Inside the post-match locker room for tournament participants…
“Oh my God, Chelseaaa!” Jennifer Jones enveloped the smaller blonde in her arms and hugged her enthusiastically. The curvy, curly-haired blonde could tell that her friend had won her match from the roses that she had in her hand, and was excited that they had both made it to the second round of the tournament. “Congrats!!!” exclaimed the Blonde Bomber before she kissed Chelsea Summers on the cheek. “And oh my gosh, roses! You have awesome fans, sweetie!”
“Well, it was pretty common in Japan. I’m guessing they just wanted to remind me of my time there,” Chelsea shrugged, a little embarrassed to be caught with the flowers. They were a very pleasant surprise when she first experienced them being thrown into the ring after winning a big match, but she had not expected the act to be repeated after she returned to the States.
Natasha Fox, who was seated on a nearby bench, simply waved at the petite, blue-eyed blonde. “Good for you,” declared the brunette with a rueful smile. Jenny finally released her friend, who was relieved. Chelsea had been finding it a bit hard to breathe wrapped up in the Blonde Bomber’s embrace but was too polite to say anything. She blushed as she smiled at the Fox, who nodded with understanding.
Oblivious, Jenny continued chattering while her friend bent over to pick up the gym bag that she had dropped in the midst of all the excitement.
“Oh, yeah, Chelsea, this is Natasha. All the way from Atlanta.”
“Oh really???” the petite blonde looked up, having resumed unimpeded breathing. “Natasha Fox, right? I think I remember that from your bio. Welcome to LA!” Chelsea smiled as she picked up the gym bag she had dropped after Jenny had hugged her.
“Thanks,” replied Natasha, biting her lower lip as she looked up for a moment before lowering her head again. She was still feeling bummed about losing after what she thought was a spectacular entrance. “I’m fine with Nat too.”
Jenny patted her on the left shoulder. Both girls had taken their boots off, and had been relaxing until Chelsea had entered the locker room. “Nat’s coming out with us tonight later.”
“Well, actuallyyy, I haven’t said yes,” said the Fox, wiping her face with the towel draped across her neck. She cringed as she reached for her sore back, emphasizing the fact that she did not feel terribly sociable at that moment.
“Oh! Sorry…” Jenny bit her lip, putting her enthusiasm in check. “Didn’t mean to decide for you.”
“S’okay,” the Fox responded nonchalantly.
Based on the difference in their moods and judging from Natasha’s reluctance, Chelsea guessed that Jenny had won their match. She opted to tread lightly rather than congratulate her friend since nothing explicit had been said so far. “Well, the night’s still young!” she chirped, without sounding too giddy. “You have time to think about it.”
Jenny nodded vigorously. “Absolutely! Well, Chels, tell us some details about your match?”
“Sure, but hang on for a minute!” Chelsea proceeded to her locker and retrieved a towel from within. She was going to need a shower soon. She was wary of speaking too freely in front of Natasha; she also felt relieved when Jenny’s opponent finally stood and announced that she was going to hit the showers.
“You two carry on, I think I need some hot water to clear my head,” declared the brunette as she rubbed her back again under her dark brown mane.
A hairdresser by trade, Chelsea could not help herself admiring Natasha’s nearly-waist length tresses, as well as her striking red, white, and black swimsuit. Wow! “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look awesome, Natasha.”
“Thanks,” shrugged the Fox, glad that the petite blonde had noticed. “I did put some thought into composing my getup.”
Jenny nodded. “Yeah, she showed me the fox hunter outfit she had for her entrance routine, and it’s unbelievable,” eyes widening as she raised her hands for emphasis.
Chelsea’s eyes opened wide with interest. “Wow, now you got me curious!”
Natasha grinned, her mood a touch lighter. “Well, you’ll see it again. I’ll leave you girls to chat. Gonna go wash up.” She slung her toiletry bag over her shoulder before walking away, leaving the two blondes to chat.
Once Natasha was out of earshot, Chelsea asked in a low voice, “So, did you just add another name to your list of torture rack victims?”
The Blonde Bomber glanced downwards, not wishing to gloat. “It was a close match,” she said after a pause, trying to sound diplomatic.
“Yeowch,” Chelsea let out a low whistle. “I’m surprised she’s still willing to consider coming out later.”
Jenny shrugged sheepishly, blowing a few curls that had fallen across her face out of the way. She grabbed her still sore left breast through her swimsuit and gently massaged it. “Y’know how some people call my finisher the Rack Attack?” The curvy blonde punctuated her question by rolling her eyes.
The smaller blonde nodded, blushing a little. Jenny had plump, beautiful boobs that made most guys drool and most girls envious.
“Nat was using an actual rack attack on me to try and break out of it.” Jenny mimicked an eagle’s talons with one hand.
