The Cruiserweight

by L. Anne Carrington

  Her head bobbed faster, lips clamped around his shaft, and mouth slid up and down his hardness while one of her hands played with his balls and ass. It was all Brett could do not to come when she continued to suck him for several more minutes before she stood and stripped her ring attire.

  Once naked, she was ready to climb on his lap, her round, D-cup breasts inches from his face. “I think we could both use a good pre-match fuck.”

  Brett stopped her. “Hang on,” he said, putting on a condom he‘d fished from his bag. “I’m not doing anything without protection.”

  “Even a quickie?”

  “Can’t be too careful, sweetheart, with you being married. Other guys may fuck without rubbers, but I won’t.”

  Brett wrapped his arms around her back to hold her in place. He felt guilty for taking advantage of a friend in such fashion. At the same time, the idea of sex in an unconventional place with the number one contender for the Lovely Ladies Championship was so hot!

  After several minutes, he was breathless. “Let’s change positions.”

  He pulled Kyra off his lap and placed her on her back on the bench. He got on top and entered her, getting up a good tempo. Her face was buried against his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist. He held on to his control, feeling her shiver as his thrusts increased. Her mouth was wet against his neck as she let out a small cry.

  “Am I hurting you?” he asked. “We can stop.”

  “No. Fuck me harder.”

  Brett grabbed her plump ass and picked up the pace. His fingers spread across the soft flesh of her cheeks. Her back arched and body tensed. The feeling of her muscles contracting and releasing on his dick and the sight of her breasts bouncing in unison with his thrusts were driving him insane. His eyes glazed over, and he felt a film of perspiration on his skin. “I’m going to come…”

  “So am I! Brett, fuck me!” She shivered with ecstasy while her hands gripped his ass. He pumped harder for a few more minutes until his sperm filled the condom. Panting, hearts pounding, their bodies still moved with gradual, slower thrusts.

  When it was over, Brett helped her into a sitting position and gave her a soft kiss. “You okay?”

  “Yeah…never better. I think I can skip my warm up.” Kyra rose from the bench, dressed, and fixed her makeup. “Sorry I can‘t stay longer. Good luck in the main event.”

  “Thanks, sugar. Think we could get together after the show? I‘ll buy you dinner.”

  She winked and opened the locker room door. “Sure." Seeing no one in the hallway, she made a swift exit. The spontaneous sex had lasted about twenty minutes, but Brett felt as if he’d done a two-hour workout at the gym.

  Wow! Spur-of-the-moment sex sure beat my original plans of playing Crazy Eights with Kamsaki and going outside to sneak a joint!

  He disposed the used condom and had his ring attire back on just as a crew member called from the hallway. “Hey, Kerrigan, main event in ten.”

  “Thanks, my man.” He stopped for a brief glance in the mirror. Aside from his skin glowing, no outer signs of his and Kyra’s locker room romp were apparent. Brett did a few stretches and danced around before taking his place at the entrance. In a few more minutes, the world would be watching him.

  *****

  “Damn it, you big ape, watch what you’re doing!” Karen yelled at the TV screen as she saw Brett being thrown over the ropes by the giant seven foot, four hundred pound Mountain Man.

  “K, take it easy, it isn’t like they can hear you,” Eddie said. “I’m sure Brett’s come out of a lot worse.”

  “I didn’t tune into this to see him thrown around like a rag doll by some oversized freak. He deserves better than only being in there for twenty-three seconds!”

  “That’s it? What a bullshit deal he got. All that pre-match hype for nothing? His entrance lasted longer than he did in the ring.”

  “He didn’t have many odds in his favor to win it anyway. Even if I did expect him to last a short time, I never imagined it would be this bad. Now you know why I never order PPV’s.”

  “Yeah, that whole show was a waste of fifty bucks.”

  *****

  Kyra showed up outside of the men’s locker room when the PPV ended. Brett was glad to see her again. He invited her up to his room, where he ordered wine and dinner for two from room service.

