The Art of the Deal

Originally, she thought to ignore the email.

Taylor Parrish had pursued her dreams of wrestling halfway around the world and now held spot on the roster of the world's biggest wrestling promotion. Surely she had no temptation to return to the side jobs - more like odd jobs - that had kept her from going broke while she had headlined her middling promotion back home in Canada.

And yet - she did. Sometime over the past few years, session wrestling had become less an odd job to her and more a hobby, and she hadn't realized it until now. There was something so decidedly underground and flattering about someone calling her up for an intimate one-on-one match, and Taylor couldn't resist the pull even with the promise of worldwide fanfare before her. The prospect gave her a little thrill. Close-quarters tussling would always have its appeal.

She had eyed the email in between visits to AFW headquarters for the better part of two days before she finally decided that she would respond. The man who had sent it, presumably Japanese given his alias and his on-and-off grasp of English, had nothing but kind words, specific requests about what she would bring and be prepared to do (she hated the guessing game), and a healthy handful of Japanese Yen to spend on his three-hour session. Plus, he was a longtime fan of her small-time videos, by the sound of it. The more he and Taylor had talked through their emails, the more appealing the arrangement had become, and eventually, she had dropped all pretenses of reluctance given her new job and decided she would fulfill his request. Besides, she had never wrestled a Japanese man before - the closest had been an Asian-American young lady who had tried introducing Taylor to "shibari." Interesting, yes, but not something a woman could learn in three hours.  

With a bag of assorted gear that she had only bothered to unpack a few hours before (moving was such a chore) that would let her change out of the unassuming jeans-and-t-shirt ensemble she wore to avoid drawing attention, Taylor strode into the hotel where the session would be held and checked with the man at the front desk about the arranged room number before she made for the stairs and up. She made it a point not to have any assumptions about the people she would meet when she was asked for one of these secretive matches, and she had too much experience to be nervous. There was always the potential for a problem - a problem in the form of an unscrupulous man or woman who happened to be thinking about something besides wrestling for the afternoon.

That was why she had the taser in her bag, but fortunately, she had never pulled it out. Any problem individuals usually calmed down when Taylor squeezed or bent them with all her might.

It was with confidence, then, that she strode up to the door and gave it a few loud knocks. A few seconds later, footsteps neared the other side of the door, and Taylor wore a bright smile to greet the man who appeared. He was an inch shorter than the blonde in flip-flops, plainly middle-aged, and on the borderline between somewhat muscular and somewhat chubby. This all made him a familiar sight, and seeing him widened Taylor's smile.

A smile that faltered when she was sure she saw another figure looming just behind him. A blonde, tailored eyebrow lifted in confusion before she succeeded in greeting him. "Oh! Taylor! You here right on time. Come, step in, come."

Devine really wanted to ignore this email.

She’d never been what anyone call the industrious sort. Oh, she liked money well enough. Loved it. But what she didn’t like was having to work for it, and she made a point out of getting as much of it as she could with the minimal effort. As a lieutenant in the Valkyries, she had done pretty well with that. When she wanted something done, she could always get one of their lower members to do it for her. Sometimes a little coaxing was involved - threats if they were straight, empty promises if they weren’t - but she always got what she wanted.

Not lately, though. Tension had been in a bit of a slump lately, which meant less matches were coming in, which meant that the Valkyries’ position was on the wane, which meant that her main source of income, which meant that she had to find some alternate source of income to keep things going, which meant that she had to fall back on old mainstay: session matches.

She’d done it before, back before she joined the Valkyries and needed a steady job, and on the surface it seemed like a simple thing for her. She loved to wrestle. She loved to beat up men. Getting paid to beat up men should’ve been up Devine’s alley.  But that was the thing: she liked to dominate on her terms. Doing it to a man’s specifications always felt unnatural.

So, when she re-opened her listings and got an offer from one of the most specific, overly eager clients she’d ever dealt with, she was initially turned off...until she got a better idea of the yen he was flashing her way. Azuma Nanakase was a man who didn’t skimp.

Eh. Screw it. Three hours wouldn’t hurt.

A few days later, and she was at the hotel room he’d asked her to meet, wearing her short-short blue jeans and her black tanktop, along with her calf-high biker boots. Devine would’ve been happy to strip down into the black two-piece that he’d wanted her to wear for this, but there was only one problem: he asked her to wait. He didn’t say what for, but it became clear enough when another woman came inside.