Chelsea’s eyes opened wide as she covered her mouth with one hand. It felt painful just thinking about Nat’s nails digging into the nerve-rich orb. “Oh my gosh! That musta hurt!”
Jenny slipped her left strap down her shoulder and pulled her suit partly down to show that she wasn’t kidding. The skin on her breast was still red after all the mauling that the Fox had done earlier in her bid to escape her finisher. “It did. Like a B-I-T-C-H,” the Blonde Bomber winced as slowly replaced her strap.
“Shoot!” Chelsea winced at the sight. She had never heard her friend swear before. Ever.
“Uh-huh.” The Bomber pulled the strap back up and continued to massage her boob gently.
“Well,” the petite blonde giggled, “I dunno if I would still be nice to Natasha if I were in your shoes!”
“Well, she wanted to win, and I respect that,” Jenny replied, implying that she was already past what had happened earlier.
“I guess you’re right,” Chelsea nodded. “That’s something they told us that’s different about this company. All the girls are in it to win it.”
Jenny nodded back with a smile. “That’s right. That’s why the two of us are gonna meet in the final, right?” The Blonde Bomber reached out to squeeze her friend’s arm playfully, but the two knew they would take such a meeting seriously regardless of their friendship outside the ring. Locking eyes for a moment, both knew that they owed it to each other as athletes to give it their all. Neither expected any less of the other.
“You betcha!” chirped Chelsea as she flashed a megawatt grin to ease the tension.
“Well, on that note…” the bigger blonde turned around to open her locker, pulling her suit straps down her arms before using a big towel to wrap her body. She soon removed her swimsuit and slipped her pantyhose down her legs and off her feet, all the while staying covered. Promptly scooping up her toiletry kit, she continued, “…I’m gonna go clean up too. See you in a bit?”
“Okay!” answered the smaller blonde, who had turned around to give her friend some privacy. She turned her head back to finish, “I’m gonna get these boots and pads off, rest my feet, and unwind for a bit first.”
Chelsea did exactly that as Jenny departed. Off came her boots and pads, and out came her MP3 player. She plugged in her earphones before starting to play her post-match mix. She sat on the bench in front of her open locker with eyes closed, clearing her mind.
In the middle of the first track, however, she suddenly felt one of her earphones fall out of her right ear. Chelsea opened her eyes, just as a thought went through her head.
What the—?
“Ahem, excuse me,” she heard a female voice in her right ear, “but is it still Summertime?”
Waitaminute—
She knew that voice. Chelsea started to turn around, getting to her feet at the same time. She did not manage to turn before she felt tension on her scalp and her head being jerked backwards. The next thing that happened was her forehead meeting the steel locker door.
WHANG!
The collision stunned the babyface, leaving her unable to react. Her familiar-sounding attacker quickly grabbed both of Chelsea’s shoulders and spun her around before shoving her against the lockers. A back-handed slap across her right cheek caused the other earphone to fall out of Chelsea’s left ear. As she attempted to get her arms up to defend herself, her attacker drove her right knee into the babyface’s belly. She groaned in pain, wrapping her arms around her tummy, at the mercy of this person who was out to get her.
“Ohhhgawd… w-what the hell???” Chelsea blurted out in frustration.
She felt her head being tugged upwards, and confirmed her suspicion when she saw what her attacker was wearing.
“Who the h—y-you—!!!” Chelsea started to cry out but before she could finish, she was slammed against the locker again before her attacker kneed her again. This time, she drover her knee into Chelsea’s unguarded crotch. The resulting pain was acute, and combined with the psychological shock, the low blow took the fight out of the summer blonde. Groaning in agony, she sank while clutching her sore kitty with both hands, her back sliding down against the metal locker door until her butt touched the cold tiled floor.
“Auuuggghhh… that… was… lowww….” she croaked, overcome by the pain shooting upwards from her groin.
“Duh, that’s why it’s called a low blow,” replied her assailant.
“That’s not the same, bimb…”
Chelsea tried to look up. As she did, she received a bop from her attacker’s booty that knocked her head back against the locker door. Stunned, she was caught completely by surprise by the other girl’s next move.
“Ooomphhh!!!”
Chelsea’s protest was muffled by the burying of her face under her assailant’s firm ass. She tried to ignore what was happening, telling herself to just endure, and wait for an opportunity to escape. A merely playful booty rub, however, was not what her attacker had in mind. Realizing her assailant’s true intent, the babyface tried to push at the other girl’s hips with both hands, but resistance only made the attacker more determined to keep Chelsea’s face under her bottom.
“You’re the bimbo, so just shut the fuck up and take this!”
