Post by Amy Jo Smyth on Nov 26, 2016 23:07:54 GMT -5
But I'm not looking for a love that'll last
I know what I need and I need it fast
Yeah there's one thing in common that we both share
That's our need for each other anytime, anywhere
___________________________
How quickly I go from feeling down on myself to feeling anger. What a change. Hey, I can't help but live up the stereotype and it is, after all, a woman's prerogative to change her mind - and mood.
Alas, I am but a mortal, emotional beast with the ability to think beyond all other creatures known to us. That means my moods shift too easily sometimes. Especially with good reason.
It bothers me deeply when someone does not take this as seriously as I do. It is even more bothersome when a person barely has the respect for me to acknowledge that I exist and that we are going to face off in the ring. Now, I’m not asking for a person to worship the very ground I walk upon and give a level of respect that I don’t deserve, but for fuck sake, at least give me the respect you’d give any other human on the street.
Unless, you know, you’re that shitty of a person.
I suspect my opponent is that shitty of a person.
Honestly, I just have a real hard time with disrespectful people. I ain’t talking people who can’t say please and thank you or those who are rude to waitstaff. Those people suck and they suck hard but they aren't as bad as some others.
I’m talking about people who think they’re better than everyone else, too good for the basic things in life, or punch a gift horse in the mouth. Those who are given second chances and think so little of the people that gave them their chance that they just - piss on it.
Lemme cut to the chase because I didn’t come here to play cat and mouse. Mindy de Santiago has not only disrespected me but my best friend and the whole of L.A.W. For that, I should give her the same respect.
None.
___________________________
In the Continuing Adventures of Our Hero...
<|<|Be Kind, Rewind
Tina has climbed up onto the sofa and has straddled me, pinning me down against the sofa. The beautiful woman before me has given me no means of escape. Not that I have any desire to escape. Who would? A sane woman does not refuse the advances of a woman of this caliber when all they want is the advances of these women. This is actually a little bit strange for me. I’m the one who usually puts the moves on a woman, makes the outward advances. This is a real reversal role - suddenly I’m the prey and she’s the predator.
I think I like it.
Her face slowly moves closer to mine as our eyes lock. I like my lips, get ready for what we both know is coming. Then it happens. We are kissing, hard and fast, hungry for each other. Her hands hold my head while mine get tangled in her hair.
She pushes herself up against me harder as the kissing becomes more intense. My hands find their way down her back, to her waist, then to her ass. I get myself a nice handful of it, squeezing and kneading the fleshy, soft mound. Then I give her a small smack and feel it jiggle.
There’s a soft moan from her and she pulls her mouth away from mine. “Yes,” she moans lightly.
I kiss and bite at her jawline and slowly work my down her neck. With a hand, I pull her head back by the hair, exposing her whole neck to me. Another pleasurable moan so I proceed, biting her neck. Without warning, I grab her waist, lift her, and push her back, sideways, to lay on the sofa and allow me to be on top. Our kissing continues and my hand slips under her shirt.
I don’t think she likes that very much.
My lover suddenly pushes me, throwing me back, and mounts me, taking the controlling position. She likes to be on top, I guess. That doesn’t stop me though. As she kisses my neck, I get myself a full on feel of her tits. Oh, my, they are mighty. My legs wrap around her waist and using the most powerful part of my body, I pull her pelvis against mine. If there were any other time, I’d start squeeze, putting pressure on her hips and lower stomach and try to lock on a reverse choke.
That is the very last thing I want to do right now.
This is hot, it’s intense, and it is arousing. But it’s missing something. I can fix this.
Using my legs and core strength and her lack of awareness, I flip her over and just like that, I’m on top and have her arms pinned down at her sides. “I like it better when I’m on top,” I say then go back to her neck. They often say that people are often the exact opposite in the bedroom as they are in their daily lives. A dominate and angry male CEO is a sissy boy who likes to get spanked in the bedroom. A demure, small voiced woman who rarely exerts her power is actually a dominate, powerful lover who takes control of her partner.
I’ve never know that to be true as I’m dominate in every aspect of my life. Except for on those rare - okay, not really that rare occasions with Allison when I left you do whatever she wants with me. As long as she doesn’t pull my hair, she can have me. So, yeah, I guess it’s true. It might just be a matter of your partner.
My partner right now, I want to be in control.
Suddenly she attempts to take off my shirt. It doesn’t go well.
Then my phone starts ringing. My eyes open and I look toward the coffee table where I left it.
“Ignore it,” Tina says, fighting with my shirt.
My arm reaches out anyway. “It might be important.” Who am I kidding? Every phone call I get is important. The lab. Wrestling. My family. My wife. Birdie.
