Ring of Fyre, Chapter 1: Return To The Ring
"And how much more is that gonna cost us?" My husband sighs tiredly into the phone as we sit at our kitchen table looking at the email from the repairman. "... can that be broken into payments?" He shakes his head negatively at me. I guess that was a 'no'. "Well, I suppose we don't really have a choice... go ahead and schedule it.... thanks."
"That bad?" I ask rhetorically after he hangs up the phone. "We'll make it work... we always do, don't we, Jake?"
"That we do, babe.... that we do. I'd just like to not feel like we are always on doin it on a high wire... with no net." He says with a wink and kiss on my cheek.
"I can go back to work... she's almost ten after all." I say, searching for some solution.
"We'd probably end up spending more on child care and gas for your commute." He's probably right between the inflation and gas prices nowadays, but he's not grasping what I really mean by work.
"No... I mean I can start fighting again." His eyebrow goes up. Before he can speak, I continue "Think about it... The fights are at night- almost always on a weekend."
"Kelli, it's been 10 years... you're retired. Do you remember how much it hurt back then? I sure do. Are you sure you want to put yourself through that again?"
"Hey! I'm still in shape... mostly." I say defensively. I have stayed pretty fit all of these years even if I'm not sporting the six pack abs I was in my heyday.
"It's your call and you know I'll back you either way. In the meantime... while you're mulling it over...If you... umm.... need some... ummm... practice, we could go upstairs and roll around... preferably without our clothes on..." Jake says with that little boy grin that I'm usually defenseless against, and I could really go for a good dicking down. After all, we did meet out on the circuit since we were both fighters, and I know just how much he loved to watch me wrestle, but the fun will have to wait until we get this settled.
"Babe.. I'm serious. I've been thinking about it a lot lately anyway. I know I've still got it.... I just need to prove it- and you know I can make pretty good money.... Just imagine the draw of..." I change to my best announcer voice, " The... Return... of... Kelli....The Fyrecracka..... Rooooossssseeeee!" Using my hands to visually simulate my name on a marquee.
"Damn, I have missed you in that outfit.... and watching you fight.... We could really use the money- but only if you want to do it for other reasons. I'll find the money somewhere. There's always more overtime opportunities out there."
"I really do want to do it... I've missed it. I think I just needed the excuse and here it is.... How about I go see if my outfit and boots still fit?..." I can already feel some of the confidence from my fighting days starting to return. I notice my voice taking on a more direct and seductive tone. "I could probably use some help getting it on.... and off... and practicing a few holds wouldn't hurt... especially if we're naked..." I begin to walk towards the bedroom.
I'm 43. Maybe it's a midlife crisis or something, but it's time for me to start taking what I want again. Tonight, I want to fuck my husband. Tomorrow, I want to go pick a fight.
The next morning after getting the kid to school, I decide it's time to pay an old friend a visit. I take a little drive to the Stanton Tree Farm. I have a little history with the owner of the tree farm... and the outdoor ring and stadium just another half mile down a dirt road off of the parking lot.
"As I live and breathe... I never thought I'd see Kelli Rose walk though those doors again!" The big, pale skinned woman in the green apron says smiling as she walks to meet me from behind the counter.
"How've ya been, Agnes....it's been a while, hasn't it?" I say as we exchange a big hug. Standing 5'9" and weighing 200 pounds, Agnes lifts me onto my tiptoes with the hug. It's been 10 years since I last saw 'Big Agnes Stanton'. Even though, I beat her in her own stadium to capture my first championship, Agnes and I always liked and respected one another. Considering the brutal nature of the fights between us, that says a lot.
"It's good to see you, sugar.... I think the last time I saw you.... I was your age." She laughs as we sit down at a table and begin to catch up. Agnes may be in her 50's now and mostly retired from fighting, but she still looks close to the same as I remember her and I'd bet she can administer a good ol' fashioned ass kicking.
We talk for close to an hour, just getting each other up to speed on everything that has happened in our lives for the last 10 years before I get to the real reason for my visit. "Agnes, I want to start fighting again.... I need a match."
The big black haired woman's bright blue eyes twinkle at hearing that. "So.. the Fyrecracka is coming out of retirement, eh?"
"Yes ma'am.... Jake and I need the money... Police work pays pretty well, but life can throw some nasty surprises at you and we sure could use a little more than just his paycheck."
