No Happily Ever After

Continued from Here

Jessica was patrolling the backstage. Tonight was fun, but somehow it did not seem enough. She had won, but it was not as complete of a win as she had hoped. Despite the fact that her opponent was a rookie, Jessica had not totally embarrassed her, humiliated her, stripped her in front of the crowd and made her beg. She was in her private dressing room now, cooling off a little bit. Sweat ceased to form under the intense fan. Jessica had been slumping against her chair with her hands clasped on her tight abs, but she stood up.

If tonight had not been enough, she was going to make it enough. She crossed the dressing room and burst out into the hallway. The Violent Violet began to roam, ring gear still on, blood still up. If trouble was not about to find her, that was find. She was going to find it. And if she could not find it, she was going to make it...

Aisha finally made her way through to the backstage with help of some backstage hands and the referee. She was hurting bad after this match and already some bruising had been formed. It was fortunate as a medical staffer or two came and checked her. The pinkette's clothing had a few rips in it now, having to need to be repaired. Jessica had worked her over good, still feeling the brutal punches that were delivered.

She lay back in her seat, one paramedic checking her eye, which seemed to have a little swelling.

Jessica wandered still. She was still on the hunt for trouble when she found it. Her opponent for the evening was there, getting patched up. Jessica had a wonderful opportunity to rub salt into this particular wound and she was going to take it.

"Hey, champ. You are going to be feeling the pain of that match for the next week. No matter how many doctors, and all that stuff. You lost, because you suck."

"Thank you for the commentary, I'll be sure to remember that next time," she groaned holding on to an ice pack a top her head. Only one paramedic was there now, checking the eye and applying proper medical aide to it to reduce the swelling. "What do you want anyway?"

"I want to strip you and fuck you. I know you are not strong enough to stop me. Neither are these paramedics," she gave them an evil look, "if you are at all curious." She folded her arms across her voluminous chest and cocked her head to the side. "And honestly, I am not sure what is slowing me down. Unless, of course, you have any ideas..."

"You won the match what else do you want? Leave them... out of this," she says, getting up with a bit of a groan from her seat, pushing the paramedic away to come face to face, or rather breast to breast as the Pink Bomber stared down the Violent Violet. There was a slight difference in height, but not did it matter as both seemed set on the other.

Jessica snickered. She was not going to brush Jessica aside, at least not that easy. "Here is the deal. I want you to admit that you are inferior to me. As a wrestler, as a fighter, as a human being. And you can leave this arena on your feet as opposed to in a stretcher." She folded her arms below her chest wanting to show this woman that her arms were still as formidable as ever. If the match was going to continue, it was going to continue. So be it.

"If that's how you are going to intimidate me you are going to have to do a lot better than that," she says with a huff, fists balled up in protest, ready to strike out if needed. Something was brewing and it didn't look like it would be good. Aisha however wasn't going to back down.

Jessica looked this shooting star up and down. She put her hand on her hip. "I don't think I have shit to prove. Not tonight. Not to you. I have already kicked your ass once, and I fucking assure you that I have absolutely no problem with kicking your ass again." She brushed her hair from her face. "And next time I win, I am going to take more than a W."

"I really don't understand you. If you want to fight me again go ahead, right now! Don't be all talk, you said it yourself!" she shouted at her, bearing her fists up ready to go at a moments notice. Just because she had beaten didn't mean she didn't have any fight in her left.