The Doctor gives the okay, and the match continues. The fighters take their same positions before they were separated.
Fifty-seven seconds on the clock.
With The Pretty in control, he gives a big knee to the body of Alvarado. Alvarado buckles but The Pretty holds onto him.
Alvarado manages to twist away and releases himself from The Pretty’s grip. They both shift from side to side in the center of the ring.
The Pretty lands a massive punch to Alvarado’s side temple, which causes him to drop to his knees on all fours.
The Pretty wraps his legs around Alvarado’s head and rolls him several times until they’re pressed up against the cage.
The Pretty grabs Alvarado by the shoulders. As he slumps, The Pretty catches him by the neck and puts him down with a combination of a Standing Guillotine and the Von Fluke Choke.
The Pretty laces his right arm around the back of Alvarado’s head and uses his entire body weight against his neck.
Once the air and blood flow restrictions begin, Alvarado goes limp.
The Pretty keeps the hold until the Referee sees this and calls it. The Pretty lets go as Alvarado crumbles to the ground in a heap, both bloody and unconscious.
It is all over.
Lucky Lewis tosses his head up and down in a reverse nod to acknowledge The Pretty as the winner. Lucky then turns around and moves through the crowd towards the exit.
The Doctor puts an oxygen mask over Alvarado’s nose and mouth. Alvarado opens his eyes.
The Pretty turns his head and catches site of Tuesday in the crowd.
Chapter Six
Lucky Lewis scarfs down sushi with a soup spoon inside an otherwise empty Japanese restaurant. This eatery is his domain, and he’s treated like a king here; number one. Despite his piggish ways, he is welcome here.
“Would you like some more; on the house, of course,” a petite Waitress offers to Lucky.
Lucky looks the waitress up and down as if she were prime rib, and he a starving dog. He does his reverse head nod as she scurries back to the kitchen.
Lucky is not a handsome man. He carries several scars on his face served up by The Pretty and other MMA fighters better than he. He also has bird-like legs, which is unusual for a fighter.
But despite his unconventional physique, Lucky is dangerous. He wants the championship, and he’s willing to do anything to get it. That is, except for working his ass off with multiple trainers, then rise through the ranks from pure skill.
Lucky expends so much energy looking for the shortcut, or a way to work the angle, instead of playing it straight. Rumor has it he spent nine months in County lockup for Grand Theft and Petty Larceny. But no one can prove it, as his records were sealed by a judge in someone’s pocket.
His wild antics and illegal counter attacks have cost him several forfeitures and thousands of dollars in fines. He got the name Lucky, not because he lucks out and wins, but because he should be banned from the sport. Somehow and some way, he manages to continue to fight.
The front door to the restaurant opens and in walks two men. They survey the empty joint before they approach Lucky’s table.
One man looks more of the businessman type, and the other, a mountain of a man. He is most likely a personal bodyguard.
The Businessman removes his hat and takes a seat at Lucky’s table without permission or fanfare. But it appears like they were expected, as Lucky acknowledges both with a half-smile.
The Waitress returns with another tray of sushi and sets it in front of Lucky. She quietly steps away from the table as Lucky runs his hand up her inner thigh, past her crotch to her backside. He grabs her ass in thanks.
The Waitress is embarrassed and turns to leave. However, Lucky has other plans.
He grabs her by the arm and spins her into his lap. She lands with a thud. He presses his face against hers and rams his tongue down her throat. At the same time, shoving his hand down the back of her pants and squeezes her cheek. His hand slips further inside and tickle her clit.
The Waitress manages to jump off of Lucky’s lap and leap to freedom. She scurries back to the kitchen.
Lucky laughs to himself, “Don’t let that innocent routine of hers, snow you. She’ll be back. What a tight piece of ass.”
The Businessman rolls his eyes in disgust.
“Try the rock and roll eel,” Lucky urges as he slides the plate near the Businessman.
The Bodyguard flicks the plate away as the sushi almost tumbles off the plate.
Lucky pushes himself away from the table and stands up to confront the bodyguard as his napkin falls from his lap to the floor. The Businessman raises his hand and gestures for the Bodyguard to back up; which he does.
“I apologize for my help’s behavior,” the Businessman utters.
Lucky grabs his chair and sits back down, “What do you want, Allistor.”
Allistor leans in, “It’s not what I want, it’s what you have a right to, Lucky.”
Lucky drops his spoon on the table, “You know I don’t like riddles.”
Allistor puts his cards on the table, “We can get you into the ring with The Pretty. Title bout.”
Lucky sits up straight.
“The Dragon has met with an unfortunate accident. You’ll take his place,” Allistor informs.
“It’s a minor break. I thought he could still fight,” Lucky spouts.