The pale skinned tree farmer chuckles. "How is ol' Jake? I always thought you two were a cute couple. I'm glad to see it worked out. He did strike me as the kind of man that would make a good cop. I bet the health insurance plan is pretty good though.... You'll probably be needing it fighting at your age." She seems to be only half joking. I suppose she would know after fighting at a competitive level through her 40's. "I might be able to get you something for this weekend... but... no offense, but you've been gone a long time, Kelli. I can't just put you in some main event and pay you at that level. That would look bad for both of us. It would have to be something close to the bottom of the card and you know those don't pay very well."
As much as my ego hates to hear it, I know she's right. I have to start over at the bottom. "I completely understand... A few wins and I'll be making both of us money, I can promise you that, Agnes."
"I believe it, sweetie... Just understand, this isn't one of the big money clubs. I'll love to have you but if you want the big bucks, you're going to have to go into Dallas or Fort Worth for that." Her eyes light up with an idea. "You could always call Candace. She owns the Lioness's Den in DeSoto now... That woman hates you... and you know how much they love getting to see blondes there- plus that bitch does love to brag that she is the one that retired you. "
"The thought is tempting... but, honestly, I don't think I should jump into the deep end fighting Candace just yet." Candace White and I had one of, if not the, nastiest rivalry of my career. While she may have gotten the better of me more times than not, I seemed to beat her at the most in opportune moments for her. She also beat me in my last fight before I knew I was pregnant. "And one more thing... She didn't retire me! I got pregnant-" I cut myself off when I realize I might be about to talk myself into something I shouldn't. "I'd rather start here... I trust you Agnes."
Agnes stands up and offers me her hand. "Alright, Fyrecracka... I've got a rookie that needs an opponent- an up and comer that needs a good test... She'll know who you are and wants to make a name for herself.... She's ambitious, she's shown a nasty streak and the crowd loves her for it. I'll send you the paperwork and the specifics when I get them worked out."
"Thanks Agnes... I owe you big time." That went well. Now time to call Jake and have him pull my gear out of storage.
Saturday night is here and so are the butterflies as I sit backstage in the locker room. I'm in the second match and none of the top talent has even arrived yet. I can't say that I recognize even one of the six or so ladies in here. They all look so young... or maybe I've just gotten old. I suppose that's what I'm about to find out.
I look at myself in the mirror of my dressing area as I finish putting the final touches on my makeup- I always found it a bit fun to get to go over the top with my red, white and blue themed makeup. After all, the folks in the cheap seats need to see it, right?
My long blonde hair is in my traditional 'All American' ponytail. My blue wrestling bikini with red and white trim was a little more snug than I remember but still fits after 10 years and one child. Maybe the slightest signs of a muffin top. I'll have to work on that. Blue knee pads and my red boots with blue and white trim finish off the ensemble. It would have been nice to work on my tan. I mostly still look the part anyway.
"There she is!" I here Agnes' voice when she finds me in the locker room. "Let's get a good look at you, Fyrecracka....going with the good old patriotic look tonight? I always thought that suited you."
"I figured it is almost Memorial Day, why not?" I answer, happy that my farmer's tan isn't pronounced enough to earn a comment from the owner of the Stanton Stadium fight arena.
"You look all grown up now... like a woman. I know you were when we fought but I always felt like you were still a kid... didn't fight like one though, did you?.... even took my belt for a bit." She chuckles as she remembers days gone by.
"You got it back... eventually." I say, smiling. Somehow I managed to take 3 out of 5- and even 2 out of 3 in title matches against Big Agnes. Though the fight she won her belt back was a doozy. First time I was ever beaten by being forced to orgasm. That's usually what you do when you want to make a dominant statement in this federation. Which reminds me. "So, C. U. N. T. still uses the same rules?" The 'Catfighters Union of North Texas' or C. U. N. T. name always makes me laugh.
"Of course... Win by 5 count pin, verbal submission, knockout...or..." Agnes gives me a smile making sure I remember that match. "... or making the other bitch cum in front of everyone."
"You bitch!... you're never gonna let me live that down are ya?" I laugh, feigning anger.
"Nope... never.... Might have been my favorite match..." Big Agnes grins.
"Anyway....This Angelica Estrada that you've got me fighting, how's she looking?"
