t like seeing someone punching Tiffany or hitting her with a metal folding-chair, even though she knew it was choreographed. “Thanks. I owe you.”
“It’s not a problem. I love spending time with the munchkin. By the way, Dad wanted to know if you’re bringing her by on Tuesday for his birthday party.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Are you . . . bringing someone? A date maybe?”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. Her family was still freaked out by Tiffany’s apparent switch in sexual preference even though it had been six years since her “coming out”, but they tried their best to be understanding. But Tiffany had only been on a handful of dates since Sally was born, and hadn’t had a relationship that lasted longer than a couple of months. Between taking care of Sally, wrestling, training, and working her second job as a bartender, Tiffany had given up all hope on a social life. And even if she had a spare hour or so, there weren’t a lot of people who wanted to hang out with a single mother who smashed people’s faces for a living. “No, no date.”
“Listen, I’ve got this friend . . .”
“Betty, no more setting me up. I appreciate the gesture, but your blind dates tend to go badly for me.”
“How was I supposed to know it was just a man in drag?”
“The Adams Apple didn’t tip you off?”
“Don’t start. At least I’m trying, and . . .” Betty stopped as she got a dirty look from Sally. She didn’t like it when people argued, particularly not with her mother.
“Oh my goodness, its a little angel!” came a new voice. It was Deborah Wells, the owner’s wife. Whereas her husband John was a first-class prick, Deborah was a sweet lady. She was actually only a year older than Tiffany and was quite the hottie, but she was almost as scorned as Tiffany herself. Deborah had been a porn star for many years before marrying John, and that bit of information made her the subject of ridicule around the company. Never mind that she was a business savvy, drop-dead-gorgeous blonde with double-D hooters and a generous spirit. All people cared about was that she was someone they could look down on. It didn’t help that she had married someone fifteen years older than her.
“Hey Mrs. Wells,” Tiffany said. Sally smiled. Deborah was always nice to her.
“Call me Debbie, please. Anyway, I guess you know why I’m here . . .”
“Let me guess, John sent you to complain about something.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, but you know how he is. He wants you to watch the clotheslines. Says you’re hitting people stiff.”
Tiffany looked at her daughter. “Hey sweetie, would you mind waiting outside with Sally while I get dressed and talk some business?” As soon as her family was out of the room, “Damn straight I hit her stiff. She almost broke my neck! Again!”
“I know. I think she was trained by the Marx Brothers. Well, I said I would tell you, and now I’ve told you.”
About then, a number of other girls wandered in. Some were wrestlers while others were valets. Vicky Smith (Valkyrie) and Jeanna Benjamin (Amazon) wandered over. Vicky was another blonde, leaner than most of the girls and with small breasts, but was probably the fastest and most agile girl they had. Jeanna was a brunette with short, spiked black hair, a curvy body and twinkling blue eyes. Both girls were actually reasonably friendly to Tiffany, and both dropped by to tell her how gorgeous her daughter was. Then they wandered off, talking about going out to the clubs later that night. They stopped and asked a couple of the other girls if they wanted to go, but they didn’t ask Tiffany. They never did.
‘Who wants to hang out with a twenty-eight-year-old single mom?’ she asked again of herself. ‘Oh well. It’s not like I could go anyway.’
Deborah was looking at her funny. Tiffany assumed it was pity. Maybe she realized . . .
“Hey,” Debbie started, “are you interested in going and grabbing a drink or something? I mean, John is going to be busy with the building manager for a while, so . . .”
Tiffany sighed. It actually sounded tempting, even though it was probably just a pitying gesture from the boss’s wife. “Not this time. My sister’s been looking after Sally all evening, so I figure I’d better go take the little monster off her hands.”
Deborah smiled as Tiffany finished getting dressed. She let her eyes rest on the strong back and firm buttocks of the female wrestler standing before her. ‘That is a handsome woman,’ she thought. ‘It’s a shame she doesn’t get more ring time, or gets stuck working with no-talent sluts like Gabby. I think she could make the big time if she just had half a chance.’ She felt a bit disappointed when Tiffany was fully dressed. Her husband didn’t pay much attention to her in those days, usually because he had just fucked one of his employees or staff. She knew about his affairs, but had convinced herself that she didn’t really care. She did occasionally want some company, but most of the people in the company looked down on her, and she knew it. All she really wanted was a friend. But it looked like she was going home alone.