  “This doesn’t happen often,” she said.

  “What?”

  “A guy who isn‘t my husband wining and dining me. Most of the other wrestlers just want to get naked and fuck before throwing me out of their rooms.”

  “I was brought up to treat women right. The others may think you ladies are cheap lays, but I view you a lot different.”

  Kyra gave a small smile. “Thank you, Brett. Sorry for uh…pouncing on you earlier. “

  “Don’t feel bad. I admit I was kind of shocked when you jumped me in the locker room tonight and we ended up—”

  “Having sex again,” she finished. “But you enjoyed it, as always.”

  “Sure I did. What guy doesn’t enjoy being laid by a beautiful woman who has the best ass on the female roster when he‘s a little horny? But there’s something else I want to know.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a nice girl with a lot of talent and one hell of a wrestler when you get into the ring. Why do you have the need to go to bed with every guy on the circuit?”

  “Most of them think women wrestlers are tramps to begin with. I will admit when I signed my contract and started training, I couldn’t help thinking about doing a couple of main eventers. The one I liked the most wasn’t interested when I approached him. The second was drunk one night. I came on to him for fun. We ended up in his room. The sex was lousy, but next thing I knew, I was called up to the main roster.”

  “Did you ever stop to think you were called up because you earned a spot the legitimate way?”

  “Brett, look at me. I’ve seen the sites making jokes about my size even though I weigh one-thirty. I’m a natural blonde. I didn’t get my big boobs from some plastic surgeon. Top management isn’t concerned with talented women who can wrestle. They want half-naked eye candy shaking their asses in the ring and bring big ratings, or be the top guys‘ personal whores.”

  “Kyra, you had a fantastic match tonight. You’re the new Lovely Ladies champion. You beat the shit out of Crazy Train, of all people!”

  “Do you know how I ‘won’ the title? It wasn’t just my wrestling skills. I became the new champion as a ‘reward’ for having a threesome with the current tag team champions, who happen to be tight with management, against my principles.”

  “Those greasy pigs?” Brett was outraged.

  “Yeah. They wanted sick stuff like having both of them fuck me at once after each took turns with me. Then they wanted to watch me have sex with some strange girl they picked up after the show. They forced me to watch both of them fuck her at the same time, and then made both of us give them blow jobs before we were able to leave. The girl seemed to like being used like that, but I felt so dirty. I kept thinking all of that filthy sex stuff I had to do was only part of an upward move in my career to keep from puking. I think I took about six showers to get rid of the disgusting feeling and smell.”

  Brett hugged her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that sounded more like rape than a career move. I‘ll kill those fuckers the next time I lay eyes on them for what they did to you.”

  “Don’t throw away your career on something stupid. I figured out a long time ago being a sex toy will get me further ahead than my in-ring skills, much as I hate the idea.”

  “Did you ever…”

  “No, but I know some of the other girls have. Lucky for me, the big boss never expressed interest in my direction.”

  “Thank Christ. I would’ve hurled for sure.”

  “Now you know how those other poor girls feel having to fuck a creepy old man, pretending he’s such a stud, so they’ll get more exposure on TV.”

  “Filthy
piece of shit. Too bad I can’t kick his ass. You ladies are here to wrestle, not be hookers.”

  “Rest assured even if he did approach me, I’d pass, even if it meant getting fired. From what I’ve heard, he not that great in bed.”

  Brett emitted a hearty laugh. “Glad you cleared that up. But will you promise me one thing?”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re an amazing friend and I care about you. A lot of guys on the roster have different women every night, sometimes a few times a night. It doesn’t matter whether they’re fans, hookers, or another one of the Lovely Ladies. I can guarantee a lot of those dudes don’t use protection. The last thing you need is to be knocked up by some asshole, or worse, them giving you a disease not curable by antibiotics. I don’t want to even think about you explaining either situation to your husband.”

