by Lolita Lopez
Hips swiveling, she crouched low and gave them a peek between her thighs before sitting down on the edge of the hood. Her legs dangled over the side as she kicked off her pumps and then made a show of unsnapping her garters and peeling off one black stocking and then the other. She used one stocking as a prop, holding it beneath her breasts as she gave them a wild shake.
Legs bare, Yoli dropped the stocking and slid off the hood. She danced back to center stage and hooked her thumbs in the lacy red briefs. Undulating like a belly dancer, Yoli dragged the panties down her ample hips inch by teasing inch to reveal a red G-string and the words “Happy Birthday BJ” emblazoned across her ass cheeks in fiery orange paint. The whistles and clapping nearly drowned out the music.
She stepped out of her panties and strutted downstage until she could almost touch the crowd. Yoli made quick work of dispensing her bra. Red and black nipple tassels fluttered free, the thin cords smacking against her skin. She launched the bra into the crowd before grabbing her full breasts and jiggling them in her palms. Releasing her breasts, Yoli pumped her fist in the air and danced like a madwoman to the final twenty or so seconds of a song she considered her personal anthem.
As Freddie Mercury’s voice faded on the track and the pounding guitar and drums took over, Yoli danced backward toward the car. Just seconds before the song ended, she hopped onto the car’s edge and fell backward into the backseat, feet straight up in the air.
When the curtain fell, the club shook with thunderous applause. Her body vibrated with the excited shouts and whistles. Breathless, she panted and touched her face. What should have been one of the proudest moments of her life was tainted with the regret of what had happened with Zel. Even now the memories of yesterday intruded. She wished she could just forget the whole ugly scene.
With her crew’s help, Yoli got out of the backseat and returned to her dressing room. Lynn helped her clean the body paint off her backside. While not a particularly glamorous or enjoyable moment for either of them, they managed to laugh about the lengths they both went to in order to provide the best show possible. As always after debuting a number, they discussed the minor changes she might make to the routine the next time she used it.
Keeping with her fifties theme for the night, Yoli changed into a hip-hugging red dress with a sexy pencil skirt and pleated bust. She styled her hair into a fifties-inspired coiffure and slipped on a pair of designer pumps. Back out in the crowd, Yoli plastered on her brightest smile and schmoozed. She wished BJ the very happiest birthday and even had a piece of cake. Just about everyone came up to her, gushing about the show. She loved hearing from audience members, especially tonight when she was more than a little depressed.
As soon as she could, Yoli slipped away unnoticed through a back exit. Her entourage of assistants, stylists and crew members stayed at the club with her blessing. They deserved a night of enjoyment for all their hard work. Mel, the attentive and incredibly kind chauffeur provided by the hotel, bundled her into the backseat of a limo and whisked her away from the noisy nightspot.
Feeling so incredibly alone, Yoli stared out the window and watched the blur of the passing strip. Zel’s face popped into her thoughts. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Right about now he’d be climbing into that eight-sided cage for one hellaciously barbaric fight. Her stomach churned at the conjured image of his bruised and battered body. If he were hurt badly, she’d just die.
It seemed ridiculous that she could care about one person so deeply after so short a time, but there it was. Her heart clenched as she realized just how much she cared about Zel. This wasn’t infatuation or lust. This was something more. Something so serious she trembled with its power.
The limo rolled to a stop and moments later her door opened. Jarred by the bright lights and bustling crowd milling around the hotel’s entrance, Yoli tried to reconcile her thoughts as she slid across the seat. She accepted Mel’s gloved hand and allowed him to help her out of the car. He smiled and bid her goodnight. She returned the sentiment before skirting the group in her path and heading into the hotel.
“Miss Rubens?” The concierge called out her stage name as he stepped around his podium. He waved a burnt orange envelope. “This was left for you earlier but you’d already left the hotel before I could pass it along. My apologies, ma’am.”
“It’s fine. Thank you.” Yoli took the envelope and stepped aside to let a rather large group pass by. She didn’t recognize the handwriting on the outside of the envelope. She glanced at the concierge but he was already engaged by another couple.
Curious, she squeezed together the metal brads and shook the contents of the envelope into her palm. She frowned with confusion at the picture revealed to her. A group of shabbily dressed young children ranging from toddlers to teens stood on the steps of a rundown building. Faded and chipped painted letters arched over the entrance. St. Marko Krizin Orphanage.
She stared at the faces of the children, noticing their haunted eyes. Upon closer inspection, they all looked a bit skinny and ever so sad. Her heart broke for the poor little creatures. When she flipped the picture over, Yoli’s eyes fell to a handwritten message.
This is why I fight.
And suddenly Yoli understood. It was about the money but not in the way she’d assumed. Zel was obviously funding this orphanage with his winnings. If ever there was a justification to prize fighting, this was it.
Her gaze drifted a bit lower to the ticket taped to the bottom of the picture’s back. Yoli swallowed hard as she realized this was one of those moments she’d look back on some day with the utmost satisfaction or the deepest regret. It struck her quite suddenly there wasn’t really a decision to be made.