Tiffany saw something in Deborah’s face that was all too familiar: loneliness. “Hey, maybe next week? Friday? I’m sure Sally wouldn’t mind sleeping over at her friend Jamie’s house, and Jamie’s folks are always okay with Sally staying with them.”
“Sure!” Deborah returned, almost too eagerly. She hadn’t had a night out in a long time, so another week wouldn’t hurt.
“Cool. I’ll make sure I can get the night off at the bar. Shouldn’t be a problem since that’s a big tip night and there’s always another bartender willing to pick up that shift.”
Deborah penciled her cell number down on a piece of paper and handed it to Tiffany. “Call me when you figure out what a good time would be. I’m pretty much always free.” Deborah smiled and walked out the door. ‘That sounded so pathetic,’ she thought. ‘I’m always free. Why not just say that you’re a pathetic loser or something else like that?’ She sighed, then smiled at Sally who was still waiting for her mom, then headed for home.
Several hours later . . .
Vicky and Jeanna, also known in NAXW (North American eXtreme Wrestling) as the Warrior Maidens, had been drinking and dancing since the show was over. They were always high on adrenaline after a performance, and tonight had been good. The arena they did their weekly shows in (termed “The Slaughterhouse” by fans) had been filled to capacity, which was about a thousand people. Ever since some of the other California independent wrestling circuits had closed down for various reasons, NAXW had been doing well. They even had some successful tours up and down the coast, and there was talk of putting on some shows in Oregon, Washington and even Nevada. Their Saturday night shows were broadcast on a number of local stations, and rumors had been circulating through the locker room lately that the WWE was considering making NAXW one of their new farm leagues. That would mean greater payoffs and more chances to make it to the big league. John Wells may have been a pig, but he was a charismatic pig. He had been wooing sponsors and media outlets while his wife hired the talent. And for a woman, who most considered to be a glorified hooker, she knew her business. She had brought in attractive and athletic women (some of whom even had talent) to keep guys attention even when the wrestling wasn’t superb, but she also had insisted on get input from Hollywood writers who needed a break. Because of that, the story lines for the wrestlers, both men and women, were considerably more polished than they were in other independent leagues.
“To riches and glory!” had been the final toast the two women had shared with their comrades before making a break for it. They all knew that their chances of making it big were slim, but the chance itself was something to celebrate.
After they left the club, the two women didn’t head home like they had told their friends they would. Instead, they drove downtown to another club. As Vicky parked the car, she was feeling slightly remorseful.
“Hey, do you think we should’ve invited Tiffany? I mean, she’s really cool and like SO hot!”
Jeanna grinned. “She’s always got her daughter with her, and she doesn’t seem like the type to drag her kid into a bar.”
“I know. She’s a good mother. And she made one cute kid!”
Jeanna kept smiling. Vicky adored kids, and she wanted to have some of her own some day. But like everyone else in the company, she wanted to make a run at the big-time first. She held the door open for the blonde girl, giving her a quick pat on the ass as Vicky wandered inside the new club. The door was unmarked. It was one of those places you had to already know about before you could go, unless you were with someone who could get you an invite. Jeanna had been put on the permanent invite list by a former lover, which was good because she didn’t have the money or clout to get in on her own.
There were a series of darkened rooms and narrow hallways, and there were couches everywhere for people to lounge. More specifically, they were for women to lounge on. The club, known only as The Dark, catered almost exclusively to a lesbian clientele. As soon as the two girls were inside, Jeanna spun Vicky around and planted a sweet, lingering kiss on the girl’s waiting lips.
“I’ve been waiting all night for that,” she whispered into Vicky’s ear. She let her hands slide down to grab Vicky’s ass through her skintight spandex pants.
“You didn’t need to wait,” Vicky said, kissing her friend, partner and lover as passionately as she could. Arms wrapped around each other, they made their way slowly to the bar and ordered a couple of mild drinks.
“Yes, I did. Can’t have people thinking we’re a couple of naughty dykes now can we?”
