For a while, Scotty and Valeria stood a few feet apart, looking each other over ... Scotty smirking, Valeria glaring back at him with narrow eyes. Then they started circling like a couple of wrestlers.
The crowd went silent.
Scotty peeled off his T-shirt. Holding it in one hand, he swung it like a towel, sweeping it past Valeria’s face, snapping it at her bare midriff.
Way off beyond the other bleachers, the sky flashed as if a monstrous light bulb had burst to life inside a thunderhead, shuddered and quickly died.
Scotty whipped his T-shirt at Valeria’s face. She tore it from his hands and the wind tossed it across the cage.
Thunder grumbled through the night.
Here it comes, I thought. All day long, the sky had been grim with clouds, the air heavy and moist and hot. Now the storm would come ... in time to spoil the show.
It isn’t here yet, I told myself.
Besides, Lee’s going to drag us out of here as soon as Valeria finishes with Scotty.
Maybe.
While I’d been busy worrying about the storm, Scotty had been busy pulling his thick leather belt out of the loops in his jeans. Now he was swinging it instead of the T-shirt, snapping it at Valeria as she circled him.
She didn’t seem to be in any hurry to rush him. Nor did she seem very concerned by the belt. Though she dodged and feinted fairly often, she didn’t make any great efforts to avoid its lash. Every so often, the leather smacked against her skin with a sound like a face being slapped. Each time that happened, she flinched but just kept circling Scotty.
Why didn’t she close in and put a stop to it?
I started to wince myself each time the belt struck her.
Turning to Lee, I said, “Why doesn’t she ... ?” But even as the words started to come out, I noticed that Lee seemed entranced by the spectacle. Her eyes had a glazed look and her mouth hung open.
Though I hadn’t finished my question, she blinked and turned her head. “Huh? What was that?”
“I was just ... why is she letting him do that? He’s hurting her.”
Lee shook her head, muttered, “Don’t know,” and returned her attention to the cage.
Rusty leaned forward and said to me, “Bet she likes it. Some gals like to get knocked around, you know? Turns ’em on.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”
We both stopped talking.
Eyes on the show again, I flinched as the tip of Scotty’s belt cracked against Valeria’s belly. That one must’ve really hurt, because she cried out and twisted away.
As Scotty rushed after her, swinging his belt, she backed away from him. A couple more strides, and a wall of the cage would stop her retreat.
Suddenly, she reached behind her back, undid whatever fasteners were there, and swept off the bright red leather top of her costume. The sight of her naked breasts tore my breath away. All through the audience, people gasped. I could feel myself growing hard. A moan came from Rusty’s direction, but I didn’t look over at him. Couldn’t look anywhere except at Valeria.
Clad only in her short red skirt and boots, she whipped the bralike garment through the air in front of her. The quick motion swung her breasts.
In midair, the red leather of Valeria’s top met the black leather of Scotty’s belt. They tangled.
Valeria’s arm leaped back and the belt flew from Scotty’s hand.
The crowd roared with delight.
Most of the crowd, that is. The bunch behind us—Scotty’s friends—hissed and booed. Someone from back there shouted, “Get her, Scot!” Another shouted, “Ream her!”
Down in the cage, Valeria flung away the tangled leather of Scotty’s belt and the top of her costume. They landed inside her open casket. Scotty watched them drop out of sight with a look on his face as if his favorite hat had just been blown over the edge of a cliff.
Beyond the other bleachers, a jagged dagger of lightning ripped through the night.
Scotty made a dash for the casket.
He wanted that belt.
Valeria raced to intercept him, her large breasts leaping and swinging.
Thunder grumbled.
She dived, wrapped her arms around Scotty’s waist as he ran, and tore him to the ground. They rolled through the dirt. Then Scotty was on his back. Valeria, straddling him, grabbed his shoulder with one hand and his head with the other. She shoved his head sideways, then plunged her face against the side of his neck.
He thrashed and writhed underneath her.
Stryker’s voice boomed from the speakers, “AND THE WINNER IS ... VALERIA!”
