Craig Marduk rode his newly repaired motorcycle to the arena for his first match since the accident. The hugely muscular Australian man with a shaved head and tan skin typical of a pro-wrestler had plowed his custom Harley in to an abandoned house, in a somewhat residential neighborhood less than a month prior.
The nearly seven foot tall man fractured his sternum and several ribs, narrowly avoiding a collapsed lung. He caused considerable property damage and the media was quick to jump on the fact that he was in a neighborhood know for the sale illegal narcotics despite the fact he had been stripped of his championship title for failing a drug test six months earlier. Luckily one doesn't need to bandage one's broken chest, he could fake being at 100%. He desperately needed the opportunity to regain his stardom and but more importantly to regain respect.
To salvage their image the wrestling federation handed the heavyweight championship title to Jaycee. "A woman?" he groaned he said to himself as he passed one of her many billboards, "What the fuck were they thinking?!"
She was a media sensation, the hot Native American female luchador with the rocking body. He had never seen her without her mask, but judging by her sexy brown eyes and strangely shaped costume that showed off both her cleavage and her bare hips, he would totally do her. If she was ugly she could just keep the mask on. But above all else he saw her as someone he needed to step over on his way back to the top.
She was going on talk shows, doing commercials, and in her spare time she was an environmental activist, and researcher (he once heard she had a lab out in the dessert.) She was a role model, and he was yesterday's trash. He pulled in to a parking space under a massive Jaycee banner, advertizing her free autograph session after the show. He laughed, she was really a saint; Jaycee would be at the table for hours with no extra compensation.
Security let Craig in through the back entrance. Luckily due to his size he was hard to forget, even two hours early- even without proper id. He needed a shower and maybe a redbull. He went to his dressing room to relax; no redbulls, only bottled water. He took off his leather jacket, then his black wife-beater, to make sure there were no visible bruises on his still injured chest. He took a deep breath, the pain was still present.
He went to the showers; it looked like a typical high school (or prison) shower; plain but functional. He put his wrestling trunks to the side for later and stripped down under the head. The weak stream of water only hit his collar bone, but it felt good none the less. Suddenly he heard a door open. He could tell by her eyes, it was her. The five foot five girl strolled in wearing a white t-shirt (with some sort of faux vintage logo) and jeans with her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her beauty was mesmerizing. She got undressed and looked around. Upon seeing his clothes she rolled her eyes.
"Well you suck," she giggled as stripped off her clothes, walking past him naked to one of the other shower heads, "I mean really, you leave for what six months? And you lose your big fancy dressing room."
Her body was athletic, her breasts, her long legs, and her tight abs. In his life time Craig had hooked up with many women but there was something different about Jaycee. She knew he couldn't wrestle her without getting a hard one in front of a live audience.
"You have one hell of a body," she said, touching his back. Craig leaned forward in to the water, letting the warmth run down his spine over his hands. She reached her hands around his waist, stroking her elegant fingers over his throbbing erection.
"What? Never seen a girl before?" she took it upon herself to grip his exposed shaft with more strength then one might associate with someone her size. Standing behind him, her breasts pressed against his bare skin she worked her fingers down his length as if trying to measure.
"Wow" she said in a flirty whisper. She then used her hands to stimulate him to an intense beautiful orgasm; all over the wall. All as a means if intimidation, of course. If she had been at the right angle to put it in her mouth she would have bit it off (at least that's what she told herself.) There was something sexy about seeing him naked, big and strong; every muscle sculpted to perfection.
"See you in the ring," she said in her sweetest voice. She assumed he would not be able to look her in the eye. Much less wrestle her after what she had done.
At nine pm she made her entrance to the roar of her adoring fans. Young and old, male and female, everyone loved Jaycee. Which was why the match, had been, from the start, set up for her to win. She had won a battle royal to assume her title- but she never actually defeated the champion (so there were more than a few critics who thought she was undeserving).
Craig entered to his music, it was much more 'faux rock' then he remembered. He got the message that Jaycee was meant to win this match (even at what point she was supposed to win.) But he was not about to make things easy for her.
He started out strong, with throws and slams that would have killed Jaycee if not for the springy floor of the wrestling ring. The 'win' that had been planned for her was to hit him with a chair (typical) then follow up with an impressive gymnast twist jump off the top rope. She executed it perfectly; but Craig refused to lay still for the three count.
She attacked with more shallow punches and set ups for throws she knew he would dodge. He body slammed her and went for a three count of his own. She kicked out; and she was pissed. In fact she (unknowingly) kicked out right up in to his broken ribs. He gasped for air. So she hit him again, and then did a complex throw using only her legs. "Just stay down," she whispered as she went for the three count. He had to stay down, and after the match he HAD to get to the hospital. He was coughing up blood.