  “You’re right. My talent, self-respect, and marriage are worth a hell of a lot more than sleeping my way into a championship. Even if it means losing my title or even my job, I‘m done being everyone‘s whore.” She gave him a hug. “Thank you.”

  “You deserve to be treated with respect, sugar. I‘m always glad to take care of you when you’re horny, so there‘s no need for you to fuck around. I use rubbers, and when I don’t have any of those, there’s other ways we can get each other off. And unlike some of those losers in the locker room, I don‘t talk big about bagging chicks. You‘ll have your needs met when you’re away from your husband, without all the risks.”

  She pecked Brett’s cheek. “Why can’t more men be so sweet?”

  “Because they’re not short and funny-looking.”

  “Oh, stop it. You’re a cutie. Some lucky female is going to cherish you.”

  “Maybe. The one thing is when such a day comes, you and I will have to give up the ‘benefits’ part of being friends. When I find her, I’m not going to screw around.”

  Kyra smiled. “She’ll be one blessed woman.”

  A knock came on the door. Brett signed the room service check, placed their meal on a nearby table, and pulled out a chair for her. “Dinner’s ready.”

  “Such a gentleman you are. I’m not the eat and run type, but I hope you won’t mind if I have to leave afterward.”

  “It’s cool. I’m kind of tired anyway. Let’s enjoy the feast. I‘m starving, and I don‘t have a gorgeous dining companion very often.”

  *****

  It was almost midnight when Eddie went home. Karen was grateful for the peace and no interruptions when she logged on for another chat with Brett.

  “I assume you saw everything?” he asked.

  “Wouldn’t have missed it. You may not had a chance for being number one contender, but I loved seeing you, brief as your appearance was.”

  “You’re making me blush. Yeah, I did the kiss thing hoping you were tuning in and ended up in some trouble from management, but I don’t care.”

  “Brett Kerrigan, are you trying to say they were blown for me?”

  “You could say that. Okay, I’ll confess, one for you and one for Patrick.”

  “I bet that made his evening.”

  “I hope so. The powers that be weren’t excited about the dancing either, saying it wasted time. What’s an entrance without a couple of my famous steps?”

  “Everyone should do ‘The Kerrigan’ at least once.”

  “You’re funny. I thought you’d be in bed.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I’m still wound up from your match tonight. I still have to go to work in the morning, where I’ll get a ribbing from my editor. At this point, I don‘t care.”

  “That wouldn‘t be my idea of fun. I‘m already getting shit for lasting the shortest time during the match. There was a good ending to my night, though. I sent a friend home with a new lease on life and a smile on her face.”

  “Good for you! Many think your talents are limited to wrestling.”

  “How wrong they are. Anyway, my dear, you need to go to bed. I don’t want to be responsible for any ladies losing beauty sleep. I’m looking forward to your next story. Will you update me on your progress?”

  “That wouldn‘t be my idea of fun. I‘m already getting shit for lasting the shortest time during the match. Anyway, my dear, you need to go to bed. I don’t want to be responsible for any ladies losing beauty sleep. I’m looking forward to your next story. Will you update me on your progress?”

  “After my editor, you’ll be the first, Brett.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Soccer writer Phoebe Sellers couldn’t believe the profound change in her friend and co-worker. Despite being a top notch writer and columnist, until someone had gotten to know her, Karen was quiet in public and participated in activities either alone or with small groups of people. Just witty among close friends in the past, Karen now shared that humorous side with about anyone she met.

  Odd. I’ve known her for six years. Who or what made her change?

  She had had no knowledge of Karen’s chat sessions with Brett until she revealed her secret, making her recent personality changes clearer to Phoebe.

  Confidence! Karen Jean Montgomery developed some self-assurance! Whoever this guy is, he’s been a wonderful influence on her. I should learn more about him.

