Whenever I hear people say wrestling's fake, it almost fills me up with joy to reply no shit with a tone of surprise. Then I follow up and ask them if they knew Star Wars wasn't actually filmed in space. Fact of the matter is everyone knows it's fake. Or at least scripted. But that's the thing about wrestling matches. They're kind of like road trips. It's not really the finish or destination that matters. But rather the journey along the way to get there. And I've been on one helluva journey so far.
The last few weeks were going amazing with the planning for the match ahead. And not just the stuff happening in front of the cameras, but behind them as well. Very few knew this but Tyson Mel and myself spent several hours before and after each arena event training. Being knowledged in "Strong Style", Tyson really wanted to bring out the brawler in me. Or at least fake brawler.
He retaught me how to throw punches in the ring. Designed to look heavy and destructive like bare-knuckle boxers. He also showed me how to kick. Not in a martial arts manner, but more like a bar room brawler. All of which would improve my striking ability.
To be honest it wasn't a very pleasant experience. I first needed to learn how to do these things properly. Full strength contact. After quickly mastering that, then I had to learn how to pull my punches. At least by fifty percent. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst was having to be trained how to receive such assaults. Both half strength, and full strength. In the industry this is called "Working Stiff" and is very frowned upon when one wrestler does this against another in the ring. "Working Stiff" usually happens when someone becomes careless with their opponent, or actually wants to hurt them while claiming things are accidental. But Tyson and I agreed for the sake of the match; for it to look real, it had to feel real.
During my training we discussed things we wanted to happen for the match. This was the fun part. Though most moments tend to happen through spontaneous suggestion, others are very much planned in advance. Especially moments meant to make the fans jump from their seats. Both in the arena, and watching at home.
We discussed many moments. What would work. What wouldn't. Point and counterpoint. Suggestions and improvements. Looking back the majority of our ideas were flawless. Just needed a little streamlining.
The most important thing being the finish. I knew in advance I wasn't going to win the title. This rivalry was purely to advance my character for the company as well as another notch in Tyson's belt, title defense wise. But our parts were equally important. And we knew; in our hearts, we were going to put on a match that would have people talking for years.
Regarding Carmen and myself, our first night in Las Vegas was all pleasure. But our second night was meant to be all business. To do that, Carmen and I had to prepare in advance. By prepare meant me carefully worshiping Carmen's beautiful feet while she slept until she awakened. She woke up with a smile on her face, telling me good morning and she was enjoying what I was doing.
I moved around so I was sitting at the edge of the bed. My back to her. Very gently I took hold of her ankles and pulled her so her feet were much closer to the edge of the bed. I turned and looked back to her, returning her smile while looking into her eyes. Then the devil in me surfaced.
"Can I get uh... huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh." I groaned like some growling, heavy-metal rockstar.
I quickly wrapped my left arm around her ankles so she couldn't pull away. The fingers on my right hand immediately started playing guitar on her sensitive soles. The attack made her fully awake.
"What the-" she shrieked.
"Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh" I wailed louder, scratching her soles more aggressively.
"YOU BASTARD!" she shouted, desperately trying to pull her feet free.
"HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH!" I hollered louder.
Carmen's right foot broke away from my grip and started furiously kicking me in the back and the ribs. Thank God her feet were soft. Then she nailed me in the back of the head, her toenails almost cutting my scalp. The impact sent me off the edge of the bed, leading us to laugh extremely hard. This time no tickling.
"If you're gonna' touch my feet, then do it the right way. Asshole" Carmen spoke between snort-laughs.
"Yes ma'am." I replied as I knelt at the end of the bed.
I started by rubbing my hands around the balls and arches of her right foot first, working my way around the top and bottom of her sole. Squeezing the arch, placing pressure on each toe. Even sneaking in a few kisses and toe sucking. I was extra careful not to tickle, just putting enough pressure to relax and tingle the muscles and skin of her sole. I moved to the left foot and repeated the process, using both of my strong hands to relieve the tension and relax her muscles.