At just the thought of going on, I felt a little burst of heat, blooming between my legs. Oh yes, I definitely wanted to continue "speaking" with this man. "Of course," I said quickly. DId I say it too quickly? I hoped not! I was just so full of frustrated energy. "But only if you win!" I added a wink to indicate that I was joking. Mostly.
The man seemed to take it as a challenge, however. "Oh, I'll win," he promised. "And you better be in the front row in order to see this victory."
Finally, Rhodes allowed the little balding manager dancing around him to push him towards the door. As they headed out, Rhodes reached out and grabbed a pair of boxing gloves off a hook right beside the door, looping them over his neck. And an instant later, I was left alone in the dressing room.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
As soon as Rhodes and the little manager were gone, I flopped down on the couch, lifting up one hand to fan my hot and flushed face. My thoughts were all mixed up in a swirl. I needed a minute to try and straighten things out.
This had certainly not been my plan for this evening! When Alexis had first dragged me out, I had imagined sampling some appetizers, making small talk with as few of the well-dressed gentlemen and ladies as possible, and hoping to perhaps catch an early cab ride back home to continue my prior engagement with misters Ben and Jerry. Perhaps the end of some romance movie would still be showing, and I could catch it on the television. Tears added a lovely bit of extra flavor to ice cream.
I hadn't even imagined that I'd meet anyone at the club or out with Alexis with whom I'd want to hook up! I certainly probably most likely wasn't much of a catch for the rich men out front, with their expensive watches and luxury cars and stock market investments. And they, with their dull talk and concerns over money, weren't much of a match for me, either.
But Rhodes, on the other hand...
I had to admit that I had always had some sort of extra draw towards jocks. Whether they were in baseball, football, or any other sport, something about seeing a man covered in muscles just did it for me. Even my former boyfriend, the one that had left me a crying mess just a few days earlier, had been one of the stars of his company's softball team, and I always made sure to attend every single one of his games.
After those games, we would end up in the back of his car, tangled up in each other's arms, my hands buried beneath his team jersey and running all over his sweaty muscles. I'd kiss him, tasting the sweat of his exertions, and he'd slowly work off those tight white pants of his to present me with a present of his own. I'd take him in my mouth, loving how he reeked with his own musk, and would suck until his tired muscles flexed once more and he exploded. His seed would fill my mouth and I'd gulp it down, sucking until he was completely dry and totally exhausted, his last reserves of energy drained.
Yes, there was something about jocks, about men covered in muscles who went out and pushed their bodies to their very limits to compete in physical games against each other, that made me instantly hot and ready. Rhodes was no exception - and he was even more ripped and shaped than my boyfriend had been! No wonder I was still finding it hard to think through the haze of red fog that filled my brain.
I sat there on the couch for several minutes, thinking about what had almost happened. Try as I might, I couldn't seem to regret it in the slightest. Sure, I knew that it maybe wasn't the best idea to immediately throw myself at another guy, so similar to my ex, but what was wrong with a little one-night stand, a quick physical encounter to loosen some of the tension that had been constantly building inside me ever since the breakup?
It was harmless, I told myself. Nothing more to say on the issue.
And with that, I realized that I was sitting there as time ticked by! There was a fight going on outside, the whole reason that Alexis had brought me here (well, at least a small part of the reason), and I was going to miss it!
I leapt up from the couch and hurried out of the room. I wondered what it would be like to watch Rhodes fight, knowing that he'd been attacking me just a few minutes previously. To see him panting through lips that had only just been pressed against mine. To watch him throw punches with the same hands that had been exploring beneath my clothes only a few minutes before this.
I imagined that it would be quite the turn-on.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
After a few false turns and dead ends as I wandered through the corridors that led through the backstage areas of the theatre, I finally emerged into the main auditorium, the site of the arena. I knew I had found the right place when, upon turning the corner, I was hit with a wave of solid sound.
The arena was a big circle, with stadium seats leading down to the middle, where the raised square stage had the boxing ring set up on top of it. For people standing down by the base of the arena, at the very center of the room, their shoulders would be just above the floor of the boxing ring.
The room wasn't quite full, but it was definitely occupied by all of the high society folks that had previously been socializing in the lobby of the theatre. I scanned the crowd, searching for the little black dress and toned figure of my best friend. She had to be here somewhere - probably right in the middle of the excitement, knowing her, hanging off the arm of the richest man in the entire place.
I didn't spot her. But as I slowly advanced down one of the aisles towards the middle of the arena, I suddenly felt a pair of arms thrown around me give me a squeeze as I was almost tackled off my feet.
I looked down at the thin, definitely feminine arms currently just below my bust. It seemed that Alexis had been the one to find me.
"Caroline!" the girl squealed from behind me as she made a valid attempt to drive all the air out of my lungs. "Oh my god, where have you been? The fight's about to start!"
"I know!" I protested as I struggled in my best friend's surprisingly strong grip. "And I'll tell you where I've been, if you'll let me get a breath in!"