  When she began her search on the man who made Karen so happy, Phoebe couldn’t figure out why she was attracted to him—at first. Brett Kerrigan wasn’t tall or movie star handsome like his former tag team partner, Patrick Sanchez-Garcia. Phoebe knew Karen had preferred striking, dark men, and wondered why Brett fascinated her. He was a short, blond man with average looks who most women wouldn’t have given a second glance.

  Phoebe found out when she studied the long summary of Brett’s accomplishments. She found some anecdotes from people who were friends and colleagues of his. Studying his recent pictures, she noted he had a nice smile and beautiful eyes. Almost every comment she read said positive things. Brett was a dedicated, hard worker, always willing to train and fill in spots, and had a warm, giving personality.

  Now I understand why Karen’s comfortable with him.

  Though his in-ring character had an overblown ego, the man away from the spotlight was a amusing human being who couldn’t understand why people thought he was special.

  “Brett doesn‘t think he‘s very interesting,” one friend said. “There are some of us who would be more than glad to dispute that statement.”

  I’m sure Karen would. Even I want to give him a hug.

  The only negative feedback Phoebe discovered was concerning Brett’s marijuana use, but that didn‘t bother her. Many of her friends had been pot smokers. Phoebe even tried it once, so who was she to judge? She’d heard stories about people in the sports world doing substances far worse than weed.

  She was happy Karen befriended such a nice, down to earth guy. Phoebe considered having a discussion with her about the next show she was assigned to cover. Phoebe wanted to become more informed about the world of wrestling; high school and professional soccer games were dull in comparison.

  Karen walked out of Sullivan’s office, shaking her head. “I knew that was going to happen.”

  “Sullivan was teasing you about Brett’s performance last night?”

  “He also reminded me that I owed him ten dollars. That’s the last time I make any bets with our boss.”

  “Explains why he’s been in a good mood all day.”

  She gestured toward Phoebe‘s laptop. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking up information on your new friend. You didn’t say anything about him being so fascinating.”

  “He’s quite a character, yes?”

  “You aren’t kidding. I read about his whole career. It’s amazing how much he’d accomplished before turning thirty.”

  Their exchange was interrupted with the worn door of Sullivan’s office banging against the wall. “Miss Sellers, do you have your feature done for tomorrow?” he bellowed.

  “It’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  “Make it snappy
. If people worked as much as they bullshit, we may accomplish something today.”

  The door slammed. Phoebe turned to Karen. “Time to get back to business.”

  “Yes, I also have a pile of work. We can finish chatting over drinks later. After the ribbings I’ve gotten from Sullivan and the other guys all day, I could use a few cocktails.”

  *****

  Brett had a rare day off Saturday. He returned from a grueling, ten-day overseas tour two days earlier, grateful for time to relax until the following Monday. He spent the day jogging and working out, visiting Patrick, making phone calls to friends, cooking his favorite Washington Beef casserole, and checking out various wrestling websites.

  He laughed at the smattering of comments from fans.

  “You suck! Go back home to your mama.”

  “Dude, I’m eleven and I could beat your ass.”

  “I hope Linc taught you a lesson about keeping your mouth shut.”

  “You suck ass, man.”

  Oh, the joy of being a heel. It brings out the worst in some people.

  There were remarks from fans who enjoyed Brett, leaving words of encouragement and wanting to see more of him on television. He was elated when he saw Karen left her own feedback. He visited her website and logged on his instant messenger. When he noticed she was offline, he left a message anyway; Karen would receive it the next time she signed in.

  His cell phone rang. When he retrieved it from his pocket, Brett glanced at the number identifying the incoming call from company management. Looks like I failed the weed test again.

  His guess was wrong. Instead, it was news he would had never expected. The Creative Department offered him a chance to guest host the following Monday’s show. Brett thought it was some kind of joke, but the recommendation was indeed a legitimate opportunity. Brett couldn’t believe something so huge could happen to him. He began dancing around and throwing his hands in the air. He didn’t care if he looked like an idiot.