"Ahhh... The Fallen Angel. She's only 23. Been fighting here for about 6 months and she is the illegitimate daughter of a buzzsaw and a pitbull bitch. If you've only lost a step, you'll have your hands full... if you've lost a couple of steps... well... you have retired once already. You beat her, it might not mean too much to a lot of the big wigs, but you will know you've still got it- and that, my friend, is much more important."
As a bit of extra motivation, I am introduced first- showing that I am considered the lesser fighter, or at least, the lesser known fighter. Agnes must remember I do better when I feel like the underdog. It does feel good to hear the announcer introduce me over the loudspeakers. "Introducing first.... making her return to the ring after ten years... standing five foot, six inches tall and weighing in at one hundred thirty-five pounds.... Kelli... The Fyrecracka.... Rose!" A lot of new eyes watching me bounce down the ramp to the outdoor ring. It wasn't anywhere as electric as I remember it but, then again, most of the 500 people here have no idea who I am or was.
I roll into the ring and am greeted by tonight's referee. A petite black woman in her early 30's wearing a black and white striped bikini top and black Lycra leggings. "Welcome back, Fyrecracka.... I'm Deja. I remember seeing you fight here as soon as I was old enough to get through the door. Let's keep it clean and good luck." The woman says cordially as she goes through the customary pat down.
"And her opponent tonight... in the black trimmed with gold.... standing five foot, five inches tall.... coming in at a mean one hundred, forty pounds.... Angelica... The Fallen Angel.... Estrada!" I watch as my opponent confidently strides to the ring. She looks like she's all business, the Latina's brown eyes staring at me as soon as she burst through the curtain and not breaking from the glare as she marches towards me. Long black hair in a high ponytail swings back and forth as she throws punches on her trip down the ramp. She is wearing a similarly cut bikini, but hers is black leather with gold trim, she has matching knee pads and boots, though her boots are taller, touching the bottom of her knee pads. She hops into the ring and begins sizing me up.
While Deja begins her pat down, my opponent stares at me with an indignant smirk on her face. "Ready to retire again, you old bitch?" Angelica growls, before removing her top and revealing a way too perfect pair of slightly larger than mine tits. Fucking bitch and her gravity defying twenty-three year old tits is upstaging me with this dare. Damn things are natural, too. She walks around the ring with her arms outstretched, playing to the crowd and trying to taunt me into taking off my top.
"Take. It. Off... Take. It. Off... Take. It. Off..." the crowd begins chanting. Angelica leading them on with clapping hands.
You gotta be fucking kidding me. "You're mouth is writin' checks your ass is gonna have to cash, little girl." I snap, while reaching back and undoing my bikini top. I can't believe I am doing this. At least the crowd is giving me my due.
"That line is as old you are... bring it, mombod. Let's see what you got!" The Fallen Angel barks back as the referee calls for the bell to start the match and we begin to circle.
Mombod?!?! Fuck this young twat. Do you know who I am? I am the damn Fyrecracka. 3 time C. U. N. T. Champion. That's fucking who! I think to myself as we lock up in the classic collar and elbow tie up.
Flesh on flesh, strength on strength, her body against mine, testing each other. This feels good. I've missed it. The struggle and strain as we each try to overpower the other. The heavier Latina begins to walk me backwards. Slowly gaining the advantage. Then in a flash she twists around, grabbing my wrist and getting me in a standing hammer lock. "YOU... were a champion?..." she scoffs before she drives me forward into the corner. I groan when our combined weight slams me face first into the turnbuckle. Keeping me pinned with my arm twisted behind me, she grabs my hair and smashes my face into the top turnbuckle over and over again as the crowd counts the impacts in unison.
Angelica then whips me to the ground. I'm seeing stars.... figuratively and literally as I stare up at the night from my back on the canvas of the open air arena. The rookie plays to the crowd, strutting around my writhing body.
"Looks like the Fyrecracka's comeback is a dud.." The dark haired woman's boot delivers a couple of stomps to my belly sending me into the fetal position. I don't remember this hurting this badly. What is happening? There's no way this bitch should be kicking my ass like this. I hear myself scream as Angelica wrenches me to my feet with two fistfuls of my blonde hair, now completely pulled out of the original ponytail.
"Time to send this old nag to the glue factory!" Angelica yells to the crowd, scooping me up off of my feet. She pauses for a moment to show her strength by holding me horizontally, our chests mashed together. Then body slams me to the canvas.