Her attacker’s firm cheeks parted over Chelsea’s nose. It made her feel sick. While a thin layer of swimsuit spandex separated Chelsea’s nose and lips from her assailant’s ass and crotch, it made little real difference to the recipient of the punishing stinkface. Chelsea could feel every contour as well on the other girl’s butt as her cheeks were pressed and rubbed by her attacker’s butt cheeks. She could also feel the heat from the core of her attacker’s body against her nose and mouth, which made her cringe.
“Liking the facial?” giggled her attacker as she rubbed her ass up and down Chelsea’s face, pushing the suffering babyface’s head firmly against the locker behind her. “Don’t suffocate down there, bitch.”
“Mmmfff!!!” After a moment of merely suffering, Chelsea started to slap and push against the offending rump, though her resistance had little effect. The smell of stale sweat mixed with other “aromas” invaded her nostrils despite her doing her best to not breathe. Oxygen-starved after a full minute, she simply had to try and take a breath when she felt the pressure on her face lift slightly. She coughed as she gasped for air, whimpering as her attacker’s butt hovered close to her face. “Ohhh gawwwd!”
“Oh shush. I haven’t had a chance to shower yet,” her attacker giggled cruelly. “But since you love sitting on others with that perky tush of yours—”
“Only—koff—those who deserve it—koff—, and never on their—”
“Oh you totally deserve this. Time to take some of your own medicine, bitch.” Sounding gleeful, she pressed her butt back down on Chelsea’s face to punish the babyface.
“No, donnnphhh!!!”
Chelsea’s protest was cut off abruptly, however, as her face disappeared again under her attacker’s butt. This time though, Chelsea could her assailant’s warm, slightly damp pussy press against her lips, which revolted her. Her muffled protests only served to amuse her attacker and tease her sex. The aggressor laughed as she started to grind up and down against her victim’s mouth and nose
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna get off on your face, bitch.”
While she had intended it to be more humiliating than titillating, as the aggressor’s pussy lips parted over her victim’s face inside her suit, she had to admit, she was getting at least a little bit turned on.
Haha, I might be getting a bit wet. But, first things first.
Turning her head to look over her shoulder first, the heel returned her head to the front as she held out the smartphone that she had been carrying in her right hand for this very moment.
“Your silly fans are gonna looove this!” she sniggered, pouting for the camera first, before snapping another picture while smiling and flashing a V sign. She made sure that enough of Chelsea’s body was showing on both pictures so that she could post them later. A third shot showed Chelsea red-faced and sweaty, summer blonde locks plastered messily against her shiny slick skin, coughing pathetically after her assailant had stood up.
“Beautiful!” Chelsea’s ambusher grinned devilishly, shooting a few more while the babyface struggled to breathe normally.
“Ummm, what the heck’s going on here?”
The assailant froze at the sound of someone behind her. She lowered her phone slowly, rising to her full height. Confusion was evident on her face as she tried to decide if she should turn and confront the unwelcome new party or simply slip away.
Chelsea coughed loudly, wheezing slightly as she sucked fresh air into her lungs.
“On second thoughts, maybe this is some kinda private meet the fan ‘fan-tasy’ session I don’t need to know about, huh?”
Natasha had a towel wrapped around her body, her long dark hair wrapped around her head, and her toiletry bag sling wrapped around her wrist. All she had on her mind up until a minute ago was getting dressed. She was unsure as to what to make of the scene before her. She was also fairly certain that she would rather have nothing to do with it.
“Nunya bizness,” the dark blonde growled, her back still facing the new arrival. She placed her bare foot on the right side of Chelsea’s reddened face and pressed her head against the locker door. She was going to use this opportunity to make a statement. It might win her a needed ally, or intimidate a future foe. “I was just teaching this little shit some R-E-S-P-E-C-T.”
“Well, what-evah, sista,” replied the Fox mockingly, doing a neckroll while wagging her finger in a parodic manner. “Coulda fooled me how you’re cosplaying that sweetie.”
“I am not cosplaying anyone!” the ambusher snapped, turning her head around to stare daggers at Natasha through narrowed eyes. “I wear it better than she does.”
“Oh hey,” the brunette offered a perfunctory, slacker wave along with a sheepish smile. “I recognize your mug, I think.” Natasha’s eyes looked upwards as she appeared to rack her brain for the name.
“Bambi right?”
Brandi’s brow furrowed as she folded her arms and pursed her lips, pushing them to the left side of her face. “Brandi!!!” she snapped. “You did that on purpose!”
The Fox smiled slyly. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. But I’m pretty darn sure that girl you’re stepping on over there beat you earlier.”
“S-so what?” Brandi’s face reddened after being called out. She glanced down at the suffering Chelsea before looking up at Natasha once more. “I’ve got no beef with you, so stay outta this!”
Natasha shrugged, a sardonic smile forming on her face. “Awww, were you one of those girls who rushed a sorority and found out later that they didn’t want you? Didn’t even like you? Or maybe you were a cheerleader who just couldn’t stand being number two to some other bimbo?”