If Devine had to pick three words to describe this new chick, she’d go with ‘extremely hot blonde’. One of the hottest she’d seen since coming to Japan, despite the fact that the AFW was full to bursting with them. Nice, long legs, shimmering hair, full body from head to toe. Smoking.

She also look ever-so-slightly familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

Distracting. But not enough to distract Devine from the realization that was starting to dawn on her. After a second of gawking, her eyes centered on the bag the blonde had, and then she turned her full attention to Azuma and pointed straight at her, glaring holes in his head. ”Explain.”

”Well, see,” He snickered and moved between him, looking sheepish, like he’d never been in the room with two beautiful women at the same time. Which might not have been too far from the truth, really. ”Devine, this is Taylor...Parrish?” He spoke like he wasn’t quite sure if he nailed the pronunciation. It sounded more like ‘Paris’, so Devine guessed he got it wrong. ”And I now I didn’t mention this before, but now that you’re here...I’ve got a proposal for you both.”

Devine just stared at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for the explanation and occasionally glancing Taylor’s way.

Taylor's confusion burgeoned into outright bewilderment as she did as the client requested and stepped inside to see that there was indeed someone else waiting inside, and that the mystery occupant was another woman.

She could have slackened Taylor's jaw by way of her appeal if the blonde hadn't already been flabbergasted and agape.

One glance from the stranger's head to her toes revealed a gorgeously dusky complexion, long dark hair, and the kind of curves that made other women jealous. Taylor tried to recover her thoughts enough to cobble together a greeting for someone so striking, but she couldn't quite manage. Instead, with her bag slipping from her shoulder to dangle down to the floor attached to a limp arm, she worked the cogs of her brain to start putting two and two together - not the most difficult thing when she noted the fit frame that poured from the woman's tiny shorts and tanktop. She was a wrestler herself, wasn't she? Session or otherwise.

When the woman asked that Azuma explain and gestured to her, Taylor's blue eyes cut to the man like knives.

His explanation diffused none of her growing irritation. This was going to be that not-so-mythical problem session, wasn't it? Her first. "This had better be good," she warned, and the man looked close to sweating in spite of the wide, gleeful grin that he was wearing.  

There were explanations, but all of them proved equally frustrating. If he had wanted a joint session, he should have said something about it. He had been so specific about everything else, down to what he had wanted her to wear and what kind of holds interested him.

And sadly, a joint session would have been the least concerning explanation...

It was not the one he offered. "You see...", he began, maybe stalling for time as the ee rolled off his tongue. "I'm a big fan of both of you, and I love women's wrestling. I was so very happy both of you are in Japan now, so I was wanting... Both of you wrestle, and I watch, and I pay the money I said in the emails to the woman who defeats the other one. You do your best for me and get paid! Plus a bonus. Maybe, if finisher is good and sexy."

Taylor dropped her bag halfway through his explanation, and by the time he was done, she glared at him with fists balled at her side. He apparently caught the fire in her eyes, with the way his hands started to fidget, but the beat she afforded him to take back everything he had just said, he didn't utilize. "You-", she bit, but if he was ballsy enough to lure a couple of women into a session with a lie about their pay, her words would be lost on him.

She turned instead to the woman who suddenly had potential as her new best friend. "Did I hear that right?"

Oh, hello there.

Even with all the bullshit going on, all the craziness that she’d walked into, Devine couldn’t help but notice the other woman’s eyes. They were blue, and not even the normal kind, but the haunting, glowing shade that seemed to light up in the dark. Most importantly, she couldn’t help but notice that those eyes were looking at her. All of her. It was brief, but Devine knew when she was being checked out.

Something to put a pin on. Make a mental note. For now, her primary concern was on her money. Taylor asked for his explanation to be good, and unfortunately, it was absolutely not.

As he spoke, Devine leaned back against his kitchen table and drummed her fingers over the motorcycle helmet she’d sat there, thinking as he gave his tortured answer. A joint session? She didn’t mind that. Hell, she even preferred it - she didn’t get to wrestle with women nearly enough these days. Men were the easier marks, but her fellow ladies made for the more interesting scuffles.