Without removing my lips from hers, I look at the caller ID. Peaches.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I scramble, pulling my mouth away. Tina insists, trying to keep kissing me. I quickly get up, limp myself to the hallway, and stand in front of my bedroom.
“Hello,” I answer.
“How are you? What’s going on? Whatcha up to?” my wife asks in a rapid fire succession. She isn’t prying, she’s just curious, trying to make conversation and actually cares what I’m doing.
“Nothing much,” I asks. “Just playing video games, eating, drinking… Trying to stay out of trouble.”
“Having fun with Tina?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah…”
Allie chuckles lightly. “I really don’t know how Kenzi Grey got my number, but yeah, she informed me of your… Playdate with Tina.”
“She was free and I just - I just wanted to hang out with someone,” I explain.
“AJ, you don’t need to explain your friendships with me, who you hang out with. I know you guys are friends.”
Her words cut me like the sharpest knife know to man. It nicks the bone. My wife trusts me enough to let me have my friends, my space, and the freedom to do as I please. Little does she know that right now she can’t trust me right now and she should be a lot more prying into what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with.
I am lusting after another woman.
I invited another woman into my home - twice - so that, and I’m not in the mood to mince words here, I didn’t have to feel so alone and possibly have sex with her. Now here’s the kicker, my wife isn’t stupid and I know that Kenzi ain’t exactly one to keep details to a minimum. Allison has got to know every sordid thing I did in the view of the public eye. If only she knew the things I did outside of the view of many.
It was only meant to be harmless flirting, something I love doing and something my wife knows that I love doing. It’s harmless and never leads to anything. All it does is impress my wife and it turns her on - she cannot get over how quickly and easily I can woo another woman, how I can knock the ladies down and have them. It makes me feel special, like the only woman that matters in this world. Because while I can have nearly any woman I want, I chose her.
But this time, it got outta hand and well, it isn’t that I don’t want my wife, it’s just that, well, I miss the days of picking up a girl in a bar after a few drinks and some wooing, giving her a good time, and showing her the door. It always made me feel a little less lonely, strong, and confident - a lot confident, actually. It did wonders in that department. It’s hard to explain but when I was able to bring a chick home, I felt somehow bigger and better, capable of anything. Then when I made her climax and scream so loud the neighbors banged on the ceiling, I was victorious and utterly invincible.
I had conquered another woman.
It did wonders for my self-esteem.
Of all the things in this world, I found sex with random girls - who rarely stayed strangers because, well, the gay scene in any city is actually really small and you wind up sleeping with all the same people as your ex or gay BFF which is why I was so happy for the whole emergence of the bisexual phase during the late 90s and early 2000s because it created a whole new aisle in the supermarket - but yeah, I found one night stands, no strings attached sex a major boost. Men did it, why couldn’t I?
Surely it wasn’t an appropriate coping mechanism but I never hated myself for it and I turned out okay. It was the perfect stress release for me and trust me, there was nothing more I needed during my patrol days then to blow off steam. It was safe, it was cheap, and it worked every time. It helped me relax and boosted me when something had knocked me off my feet or a bad guy had found a way to tear me down or something tragic had hurt my soul.
That is probably why I’m looking for it now. Alcohol can only get you so far and while, yeah, it is the medicine of choice to numb me out but it will never raise me back up. I need to feel like a winner again, worth something, admired, wanted. I need to repair my soul.
“So,” Allison says, “you gonna sleep with her?”
I nearly drop the phone.
“...I’m… What do you mean?”
“C’mon, I know you better than that,” she says, her voice perfectly normal and upbeat. I’ve known my wife long enough to know when she’s trying to lure me into a trap and this is not one of those times. “And besides, you’re a terrible liar.”
It takes me a long time to figure it out. The beer I’ve had, the lusting, touching, and kissing has left my brain swimming, and I’m swirling the drain when it comes to composed, logical thought. My brain has gone completely primal and focused on one thing - sex. Ha. All the blood flow has my brain and gone to other regions.
My eyes slowly slide over to the living room and quickly locate Tina. She leans over the back of the sofa, watching me closely, her eyes glassy with desire, and her hair a mess from my hands. The lovely woman wants more of me and this phone conversation is not helping.
Either of us, actually.
For me, it reminds me of what I’m doing - I’m two seconds away from cheating on my wife again because I can’t handle my own inadequacies and need to look to others, not my wife, for the support and healing, that I cannot get the ego boost from the love and admiration of my wife. As they say, distance makes the heart grow fond. In this case, distance makes it harder for me to find the healing I need in the eyes of the one person I should alway find it in.
It isn’t her fault and it isn’t Tina’s. I’d like to say it’s no one’s fault but facts are facts, I’m the one to blame for all this.
