Showdown '19: Zulime Lafitte vs Pierre Vulliard: Hardstyle Hentai Match

Amidst all of the preparations and panic that the stagehands must do in order to make sure this Showdown is a success, a man was waiting in the guerrilla position, wrapping some tape. He came a bit early than usual; the reason why would be revealed soon enough but he did get a glimpse of who won the previous match. Only that was the thing that reminded him that this wasn’t an ordinary night. This was a PPV night. Honestly, the Quebecois would have had his ego fed even more than management had put the next best star in Tension to showcase his stuff in a PPV of all places and not just the usual Tension tapings that happen in Kyoto. All those calls pressuring the higher-ups, all this waiting…it wasn’t for nothing. He was going to get his match and show what he can really do. That would be the case, but from the scowl on his face, it suggested otherwise.

There was another reason as to why this match was scheduled, and it wasn’t because of his talent.

At least that is what the new General Manager had put in an email just days before the whole thing would even start. It was just a normal day before that, did his gym sesh, checked the stocks, did his beer run and checked out some matches in Tension. That is until he has gotten the email. At first, he was pleased, he would get his debut. Even better, he was doing it in a PPV. All sounds good, right? Well, that is until he read further down. While Erica did say how talented he was and how he impressed the scouts, this match, in particular, was planned out by someone else. Someone requested a match with him. He wondered who it could be but a millisecond after, the name would make him give an exasperated groan before burying his face into his hands.

Zulime fucking Laffite. Well shit.

Funny how things turn out, huh. He remembered parts of that night, what started out as something of sweet flirting, then went to a spar, which he handled her ass mind you, and then being chased out by her teacher or something. It wasn’t the best night in his life, he had worse and hoped that had blown over by now. Apparently not. Though what was weird was the fact that she didn’t go to the cops or anything like that, something he was expecting and probably would have apologized there and then. Though it wasn’t as if Zulime wasn’t in any wrongdoing with her subterfuge. But it seemed the Louisianan native wanted to take matters into her own hands. A hardstyle hentai match. Wasn’t the kind of match he expected, hardcore was a stipulation that he would bet had gone through her mind. Wouldn’t blame her, really.
So, Pierre got the match that he wanted, but not in the way he’d liked. Suppose there’s not much he could do at this point but make something good out of it.

“Pierre Vuillard, your car is ready.” A stagehand would bring the Quebecois back to reality, realizing he had tightened the tape to the point of stopping blood flow. That won’t do. But now was showtime. He stretched his arms over his head, giving a yawn, not buzzed at all. This was an important night after all. And as the saying goes, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

The Man Of The Hour:

Theme:

The crowd would be greeted to the badass rock that hasn’t been heard around these parts at all, some good riffs blasting the speakers of the Japanese audience. Suddenly, a white limo would appear right next to the entrance near the ring, driving carefully so it doesn’t hit the barricades. Making a stop near the ramp, the top window would open and there comes the man of the hour, popping out of the limo and standing right on top of it. He did manage to get his attire altered before the big night, rather than the red and purple that made his normal attire, it was blue trunks and white jacket, blue boots too with the fur-de-lis. The cocky Quebecois hopped off the roof onto the ramp, walking over to the top of it before the pyro came down like rain, giving a smirk as he grips the towel slung around his neck. A cocky strut to the beat of the music, giving the Tension faithful something to enjoy.
He climbed up the steps and hopped onto the top of the turnbuckle, raising his hands and performing a Randy Orton-esque pose on top, basking in the glory of a PPV crowd. What rookie could say they debuted in a PPV? Not many, and that is why he is special.
He hopped down, taking a moment to appreciate the ring and feeling right at home. His eyes lingered intently on the stage while he removed his jacket and cast it aside, anxious to see the competition.

But first, he had a few people to address.

He gestured for a mic, and with the plan for this small announcement of her arrival already in place, she received it. "Well, well, well…Hellooo there, Japan!" He crooned. "Hahaha…Not gonna lie, it’s been a long time coming, been held back, you know how it is. I know you all have been waiting for me but know that they saved the best for Showdown!" The cheer they gave in response obliged him, and Pierre waited with a charming smile, goading the Japanese audience to chant and let them get their fill. They did sound great. Finally, he lifted the mic to his lips again. "I’m sure you all know my name. I'm not going to stand here and hold you captive while I stroke my own ego for ten minutes. Besides, I’m a man of action and I don't want to bore you lot. But…I only want to ask you to do two things."

He waited for a beat, turned to the camera and then continued. "Watch closely and enjoy." Dropping the microphone slight feedback from the speakers as he stood in the middle of the ring, arms open wide. [“Alright. Show yourself then, bitch.”] He muttered to himself in his mother tongue.

Zulime had a tendency to fixate on things. The Riverboat Queen was a proud woman, and would not tolerate even the mildest of slights. Back in New Orleans, she knew the social rules. When someone stepped out of line and said something untoward, Zulime would employ her verbal jiu jitsu and sprinkle in a few bless your hearts to let the offender know what was what. But here, she was, far removed from the creature comforts that the Crescent City provided for her, with its morals of its own. She was ready to enter the wrestling ring, where the only means of addressing slights was with your fists and with the strength in your arms.

Immediately after she came home from the gym, she called her manager. Zulime preferred to tussle with the fairer sex, finding that was where she had the most advantages, but she was not going to let this offense pass through without comment. The Cajun girl would not suffer to be fondled by a man so uncouth, or anyone for that matter. Her manager said that he would try to put a match together, but Zulime simply would not be having that. She insisted that her manager move heaven and earth to get her a match with this Quebecois man.