What she did mind, however, were lies. At least, lies that she wasn’t telling.

When he was done, Taylor addressed her, and she looked back with narrowed slits, sharing the anger for a hot moment. ”Yeah,” She sneered Azuma’s way. ”You did indeed.”

Azuma’s English was so-so, but it seemed like he was starting to pick up the language of faces. His expression darkened when he turned her way and saw the glare coming down on him. ”De Vine-”

”Devine. One word. Devine.” She ran a hand over her chin, thinking for a moment, pondering options. It was tempting to just cut her loses and leave, but that meant leaving her money. She could alway do what he wanted and beat Taylor for it, but she didn’t like the message that sent. Next thing she knew, her other clients would want to throw in surprise shit like this. A precedent had to be set.

But it wasn’t like she could call the cops. This sort of thing wasn’t exactly an officially recognized enterprise. No contracts. Word of mouth.

”You know what?” A wry smirk came across her face, as an idea struck her. ”We came here for a session, right?” Devine started to lift her tanktop, revealing her toned body, the tight bikini across her chest, and the flowered tattoos at her side. ”Let’s have a session.”

Funny how it had taken her traveling across the world, once she had finally hit the big time, to run into her first genuine bastard in the sessioning world.

Damn her for responding to that email.

At least Devine sneered at Azuma with the same irritation - it provided Taylor some reprieve to know that she hadn't been the lone one tricked in this situation and that she wasn't the only one who thought their client could shove his ideas up his ass if he wasn't going to pay both of them. What didn't comfort her was knowing that, should they demand that they both get paid, he wouldn't have both their pay with him, anyway, since this arranged "private match" for his entertainment had clearly been his only plan all along.

Taylor threw her head back and growled under her breath. Why did this have to happen now, when she was here because she thought it might be fun to please a few fans on the side? This was the last session she was ever going to book. This jerk had ruined it for every other man (and the few ladies) who wanted their own three hours with Taylor Parrish in the future.

With the only clear option, in her mind, being to walk out and leave this asshole with a wasted day of his own, Taylor turned to tell her fellow woman good luck and make for the door. Devine, however, interrupted that plan, with her rhetorical questions and the smug smile she wore.

And with the way she whisked off her top to reveal a sculpted set of abs as stunning as the rest of her and a femininity barely contained by her dark top. That definitely stopped the blonde in her tracks.

Devine, huh? Yeah, that name fit her, as Taylor's attentive eyes would testify.

Was she proposing that they do this? Any other time, the prospect of a match with a woman like Devine would have appealed to Taylor. Hell, she wouldn't have cared if Azuma had honestly crafted this arrangement and offered to pay both of them, with an incentive for the winner. Now, with their dastardly company watching, she was not quite as intrigued. Quite - Devine looked more like a wrestler than anyone Taylor had wrestled in Canada or in her various adventures in wrestling on the web. It was still tempting...

But as Taylor's icy eyes met with Devine's more exotic ones, she couldn't discern what the other woman was planning, but she had a distinct suspicion that it was something unpleasant for their client.

One more glance at Devine's sculpted figure, however, reminded her that it didn't exactly matter. She wanted to follow suit. "Oh yeah?"

Forgoing any need for gear, requested or otherwise, Taylor prised her own shirt from her torso. A brimming red swim top crossed her chest - one she had favored for all her sessions - and its matching partner was revealed to be hugging her hips when her fingers made their way down to unfasten her jeans. No woman should be made to wrestle in jeans.

Once they were crumpling to the floor, she glanced back to Devine with her hands on her hips, pretending their client didn't exist. "I'm ready if you're ready, Devine," she announced, sensual in her emphasis on the other woman's name. "Tell me what you're thinking."

The more Taylor spoke, the more Devine started to realize where she recognized this woman from. She'd seen her in a mixed wrestling video before - she couldn’t quite remember which one, but she was sure of that. And if her glimpses of memory were correct, it had been a particularly good one.

Definitely a question she’d be asked Taylor once they got things ironed out. For now, though, back to business.

Devine hadn’t taken her top off to make the blonde stay, though she was glad that she had that effect. While letting Taylor leave and working to claim the money herself would’ve been the more lucrative option, her proposal involved them both, and she was in a rare mood to share. Besides, it was rare for Devine to meet someone with similar tastes, and she wanted to see how far they went.