After one last squeeze, Alexis released me, and I turned around to face her. She was beaming up at me, her face aglow. She was definitely having a good time. A few steps behind her, I could see a tall gentleman in a suit keeping one eye on her. The man had slight patches of gray staining his hair in wings by his temples, but he was also tall and looked quite elegant. Apparently he had been chatting up my friend before she spotted me and went streaking over to hug me.
"Actually, I got turned around a little, and ended up backstage," I said, altering my story only slightly. I didn't exactly want to tell her that I was trying to stop my underwear from crawling up into the crack of my ass. "And I-"
I was interrupted mid-sentence by the unmistakable screech of a loudspeaker turning on. We both turned and glanced at the middle of the arena, and saw that the little bald manager I had met earlier was now standing in the center, one hand holding a microphone that descended on a cord from the ceiling.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" the man spoke into the microphone, his voice booming around the arena and echoing back from the far walls. "Thank you for coming, and supporting our fight! Get ready to see a battle of epic proportions, as two undefeated heavyweight fighters step up to face each other for the very first time!"
"Come on!" Alexis called out to me, reaching out to grab my arm. I couldn't resist as she tugged me down the steps into the crowd of people. "Jasper managed to get us a great spot right in the front row where we can watch!"
Jasper must have been the tall and elegant gentleman who had been keeping Alexis company before she spotted me. He fell into step beside us, and Alexis looped her other arm through his, keeping both us pulled in close to her. Jasper cut through the crowd, and we headed in towards the central boxing ring as the little manager continued to speak, calling out all sorts of praise about the two fighters that would soon be brawling in the middle of the cheering crowd.
We finally came to a stop, and sure enough, we were right in the middle, front and center with the raised ring directly in front of us. Alexis, using those girly charms that she somehow had and I did not,
had managed to get us front row seats! I didn't know how she did it, but she most definitely did it well.
As soon as we were in our spots, Alexis spun back to me, turning her back on Jasper once again. Over her shoulder, I saw that the man had opened his mouth to speak to her, but he now closed it, looking like a cross between sad and affronted. Despite his frustration, however, I knew that my best friend would somehow be able to soothe it with a single sentence, putting him back in the mindset of being willing to lavish her with gifts. I really needed to figure out at some point how she pulled that off.
"Okay, Caroline, keep going," Alexis said to me, ignoring the continued speeches of the manager/announcer. "What were you up to?"
As I opened my mouth to speak back, I noticed a commotion at the other side of the arena. A man was approaching - a big man, standing above most of the crowd as he sauntered down. A man with a face I instantly recognized.
I nodded over to the man on the other side of the arena. "See him over there?" I asked Alexis.
She turned, and her eyes immediately settled onto the boxer. "Oh yeah!" she agreed. "That's one of the fighters! Cecil Rhodes, his name is. He's amazing!"
I was caught off guard. "Wait a minute. You actually know his name?"
"Are you kidding?" came the response. "He's such a catch! He's been fighting for a while, and he's totally undefeated! That's half the reason I wanted to come to this place - do you know how great of a guy he'd be? Half the ladies are just here so that they can throw themselves at him tonight, and think about him in bed later this evening when they go home and finally let their rich boyfriends do their thing on top!"
I was totally surprised that Alexis knew who Rhodes even was, beyond "the guy we were going to see fight," but this just made my news all the sweeter. I couldn't keep my smirking grin off of my face. "Well, guess what I did?" I asked.
"What's that?"
"I ended up walking in to his dressing room - and I totally made out with him!"
Alexis literally squealed, a high-pitched sound of pure delight. "Oh my god, Caroline!" she gushed, grabbing at me as if too excited to keep her hands at her sides. "No way! You're totally just joking with me right now!"
I shook my head. "Not at all!" I replied back, my voice also climbing as her enthusiasm infected me in turn. "And god, he's so hot!"
We both reached out and grabbed each other's arms, jumping up and down together as we both squealed. And then, when we turned to look back at the arena, at Rhodes, he was climbing up into the central ring, ducking his head under the ropes to enter - and he locked eyes with me on the far side of the arena!
Time seemed to freeze for a moment as our eyes met, as I gazed into those deep brown liquid pools. He paused for just a fraction of an instant as he stared back at me.
And then the damn man winked!
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
As Rhodes winked at me as he stepped into the arena, I swear that I felt my heart skip a beat. Damn it, I wasn't supposed to be getting attached like this! Perhaps it was the combination of his shirtless physique and my fragile emotional state, but I suddenly wanted nothing more than to clamber over those ropes that separated us and tackle him myself.
A minute later, however, my view was blocked, as Rhodes' opponent came strolling up and began to climb into the arena on the opposite side - our side.
Previously, I had been thinking about the man, and what I wanted to do to him - or, more accurately, what I wanted him to do to me. I hadn't been thinking about the fight, or even the possibility of what could happen in that fight.
But as I laid eyes on the man's opponent, all of those thoughts and fears suddenly sprang up into my head.
"And now, entering the arena opposite Cecil Rhodes, is Lamar Crusher!" called out the announcer, as the other man stood up in the arena, slamming his gloves together a couple times as he bounced on the balls of his feet.
