Las Vegas Rules

 

by Belial

 

The MetWest billiards room was probably the warmest chamber in the downtown building. Oak paneled, long windows with rich velvet curtains, a six tiered bookcase lining the gentle oval perimeter. Dominating half the room: a turn of the century snooker table with ornately carved lion's legs. Scattered about the other half: miscellaneous furniture, leather and wood, and a bar in the corner. The permanent odor of tobacco and fine brandy mixed not unpleasantly in the air.

 

"How did he find you?"

 

"Hell if I know. Cady knows a lot of people."

"You should have told us Paula. I could have taken care of this."

 

It wasn't unusual to entertain non-club members in special challenge situations. It was common for men like Cady Porter to own a fighter the way one might own a thoroughbred, or a racing yacht. The circumstances of this bout were perhaps more lurid than most, but having your girl compete at the Met was a time honored test for those in the game. The fact that Cady Porter had hunted Paula down with Ahab-like patience and had such a personal stake in seeing her beaten merely added spice to an otherwise routine occurrence.

  

"You ever heard of a Vegas rules bout, John?"

  

"I'm really more of a Blackjack guy Paula."

 

John Chance and six other members of the Met club inner circle stood at the bar ­ scotch and cigars all around. Julie Helman, as treasurer and manager of the Met West trust sat at a small table with her laptop ­ she would handle wire transfers and oversee the betting. Paula sat at the bar in a clingy red cotton tank top and panties, starkly out of place with the formally attired club members. Her foot bounced anxiously against the bottom rung of her stool while she and the rest waited for her former patron to arrive with his new wrestler.

  

"She's fresh off the beach. I'll beat her."

  

"I think you're a good bet Paula, don't get me wrong. I just don't pretend to know you very well."

  

"Who's fault is that?"

  

"Yes. Well. I don't want to be the mark here."

  

"Trust me."

 

The door opened. Cady Porter entered, a big blonde in tow. She was dressed to counter Paula in a baby blue cotton tank and panties. Members of John's syndicate gave him a glance: Leigh-Anne was no cupcake. The blonde's stupid blue eyes glared with menace across the room at her opponent; thin lips curled into a mean smile. The look brought back memories for Paula: countless beach parties, countless young, athletic opponents; crisp, violent beatings either beneath a searing sun or beside the roar of a nocturnal bonfire. Girls went hard on one another at the beach, treated each other shabby. It had been a looong road from the sand, to the strip, to the cloistered civilization of the Met. It was a road Paula had no intention of ever revisiting.

  

"I left him ­ I took some stuff that didn't belong to me. End of story."

  

"He's going to a lot of trouble. He's confident."

  

"He thinks he knows my game. He doesn't"

  

"He knew you well enough to know you'd accept."

 

Cady's big, broad face stretched into a salesman's grin ­ laugh lines gouging out from the corners of his eyes and mouth as he approached the members, "Bourbon straight boys and keep 'em comin!" Right away he introduced himself with a big man's confidence, slapping backs, cracking jokes as though he'd known these men all his life. His shocking white hair, glaring white suit branded him an outsider amongst the somber black tie crowd. John's wiry frame and dark features couldn't have offered a better contrast as the men shook hands. Cady handed Julie a bank card and passwords with a wink. She immediately transferred his funds to an account at her firm with no compliance officer in sight.

 

"Paula darlin'. By God you're a good lookin' woman." Cady drawled, all shark teeth and marble eyes, but he meant every word. Paula was as beautiful as any woman at the club ­ thick, dark, shoulder length hair ­ high arching brows ­ heartbreaking doe eyes ­ regal cheekbones; Cady couldn't disguise his ill will towards the woman, but he gave credit where credit was due. "I'm excited. You excited? It's just like old times ain't it?"

 

"Just like." Paula answered. If she were intimidated, she didn't show it. She stared up at Cady's looming form without flinching. They held each other's gaze long enough to make the rest of the room uncomfortable.

 

"Leigh honey?" Cady asked without turning to the blonde, his dancing eyes still searching Paula's face. "Would you do me a favour? Would you kick this girl's ass for me?"

