And All That Jazz

Zulime was in fight mode. She was literally on her toes, and all of her muscles were primed for action. A lump was in her throat now, and her brown eyes were wide open. She wasn't sure if she was a tiger carefully stalking prey or a gazelle keeping both of its eyes wide open, scanning the savannah for the lions. Whatever the case may have been, her blood was flowing and her heart was pumping in double time.

Then she moved. Patrice rolled over, and threw her a withering look. Zulime slid her leg forward. It was a flinch. As much as Zulime could try and play it off like it was anything else, she knew what it was. Her fighting instinct was working overdrive, and caused her to jump embarrassingly. Zulime could not shake that one off. She was going to have to carry that weight.

But then Patrice moved again, this time for real. Zulime was faster on the uptake, and immediately went into motion, as she moved forward. Unfortunately, that seemed to play exactly into Patrice's hands.

Literally. Zulime was already off balance when her arm was grabbed. From there, it was all downhill. With a strong tug, Zulime found their two bodies enmeshed in violent combat once again, only this time the Riverboat Queen got the worse end of the deal. She was too surprised to really react, which made the situation all the more dire.

And now her wrists were pinned to the ground. Zulime tried to twist and shake her way out of it, but she realized she was not coming from a source of strength. The Cajun girl was just trying to hold on for dear life at this point. And with the French woman looming over her, that was not a good proposition.

Patrice would have wanted to be in party mode. She really would have. By now, coming to this jazz club was turning out to be a mistake after all. Sure, she had had some of her fun there too, but that had now been largely erased by a single punch in her face. A punch that hurt. A punch that had stripped the blonde off her dignity.

The alternatives were fight mode and flee mode. The latter had been the preferred option, but unfortunately the French hadn't really been in a position to choose it. The former instead was the mode her Cajun foe was seemingly expecting.

Turned out, fight mode started to appear as being a good choice for Patrice as well. The blonde managed to rather swiftly gain control of her belligerent foe, and was soon the one on top. And most importantly, in control. That gained her some confidence, but that was still being overshadowed by the anger caused by Zulime's fist.

"{You consider yourself culturelle? You consider yourself a fine lady?}" the French girl started still steaming from anger. Zulime was indeed squirming, but the blonde was determined to keep her wrists firmly pinned to the ground. And to make it all more effective, she also attempted to squeeze her legs firmly around Zulime's waist. "{Sure, we can fight of you want, but do it with style then! Do you even know how to wrestle, or are you so dumb that you can only use your fists then?}"

Obviously, Patrice knew other girls rarely knew how to wrestle. She just happened to. Why not show it off?

Zulime could not help but hear this blonde woman's words. Annoying as she was, this French lady had a point. She was very much worse off for the whole exchange, and to make matters worse, there were two strong legs around her now. Of course she was culturelle. Of course she had style. Of course she was a fighter. Just right now, she was having an exceptionally hard time proving it.

The Riverboat Queen kept thrashing for a bit, until she recognized that all that would do was make her tired. Zulime quickly abandoned that strategy, and tried to think of a solution that had a little bit more elan to it. She laid her feet flat on the floor, and tried to push up.

There was some leeway there. Zulime let her body fall back to the ground. She wanted to say some slick things, but held off on it for a little bit. If you wanted to say something smooth, you had to be on top. At least that was her line of thinking. So she was going to do everything that she possibly could to get on top, and stay there.

Zulime lay her feet flat on the floor again, hoping that this blonde woman did not snake her legs around Zulime's own but the time she tried it. She pushed as hard as she could with her legs. If that did not flip them over entirely, the least it would do was knock the French woman off balance.

So far, Zulime hadn't been one to be left without words. Every time Patrice had somehow mocked or degraded her, she had come up with an answer. But this time, after Patrice's venting, the musician remained silent.

But what did that mean? Did Patrice actually nail it with her words? Was the pianist not a capable fighter after all? Was she intimidated by Patrice's dominant position? Was the diminishing resistance a sign of surrender? And if so, what should Patrice do now?

Or was it just a calm before the storm? Was the darker girl just plotting something, preparing to counter Patrice's reign with something similar to the earlier punch?

That pondering ended abruptly in the blonde's shriek of surprise. Zulime had managed to be just subtle enough with her legs that her plans had gone undetected by the French. With a sudden push, the Cajun girl turned the two ladies around again, but this time it was Patrice finding herself on the bottom.