Ripping the ticket off the back of the picture, Yoli spun toward the concierge. He met her frantic gaze with an expectant expression. “Shall I call the car back?”
“Yes.” Her heart beat so quickly she wondered if she was about to have a heart attack. She had to get there. She had to see Zel, to let him know that she loved him. “Please,” she begged, “make it quick!”
The concierge smiled knowingly. “Mel’s still outside.”
Any other time, Yoli would have been upset by the feeling of being played by the staff, but tonight she was grateful for their nosiness. Over the years, Yoli had learned the very best hotels always anticipated the needs of their guests. Typically they achieved that by snooping and prying into the private lives of said guests. Well, kudos to them, Yoli decided. This crew had just earned themselves a big fat tip.
She rushed outside and practically dove into the backseat. Mel scurried around to the driver’s seat and lowered the privacy wall between them. “You just sit tight, Miss Rubens. I’ve got friends working security. We’ll get you right in there.”
“I hope so,” she whispered, desperation overtaking her body.
The next twenty-some-odd minutes were the longest of her life. Mel wove in and out of the heavy traffic. Yoli’s eyes bugged out at some of his maneuvers. Once, they barely cleared another car’s side by mere centimeters, but so long as Jack kept the car moving forward, she didn’t care.
Antsy, Yoli fidgeted with her skirt’s hem and wondered what the hell she was going to say when she saw Zel. Somehow “I was wrong” just didn’t seem to cut it. But it was the best she had. It would have to do.
When they neared the arena, Mel took a side street that led them to a back entrance with loading docks for vendors. The moment the limo stopped, Yoli bailed from the backseat and dashed toward a pair of security guards. Mel followed at her heels. She flashed her ticket in hopes they’d understand just how dire her need to get into the arena was.
“Mel!” The burlier of the two guards lit up with recognition. “You here to sneak into the fight?”
Mel shook his head. “This lady needs to get in there as quickly as possible. Can you help us out?”
The guard gave her the once-over and nodded. “Yeah. I think so.” He flicked his fingers and she h
anded over the ticket. He studied it for a second. “Follow me. I’ll get you to your seat.”
Bubbling with excitement and relief, Yoli threw her arms around Mel’s neck. “Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me.”
Blushing bright red, Mel awkwardly patted her back. “All part of the service, Miss Rubens.” He cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll just wait back here.”
Nodding, Yoli smiled and hurried after the guard. They traversed a series of labyrinthine hallways and stairwells. Employees rushed along the same corridors, often shoving her out of the way in their haste to get to their destinations. Yoli didn’t care. She just needed to see Zel. If that meant being elbowed and slammed into concrete walls, so be it.
As they neared the arena floor, the deafening cacophony took Yoli by surprise. She’d never been to any kind of fight in her life and had no idea what to expect. The guard paused at an entryway onto the lowest—and seemingly most expensive—deck of seats to converse with another set of guards and an attendant of some sort. Her ticket was inspected and she was waved through. A woman in a red vest and black slacks escorted Yoli down a small set of stairs to an aisle seat.
There was no point in sitting down since the entire crowd of thousands was on its feet. Pulse racing, Yoli finally looked toward the menacing black cage in the center of the floor. Her stomach dropped at the sight of Zel and Mace grappling on the mat. Bloodstains marred the blue floor and its various logos. For the briefest moment she caught a glimpse of Zel’s face. His left eye was swollen and a gash split his left temple.
“Sweet Jesus,” Yoli whispered as Zel pounded Mace with his fists. Mace threw back his elbow, narrowly missing Zel’s nose. When Zel leapt back, Mace clambered to his feet. They circled one another, bobbing and weaving as they waited for the next opening.
Yoli glanced around helplessly. She didn’t know how to read the scoreboard. Was Zel winning? How many rounds were left? How much longer would this go on? Judging by the low energy of the two fighters and the intensity of the crowd, Yoli guessed the fight was in its final minutes. She closed her eyes and prayed silently. Please let Zel win.
A shocked gasp rocked the crowd. Yoli’s eyes flew open just in time to see Mace land a vicious kick to the side of Zel’s head. He teetered on his feet before falling forward in what seemed to be a jaw-rattling landing. Yoli nearly puked at the sight of Zel’s lolling head and the blood dribbling down his mouth. The smirk on Mace’s face filled her with fury.
“GET UP, ZEL!” Yoli shouted manically, as if he could hear her over the din. “GET UP!”
Mace approached Zel with a predatory grin. Yoli realized he meant to land the final blow. Her insides nearly turned themselves inside out as he pulled back his leg in preparation for a nasty kick. She could see the muscles flexing in his bulging thighs as Mace drew back and whipped his leg forward.
“NO!”