 

"My pleasure Cady." Leigh-Anne said from across the intimate room. Her voice was high and soft ­ unexpected from her brassy appearance. She strutted onto open carpet, panties trembling with every step.

 

"Much appreciated." Cady chuckled as Paula pushed past him, and without formal ado ­ the match was on.

 

Paula's edge was her experience with technical wrestling and the Club's mandatory policies. Cady's tactic of importing young women from southern Californian beaches worked well in Vegas, where the taste for fist fighting was strong, and cocktail waitresses or showgirls were happy to engage in mindless slugging. At the Met however, Leigh wouldn't be allowed to employ such vicious means to the end. She'd have to earn everything she took from Paula tonight, and Cady's knowledge of the old Paula wouldn't be all that relevant either. It was still a gamble, but there seemed to be enough of a house advantage that John and his friends couldn't resist backing their brunette.

 

But the blonde cut an impressive figure. Leigh was taller than Paula, looked stronger, and her long, lithe legs were tight with runner's muscle. Her arms started thick at the shoulder, curved over a fine, smooth bicep and tapered into long wrists, large hands. Paula was more compact, broader shouldered, fuller breasted, and no woman had a finer backside or more curvaceous legs, but the square-up looked uncomfortably even to the Club bettors. Both women had the obvious sex appeal that all beach girls had, but whereas Paula could inflect her look with wholesome charm, or haughty disdain ­ Leigh was only ever going to be the sum of her parts: long straight blonde hair; sparkling blue eyes; pouty mouth; dark tan; leggy. She had been hearing about Paula for over a year now, knowing that Cady constantly compared her to the memory of the brunette. She had all sorts of reasons to humiliate Paula tonight.

 

As they stepped to one another, one could see the telltale differences in approach. Leigh instinctively closed her stance like a boxer, pointing her left shoulder at Paula and bouncing lightly to her left. Paula was square, flat footed, looking only for the lock up: she had become a pure grappler. She patiently cut down the room, walking Leigh down, until the blonde had no choice but to reach in. The moment Leigh's palms pushed up on Paula's shoulders, the brunette had her.

 

Leigh grunted as Paula snagged a wrist, twisted, jerked the left arm straight, then folded it up against the blonde's backbone. Leigh hopped on one foot as Paula tweaked the half nelson, then the girls stood back to front in the center of the room ­ Leigh grimacing, confused ­ Paula chewing her bottom lip, keeping the pressure on.

 

John lifted a finger to Julie to up his ante: she clicked the quaint ebony knobs of an abacus to keep track. Cady immediately met the bid. Each betting increment was 25k after the Vegas fashion. Failure to meet the opponent's bid ended the fight as surely as a submission, and it was Paula who first recognized the importance of this detail. Vegas brawls were over quickly ­ there was usually only time for a couple of raises before the verdict was pounded out. At the Met, a man could lose a fortune with bouts lasting upwards of an hour. Paula's plan was to carry Leigh, draw the blonde out, draw Cady in, and give the big man a beating he'd never forget.

 

Leigh-Anne found herself under constant, systematic attack. Paula worked first on the arms, locking up with armbars, straining the blonde's meaty shoulders, tugging her around the room, making sure Leigh could never set her feet. Leigh was able to break holds with pure strength, but that was exactly what Paula wanted her to do. The brunette would simply walk her foe down, initiate and win a flurry of pushing, seeking hands, then triumphantly pull on a captured limb as Leigh grew increasingly frustrated. Paula took rests on her girl, standing in front while tying up the blonde's arms behind her, forcing the girl to constantly struggle in various contorted positions. The blonde's lips pulled back from her glaring white teeth. John, acting on behalf of the members, raised his bid to over $100,000 with a succession of silent gestures. Cady's face was getting red.

 

The one sided action was getting to Porter. He winced and swore as Paula slung Leigh into a standing full nelson ­ the blonde's breasts jutted out towards the assemblage as Paula heaved back, drawing a cry from Leigh's lips. Paula's happy face could be seen over the blonde's shoulder. Cady bellowed, "C'mown Leigh!" as John dutifully raised. Leigh's face twisted in discomfort as Paula worked her back and neck. The brunette seemed capable of taking her girl to carpet and finishing at any time, but she continued to break Leigh down bit by bit. She was content with control, not victory. Not just yet.