“I have a gift of foresight, and it’s telling me that his doctors will not give him the all clear to fight,” Allistor assures.
Lucky has never played by the rules before, but this is an entirely new level for him. Here he sits across from a man willing to bankroll him, but at the cost? Could the cost ever be too much for Lucky?
Lucky believes he’s as good as The Pretty, and, in fact, has wanted this opportunity for a long time. He ponders the possibility before asking a few follow-up questions.
“I’m not in his weight class,” Lucky points out.
“You’ll gain ten pounds,” Allistor responds. “A few milkshakes three times a day and you’re as good as gold.”
“What about a trainer? The one I have now—“
Allistor cuts him off, “We have the best in the business ready to work with you on your say so.”
“The Pretty is expected to win. I just saw him put a friend of his into a temporary coma, ringside. He’d never throw a fight.”
“Are you afraid of him?” Allistor taunts.
“You’d be a fool not to be. I don’t know,” Lucky responds.
Allistor whispers what could be the crucial bit of information that Lucky needs to accept. “You’ll be able to land a rabbit punch without penalty. We’ll take care of everything. Any other concerns?”
“What’s in it for you?” Lucky demands.
The Bodyguard chuckles to himself as Allistor responds, “We split the purse, fifty-fifty.”
Lucky grabs his fourth bottle of Japanese beer and chugs it before Allistor snatches it from his grip.
“You want to be a champion? You have to start playing one in real life. Don’t embarrass yourself by getting drunk in public with cheap spirits or raping waitresses in the middle of a restaurant. No, that is the old you. The new you cares about public perception.”
“I’m not changing for anyone,” Lucky shoots back.
“No one is asking you to. Just keep all your dirty little secrets private; behind closed doors,” Allistor admonishes.
Lucky snatches the bottle of beer back and finishes it off.
“What’s the purse?” Lucky inquires.
Chapter Seven
If there is one thing that Tuesday appreciates, it’s an all balls-out victory during a sparring match.
The Pretty intrigues her.
Roman puts his head under the shower head to feel the full force of the water.
Al hangs a clean towel on a nearby rack and exits the shower room.
Clicks of high heels reverberate and bounce off of the shower tiles.
&
nbsp; Tuesday stands next to the clean towel as Roman scrubs himself and lathers his chest and package with a rag. Soap drips into his eyes and causes them to sting. The Pretty reaches for the towel, but it’s gone. He wipes the soap from his eyes with his hands and sees Tuesday holding the towel out to him.
Roman puts his head back under the showerhead and rinses the soap away. Tuesday slings the towel back over the rack.
Tuesday makes no effort to divert her eyes from Roman’s manhood, and Roman makes no attempt to cover himself up. In fact, he rather enjoys being looked at in such a way.
With the shower still on, water drips down his body, past his belly button and between his legs before Roman pivots to face her straight on.
“Did anyone tell you that it was only a sparring match?” Tuesday shouts to be heard over the running water.
Roman turns the water nobs to the off position. He steps out of the shower and grabs the towel. He dries his hair first, and then his chest, arms, and pits. He saves his package for last as he slowly drives himself off using a circular motion before he wraps the damp towel around his waist.
“Was it too bloody for you?” Roman speculates.
“Just a bit brutal for a sparring match. Although I do admire you both for not holding anything back.”
Roman takes a step closer to Tuesday, “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Why do you insist on being crass?” Tuesday asks.
But without waiting for an answer, she continues, “I know your backstory. Al told me.”
The mood shifts as Roman speaks, “Al has a big mouth.”
“I’m glad he told me. It helps m understand you a little better; why you’re so obnoxious and treat women like sex on a stick.”
“That’s an unusual way to put it,” Roman adds.
Tuesday wipes the seat beads from her forehead, “I get it, your dad wasn’t around, and your mom was an addict—“
Roman cuts her off, “You don’t get a god-damn thing. You’ve lived a charmed life with a bow wrapped around your waist since your were born. And now you have a business dropped into your lap with zero effort on your part. Do you get it? Really? All your degrees don’t give you an ounce of real life experience. Have you ever had to go without food or heat? Have you been beaten within an inch of your life for a dollar? Have you ever had to attend school in clothes that Good Will wouldn’t take? Now who's the delusional, pompous bitch in this room? Me or you?”
Tuesday was not expecting such a violent response to what she considered a factual statement.
Tuesday realizes she may have stepped over the line with Roman, “Roman, I apologize if I came across as knowing your pain. I don’t.”
“You’re damn straight; you don’t” he echoes.
“But what I do know, is this. Whatever anyone has gone through, as long as they’re breathing, they can wipe the slate clean and create a new life.”
