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More Than a Match

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Big Tits

The Women’s Wrestling Network’s training facility was going to be like Chavo (Guerrero)’s gym, Jennifer assumed. Older than not only her, but her parents, with paint and ancient fight posters peeling off the walls. Posters which, like everything around them, would smell like sweat, cigars, and men. None of which bothered her, of course, as it was what the admittedly young Latina grappler had grown up in. “The business”, her family called it, as if there were none other.

Fine with it though she may have been, even appreciative of the familiarity of such surroundings, the peppy brunette was in for quite the surprise. For as her GPS took her deeper and deeper into the heart of Seattle’s modern downtown, and further and further away from the heavy brick history of the city, it began to dawn on her.

That the company she had just been signed by, and the facility she was headed to, might be different than all the others she had wrestled for and in before. A company owned by a pair of billionaire brothers Jennifer had heard about time and time again from news anchors on hanging TV’s in the airports she’d use to travel from one show to another. And a facility, that as it came into view, shone brightly in the midday sun. It not being made of spray-painted cement, age-affected brick, or decaying wood, but instead new steel, blue-tinted glass, and enough stories to make her dizzy as she looked up at it.

To its unexpected, modernity-made glory, Jennifer pulled up in her 1999 faded fir green Honda Civic. A car fitted with soda-stained seats, a grease-covered gear shift, and a french-fry scented steering wheel.

Those sights and scents had been her travel companions on the road, as she made her way from one wrestling event to another. And though they had never even entered her mind before that moment, as something to be ashamed of or worried about. As a neatly dressed and fresh-shaved valet approached her poor little Honda, WWN’s newest signee suddenly found herself terrified.

“Oh god. Oh god.” The brunette mumbled in panic as she tried to clean. Using ketchup-wet napkins to clean her mayonnaise-stained dash. Only to then blow, in the hardest puffs she could muster, crumbs from one surface after another, ending her efforts at the last possible second, so that she could turn and smile as the Valet opened her door.

“Ms. Diaz, welcome.” The red-vested man greeted, his kind and classy voice making his commitment to the job clear.

“I am … uh … can I just park it? I know how to park … and drive… Drive and park … so … I don’t need you to…” Jennifer asked as she clung to her door, defending the vehicle from being entered by anyone, even the nice-looking man in his cute little vest.

“Ms. Diaz, it’s fine.” The man smiled, as he put his own hand down softly on the door.

“I’ve seen worse. And you’ve got training to do, I imagine. So, why don’t you leave the car to me, and follow that white line over there to the front entrance.” At the kind, reassuring words, the Latina’s mouth opened for a moment, as she planned to say something. To argue. To beg even. But as the valet’s genuine smile shone brightly, Jennifer decided to just accept it.

“O-ok, but … I’m sorry. Just, don’t judge me, please. Err, judge me – but then forgive me.” The brunette asked in her distinctive manic way, as she begrudgingly exited her vehicle

“There’s nothing to forgive.” The young, lightly-cologned man said with a chuckle, as Jennifer released her death grip on the door. Thereafter taking a few awkward steps back from the vehicle.

Steps which gave the valet space to squeeze by, get into, and then sit in the driver’s seat of the car. A seat he took, just as Jennifer cried out.

“WAIT!” Came the panicked yell of the brunette, as she sprinted back to her car. One she dove into headfirst without warning. Her two-strap zebra-bodysuit-covered upper torso pushing into, against, and then past the valet’s own, as the suddenly returned wrestler reached into her passenger side footwell.

There, as the valet’s eyes went wide, Jenner remained. Her sexy, cutoff-jean-clothed ass hovering oh so very close to the parking attendant’s face. An ass which like a flute playing for a snake, called for his free left hand to raise, to press, to grab. It seeming to bob and dance just for him, as he remained there, pressed into the driver’s seat of Jennifer’s car.

Tantalizing though that dance was, and as tempting as the thought of grabbing may have been, the valet resisted. He in the red vest fighting those urges by closing his eyes and just trying to breathe. And while he focused on taking in oxygen, Jennifer continued to search through trash and wrappers – cans and makeup, all for- “Got it!”

Jennifer shouted as she began to retract, her hanging breasts dragging, oh so slowly, across the lap of the flustered and flush-faced valet. Who in his light-fabric slacks could not speak to respond, or give anything other than a sexually excited and endlessly unfocused: “uuugghhh”. antalya escort

“Here!” Came Jennifer’s cutely phrased offer, one she made as she held out her hand, with the widest and most innocent of smiles on her face.