The blonde was not amused.
“Oh wait, I got it. You were the captain of the soccer team but you guys were like so bad your teammates wished there was a mercy rule every time you played.”
“What???” Brandi looked incredulous. “Don’t you psycho-analyze me!”
“Well, I musta hit the right button somewhere.”
Brandi fumed, her nostrils flaring with each exhaled breath. She pressed her foot harder against Chelsea’s face, squishing her cheeks under it.
“Hey, so you lost to her. Deal with it. Whatever this was,” the Fox gestured idly at the two identically-dressed blondes, “it doesn’t change the fact that you lost, does it?”
Brandi’s eyes narrowed, “I do not need to take any shit from you!”
“Tough,” Nat rolled her eyes as she proceeded to her locker, “cuz her friend’s coming outta the shower soon, and there may be more girls coming in too. So, my humble, unsolicited, and 100% free advice to you is: make yourself scarce, quick.”
“Bullshit!” snapped the dark blonde testily.
“Well judging from how you reacted earlier…”
Brandi glared at Natasha. The sharp-tongued brunette had been infuriatingly on point at every turn. She on, the other hand, had been reduced to blurting out a series of profanities.
“By the way, Twitter? Instagram? Snapchat? Or Facebook?”
“What???”
“Just curious how you intend to distribute the pics you took, that’s all,” the Fox shrugged. “You’re not just gonna save them for jillin’ off to, right?”
Brandi snarled, furious at being outfoxed by the sharp-tongued brunette. Her attention distracted, Chelsea was able to push her foot off her face, which caused the dark blonde to stumble. All three girls heard the door to the shower stalls open, and footsteps follow. At this point, Brandi decided that discretion was preferable to confrontation, and slinked away. As she did so, she shot an angry glare at Natasha, who continued to look unimpressed.
“Nat? Chelsea? What happened here?” Jenny came up from behind the Fox, towel wrapped around her body, wet honey blonde curls hanging from her head. Her expression was one of both shock and concern as she marched straight towards her friend, who was still sitting on the floor, hands on her chest. The Blonde Bomber turned to look at the long-haired brunette for answers.
“Hey, not me, blondie. You can ask your friend. She knows who did what to her, and that gal just took off.” Natasha bit her lip as she traded looks with Jenny.
“I didn’t mean that you did anything, Nat, sorry,” the curvy blonde looked away, regretting that she might have looked accusatory. She turned back to Chelsea, who was still trying to find her voice.
“Chelsea! Are you okay?” asked the Bomber with deep concern.
“Ha… ha… ha…” the summer blonde wanted to spit the taste of Brandi out but knew it was pointless to try. Instead, she simply wiped her face, nose, and mouth with her hands. “I… I think so. I just need to wash.”
“What happened???”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” She was still in disbelief over what had just happened. “Not now anyway,” she answered weakly, not wanting to revisit her ambush and subsequent humiliation at Brandi’s hands. Jenny clasped her right wrist and helped her up without asking more, trusting her friend’s judgement. Once again on her feet, Chelsea looked towards the Fox, who was letting down her beautiful, still wet, dark chocolate brown tresses as she continued to towel them dry.
“Thank you, Nat,” said Chelsea, her cheeks still rosy pink.
“That’s okay.” The brunette was uncomfortable being receiving the blonde’s gratitude, and tried to sound detached. “I didn’t do anything, really.”
“No, you spoke up. And I am grateful.” Chelsea reached out to squeeze her elbow, physically expressing her thanks.
Natasha turned her head to avoid looking the smaller girl’s attractive face and puppy dog eyes, and nodded silently in acknowledgement. As Chelsea walked off, Jenny patted the Fox on the shoulder. The brunette glanced briefly at the Bomber, who smiled approvingly at her.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I don’t want any expectations, okay?” warned the Atlanta girl, trying not to sound too testy.
“C’mon Nat. It sounds like you were just being a decent person.”
“Exactly. Nothing out of the ordinary,” the brunette insisted as she prepared to get dressed.
“Well, it’s better than doing nothing at all.”
“‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing’,” Natasha mused aloud.
“Someone important said that, right?” Jenny wondered if it was a quote she ought to know.
The Fox snickered softly. Blonde. “Well, it’s kinda sorta made up actually. Misquoted anyway.”
Jenny raised her hands on either side of her face in mock surrender, accepting that Nat would not accept her thanks. “All right, miss, I’m gonna leave you alone.”
Having successfully pushed the Bomber away, Natasha waited a moment to speak again. “Y’know blondie, they said the girls here were gonna be competitive,” the brunette said as she started to take her clothes out of her locker.
“They did,” Jenny replied as she turned towards her own locker. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t be frenemies.”
Natasha turned to watch the curvy San Diegan walk away from her, a smirk forming on her lips.
The End.