At the very last second, Zel leaned just far enough to the left to avoid the deadly blow. In a flash, he grabbed Mace’s ankle and jerked the man off balance. Mace slammed into the mat so hard his head bounced twice. Zel was behind him in an instant, his forearm locked around Mace’s head in a viselike squeeze. Mace flailed and clawed at Zel’s forearm but to no avail.
Zel popped him once in the temple—and Mace was out.
The arena exploded as Zel gently lowered Mace to the mat and staggered to his feet. Yoli’s knees gave out and she crumbled into her seat. Tears of relief flooded her face. With trembling fingers, she shielded her face. It was over. Zel won. Zel was safe.
By the time she regained the use of her limbs, Zel had cleared the cage. With a sickening thud, Yoli realized he hadn’t seen her. She looked out over the sea of moving patrons. It would take quite a bit of finagling and elbowing to get to the locker rooms. She’d come this far. There was no failing now.
* * * * *
Forehead against the tile, Zel let the hot, pounding pressure of the shower ease the tension in his shoulders and neck. He felt as if he’d been hit by a semi. Every muscle in his body ached. The slightest movement made his stomach churn. His med check had ruled out any severe injury, and while that knowledge pacified his usual post-fight anxiety, it didn’t do much to reduce the soreness. Only the sweet taste of victory lessened the pain.
And what a victory it was! Zel couldn’t have asked for a better retirement fight. He could walk away from this life satisfied he’d made his mark on the world of mixed martial arts and done his very best. Mace had rung his bell in those final seconds, but somehow Zel had managed to summon forth the last remnants of that primal energy deep within him to win it all. From this moment forward, he’d hold his head high.
He switched off the shower and cautiously crossed the wet tiles. Zel snatched a towel from the bench and wound it around his waist. Grabbing another, he used it to dry his hair and wick away the moisture clinging to his upper body, his bare feet leaving heat marks on the concrete floor as he walked to his locker. As he applied deodorant, Zel heard the door behind him open.
Jack’s voice boomed inside the cavernous locker room. “Feeling okay?”
Zel cringed. “I’d be better if you weren’t shouting at me.”
Jack laughed softly. “This is my last chance so I figure I may as well get it all out while I can.”
Zel glanced over his shoulder at his longtime trainer and confidante. “Just because I’m not going to fight for you anymore doesn’t mean you can’t call me up to yell at me every now and then.”
Grinning, Jack nodded. “I just might have to take you up on that.”
Chuckling, Zel turned back to his locker and returned his deodorant to its shelf. “You need something?”
“There’s a woman out there, says she knows you and is causing quite a ruckus. Gorgeous face. A bit thick for my taste…”
Zel didn’t hear anything else Jack said. The bottom fell out of his stomach as he realized Yoli was out there. “Send her in.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure.” Zel gulped as anxiety invaded his belly. At the sound of the door opening and the unmistakable clack of heels against the concrete, Zel slowly turned. Like that first night, she took his breath away. The sight of her puffy red eyes made his chest tighten. She’d been crying. For him?
Yoli’s lower lip trembled. “Your face.”
Zel barely heard her distressed whisper. He self-consciously touched his swollen left eye. “It’s fine. You’ll see.” She didn’t look convinced. He fought for the right words. “You came.”
Tears dripped down her cheeks. “Yes.” Yoli stepped forward. “I’m so sorry, Zel. You were right. I was lying when I said this was just a fling. It started that way but—”
Zel quickly crossed the distance between them. He gently cupped her face and kissed her more passionately than he ever had. “I don’t care,” he murmured against her lips. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
Yoli’s shoulders sagged with relief as he tightly hugged her to his chest. For a long time they simply embraced, content with just being together again. Eventually Yoli pulled back and looked up at him. “Come with me?”
He wasn’t quite sure what she was asking. “Where?”
“Everywhere,” Yoli said. “I don’t have a home right now and I’ve got shows lined up for the next five weeks before I take my three-month vacation. Come with me?”
Zel had never seen her look quite so vulnerable. His heart swelled with love for her.
Smiling, he interlaced their fingers and touched his forehead to hers. “I’m right beside you.”
About the Author
While browsing bookstore shelves as a teenager, Lo discovered the erotic writings of Anaïs Nin and Anne Roquelaure. Certain her mother would not approve, Lo smuggled the books home and squirreled them away in the most likely of places—under her bed. Late at night, she delved into the sensual worlds both writers created.
As a co-ed studying biochemistry and genetics at Texas A&M Unive
rsity, Lo dabbled in creating naughty tales to entertain her friends. Study for a midterm or pen a deliciously dirty story to delight her small band of fans? Not surprisingly, Lo is now on an extended sabbatical from college.
Luckily, Lo stumbled onto the world of erotic romance publishers. She realized there were other readers and writers who loved and craved breathtaking romance with the spiciest of love scenes. She took a chance and submitted her first novella. The rest is history.
Lo lives in Texas with her family and beloved Great Dane, Bosley.
The author welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and e-mail address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Lolita Lopez
English Vice
Illicit Bargain
Nocturnal Obsession
Pressing the Flesh
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
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