Taylor was a woman who could take a hint, it seemed, as she took off her top a moment later in the same fashion, revealing the sculpted figure underneath. She was well-made, beyond the standard for session wrestlers in Devine’s experience. While the profession had its fair share of former bodybuilders and musclegirls, many of the women she was familiar just maintained the bare minimum needed to make a halfway decent domme, working out their legs enough to execute a passable scissorhold and little else.

Taylor, on the other hand, was the full package, a fact made clear as she took off her jeans as well. Legs? Long and sinuous. Chest? Bountiful, but not quite to the point of being a burden, full and natural. Hips? Slender and tight, with just enough skin. They begged to be touch.

Azuma had good taste, she would give him credit for that much. Judging from the way he was obliviously oogling them, though, he wasn’t too sharp in other mental areas.

Devine kicked off her shoes and slid her hot-pants off, revealing what little of her legs she’d been hiding before - all the way down to her recently pedicured toes, which she’d gotten done specifically for this. Another sore point. ”He wants us to wrestle, right?” She subtlely sauntered over to Azuma, never taking her gaze off Taylor - until she spun about, moved behind him, and caught the struggling man in a tight chokehold from behind. Which just so happened to be on his list of things he didn’t like. Oops.

”So let’s wrestle.”

Here they both stood, stripped down before this man who deserved to see nothing but the door closing behind them, but Taylor held faith that Devine schemed something that would be much more pleasing for the two of them than the bastard in their company.

The blonde watched - closely - as the dark-skinned eyeful removed what little of her clothing remained, and Taylor's only reaction was to step out of her pile of clothing and closer to the magnetising figure that was her fellow session wrestler in a two-piece. There were some fascinating and gorgeous women on the circuit, to be sure, and if nothing else, this crooked arrangment provided her with the chance to meet the one cutting a jaw-dropping figure beside her. Azama's fandom wasn't misplaced.

Taylor wanted to forget he was still nearby, surely leering. Still she refused to spare him a single glance - the other half of her company was so much more pleasant.

And it was Devine that she watched, bathed in curiosity, as the other woman strode away. Judging by her tone and with the way she was plainly closing the gap on their so-kind client, Taylor's suspicions became clearer and clearer, and her lips curved deeper and deeper into a knowing smile, until Devine had their man by the neck.

She liked this woman.

But she did pause before she acted. Not once had Taylor "attacked" any of her clients - yes, she had attacked them, but only to the degree that they requested. Never maliciously, though she may have pretended, and never if they asked that she stopped or  if they started to sound as if that scissorhold that she had locked in was going to start causing permanent jaw damage. She stuck to a predetermined script, and it was all about fun for wrestler and client.

But Azuma, here - Azuma had abandoned the script himself. And technically, her script involved her delivering a thorough punishment to his person. A more wicked smile graced her pretty features. "Yes...let's."

She strode over to the struggling pair with a purpose. That purpose was to send a solid jab into Azuma's gut - just hard enough to get him to grunt through the chokehold - that immediately felt so very satisfying. Just punches, however, wouldn't do. "Haul him to the mats, would you?" Taylor requested of her new ally, all the while roughly batting away the man's flailing arms and ignoring his weak complaints.

It was clear, right away, why Azuma had wanted to have them fight each other instead of wrestling one of them himself - the man had nothing going much going on physically.

Granted, few of her clients would be much good in a real fight with real moves and a real opponent - it was about fantasy, after all, and if they wanted a true-to-life beating from a woman, there were far cheaper ways to make that happen. But of them had at least some strength going on, enough to make for a halfway decent match to watch. Even though they were the ones paying, Devine preferred her clients to have some fight.

Not Azuma. Devine, while fit, was by no means strong by any real measure, but she had little trouble keeping him in line as he thrashed about, ineffectively trying to get himself free of the mess he’d put himself in. Kind of pathetic, really, and it made her feel a little guilty about taking out her frustrations on him. Not enough that she wouldn’t do it, of course, but there was a slight pang of regret.

She was willing to bet Taylor was feeling it, too. After all, while there weren’t any written rules for this thing they did, if there were, attacking a client would’ve been near the top. Then again, hiring two women on false pretenses would’ve been above that, so Devine felt it all evened out.

