Lady Wrestler By James Harvey - Chapter 02

1962 Genre: Vintage Sleaze / Lady Wrestlers

When is a lady not a lady?

When she is a lady wrestler.

What compulsions drive these voluptuous creatures into the Lady Wrestling racket; and how are they different from other women? Why do they allow themselves to be clawed, slugged, kneed and butted? What do these super-gals do for sexual pleasure? Here is the only story that answers all of these questions and many more about this grotesque sport where girls pin girls for pay and pleasure.

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CHAPTER ONE 

Bella Woods opened her eyes slowly and then closed them quickly again. She wondered just how much she had had to drink last night because she was sure she saw a naked woman hanging from the ceiling. After taking a few deep breaths she dared to let her eyelids part. Through her lashes, she saw that naked woman again stretched out against the ceiling as if she were stuck there with glue. Bella felt a lump grow in her throat and she began to edge herself off the bed. And the body on the ceiling followed! 

Bella screamed. 

"What happened? What's the matter?” a man asked at her side. 

“There's a woman on the ceiling, Tony! And she's following me!” Bella answered grabbing her bedmate for protection. 

Tony tossed her aside. "You dumb broad, that ain't no woman. That's you!” 

Bella looked again and saw her own reflection in a large mirror that shone down from the ceiling. Next to her, she could see Tony's naked body like a large hairy ball of fat. Then she remembered last night and the view she had of Tony's rearing rear. A mirror on the ceiling of all things! Tony was weird enough to go in for such gimmicks. 

"You almost scared me to death with that hollering," Tony complained. "What if someone else in the building heard it and called the cops right now? Fine position to get caught in I tell you." 

"Yeah, and try to tell it to your wife.” 

"Don't mention that dirty four-letter word in my presence," Tony said stretching out and admiring what there was of his manhood in the mirror. Then Bella could feel his glance shift to her reflection and she could see that desire was growing in him again. He reached over and clasped one of her large, upturned breasts in his hairy paw. “I'm nuts about them.” He breathed deeply. 

Bella let him squeeze away as she tried desperately to recall why she was shacked up with the pudgy grease ball in the first place. After all, she didn't want to kick him out of bed if it would mean kicking out a chance to appear in another musical on Broadway. Tony was a producer, she was sure of that much. And this mirrored-ceiling casting couch was as well known to every chorus girl in New York as was the statue of George M. Cohan in Duffy's Square. Like that statue, Tony's off-Broadway love nest was something that every good-looking showgirl saw at least once. Some ran from it and some stayed. With so many girls making the rounds Bella knew that even a batting average of just one "stayer” out of twenty "runners” would satisfy the most lecherous of lechers in his prime. And Tony had passed his prime ten years ago. 

The flabby producer was about to throw his body on top of Bella's when she remembered. She slipped out of the bed quickly and Tony came down on nothing more substantial than a Springmaid sheet. "The show folded last night,” Bella announced. "What the hell am I doing here then?” 

"Aw, come on Bella," Tony pleaded, “just one more." 

Bella ignored him and went over to a pile of newspapers on the carpeted floor. Each one was turned to the drama section. Her eye caught one that she had circled with her lip-stick the night before. It was the nastiest revue of all. FIFTH AVENUE SOUTH OPENS ... WHY? 

Last night a musical called “Fifth Avenue South” opened on Broadway for some obscure reason. Since there is no such place as Fifth Avenue South, let’s pretend there was never such a musical. And that was all. Two small, wicked sentences that stopped her Broadway career again. She had been in flops before but this had been the first time the closing notice had been put up during Intermission. And after all, she had done to get the part in the first place. She looked at Tony with disgust. "Now I remember everything. We went to the cast party and, after we got all the reviews, everyone got drunk. What happened after that? How the hell did I get back here?" 

Tony stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it causing a great cloud of gray smoke to issue from his nostrils as if he were a cannon that had just exploded. "I thought you said you remembered everything?” he said with frustration straining his voice. 

“Everything up to a point is what I meant. What the hell happened last night at that party anyhow? I seem to recall a fight of some kind.” 

"It wasn't a fight. One of the backers jumped out of the window, that's all.” 

"That's all." 

Tony spread himself on the bed again and blew a smoke ring at his reflection. "The party was held in a basement apartment. The poor bastard wound up in a garbage can. He spent the rest of the night trying to get coffee grounds out of his ears." 