For the French, that meant at least two things. One, she was still trying to keep hold of Zulime's wrists like her life depended on it. She was not going to have those fists hitting her face again. Two, had she still some capability after number one left, the French would try to wrap her legs around Zulime's waist again, in hopes of getting some control over the woman on top.

Zulime held her breath. This was a high-risk, high-reward sort of maneuver. If this had failed, then she honest did not know what there was to be done. There was no plan b, no contingency, no exit strategy. Either it worked, or she was going to be on the dirty jazz club floor until the blonde woman had the mercy to let her up, and given all of the antics that had occurred this evening, there was little possibility of that.

But it worked. It was a raging success, and when she let out the breath her breasts expanded. Now was not the time to be worrying about breasts, however, as the blonde was still clinging to her the way a barnacle clings to a riverboat, travelling up the broad Mississippi. Zulime knew that she had to shake this woman, and shake her fast, otherwise this particular monkey would be on her back for longer than she wanted her for.

So the Riverboat Queen resolved to do something about that. Using the muscles in her core and legs, she moved to her knees, and then all the way onto her feet. For a second, she wobbled. The blonde woman brought a lot of fight, and Zulime recognized now that the French woman had taken a lot from her.

But not nearly as much as Zulime was going to take. If she managed to get the blonde woman up, she would get her straight back down for an impromptu body slam. The Riverboat Queen prayed that the blonde would remain attached to her as she tried to execute the move.

OK. So the musician had managed to turn them around. And now Patrice had to mitigate any potential effects it might have had. Such as fists in her face, and other nasty ideas... But what did that mean? Was she in trouble? Probably not. Obviously, it was unlikely that the Cajun girl would know even half of her wrestling skills.

What the pianist was doing now was a clear sign of that. She was trying to get up again. She was eager to escape any potential Patrice's wrath, and probably wanted to be throwing her punches around again. That wasn't really a pleasant prospect, but then again, Patrice's own position was far from ideal as well, and it probably didn't hurt to facilitate Zulime's cause.

After all, when they'd be back up again, Patrice could immediately think of various arm, face- and headlocks she could use to gain control over her new foe.

Turned out, the French wasn't the only one here capable of coming immediately up with effective moves. Continuing with the theme of getting caught totally off guard, Zulime was suddenly taking quite a different hold on her. One that ended up in a body slam. The blonde was promptly planted back to the ground, and the floor of the club ensured that it hurt. Immensely.

"Oh, wow.... I guess she DOES know how to wrestle then!"

Zulime knew that one hurt. Back on the riverboat, she had done something like that to a few different women and had something like that done to her by a few different women. The bouncy ring floor provided little solace from those harsh slams, and she was sure that the hard wooden floor of the jazz club was far worse. Hell, only a few minutes ago it was her with her back to the ground. Zulime used the attack to back off of her opponent, and give herself some space. Everyone was still looking on, but she did not particularly care.

With a flourish, she brushed her hair from her face. "Madame." She began. "This has become an affair of honor. I see that despite your proclivity to be on your back, you possess the faintes' hints of being a fighter. So, I propose a fight to you. Not here," the word coming with a strong Cajun accent, "but in a real place." With her dress being in the state it was in, she felt like she could not continue their little catfight, lest she be shamed. "A ring. A bed. Anywhere." Zulime showed what she meant when she flicked her hand to the right. She was willing to fight this woman. But not here.

She crouched down, ready to see what would happen next. If the woman accepted, then that was that. Zulime would leave the bar, and await a summons to the only wrestling league in town. If she did not, then the Riverboat Queen would pounce on her, and fight her until the very end of the line.

Her eyes narrowed, as she waited for an answer.

Confidence was usually hard to build, but relatively easy to shatter. Right now, Patrice's own was starting to head for the latter direction. There had been a moment when she had ruled the situation. There had been a moment when she could have just walked away as the winner of the little feud and moved on with her night. She had been sure that in whatever way the musician might have attempted to assault her, there was a way for her to turn things around again.

But that had all been based on wishful thinking. Granted, the odds of the pianist turning out to be a capable wrestler were close to zero. But that didn't matter now. Patrice had underestimated her opponent, and now she was having to live with it.

Now, how could she get away from this situation with dignity? Her back ached bad, and Zulime was the one laying down the rules. Or options, as it turned out.