“I so but… We’ve been making out,” I answer and instantly feel like garbage. It makes me feel worse than I did before this whole thing. Of course that makes me want to find solace in beer and the arms of Ms. Tina. No one wants to be alone and feel shitty at the same time. It’s a recipe for disaster.
“That’s it?” Allison asks.
“We were playing Madden, the video game, and then we started play-wrestling and she accidently kicked my ankle… She was giving a massage and one thing lead to another and we were making out,” I tell her. “I didn’t… I don’t know why. I stopped it, though.”
Allison says nothing. I just hear her inhale and exhale deeply.
“Peaches?”
“Do you want to sleep with her?” she suddenly asks.
There’s no need to lie here, I’ve come too far. “Yes.”
“Hm,” she says. I can imagine her pursing her lips and looking through tightened eyes at the floor - something she does when composing her thoughts and picking her words perfectly. “How are you feeling?”
“What?”
That’s such a strange question for this particular moment. Physically, there’s a strong pulsating ache between my legs and a tingle in my fingertips. Mentally, a mess. Emotionally, a dumpster fire.
“How are you feeling? I worry about you mentally and emotionally… I’ve never seen you so… You’ve usually gotten over it by now and it’s been way too long now.”
“Honestly?”
“Yes. I’m your wife and you always need to be honest with me.”
“Honestly, I feel like - I just need to get it right. I need to feel like I matter again, that I’m not worthless. I need my confidence back and I don’t know how to do that.”
“Will it make you feel better to sleep with her, AJ?” Allison asks.
“I - I - I’m not sure,” I say then pause. “It’s weird… I wish I could explain it.”
Another pause. More musing from my wife.
“Amy Jo, you have my okay, my permission to have sex with Tina,” she drops. It hits like a bomb, taking the entire city with it, including me. “I love you and I would do anything to make sure you feel better, for you to get well. If this is something, if this a thing that would help you, I’m for it. As long as you don’t love her. You don’t love her, do you?”
I quickly spin myself around, turn my back to Tina.
“No, not even a little,” I quickly say, my voice lowered. “I’m just attracted to her on a - I just want to fuck her.” It sounds so crude but it’s true. It’s nothing more. I found a pretty woman that fell for my charms and I’m ready to turn my sexts into reality, as promised. I have to live up to my reputation and make this girl scream. “I’m honry. She’s horny. I want to turn this woman inside out and feel like a - a…”
“A man?”
There’s a snicker from me. “I guess, in a way. Men always feel strong and powerful when they put their dick into a woman… In a way, it’s the same for me. Just I’m a woman and I’m not sticking… Well, I’m sticking something into a woman but not that.”
“Not even kidding, I’m a little turned on right now,” my wife says.
We share a brief, light laugh.
“Go get her,” Allison says, “and tell me every single detail.”
That makes no sense to me whatsoever. My wife has given me the green-light and has damn near endorsed me having sex with another woman, with a woman she has met and knows. I suddenly feel so thirsty and weak in the knees. It’s exactly what I want but I don’t understand how it can be so - so easy and this undramatic. I figured there’d something more to this.
Perhaps not from Allison, considering she may have never known about my indiscretion and considering how little she knows about my life right now, how hard would it have been to keep it from her? More so from myself. As soon as I hang up this phone, I’m making the woman sitting on my sofa scream.
“Just please don’t do it in our bed, that’s all I ask,” Allison says.
“Of course,” I say, nodding as I answer even though she can’t see me.
“I love you,” she says.
“I love you more,” I answer. “I love you more than you will ever know.”
↼ ⟡ ⇁
I roll over and fall right off the sofa, smack against the hardwood floor.
“Ow, fuck,” I cry out. There is no answer or response. My eyes slowly open. The living room ceiling stares back at me. Shit, I don’t even remember falling asleep but it happened. Memories come flooding back and it sit upright.
Nothing.
There is no avoiding the fact that I haven’t gone on a shirt but it’s harder to explain why I’m still wearing my bra and my pants. Hell, my pants haven’t even been slightly moved off my waist. That makes no sense.
“Tina?” I search the room with my eyes waiting for a response. There is no answer and there are no signs of life whatsoever. “Well, shit.”
After getting my bearings and letting the headache settle in, I lift my sorry ass off the floor using anything that might give me some support. I’m finally standing and seriously wondering where my shirt went but it’s probably not important. That’s when I notice the piece of paper taped to the television. My head falls back in disgust.
“You couldn’t put it somewhere closer? C’mon!”
