cost me nine bucks, but that was typical for an arena.
As I made my way down the stairs I cursed myself for wearing heels. Not even the whistles in my direction made me feel better. Finally, I reached the landing and followed the signs to the section I was sitting in. My seat was hard-camera side, which meant that the cameras were behind me and I wouldn’t be on the TV broadcast.
That was fine with me. I hated being on TV because my co-workers always gave me hell. They didn’t understand how a grown woman could possibly enjoy watching wrestling and I got tired of explaining my reasons. Pro-wrestling was entertainment at its finest and I wasn’t ashamed that I watched it.
The first match was already underway, but it was low card wrestlers, so I hadn’t missed much. Saying it like that sounded crappy, but it was the truth. Hell, I was there to see Mesquite wrestle - no one else. I had been a fan of his since he joined and it’d been fun watching him become a main eventer.
As I sat I noticed a couple of security guards that worked for the company looking at me. You could always tell them apart from the arena security guards. They actually looked like they knew what was going on as opposed to the arena guards, who looked lost.
One of the guards was having a conversation with someone backstage through his headset. His eyes never left me as he spoke. My stomach fluttered and I wondered if someone had been waiting for me to arrive. There were cameras throughout the arena and the feed was broadcast backstage. It was possible…
I shoved the idea from my thoughts. It’d be too much to presume that Mesquite would be looking for me after one meeting and I wasn’t one of those girls to get caught up in a fantasy. I’d heard of a lot of female fans that got trapped in the make-believe scenario. And it never ended well.
They’d go to the shows and meet the wrestler of their dreams. In their minds they had an instant connection that no one else had. The wrestler would play up to them a bit because it was good to have a fan, even an overzealous one. Then the female would get mad when the wrestler talked to another female and drama ensued. So…no…I wasn’t one of those fans.
The show went by fairly quickly. I tried to ignore the security guard who would periodically glance at me. Soon it was time for the final match. Mesquite’s music hit and the crowd jumped to their feet. I stood, too, and saw him come through the curtains, stopping to pose on the stage.
His hair was hanging loosely and he looked so freaking sexy. He’s one of the guys who could get away with wearing either tights or the tiny trunks. Tonight he wore the black trunks that left little to the imagination. But I liked what I saw. A lot .
His body glistened with oil and he flexed, getting a nice pop from the crowd. His opponent for the night talked some smack before Mesquite came running down the ramp and slid into the ring. The bell rang and I sat down, knowing I was about to see one hell of a match.
I knew the match was over when he threw down his finishing move. Mesquite jumped on the nearest turnbuckle, waving to the crowd as his opponent hobbled away. When he got on the turnbuckle in front of me I could see his eyes scanning the front row. We locked gazes and he winked at me. I winked back, loving the thrill of the moment.
He hopped off the turnbuckle and slid from the ring. After the last match it was traditional for the face, or good guy, to walk around the barricade and slap hands with the fans. He made his way around the ring and I knew he’d chosen this path on purpose.
I’d be the last person he reached.
When he got to me, he pulled me in for a sweaty hug. There was something so… animalistic about it and my mind rushed to a naughty place.
Him.
Me.
Naked.
YES .
“Meet me at the Hyatt in the bar,” Mesquite said into my ear before pulling away from our hug.
I nodded,
As I made my way down the stairs I cursed myself for wearing heels. Not even the whistles in my direction made me feel better. Finally, I reached the landing and followed the signs to the section I was sitting in. My seat was hard-camera side, which meant that the cameras were behind me and I wouldn’t be on the TV broadcast.
That was fine with me. I hated being on TV because my co-workers always gave me hell. They didn’t understand how a grown woman could possibly enjoy watching wrestling and I got tired of explaining my reasons. Pro-wrestling was entertainment at its finest and I wasn’t ashamed that I watched it.
The first match was already underway, but it was low card wrestlers, so I hadn’t missed much. Saying it like that sounded crappy, but it was the truth. Hell, I was there to see Mesquite wrestle - no one else. I had been a fan of his since he joined and it’d been fun watching him become a main eventer.
As I sat I noticed a couple of security guards that worked for the company looking at me. You could always tell them apart from the arena security guards. They actually looked like they knew what was going on as opposed to the arena guards, who looked lost.
One of the guards was having a conversation with someone backstage through his headset. His eyes never left me as he spoke. My stomach fluttered and I wondered if someone had been waiting for me to arrive. There were cameras throughout the arena and the feed was broadcast backstage. It was possible…
I shoved the idea from my thoughts. It’d be too much to presume that Mesquite would be looking for me after one meeting and I wasn’t one of those girls to get caught up in a fantasy. I’d heard of a lot of female fans that got trapped in the make-believe scenario. And it never ended well.
They’d go to the shows and meet the wrestler of their dreams. In their minds they had an instant connection that no one else had. The wrestler would play up to them a bit because it was good to have a fan, even an overzealous one. Then the female would get mad when the wrestler talked to another female and drama ensued. So…no…I wasn’t one of those fans.
The show went by fairly quickly. I tried to ignore the security guard who would periodically glance at me. Soon it was time for the final match. Mesquite’s music hit and the crowd jumped to their feet. I stood, too, and saw him come through the curtains, stopping to pose on the stage.
His hair was hanging loosely and he looked so freaking sexy. He’s one of the guys who could get away with wearing either tights or the tiny trunks. Tonight he wore the black trunks that left little to the imagination. But I liked what I saw. A lot .
His body glistened with oil and he flexed, getting a nice pop from the crowd. His opponent for the night talked some smack before Mesquite came running down the ramp and slid into the ring. The bell rang and I sat down, knowing I was about to see one hell of a match.
I knew the match was over when he threw down his finishing move. Mesquite jumped on the nearest turnbuckle, waving to the crowd as his opponent hobbled away. When he got on the turnbuckle in front of me I could see his eyes scanning the front row. We locked gazes and he winked at me. I winked back, loving the thrill of the moment.
He hopped off the turnbuckle and slid from the ring. After the last match it was traditional for the face, or good guy, to walk around the barricade and slap hands with the fans. He made his way around the ring and I knew he’d chosen this path on purpose.
I’d be the last person he reached.
When he got to me, he pulled me in for a sweaty hug. There was something so… animalistic about it and my mind rushed to a naughty place.
Him.
Me.
Naked.
YES .
“Meet me at the Hyatt in the bar,” Mesquite said into my ear before pulling away from our hug.
I nodded,
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