Lamar Crusher was, well, probably the most intimidating man I'd ever seen in my life. The guy was at least as tall as Rhodes, and his jet-black skin already rippled with a thin layer of sweat. He was wearing trunks that were blood red, and he looked vicious, a killer in all respects. Suddenly, I began to consider the possibility that Rhodes, my champion, might not come out victorious after all.
The announcer babbled on, talking about how impressive the two men were, but I could see that neither fighter was listening to the little man any longer. They both had their eyes fixed on each other, and were slowly stepping back and forth, keeping exactly opposite each other in the ring. They were scoping each other out, I realized, looking for any potential weaknesses or advantages. Neither of them was new to this. They were both following years of highly trained and honed instincts.
The little man with the microphone was winding down his speech. I could feel the tension in the air, so thick that I could almost have cut it with a knife. "And now, without any further ado, I think that it's time to get this fight started!" the announcer called out, as a referee, an older man dressed in a black and white striped shirt, climbed up into the ring between the two huge, hulking fighters. "What do you say, folks?"
Around me, the crowd roared wordlessly in affirmation. I stared around at all the men and women, still dressed in their fancy clothes, but now with expressions of hunger, of lust, of desire, clearly painted across their faces. Their baser instincts were showing. They were no longer thinking of money, of stock investments and tax deductions. They wanted to see a real fight, a bloody brawl, and they couldn't wait.
The referee stepped up to the center of the arena, glancing at first Rhodes, and then Lamar, while the announcer wound down his speech. As soon as the speech was concluded, the microphone retracted back up into the ceiling, and the little man in the tuxedo who had been speaking all but dove out of the arena.
"Whew," I heard him comment to a couple of the well-dressed men who came forward to lift up the arena's ropes so that he could duck out of the ring. "Always a lot of pressure, being in there and talking. I always feel like those two are just gonna lunge forward and start attacking each other, with me caught in the middle!"
Glancing up at the men again, I had to admit that the little manager was probably speaking the truth. The referee was now commenting in an undertone to the two men, perhaps asking them to have a nice, clean, fair fight, but they weren't even looking at the striped-shirt man. Both of their eyes were fixed on each other, determined glares plastered across their faces.
The referee, apparently satisfied, stepped back, lifting one hand up above his head. Both Rhodes and Lamar paused, their eyes flicking to that raised hand. The rest of the crowd, in addition, also fell silent as a hush passed over us.
The fight was about to begin.
Up above the ring, a loud bell rang a single time. The referee dropped his hand down in a chopping motion, as if swinging a flag. The fighters both leapt up, bouncing on the balls of their feet.
The fight was on.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
As the crowd cheered, both men began slinking into motion, slowly stepping to the side to circle around each other in the ring. Neither man advanced forward, towards the center; they were both wary, neither willing to open up their guard and risk an early knock-out. Instead, they seemed to be almost doing a dance in which they were both equal partners, moving around in circles and watching like hawks for any opening in their opponent's armor.
This continued for at least a couple minutes, as the crowd cheered and booed and called out indecipherable cries. Around me, I could feel the surge of anticipation in the upper crust. They wanted to see action, attack, pure vicious energy.
Finally, Lamar was the first one to make a move. He slowly took a half-step forward into the center of the ring, and then burst into a lightning-fast lunge. I gasped, feeling my heart leap up into my throat as his gloved fists jabbed out. The blows were so fast, I swore that they blurred.
But as fast as the man was in his attack, Rhodes was faster - or perhaps he was waiting, knowing
that this was coming.
Rhode dodged lightly aside, and Lamar's fast attacks merely struck at the empty air. And that lunge, that vicious attack, also meant that the man was compromising his defense. And Rhodes was quick to capitalize on that opening.
As Rhodes dodged off to one side, his own fists, hovering in front of his chest, went jabbing out. He wasn't putting the full weight of his body behind the blows, and they were offset by his moving away, getting out of the way of Lamar's swings first and foremost. But Rhodes still had at least two hundred pounds of mass, and that wasn't anything to write off.
His first punch missed, but Rhodes' second punch connected on Lamar's lower ribs, swinging down under his guard to land on the man's black chest. Again, it wasn't the most powerful attack, but I still saw Lamar briefly wince, and he cut off his own flurry of punches to dodge out of the way. Clearly, he didn't want to experience that again.
It wasn't a knockout blow by any means, but the crowd roared, and it was unmistakable. Rhodes had drawn first blood. He had landed the first blow, and this match was now his to either win or lose.
The fight continued, and we watched with bated breath. It soon settled into a rhythm; the two fighters would begin slowly, dancing around each other and searching for an opening. At some point, one of the two fighters would see a chance, and he would go lunging forward, fists up and ready to strike. Sometimes he would connect, sometimes he would miss, and sometimes he wouldn't be quite fast enough to dodge the counter-attack that was almost always right on his heels.
Both of the fighters got in blows, and they were both beginning to tire. Even though they both kept up their fronts of stone faces and eagle-eyed glares, I could see that neither was quite as fast, as agile, as they had been at the beginning. Both men were seeking to tire out the other.
It was a battle of attrition - the only question was who would tire first.
Rolling With the Punches Page 3