Limp be damned, I finally make my way there and remove the morning after note. They usually say pretty generic things that I usually don’t care about. I’m not sure if I like them or I don’t but either way, I prefer it when they sneak out after I’ve fallen asleep and we can avoid the whole awkward ‘thanks, it was fun’ conversation.
I wonder if Tina and I snuggled afterwards.
The note is, well, generic. Tina has really nice handwriting, though. Compared to mine anyway. ’I had fun. Thanks for the good time.’ Then a quickly scribbled heart and her name. Oh, there’s a post-script. ’PS I took your shirt.’
I slowly lower the note and look at the television. My shirt? Why did she take my shirt? “Chicks are weird.” I shrug and shake my head. After passing through the kitchen and getting water, I decide I should probably just go back to sleep.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, I remember the shirt I was wearing last night. I spring upright, “No!”
...To Be Continued…
This needs to be asked…
Who the fuck does Mindy think she is? As far as I'm concerned, she can go fuck herself. I tried to be nice to her, I really did, but there's only so far you can go with her type and well, I couldn't even get that far.
That says a lot, because I will pretty much deal with or tolerate anyone. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I'm one of the few people in L.A.W who actually befriended Kenzi. Not many can say that or live to tell the tale.
Mindy has gone and done it, though. She found that sweet spot and left me damn near enraged. Rightfully so, I happen to think. I'm looking for a fight, something I need to get myself back on the right foot and back in form. Yes, my confidence is back, but there is nothing better than defeating an actual competitor to really get going again. Sadly, that ain't gonna happen for me this Sunday.
If this were a couple months ago, I'd say yes with absolute certainty. Now, now she doesn't even care. I cannot stand people like that. I cannot stand people who waste my time. Mindy has already done this once to me. Now it appears she will do it again. I think I have grounds to be pissed off.
I suppose that's a good thing, though. That's a great benefit when one is engaged in a fight. It feeds you, keeps the fuel hot for the fight, gets you revved up, and helps you hit harder and take harder hits. Not that I think Mindy will be hitting all that hard. I'm sure she'll hit me - hell, I want her to hit me. It isn't like her hits will do all that much damage even if she does put some effort forth. But knowing her, she isn't going to put much effort into anything.
Remember, this is beneath her, we're all beneath her. Let's put that in a literal sense, I'll put her beneath me and I'll get the three count after I knock her ass out. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than to turn off her lights and shut her down for good. Whether it be by choke or a good, clean pin, or a hard knockout, it doesn't matter, only that it happens.
And it will happen.
Frankly, I cannot wait to kick her ass and throw her around the ring like the fucking wet blanket she is. Mindy likes to think she's something great but she isn't. That will be proven at Night of Glory. Her second chance will be worthless and it will show that it was wasteful to the ones who gave it to her. I'll show her what happens when people disrespect me and the company I work for.
And to no less extent, the fans.
The fans will get a show, trust me. You guys will get a show. No question about that. I actually give a shit, unlike my opponent. She may go down easy, but I won't stop until I'm satisfied and the message has been sent. Until every fan has an epic fight. As it has been touted as a classic battle - it will be classic because I will make it a classic battle. It should also be noted that I’m back in the ring here and I’m going to use every minute in it to my advantage.
I'm a path to get back to the top and I won't cease until I get there. Ms. Mindy can't do a fuck of a thing to stop me. Maybe she will try, maybe she won't. Either way, it doesn't fucking matter. Look at who you're dealing with, Mindy. You haven't got a fucking chance or a clue. You called me out once before and failed to come through. Now I’m calling you out and I won’t fucking fail.
You know what though, as I think about it, it won't be a complete waste of my time. I'll even out my record, get back to my winning self, and get a little live-simulation training. Yeah, I fucking said it. You're just a training session to me now, Mindy. A punching bag. Someone to help me put on a display of my abilities. Burn off some calories and help increase my endurance.
If you're going to act this way, I'm going to treat you this way. I may have been in the gloomy gutter just weeks ago but, ha, not anymore. With your help, I'm realizing and going to realize there are worse places to be. Like trapped between my legs or looking up at the arena ceiling after the three count. That is not where I want to be and that is not where I'm going to be at Night of Glory.
No, I'm gonna be standing tall, remembering who I am and what I can do, celebrating the victory. Had I stayed in my sadness, had let bullshit get to me, I'd be like Mindy. Don't be like Mindy. Mindy is yucky. Be like Amy Jo. A winner. A fighter. A girl who has never truly given up. A gal who may get knocked down but she gets up again. When she does get up, she's ready to fight. Amy Jo is confident. She's strong. She's willing. She is everything you wanna be.
Mindy is just… Nothing.
I don't want to sound arrogant but let's be serious with ourselves. Mindy is done.
That's just the way it goes.