“Oh, it’s that simple?” Roman snaps back.
“I didn’t say it was simple; I said it could be done. I’ve lost someone very close to me, besides Oscar. I haven’t been able to move on completely. In fact, he still has a hold on me, despite his passing. But eventually, I will find the strength to break away.”
Tuesday wipes a tear from her face as she chuckles to herself, “I guess I need to take my own advice.”
Roman takes a step closer to Tuesday as he wants to apologize, “Listen…”
Tuesday senses this but doesn’t know quite how to handle the situation. So she just turns around to leave, “See you tomorrow.”
“Tuesday,” Roman shouts as the door to the locker room shuts behind her.
Chapter Eight
Tuesday turns on talk radio in her car on her way to Franklin Forrest. It’s a small reserve filled with tall redwoods, multiple trails and plenty of wildlife.
It’s dusk and the remaining visitors empty out the parking lot. A chain lock meant to keep visitors away during these hours wraps around the entrance gate.
Tuesday slips off her heels and slips on walking shoes. She reaches over to the glove box and grabs a flashlight before she steps outside of her car.
She twists the base of the flashlight to turn it on and follows the gate to the park for about a quarter of a mile before she comes upon an opening made from bolt cutters.
She steps through the hole just as she hears a tree branch snap. She pauses for a moment as she tries to detect the direction of the disturbance. Unable to figure it out, she continues moving forward, as planned.
She follows the Hanover trail that gets microscopic use as it’s not well-maintained. The walkway is tight, and overhead tree branches constrict her movement.
Tuesday hunches over to avoid shrubbery until she reaches a marked tree from claws. Most people, if they venture this deep, would assume a bear or other wildlife would have made the marking. However, Tuesday knows different.
She walks behind the tree to a small clearing no more than ten feet by ten feet. She uses the flashlight to sweep the area. It would seem that no one is around.
However, within moments, the wind picks up and leaves rustle. Tuesday turns her flashlight to whatever direction the sounds come from, in an attempt to be discovered.
Suddenly, from the north, she feels his presence. She notices impressions of footsteps that approach her, yet there is no physical body she can make out.
Tuesday takes a deep breath as the footprints stop inches from her.
* * *

Roman parks his car on the side of the road, just around the corner from the Franklin Forrest parking lot. He climbs out and jogs towards Tuesday’s car.
He peers inside the vehicle and sees nothing out of the ordinary. But his mind races. What is Tuesday doing here at night? Why would she be meeting someone here so late, instead of at her office?
Roman knew he had no right to ask these questions and certainly no reason to follow her. Yet, he finds himself drawn to this woman and her mysterious ways.
Roman sees the flashlight beam in the far distance. He wastes no time in scaling the locked gate. He swings himself over the top and lands in a crouched position.
As a fighter, he has honed his five senses as that’s what makes a champion. He places his palm flat on the ground and feels for vibrations in every direction. Once he discovers the correct latitude and longitude, he walks at a quick pace. Every few moments he looks up to see if the flashlight beam still shine, guide him.
* * *

Tuesday’s breaths rapidly as her chest heave up and down. She has been here before, yet it never gets any easier.
An invisible force reaches out and with their hands pushes Tuesday up against a tree.
“You’re back,” the Force whispers.
“Show yourself,” Tuesday manages to get out.
At that moment, three Forces materialize into flesh form. Two stand a distance back and allows the third to control the situation.”
Though they have taken human form, they are still transparent with wing spans of ten feet. Tuesday can only make out their outlines.
There is something very angelic and sinister about them at the same time. There are no outward visible signs that would lead you to this conclusion, but Tuesday keeps her guard up.
“Why are you frightened?” the Force says to Tuesday as he rubs the back of his hand up and down her cheek.
“I had to see you,” Tuesday says in a breathy manner.
The Force steps closer to Tuesday and tests the weight of her breasts in his hands. Through her blouse, he caresses them. In one swoop, he rips open her blouse and lifts up her bra to lay bare her breasts.
Tuesday moans with pleasure, “Please. I need to ask you something.”
The Force suckles her breast as the other two beings takes measured steps towards Tuesday.
“We can’t continue like this. You’re dead,” Tuesday says in between his ravenous licks and sucks.
The second Force flaps his wings as a s
ign of excitement. He stands behind the tree that Tuesday leans up against and unzips her skirt slowly.
The Third Force crawls towards Tuesday and tugs at her skirt. It flutters to her ankles.
The Third Force reaches up and gently claws at her pussy. Tuesday squirms as he wraps his glowing fingers around the sides of her lace undies and pulls them downward.
The PRETTY (EROM Curvy Romance #1) Page 3