“Whhuuu…?” The valet muttered as his sentience returned to him. A return which led him to quickly move his right hand into his lap. He attempting to hide and cover his oncoming erection. An erection Jennifer was entirely oblivious to.

Distracted and turned on though the man was, still did he raise his free hand. Not to his own growing mount of excitement, but instead to Jennifer, he meaning to take whatever it is that she was offering.

And what she offered was change. A legion of gum-covered pennies, a collection of sauce-speckled nickles, and smattering of syrup-smattered quarters. A menagerie of coinage poured from Jennifer’s hand to the valet’s, just a moment before the former shouted. “Thanks!”

The last words spoken by either, as she with long curly, brunette hair ran off to meet her destiny. All as he who sat flustered and erect began to drive the little, filthy Honda to the darkest part of the parking structure to “memorialize” an encounter he’d never forget in solitude.

Minutes later, and deep within the most posh and expensive building Jennifer had ever entered in her whole life, there stood another woman. One, still rooms away from the brunette.

A woman with beautiful, strawberry blonde hair, and a perfect sun-kissed tan. A tan which stretched from her anime-cute face, down and past her raised leg, bent knee, and tightly flexed calf. A calf, which like the rest of her divinely designed body, was not, at that moment, covered by even a stitch of clothing. A state seen by noone, as she who stood, undressed and immodest, did so alone.

Alone though that nude goddess was at that moment, if she wished it, or even allowed it, she would be mobbed. By fans and wrestlers alike. As she … was Katherine Dahl. A female wrestler known as “The Doll” in the Women’s Wrestling Network, but as Katherine “The Great” in the indie circuit or wherever else she might go.

But calling Kat “a female wrestler” is like calling the Mona Lisa “a painting”. She was THE female wrestler. The Queen of the Ring. And the first woman to change the paradigm that only male wrestlers could draw.

It was for all those reasons that “The Doll” had been signed by the Bowman Brothers, not through agents, Brooke, or Rheena, but in person. She having been offered, in a meeting high on the 85th floor of the Bowman Building in New York, a 10-year agreement, with a signing bonus larger than the sum total of most top wrestler’s entire contract.

Apart from that bonus, the agreement also included, in response to Kat’s dramatic insistence, private training days at the facility. Well private, apart from whatever fresh meat the WWN brass might send her to toy with. Someone to stretch. Someone to destroy. Someone, who The Doll, before that day, had never failed to humiliate in a ring she considered her own.

A someone who had arrived, Kat surmised, as the sounds of loud squeaks and opening doors could be heard down the hall. An arrival which pushed the painfully cute blonde to hurry and finish dressing, pulling her blissfully short, legless pink trunks on, and then sliding into her midriff-exposing white t-shirt top. One that read “The Doll” across it, as if anyone in the arena or company might not know her name.

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Every step Jennifer took sounded like nails on a chalkboard. The Latina’s full-white New Balance tennis shoes mixing poorly with the shiny waxed floor of the training facility. Leaving her arrival to be a secret to no one, save maybe for the deaf.

But if she understood what Brooke and then Rheena had told her, there should only be one person in the building. You know, apart from the six security guards at the heavy glass door at its front.

One of them, an African American with with sparkle in his eye and smoothness to his voice, told Jennifer exactly where to find “The Doll”, and in a way, what to expect.

“Oh, Ms. Dahl? Ha, yeah you’ll find her in the fancy locker room. The one with the sign on the door that says her name. She has us put that up for her, every time she comes in. She just yells at us until we get it taped up for her.”

“Oh, ok!” Jennifer replied, seemingly unphased by the guard’s recitation. One he followed up with a “good luck” and a knowing laugh.

And though Jennifer found the locker room and sign with ease, she entered with far less. For as soon as she turned the handle and stepped through the door, she found herself met. Met, and glared at,by the waiting Doll. One who stood just past the entrance’s swing. She wanting to meet her weekly feast and set the tone, right off the bat.

“Hi!” Jennifer said sweetly, as she smiled — reacting not in the slightest to the blonde’s clear attempt at intimidation.

“Shut up.” Kat replied, her eyes lara escort narrowing to try and turn the volume up on her aura of badass’ness.