I'm flat on my back again. This time with the 'Fallen Angel' on her knees looming above me. She grabs my chin, her bare chest covers mine as she goes for the dominant pin, not bothering to try to hook a leg to help keep me down.
"One!" I hear the referee yell out. Part of me is just happy she is covering me and this could be over soon and she won't hurt me anymore.
"Two!" I can hear the crowd chanting for my younger opponent. I remember how good that felt. What was I thinking? I'm a mom now. I don't have any business being here and this little bitch just proved it in record time.
"Three!" Angelica uses my chin to turn my face towards her. I recognize the look on her face. The one that says that she just kicked my ass. The one that says that she is better than me and I, by God, better look her in the eyes and acknowledge it.
"Four!" I don't know if it was her making me look at her, my competitive spirit deciding to resurface, or just my general stubbornness, but I launch my shoulder skyward off the mat.
The crowd erupts as the count is broken. Angelica glares down at me with contempt. "You are one dumb bitch, aren't you?.... That was your out. Now, I'm really going to hurt you."
She hops to her feet, reaches down and grabs my hair again, pulling me to my knees. This time, I don't hesitate. I fire off a hard right to her stomach just below her belly button. Then another and another. The stout Latina is folded at the waist as I get to my feet. I send a hard uppercut to her jaw, sending her reeling into the ropes.
The Fallen Angel clings to the ropes to keep her feet. She's stunned by my sudden outburst of offense and I can't let it go to waste. I charge her and launch my body towards hers with huge clothesline that sends both of us over the top rope and tumbling towards the grass turf surrounding the ring at Stanton Stadium.
We land hard, first on the apron with me on top. Then falling to the grass, landing on our sides, facing each other as we both writhe on the grass much to the delight of the fans.
We both begin to struggle, trying to get back to our feet. We stop as get to our knees at the same time. I reach out and grab a handful of dark hair as she does the same with my blonde hair. We begin to trade punches and curses as the buzz of the crowd builds. Back and forth we go, taking a punch and answering with one of our own. Neither of us budging or failing to respond with one more punch. We continue the slugfest even after we are both back on our feet.
Angelica is the first to break the stalemate, landing a hard chop to my bare chest that sends me back a step. Instinctively I cover my stinging tit, only to receive a backhand to my cheek that further staggers me.
I fire back with a kick to the younger woman's softer belly. She folds at the waist and with one hand still buried in her hair, I capitalize by using it to slam her face into the ring apron.
My bronze skinned foe drops to her knees from the impact. Clinging to the edge of the apron to keep from falling back to the turf as she moans in pain and rubs her aching face.
I reach down with my other hand and grab the waistline of her bikini. Using my grip on her hair and bottoms I whip her headfirst into the metal steps leading into the ring. The sound of her skull slamming into steel sets off an eruption from the crowd.
For the first time, I can feel them starting to get behind me. I take a beat to get myself back together before turning my attention back to the young Latina now lying on the grass kicking her feet in pain and grabbing her hurting head.
I haul her back to standing by her long, jet black hair. I send a knee to her belly before flinging her back into the ring. Momentum has completely swung and the entire stadium knows The Fallen Angel is the one in trouble now. I crawl back up the apron and am about to slip through the ropes when my hand touches the turnbuckle. I was always a bit of a gambler in the ring when I was young. I suppose I still am, I think to myself as I begin to climb to the top turnbuckle.
The crowd is going ballistic as my foot steps on the top turnbuckle. I begin to stand up. I forgot how unsteady this feels... and, holy hell, it looks so far down as I look at the topless woman still flat on her back. Before I get a chance to have an internal dialogue if I should do this or not, the reckless angel on my shoulder whispers "Fuck it, jump!"
Letting out a banshee like wail, I leap as far and as I high as I can towards the downed and Fallen Angel, targeting her too perfect tits with my own. It's like the world is standing still but for me, floating on the collectively held breath of the now silent crowd. The silent stillness shatters into chaos when I hit my mark, my body landing chest to chest with hers and the audience erupts.
Holy shit! That hurts way more than I remember. I bounce off of Angelica and roll around in pain from the impact of my body onto hers. What in the hell was I thinking? I have to stop listening to my reckless angel. Although, as my head clears enough to look at Angelica, I can't argue with the results. The Fallen Angel looks done for, lying motionless and spread eagle. I'm still barely able to move, but it shouldn't take much. I crawl a few inches towards the woman and drape my arm over her still incredible looking tits. Bitch.