Any doubts faded away when the women gave him a decent jab, one that looked like it didn’t hurt Azuma nearly as much as his gaping mouth let on. ”Oh, don’t be a baby.” She gave his neck a quick twist, knocking some more fight out of him as she dragged him over to the mats. It wasn’t the hardest task, really, so easy that she could make polite conversation as she did it.

”So, you look awfully familiar.” As they reached the mats - an admittedly nice, wide space of black mats that he’d set up in the living room - she kicked his legs out from underneath and dropped him flat on his butt, following up with a swift punt to his side to make him move towards the center. ”You’ve been in videos, right?”

She spared a quick, flirty glance Taylor’s way, before noticing that Azuma had some oils sitting on a counter nearby. What all did he think was going to be happening here?

A baby. That was precisely the way Taylor would describe this client, and she fixed Devine with a smirk once the other woman had said it. "He's already being a manchild...degrading into a baby is the obvious next step." Hovering their pay between the two of them to tease them into fighting over it like dogs over scrap of raw meat, and it was all so he could get his way and fulfill a fantasy that he didn't have the guts to admit to in his emails.

Maybe it wasn't that Taylor would never agree to another session - she would only add to her list of rules that no babies contact her.

She pried Azuma's hand from Devine's forearm just before the other woman deposited him on the mats. Though she planned to tear into him - only with the holds he had requested, of course - Devine's words compelled her to pause before acting. Expectantly she searched Devine's hazel eyes (as if she needed their fascinating color in addition to all her other attractive features) for understanding, though she suspected she could expect where Devine might have seen her, if she was a session wrestler.

And, she was right. By Devine's expression, Taylor might guess the other woman enjoyed her videos, and she provided a coy smile and the shrug of one shoulder. "I may have been in a few." It was rather flattering that Devine recognized her. Taylor believed herself more memorable and talented than most in the field, who tended to range from pretty faces with a fetish background and no actual skill to muscle queens who made a living out of flexing and crushing, but that didn't mean blonde-haired women with a few curves weren't a dime a dozen in the niche online wrestling world. She enjoyed the thought that Devine had been watching a few of her videos so closely that she would know her face.

"And what videos of mine have you seen?", Taylor asked, only distracted long enough to stop a crawling Azuma with a solid shove from her foot into his shoulder. This was not enough to completely deter him, and as he started to whine something about wanting to record a video of them for yet another monetary bonus, Taylor had heard enough and covered his mouth with the sole of the same foot. She pressed down with a practiced amount of pressure, to threaten but not harm, and stared down with a finger to her lips. "Shush, would you? We're trying to have a conversation here."

Ah, Devine knew her memory wasn’t off. She never forget a face, especially when that face was attached to such striking hair, such a fulsome body, with those azure eyes peering out from the middle of it. While it was certainly true that there was no shortage of blondes in the wrestling world - the AFW had a ridiculous overabundance of them for a Japanese company - it was rare to see one with such a complete package. With a body like that, Taylor could’ve found a ticket anywhere she liked.

Which made her all the more curious how their paths had crossed here, of all places. Questions for a more serene moment, perhaps.

As she went to work with his head and upper body, Devine dropped down and decided to use the moment to do a little experimenting, trying out a move that she’d only thought about using before. As he kicked about, she sat beside him and shot her legs out, capturing the nearer one between her own thighs and crossed her ankles. From there, it was a simple matter of applying pressure with a scissorhold, just with one that wasn’t aimed at the usual target - not squeezing his head or his waist, but crushing his own legs with both of hers. Cutting off the circulation, smashing the muscles, numbing everything below.

It was a move she’d only seen one other wrestler use, and she was curious to see how effective it was. Just going off the way Azuma’s squirming doubled and the muffled shrieks coming from underneath Taylor’s foot, the results were promising.

With a lilting giggle, she turned her attention back to her potential friend, smiling up at her. ”I seem to remember liking the ones you did with the Riot Girls. They were always a little too fake for my tastes, could never quite sell the moves, but it always seemed legit when you were involved. I could tell that you actually knew how to do the moves, that you weren’t just copying something you saw on Youtube. Appreciate that touch.”

A small thing, perhaps, but Devine always loved authenticity when it came to her wrestling videos. Too many women in their profession thought some glorified pillow-fighting on a bed was enough to get by.