Vicky sighed. They had been arguing about this for almost six months, ever since they first evolved their friendship into something more sexual. Vicky wanted to come clean about their relationship with their coworkers, but Jeanna kept pointing out how much grief that Tiffany got for being “out.” So far, Jeanna had been winning the argument, but Vicky was becoming increasingly discontent at having to hide her feelings for the other girl whenever other people were around.
“No pouting,” Jeanna said, running her thumb along Vicky’s bottom lip. “C’mon, we can finally let loose!” She pressed her lips against Vicky’s and slid her tongue inside. Whatever resistance her girlfriend had thought about putting up quickly dissipated. Jeanna felt those sinewy arms encircling her neck as Vicky pressed up against her. The blonde sometimes took some time to warm up, but she went from warm to boiling pretty quickly. Even as their tongues danced a tango in each other’s mouth, Jeanna was looking for one of the many nooks and crannies (preferably vacant) where the type of activity that she was interested in was allowed at that particular venue. Finally, she noticed the bartender was smiling at her, and then the woman motioned in a particular direction. Jeanna followed her gaze and saw a shadowy area. ‘Perfect’ she thought. “Follow me,” she said to Vicky.
The two girls hurried over to their spot and sat down on a comfortable couch that smelled of clove cigarettes and expensive perfume. Both women peered through the dim light, catching hints of debauchery in various stages. There were more than a few couples or groups who were almost completely naked. At least the parts that Jeanna could see were naked. Her observation of other couples was cut short when a talented little hand thrust itself into the waistband of her skirt and began tracing the outline of her pussy through her bikini-style panties. ‘Yep, she’s boiling all right!’ Jeanna thought, letting the other girl set the tempo.
Vicky was reaching a level of being horny that was almost epic in scale. Ever since their first night together, she found herself counting the minutes before she could be alone with her lover. She started rubbing circles in the silk that covered Jeanna’s mound while simultaneously sucking on the girl’s neck. Jeanna closed her legs tightly together, making Vicky push hard to squeeze her hand between them.
“Don’t play coy,” Vicky almost growled. “I need you! I need to feel you! It’s been so long!” She ran a finger up and down Jeanna’s moist slot through the panties, pushing the digit in as deeply as she could against the annoying resistance of the undergarment.
“So long? We did this last . . . last . . . last night . . . oh fuck.” Jeanna finally spread her legs so that her lover’s hand could move more freely again. She felt Vicky’s hand pushing Jeanna’s panties aside so she could slide her fingers deep into Jeanna’s box.
Vicky knew right where the sweet spot was and went there right away. She wrapped her own legs around Jeanna’s waist and used her heels to keep that girl’s legs spread wide. And her free hand found its way up Jeanna’s shirt, grasping one warm breast through her bra. And those soft lips trailed kisses all over Jeanna’s neck.
The dark-haired girl could scarcely believe that these incredible, talented hands had been throwing punches, chops and body slams just four hours earlier. “Do me baby! Nobody makes me feel like you do!” Jeanna pushed down on Vicky’s hand, keeping those fingers performing their magic inside her honey pot. And perform they did, as Vicky quickly brought her friend to orgasm. Jeanna’s body was quivering with delight and her pussy was trying capturing her lover’s powerful fingers. Even after her climax subsided, Vicky’s fingers kept slowly moving as they basked in the afterglow.
“No one does it for me like you do,” Jeanna reiterated. “But now it’s my turn.” She spun and put her full weight against Vicky, pushing her down into the welcoming comfort of the sofa and lying on top of her, kissing her heatedly. “Beautiful,” she muttered. She left another trail of kisses, starting at Vicky’s lips and making her way down the girl’s neck to her perspiration-covered cleavage. She pushed the girl’s smallish breasts together under her blouse, kissing the warm mounds that became visible. Vicky generally didn’t wear a bra on these outings, so Jeanna slid a hand inside the neckline and pushed it down until one entire breast came into view. Jeanna could barely see the nipple, but her mouth found it based almost entirely on instinct. She sucked on it lovingly, nursing on it like a child. And Vicky cradled Jeanna’s head the entire time, stroking her dark hair.
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