"That poor guy should quit the business. A flop show and a flop suicide all in the same night.” 

“He did all right. One of the kids in the chorus was necking with him when we left.” 

“Oh, which one? Ann? Rose? Sally?”

"George." 

"Oh.”

“That's how the party ended. Everyone figured if they were going to get anything out of the show it might as well be each other.” 

"You mean the party turned into a ... whatchamacallit ... orgy?” 

"Yeah, I saved you from it just in time.” 

Bella placed both her hands on her hips. "And did you ever stop to think that maybe I didn't want to be saved from it? You know I always had my eye on the leading man. And here I am, stuck with you." 

Tony bounded out of bed and placed himself right in front of Bella. He was at least four inches beneath her five foot ten. "Stuck, huh?” he snarled looking up into her green eyes. “Look, sweety, I didn't drag you here. You came on yer own steam. Clear the cobwebs out of yer brain and think why ... that is, if there is a brain under all that red hair. . . . Aw, what the hell I gotta go someplace.” He stamped abruptly in the direction of the bathroom and disappeared behind the door. 

Bella walked over to the window and parted two of the Venetian blind slats with her fingers. The sunshine hit her like a whip and she blinked. She judged it to be close to noon. For the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was that made her come back to Tony's casting couch. Another role? That couldn't be it because the season was over. Fifth Avenue South had been the very last Broadway show to open that Spring. Now the next one wouldn't open until the following season in September. A part in Summer stock? No, it was too late for that. The Summer Stock productions had already been booked. All told it had been a lousy time to be caught in a flop. Too early to try for the Fall productions and too late to get into the Summer ones. Tony's loud stream in the bathroom broke her stream of thought. When he came out he grinned at Bella. "You mean ya' still don't know?” he asked. 

“Guess I had too much to drink last night," she told him. 

"Don't ya' remember you agreeing to be a lady wrestler?" 

"A lady what?" 

A look of disappointment clouded Tony's already dark face. "Aw, come on now sweety. You had me call the guy last night to arrange the meeting. You had me wake him up at three in the morning with that telephone call." 

Bella slumped into a chair. “I'll be damned but you're right,” she said. “You gave me some spiel about it being possible for me to make fifty grand a year." 

"It's not a spiel, Bella. I told you this guy wants to build up a stable of the best female wrestlers in the country and then go out and make it as popular as men wrestlers are ... even more. There's money in it, sweety. Some of those guys pull down more than fifty grand a year. The top pros get a quarter of a million a year.” 

"But what the hell do I know about wrestling?" 

“What the hell do wrestlers know about wrestling? Ever notice that a lot of states make these wrestling matches call themselves 'exhibitions' instead of con tests'? Everyone knows they're phony. People go for laughs. They want to see colorful characters, that's all. Now, this promoter has been collecting girls for months—ones he knows he can turn into good drawing cards. That wrestling bull he can teach you in no time. Now, do you remember why you came here?" 

Bella nodded. “Yeah, this guy only has one more opening and you told him you had your pick of a dozen girls." 

Tony began to massage Bella's ample behind. “And I picked you. Since I already set up the appointment for you at two this afternoon, why don't you hit the sack now? It's your turn to be good to daddy." 

Bella shrugged, sighed, and walked over to the bed as if she was putting herself in a dentist's chair after letting ten years go by between visits. She gazed up at her mirrored image and the bright red tips on her breasts seem to gaze back at her like the bloodshot eyes of a giant with a hangover. She thought of how very pale her skin was and that she should get some sunshine this summer even though she always burned instead of tanning. Her view was then crossed by Tony's bulk. His weight pressed heavily against her and she grunted as the breath was forced out of her. In the mirror, they looked like a four-legged, four-armed, two-headed, dark-white monstrosity. Bella had to turn away at the sight of Tony's buttocks matted with thick black hair. She was reminded of the large ape in the Central Park zoo. 

"Stop!” she suddenly screamed.

"Waddya mean, stop?" Tony grunted annoyed. 

"Last night I was good to daddy. How can I forget that ugly shape of yours?” She grimaced, pointing up at the mirror. 

Tony held on to Bella with his arms and legs, preventing her from squirming out of her position. He moved against her savagely. "Keep still ... keep still …" he warned. 

Bella slumped back, shutting her eyes. So what the hell was another round on the mattress more or less? Besides, she just wasn't in a fighting mood. Better relax, she decided. But, damn it, nothing could make her enjoy it. 

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