"One!.... Two!.... Three!" The referee shouts and the crowd noise builds. This time there's just as many of them yelling for me as there are shouting for her to kick out.
"Four!!!" I can feel my heart racing as my win first win in ten years is just a heartbeat away. Then, Angelica twists and pulls her shoulder off of the canvas, breaking the count. No! I can't believe it. What's it going to take to put this bitch down?
The crowd begins clapping in rhythm, hoping to will their favorite to her feet first. I don't know if it's age or the demoralization of Angelica kicking out, but we are both struggling and dead even as we both stand at the same time. "Shoulda... stayed... down... Angelica..." I pant out as we square off once more.
"Fuck... you... Kelli.." The Fallen Angel sneers, throwing a big, looping haymaker. I feel her fist graze my ponytail as I duck just in time. The momentum of the punch spins Angelica around, giving me a perfect opportunity to sink my knuckles deep into her belly. The Latina doubles over and is stunned, setting her up for my favorite move.
I pull her over my shoulders and stand up. "No... no.... no..." I can hear the younger fighter plead as she dangles bellyfirst and helpless across the top of my shoulders.
I let out a roar and do a quick hop. Instead of landing back on my feet I tilt sideways. Gravity does the rest, brutally bringing our combined weight back to the mat. Angelica's neck and shoulders absorb the impact as I land on top of her, knocking the breath and whatever fight was left out of her. The Fallen Angel is finished. A lot of people refer to the move as a Death Valley Driver, but I call my version The Bottle Rocket.
I quickly cover my foe, hooking her leg and shifting all of my weight onto my chest as it presses hers to the canvas. "One!.... Two!.... Three!... Four!.... Five!" Deja calls for the bell and I hear it sound as the adrenaline and euphoria of the win makes it easier to stand this time.
Angelica is still writhing in pain by the time the referee lifts my arm and I plant my foot in her chest. I hear "Your winner... by way of pinfall, Kelli.... The Fyrecracka.... Rose!" echo through the night sky along with the applause.
My God, that feels good. The crowd's energy is fueling me now as I make my way around the ring pointing and waving at the new fans I've just made... and hopefully a few of my old ones as well. As much as I thought I missed this, I wasn't close to grasping just how much. Maybe it is a midlife crisis, but I needed this.
I make my way back to the locker room and get showered. By the time I get myself dressed, the effects of the match catch up with me. Everything hurts, but it's a good pain. I earned it and accomplished what I needed to because of it.
Outside of the locker room I see my husband and Agnes talking. "Just keep it mind, Jake... It doesn't pay as much as the women's division, but it still pays-" Their heads snap towards me when the locker room door shuts behind me. They are all smiles when they see me. Jake gives me a congratulatory hug and kiss, telling me how proud he is of me.
"You still put on a great show, Fyre... I thought you might have the shortest comeback in C. U. N. T. history but by the end, we got to see you land, both, 'The Fyrefly' and the 'Bottle Rocket'.... I was a little surprised you didn't finish her with 'Kell on Earth'.... It was nice to see those again." Agnes gives me a big hug. I mean any hug is big when 'Big Agnes' give it to you, but this one was supersized. Then, she produces an envelope stuffed with a good bit of cash. "... Here's your take. We had a great night at the gate and it looks like you were a big underdog in the betting... That worked out for both of us. Here's your take, Kelli."
"Damn it was good to see you like that again, Kell...How did it feel?" Jake says on our way home.
"It felt soooo good.... kinda hurts now, though." I laugh as I answer truthfully. "Was it enough to cover those repairs we needed?" I say as I remember one of the reasons I stepped in that ring tonight.
"That will cover most of it, baby.... You did good. I'm so proud of you..." My husband says with his little grin again. "And... so hard...that damn outfit... My God, you're sexy right now..." He finishes, blushing a little.
I can feel myself blushing as well. I can't deny how turned on I am as well. "Why don't you find a nice deserted dirt road for us.... just be gentle..." I add, remembering how sore my body is after the fight. The cash from my win might have been what we thought we needed but I realize I haven't felt like this in years- so sexy... so alive... so confident and proud- and seeing the way my husband is looking at me again, I know I have to keep doing this. I need it at this point in my life. No, I don't need it. I want it and it's time I take what I want.