And those options were also puzzling indeed. Her preference would have been on defeating the musician here and now. But given their current state, that was somewhat unlikely to happen. Also, she hated the floor. It was so hard, and even the mention of a bed was tempting Patrice to somehow switch their little match to a real place. She had to agree with Zulime's words in that regard. But how could she agree without appearing like she's surrendering? And why did Zulime actually suggest a bed as an option? That struck as a bit unlikely option, given the current hostility between them...

There was a moment of silence as Patrice was pondering about the situation. Finally, the blonde suddenly pulled Zulime's arm forward again, pushing it to the floor and locking her legs around it. Her aim wasn't to keep up the fighting, but rather to get the Cajun girl in a tricky position to hear her out. Point being, the blonde could have kept up the fighting if she had just wanted to.

"Alors, tell me more...." her tone being now rather interested instead of full of anger. "The fact is, I enjoy fighting a lot, and would be glad to make you pay for your arrogance tonight... And I'm open to many options... Should we do it somewhere where these fine gentlemen can come and watch my performance again? And how exactly do you fight in a bed?" she ended with a teasing tone, despite being actually able to imagine quite well how that could turn out to be.

Zulime let her arm dangle a bit, and she regretted it. The blonde woman had seized it, and used her appendage to make her bow. Zulime's large rear was sticking out, much to the delight of the onlookers, but she was still on her feet. That had to count for something. It also literally forced Zulime to listen to the words that the blonde woman was saying, which Zulime surmised was her actual intention. When the French woman's words spilled into her ears, Zulime was listening. Carefully.

So this woman was a fighter, but she was not that familiar with AFW. That was fine, she supposed, but she let out a hearty chuckle at the blonde woman's words. "There are many ways to fight on a bed. One can wrestle normally, 'course. But one can make sure to win only by makin' yer' girl cum. And I assure you" Zulime wriggled her fingers on the underside of the blonde woman's legs, to show her what she could do, "I am quite adept at that." Zulime tried to reposition a bit, to make herself more comfortable, but this was a stress position. Nothing was going to work. "And, yeah, everyone can see. Lest, 'course, you become too shy of gettin' embarassed in front of everyone, and you wuss out."

Zulime was pulling a little bit harder now. She wanted to wrestle this woman, but she also wanted her arm to be free. The Riverboat Queen struck up again in French, to speak directly at this woman's heart. "{Tell me your name. Tell me your name, and I will get us a match at AFW, and I will tear you apart, make you cum, and leave you absolutely drained yet wishing for more. And unhand me. Or I shall unhand myself.}" Zulime tugged one more time at the French woman, this time making a little bit of progress.

Her brown eyes were focused dead on the blonde woman as she waited for an answer.

Patrice wasn't exactly as clueless as she may have appeared to be, but not letting Zulime see all the cards she had was probably a good strategy at this point. Hearing the Cajun girl out and letting her carve out a suggestion could give the French some valuable information on what she had experience with, and how exactly did she want to fight her. As Patrice had turned out having underestimated the musician's abilities, maybe it could be beneficial to get Zulime commit the same mistake.

At least Zulime had obviously listened to her words. While AFW was actually the reason Patrice was in town right now, she hadn't really gotten things going yet. And while she had a decent amount of prior experience of wrestling, the hentai part was an unfamiliar territory for her.

Obviously, Zulime seemed to be very familiar with the art of the latter one. Patrice was very much assured of that based on her words and the work of her fingers. Now the tricky part was, how was the blonde going to appear confident and agree to the challenge, without making herself too much of an underdog...

"Oh, I'd NEVER do that..." the French was quick to deny the possibility of wussing out before Zulime switched the language again. Listening to her challenge, the blonde's mind was racing. There was no way she could turn down the challenge, but she had to come up with a counter-suggestion. One that would combine a chance for Patrice to utilize her wrestling skills without running the risk of becoming an outright victim of the musician's hentai skills.

But first, she had to fix their position. The French released her legs, but took advantage of Zulime's tugging with her hand, taking support of it while getting herself back up again. Now that the two were both standing up again, Patrice then pressed her body against Zulime's, nailing her eyes on her foe's. "{Trice. Patrice Juillet. And yours?}"

After introductions, it was time to lay down her terms. First pressing her index finger on the Cajun girl's white dress between her breasts, the blonde then started. "{Listen, sure, I'll fight you in bed. But the bed will be inside the ring. And to win, you'll need two falls. First one by pinfall or submission, second one can be by the way in your dirty fantasies. I'll be eager to see how adept your fingers are after I've crushed them in the first round... Deal?}" Patrice then ended with raising her eyebrows and slightly tilting her head to the side.