“I’m Jennifer! And you’re Kat. Wait, you know that. Sorry. Well … I’m not sorry you know that, but sorry for telling you something you already knew… Why, uh … why do you look like someone broke your favorite Little Mermaid coffee cup?” At speed Jennifer spoke, her words set to the backdrop of her planet-sized eyes, which glimmered with genuine excitement and amicability.

Despite those eyes, and the clear softness of Jennifer’s tone, when finally she finished speaking, Kat grabbed. Kat pulled. Then Kat slammed Jennifer into a row of lockers, as the heavy door to her private locker room closed to their side.

“This is MY locker room. MY company. And you’re going to do what I say. And I said: shut up…” With every word spoken, The Doll studied the face of her prey. The blonde wanting to watch her soon-to-be opponent’s gleeful attitude melt away into one of submission and fear.

Despite that desire, all she got from Jennifer was a widening smile, and an unexpected reply. “Oh… Ok… I can shut up. I’m actually not great at it, but I can… I have… Before. I think… But, like … how long were you thinking…? ‘Cause I just want to make sure, I don’t let you down. Brooke said I need to make you like me…”

Even after irritation had begun to simmer, continued to boil, and then at the heat of it, turned into a hot steam of rage, Kat suddenly found herself distracted. Her wide, fire-filled eyes of anger shrinking back to a normal size as she asked from pure confusion, “uh, why do I need to like you…?”

“Oh, because we’re going to be in a storyline together! Me and you! Kat and Jennifer. The Doll and The Better Woman.” As the series of words, in an order Kat never would have expected, came out of Jennifer’s mouth, she released her grabbed press.

Upon that release, the Latina raised up off the locker doors on which she had been pressed, and then snuck out from between them and her blonde idol. Then, with room to move, she began to examine the locker room.

“We. Are. Not. Going to be in a story together.” Kat declared in a hiss, her focus on controlling the moment fading into a true fear that the absolute nobody before her would be her first opponent, or dare she even think it, partner.

“Yeah we are! You don’t know it yet, but you will.” Jennifer didn’t even look at Kat as she spoke— her soft tone unchanged, despite the confidence with which she spokle. Instead, she just ran the fingers on her left hand across the marble walls of the room.

“Oh, really? What’s gonna let me know that, huh? What’s gonna make me decide to agree to ANYTHING involving you? I don’t even know who you are! And thank god I don’t! With a name like that… The Better Woman?! What kind of catfight forum trash is that…?” Her words were fierce. Cruel. And yet still, came out as panicked. She finding the situation far different than she expected. This girl, whoever she was, not playing the sheep to her wolf – the lamb to her slaughter.

Despite the insults and the tone of Kat, Jennifer continued to walk in a circle around the locker room. She only stopping and turning, when she had made a full revolution around it. Only then, did the Latina look back at Kat, with a smile no less wide and an expression no less genuine. “Uh … duh … I’m gonna beat you. In a match. In that ring out there.”

Everything Jennifer had done and said had been shocking and unbelievable to The Doll, but none more so than her latest act of madness. A challenge, one delivered like a candle atop a pretty pink cake of preconceived victory. An assumption – a dare, so brazen, that Kat could barely think, let alone speak. She only able to laugh, loudly.

“Ha ha ha ha, you’re gonna beat me? YOU? The Bestest Newbie, or whatever your name is? What. The. Fuck. Ever.” Her point having been made already, Kat still stepped forward, and back into Jennifer’s face. Her tone changing from one of incredulous humor to steel-hard confidence. “You won’t last five minutes in that ring with me. Not. Five. Minutes. YOU HEAR ME?”

The words came with a glare. A glare, and then a push. Not hard, as before, but soft. It being meant not to hurt, but insult and anger. The Doll wanting to throw Jennifer off her game, what little of it the blonde assumed there to be.

Still smiling and impenetrably sweet as they two stood eye-to-eye and nose-to-nose, Jennifer took none of Kat’s bait, instead only responding with “so … I’ll get changed then…?”

Words which The Doll replied to in an instant. “Not in MY locker room! You get to change across the hall in the scrubs’ locker room.”

“K!” Without missing a beat or flaring in the least, Jennifer turned away from Kat’s attempted staredown, grabbed the handle to the door, and then made her way. The heavy, metal, The-Doll-labeled exit to the room slamming closed behind her, just side escort after she heard Kat mumble under her breath: “yeah, walk away, bitch…”

Walk away though Jennifer did, it took only a few minutes for each of the two, both blonde and brunette, to be reunited again in the ring. Each in their ring attire. Jennifer in a pair of bright white boots, and a legless two-strap zebra-print bodysuit, the one she had worn to the facility, though now without the jeans.

