New Title 1 by Edward Lee, John Pelan Read Free Book Online Page B

regional conference, small-time compared to WWF and WCW. Think of it as the difference between the minor leagues and the major league. It’s a much smaller draw, but it’s still very consistent.”
    Straker pretended to be listening, looking at those plush spread thighs laying in the driver’s seat, the elegant hands holding the wheel, the plenteous bosom riding in the sheer white floral-print blouse. “So I guess this guy Goon is a light-weight,” Straker managed. He grit his teeth imperceptibly, feeling the flare of another erection.
    “Quite the contrary. Goon is the best wrestler in the world.”
    Straker blinked. “If he’s so good, then how come he’s not working for the ‘big feds’?”
    “Because he doesn’t want to. In fact, his manager had turned down repeated contracts with WWF and WCW for many times the amount of money that Goon’s making now. Kind of like a small-town cop turning down repeated offers with state and/or county PDs.”
    “That doesn’t make any sense,” Straker pointed out, feeling his gorged corona now nudging the bottom of his hiding hand. He felt tempted to give it a squeeze. “Nobody turns down bigger money.”
    “Goon does,” she said. “And I’ll tell you why. In a fed as small as DSWC, Goon isn’t subject to the widespread exposure of television and nation-wide cards.”
    “Cards?”
    “A card, Captain, is an ensemble of wrestling matches. And another thing of note is this: Goon’s got the ultimate gimmick.”
    “Gimmick?”
    “You can think of a ‘gimmick’ as a ‘set’ in a movie or a persona. A ‘work’ is the script. The conclusion of each match is predetermined by the promoters. The ‘bookers’ are essentially the people who create and maintain the characterization of the fed. Who’s rivaling who, who’s turning bad, who’s turning good, etc. It’s a storyline, which the fans follow as diligently as Star Trek fans follow Voyager and Deep Space Nine and all that. And Goon’s the ultimate heel.”
    Straker grit his teeth again. Just looking at those luscious legs made him want to come in his pants. “Heel?” he questioned.
    “Professional nomenclature. Heels are bad guys, faces are good guys. And pro wrestling perpetuates via the proliferation of the ongoing rivalries that exist between faces and heels. Same as the rivalry, for instance, between the Redskins and the Cowboys, or, more appropriately, the rivalry between the Roman gladiators and the armed slaves in the arena. That’s all wrestling is, Captain. They’re the Gladiators of modern civilization.”
    Straker knew that if he so much as brushed his crotch with his hand, he’d come, envisioning her. He’d mess his pants, indeed, like a torqued-up teen eyeing the hot biology teacher or one of the cheerleaders jumping up like a flying human wishbone on the sidelines. I need to come again, he dismally thought. I can’t fucking stand this!
    “But the Gladiators were real,” he finally was able to get back on track. “Wrestling isn’t. Everyone knows it’s fake.”
    “It’s not as fake as you think, Captain,” she said, and then unconsciously brushed her hand flat against her right thigh. Straker nearly creamed his shorts, nearly groaned at the image.
    “It’s true, most of these guys are athletes who weren’t good enough to make it in legitimate professional sports. Leon Black, aka Big Dan Tater, got cut from the L.A. Rams, Leapin’ Leonard got cut from the Bengals, Don Clemmens got cut from the Lions. Derrick Lotts was a college football quarterback, a starter, who got kicked out of pro camp on the second day, and Venom tried out with four minor league baseball teams and never got a hit. So, yes, these guys are what pro sports spat out, but they’re still unique athletes in their own way. You say wrestling’s fake? Well, in a sense, it is, but when a wrestler jumps off the top rope, launches himself ten feet into the air, and lands on his opponent, it is indeed a prearranged