 

Paula wanted the blonde's body next. She snuggled in from the front, the sides, in behind, hugging up and hoisting Leigh onto her toes with a series of brutal wrenches. Leigh was looking punchy, shopworn, her fine blonde hair spilling across her eyes, her mouth open more often than not, expressing one hurting indignation after another. Paula rested her cheek on the blonde's rounded shoulders, gritting her teeth on occasion, but looking relaxed, almost at play as her smooth, muscular arms worked the ribcage. As Leigh staggered about the room, unable to counter or evade, she began to whine, lolling helplessly against Paula, and offering less and less resistance. John pushed Cady to a quarter of a million dollars over the several minutes it took for Paula to put Leigh wobbly butt with the constant pressure. Vengeance for the brunette was at hand.

 

And then Cady held up 3 fingers ­ 75k.

 

And the fight got interesting.

 

Paula had Leigh from behind, riding the blonde's waist with a hug, when Leigh hooked the elbow, spun Paula off balance and snared her in a side headlock with the ease and grace of a Tai-Chi movement. Suddenly Paula was cinched up, hands groping mindlessly for a moment as she stumbled in her foe's grip. Leigh-Anne shook her glossy mane and smiled, giving Paula a nice firm pump. The blonde had plenty left in the tank.

 

John knew Paula was crafty enough to give Leigh some innings and promptly answered Cady's bet. It had been part of the plan all along to make Leigh look good ­ really sell it ­ once Paula had taken some of the steam out of the girl. So when Leigh started paying Paula back in kind, working the arms, the back with deliberate care, John kept up his own assault on Cady's wallet. To his credit, the big man showed no fear. With his girl in charge, his toothy grin returned, and he pounded back the Jack with gusto.

 

Both girls lathered up slick, the tank tops bunching up to reveal shiny backs, flat, toned tummies, and waistbands that cut into tanned hips as the bodies slapped and struggled together. On their feet, the women bodied up, each trying to walk the other back, and Leigh was doing the leading. Paula's legs quivered as Leigh-Anne bulled her in a meandering path around the room ­ more than once scattering the bettors as the fight careened from wall to wall. John and Cady remained cool, but the same could not be said for the members of the club syndicate. Paula was making Leigh look good all right. Maybe a little too good. As Leigh looped her leg around Paula's and somehow sunk in a standing abdominal stretch, Paula wasn't the only one in the room who gasped. At half a mill, although the loss would be pro-rated amongst them, some of the members would feel it. Paula groaned as blondie dug her elbow into the brunette's burning obliques. Leigh-Anne's smile was dazzling.

 

The fight spilled to the ground and new electricity shot through the bodies of the participants. A bout could be won outright on the carpet, and both girls struggled for position with frenzied energy. Red on blue, blue on red - the women tumbled, each trying to ride a leg up over a hip, or tie up the head and arms of the opponent. As they rolled to a stop, Paula lay on top, but Leigh's legs circled her waist and the blonde smiled as the brunette struggled to pin Leigh's arms. Slowly, Leigh won out, folding Paula's face to her breast, grinning at the ceiling as the brunette pushed and strained, held tight about her head, shoulders and midsection. Cady raised a finger and winked at Julie. John swallowed, and hit the bid.

 

Suddenly, Leigh cried out and recoiled beneath Paula. The brunette, getting to all fours, breathed "I'm sorry," pushing her way up off the blonde as Leigh rolled to her side. Paula snapped her trunks into place and looked down as Leigh's hands covered her crotch ­ the blonde writhing from her side to her back and so on. Nobody had seen a thing. Paula got to her feet, breathing heavily as Leigh moaned softly on the carpet.

 

Julie said, "Five minutes," acknowledging the accidental nature of the foul. Cady went to attend his girl. John beckoned for Paula with a raised finger.