And though The Doll was in her full ring attire, oddly, between the time Jennifer left her locker room and their entrance to the ring, Kat had not put on any boots. In fact, she was barefoot. A fact that Jennifer noticed, but did not comment on, she not really caring what her opponent had on her soles.

While Jennifer examined, so did Kat. Her eyes scanning the fully visible shape of her upstart opponent’s body. A body which, to Kat’s dismay, mirrored her own in every way.

In height and weight.

In definition and tone.

In bust and build.

And even in thighs, a fact that drove The Doll especially insane. She finding those to be her most prized possessions. Possessions which were no longer unique in the WWN; at least until she could get rid of the girl who dared to stand across the ring from her. Something she planned to do in the next five minutes.

“I am going to make you regret ever signing with this company. You are WAY out of your league.” Kat threatened from her own, far corner of the ring. Her eyes still narrowed and glaring.

“Yeah, I don’t think so… I just have to prove it to you! And I will! Don’t worry.” Her attitude still unaffected, Jennifer began to walk to the center of the ring. Slowly, not out of fear, but respect. She knowing, that at least on that day, the match was Kat’s to begin.

As Jennifer moved, glancing up at the clock for a moment, Kat held up both arms, and with palm-up hands gestured. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, take your boots off.”

“Wait, why?” Jennifer replied, her tone making her confusion clear.

“Do you not listen? This is MY ring, and I what I say goes. So take. Your. Fucking. Boots. Off. Scrub.”

“Ugh, ok…” Jennifer replied as she bent over and started to untie her nearly knee-high boots. “…but I’m pretty sure we have to wear boots when we’re on TV.”

The comment, oddly, received no reaction from Kat. Not a word of retort, nor a huff or a puff of irritation or fury. But, believing that her compliance had earned that silence, Jennifer just continued to unlace and loosen. She, without looking up, removing one boot, then the other, and then the cute Minnie-Mouse-emblazoned socks that lied underneath.

But just as she stood back up, and tossed the removed footwear out of the ring, she heard loud, quick, echoing stomps. Stomps which caused her to turn her head, but too late, as before she could even figure out what was happening, Kat buried a raised knee deep in the brunette’s gut.

The resulting impact of the surprise attack knocked the wind out of Jennifer, who bent over at the waist, as her hands moved to her stomach. But as The Better Woman bent, The Doll grabbed with her left hand a grip of the brunette’s hair. Hair the blonde used to pull, not harshly or quickly, but slowly, she feeling at that moment in full and inescapable control.

A sense that led Kat to lift Jennifer’s head, and with a confident smirk, look into her eyes. “Ding!” The blonde said mockingly, as she suddenly spun, and with her lower back pressed to Jennifer’s waist-high shoulder, locked the brunette in a tight headlock. She going into what she called “automatic mode”. A state she entered in the ring when her opponent was fully hers. When she could do what she has always done, pour it on.

And pour it on Kat did, by squeezing Jennifer’s head and neck so tight that the blonde could hear the sounds of the brunette’s discomfort. A discomfort that came with hands, The Better Woman’s, which came to soft rests on The Doll’s powerful left thigh, and wide right hip. Those hands not meant to hurt, but to guide or even slow. Jennifer wanting to make sure she had some say in where their bodies might go if only to lessen the pain of what was to follow that movement.

A moment which came suddenly, as Kat without warning burst into a sprint as if she intended to perform a bulldog. And though Jennifer began to prepare herself for such a maneuver and impact, in opposite of it, The Doll slammed on the breaks. A teasing misdirection that hurt, as the speed of the halting and the jamming it caused wrenched even more terribly at Jennifer’s neck.

Again and again, The Doll performed such stutter-stop dashes – dragging The Better Woman’s bent-over body forward, only to jam it hard when the blonde dug her bare heels into the mat in a sudden stop. Each such maneuver carrying with it a certain amount of momentum, at first forward, and then at its end: back.

That momentum on the back end came into play, as when Kat went for her little tease one final time, Jennifer took an extra step, planted her feet, and then lifted. The Better Woman, in so doing, pulling Kat up off the mat, into the air, and then in a perfect reverse northern lights suplex, driving her shoulders and neck-first into the mat.

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