 

"Look at me." John said. Paula, hands on her hips, lifted her head, puzzled at the request. John kept his voice low, and the two stood apart from the crowd. "What's going on?"

 

"Relax John, I..."

 

"Are you working with Cady?" Paula couldn't answer immediately. She stared, stunned, up into John's bland, expressionless face.

 

"Are you working with Cady?" John repeated.

 

"No. I am struggling. She's better than I thought, but I can handle her."

 

"I thought you said Cady..."

 

"I know. But she's good. She knows what she's doing."

 

"What do you want us to do?"

 

Paula looked over at Leigh. The girl still winced in pain, putting a hand on the bookshelf to steady herself as she stood. "Keep betting the fight. I'll carry her to a million, then put her down."

 

John stared into Paula's beautiful face, searching for the truth. Then he turned and went back to the bar for another Chivas.

 

When the action resumed, the girls set down to the grim task of taking each other apart. It was heartless give and take, with each girl getting her chance to torment and suffer in turn. John remained impassive, answering bids robotically, but never raising. Something was wrong. Leigh-Anne's poise, her skill ­ it was as if she had been wrestling at the Met for years. And how had Cady found Paula? The Met wasn't exactly public domain, yet the man had approached John at his office with the offer, bypassing the girl altogether. It reeked of a set up, but every instinct he had told John that Paula was working for him, not against him.

 

Toe to toe ­ Leigh was just too strong. Paula wailed on her back as Leigh sat up pretty, scissoring up the brunette's left arm and working the wristlock. Paula pushed at the insolent hip that pressed against her cheek - her luscious, curvy legs kicking and churning at the floor. Leigh-Anne's smile was starting to look permanent as she poured it on.

 

The action had slowed to a workmanlike pace. Leigh would torture Paula on the carpet, then pull her heavily to her feet to keep changing up on the brunette. Paula's limbs looked heavy, and her usually sure footwork was wandering as the blonde pushed and pulled her at will. When the brunette wasn't frowning, or snarling in pain, she looked sleepy. Trampled. Leigh Anne was romping on her, and spending up the Club's money like it was going out of style. Through it all, Cady kept cheering, lighting up Cubans, belting back bourbon, and raising his bids.

 

Belly to belly, Leigh crushed Paula's weeping ribcage and walked her back until the red cotton rump pressed against the edge of the pool table. Paula was numb, inert ­ like a contestant in a dance marathon who's partner was holding her up. Leigh reached between the brunette's legs and hoisted her up half way into a bodyslam, but simply dumped the brunette onto the table. Paula jiggled to a stop on her back, moaning, unable to take it. Leigh pushed the hair out of her face and hooted "Yeah!" bright and young into the staid room. Cady clapped, shaking his head with pure pride. "Give it to her, baby!" He yelled. A trickle of sweat ran down John's left temple. And Leigh-Anne went to work.

 

She doubled Paula's legs up over her head such that the brunette's rear projected to the ceiling. Then the blonde clasped her hands around Paula's back, pressed her cheek against Paula's backside and grinned as the brunette felt her own weight crush down on her neck and upperback. Paula gurgled sadly from inside the pile. Cady raised his bid.

 

Leigh unpacked the brunette after a minute, sprawling Paula once more on the table, heaving the girl onto her back by her hips like she was flipping a heavy slab, and pulling the sopping tank top back to reveal Paula's trembling abs. Leigh's eyes lit up like she'd just found buried treasure, then she sank her hands into the firm meat of the belly. Paula screamed ­ her hands covered Leigh's twisting clawhold, her legs twitched into agonized life once again as they lashed the table in exhaustion. Leigh poured it on, leaning her weight in over the table as she stood. Cady couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He held up 3 fingers and said, "I feel like I just won the lottery."

 

John glanced at Julie's abacus. One million dollars was Cady's bid. He clenched his jaw and nodded. Julie's deft fingers clacked stones as Paula moaned across the room.

 

And suddenly Paula came to life.

 

She sat up, swung her legs over the side and scissored up on Leigh's hips, pulling the blonde's hands away from her stomach and holding them by the wrists. Leigh was shellshocked as Paula's hard stare took in the blonde's surprise. Paula's sculpted cheeks glistened with tears ­ she was hurting ­ but playing just the same. At first, Leigh struggled as if she expected to quickly put down the uprising, but her frustration melted into panic soon enough. Desperately the blonde grappled hand to hand as the brunette's legs kept her imprisoned, but the club members had seen this many times before. Cady had seen it a time or two himself. Girls just didn't get a second chance to beat Paula.

 

Leigh-Anne tried to push her way clear. Joined at the palms, the women strained in silence, but Paula's legs clamped tight against the blonde's sides, crushing the last reserves out of the girl. Try as she might, Leigh-Anne couldn't force Paula to her back, or work her hands free of the brunette's grip. After many moments of intense, hushed combat the blonde let loose an exhausted sob. Her face - the quivering lips, the begging eyes - gave her away. Paula re-wrapped her slick ankles, pouring it on, now releasing the girl's hands to lean back and give Leigh the juice. The blonde cried out in pain, her hands pushing against the brunette's tanned thighs, or tugging pointlessly at the waistband with a feeble grip. Standing there and taking it - Leigh was done. Paula just had to make her believe it.

 

Paula released the hold, slid out to stand beside the blonde, who leaned over the table, hands on the felt, sucking wind in exhaustion. Casually grabbing Leigh by her panties and the neck of her tank top, Paula gave the girl the bum's rush onto the table, spilling the blonde in a haphazard heap, then pulling her back into a workable position. Leigh sat in a stupor ­ legs out front, eyelashes fluttering, mouth open as hair obscured her features ­ she was helpless. Paula standing behind her girl, snuggled the blonde up tight around the gut, resting her cheek on the sweaty back as Leigh groaned a saddened protest. From there, Paula worked her way up the torso, swaddling the girl's chest with a happy hug, then farther up into another agonizing full nelson, forcing Leigh's breath out in snorting blasts. When Paula's beefy, curvaceous arms and shoulders slid into place for the sleeper ­ Leigh had nothing left to offer. She gave it up with a blubbery whimper ­ right hand brushing pathetically at the brunette's swollen bicep, and then she went still.

 

Paula released, and let the blonde slump to her side from the seated position. She pushed damp, dark locks out of her eyes, then put a hand down on the meat of the defeated girl's hip, staring across the room at Cady Porter. The big man smiled, but his eyes glinted mean in the soft overhead light. He nodded, put his hands in his pockets, and left the room without a backward glance.

 

Hours later ­ after cheeks had been kissed by Paula, booze consumed, congratulations given, and some stupendously bad pool had been played ­ John cleaned up behind the bar as Julie finished her accounting. They were alone.

 

"Last call," said John. Old skills never died. With his tie off, he came across like Dean Martin closing down a joint after a long night. "One Mill-ee-on Dollars," he said as he emptied the ice.

Julie took a seat at the bar. John foamed milk for a cappucino, draped a towel over his shoulder as Julie sipped.

 

"Gotta hand it to you," John said, "that was a close one."

 

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Julie said, as though she knew exactly what he was talking about.

 

"You've never liked Paula, so you ran a background check, and up came Porter. You told him where she was, what she was doing and sat back to let nature take its course. Did you train the blonde yourself, or just tell her what to expect?"

 

"You don't actually expect me to confess to any of this, do you counsellor?"

 

John laughed. "Jesus Jules! Ol' Vic would have had a heart attack if we had lost that bet. Hell, I wouldn't have been exactly stoic about it."

 

"We didn't lose."

 

"No we didn't."

 

"You do like her, don't you?"

 

"She's not my type Julie."

 

Julie held the cup in both hands, staring into John's eyes as she blew a gentle cooling breath. Leigh's heavy, supple body, limp and awkward on the table while Paula worked it from behind. Paula was more than a fighter ­ she was an artist. She knew just how to slump an opponent, display a beaten foe for an appreciative audience. Already, girls were copying her finishes. The destruction of Leigh would be talked about for days. Paula made an impression, no doubt about it.

 

Julie lowered her gaze.

 

"Oh yes she is," she said.