And here he was, tonight. Zulime had gotten a match with this man. Not only a match, but a PPV event. The Riverboat Queen had never been in a PPV before, and was quite happy to have the experience. A natural showwoman, Zulime had the desire to get as many eyes on her as possible. Especially tonight, where she intended not only to beat this man, but to embarass him and put him down for the count.

Zulime thought about her strategy. They had encountered each other while Zulime was doing capoeira, but she did not feel comfortable enough with that particular martial art to employ it that much tonight. No, tonight, she would be going back to basics to do what she could to shut this man up, and punish him for his transgressions. Capoeira had a lot of appeal to her, in that it let her accentuate her natural sense of rhythm with her desire to attack at all times. But after she had met the Quebecois man, she was willing to do whatever it took to annihilate this man, physically and spiritually. A ghost hand touched her breast, and Zulime shuddered.

There was no way she was going to lose this match. Part of the pride that made her obsess over that man and that interaction made her believe that she was going to embody the righteous spirit of the loa high above her and show the wrath of the spirits. Before she had left, she had burned the special incense, and performed the most sacred of rites. She was leaving no stone unturned in pursuit of her goal.

She got up from her chair, and took a look at herself in the mirror. Zulime was wearing her white and gold corset, which she thought more appropriate for the occasion than her typical garb. That would not be the only special part of the evening, she thought with a smile. Zulime traversed the winding hallways of the arena on bare feet, and walked to the staging area. The Riverboat Queen reached into a crate, and pulled out a giant albino snake. It flecked its tongue, and Zulime ran her hand down its back to soothe it. She looked over at the band she had hired.

"Ready, boys?"

They nodded. She peaked out around the curtain to find Pierre grandstanding like the asshole that he was. Zulime closed the curtain, and shook her head. The poor boy didn't know what he was doing, poking the woman who had the loa and the showmanship and the fixation on her side.

The Riverboat Queen threw the curtains open and led the Treme Brass Band into the arena to the rousing tune of When the Saints Go Marching In. Zulime was blowing it out. She was high stepping like some combination of a roquette and a drum major. She was moving her hips like she had been born with drums in her hips. She was shouting out her replies in the call and response section like she was leading the section of the chain gang. No one in the audience had ever seen a performance like they were seeing now, and the match hadn't even started yet.

The typical custom was to go straight down to the ring from the staging area, but that would simply not suffice for the ebullient Zulime. She encircled the ring, not only once but twice, the snake looking out at the crowd the whole time. Once Zulime was satisfied that the crowd had seen enough, she handed the albino snake to one of the band members and dismissed them.

She rolled under the bottom rope, and stood directly in the middle of the ring.

"[Did you like that, you massive asshole?]" Pierre, it looked like, wanted to speak with his words. Zulime, on the other hand, was doing her talking through the procession she had just put on and the smile on her face.

As soon as Pierre dropped the microphone, he let out an exacerbated sigh hidden in his smile. This was a show after all, and he had to keep up appearances in his debut. Must look good too. Which was hard to think about considering who exactly had planned this all out. It didn’t seem much of his appearance, similar to how Dasher had a while ago in the last Showdown. Not that he wanted to compare himself to this Bowlcut Brigand himself where he could put his stamp in Tension as another star. But no, this felt like it was for someone else. And the woman wouldn’t show any delay whatsoever after his speech.

The Quebecois shouldn’t have been surprised when Zulime came in for her entrance, but even then, the magnitude of it all was something else. And Pierre thought he was too much, this just blown his out of the water. It’s as if this wasn’t her first time hamming it up, a show woman through and through. The woman from the Pelican State came out with a band, and not just any sort of group, the TREME Brass Band. He wondered how much she paid for them to come to Japan. All the while, she led the charge like a drum major, moving her hips with the beat of the drums. Of course, she would enter in with “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Typical New Orleans. Must have been a Saints fan. At least from just looking at her attire. It wasn’t like the green leotard that she wore before back then, but it was a classier, yet sexy corset. Quite the change and she wanted to put her best foot forward. That would be all until he saw the albino snake that is resting on her shoulders. Well, …okay then. Weird, but he had to guess she liked snakes too.

Funny, could be compared with what who she is. The thought of it made him chuckle.

One would have been okay with just coming down the ramp and step inside into the ring. But not Zulime, however, as she went a few laps around the circle, much to the delight of the audience. Some wished to pet the snake and perhaps pet something else, but unless they wanted to be in the ring with the Riverboat Queen, which let’s face it many here are just horny dogs, would be best advised to not go through what Pierre is going to go through now. The French-Canadian’s eyes focused on the ebullient Zulime, watching her as she walked around the ring, making sure there wasn’t any funny business going on here. One last lap and the Cajun let one of the members take the snake before she would enter the ring not so classy like. Somethings don’t change. Least this didn’t go on so that it overstayed it’s welcome and the crowd enjoyed the Southern flavour of New Orleans as the saints go marching backstage.

So now, Zulime came straight up towards the middle of the ring, near where Pierre stands but not too close for a complete stare down. His thumbs hooked on his trunks, rolling his eyes as soon as Zulime come waltzing in, speaking perfect French. When she just said before that she didn’t know the language. He had to wonder how much Zulime lied from before, wondering if she was just the perfect con-woman looking to take advantage of him where he just wanted a bit of fun. But more and more, even with the smile and the mask she put on, there were even more things to aggravate the Quebecois further. [“I mean, this match is your fucking doing, so I expected you to make a massive show out of it.”] Pierre shrugged. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, pacing left and right a bit. His mouth opened as if he was to speak but then paused, shaking his head and wagging his finger towards the Riverboat Queen before letting it drop to his side. There was something he wanted to say, but he decided to keep it to himself. [“You know what, I had many things to say to you… but fuck it, doesn’t matter now. Let’s get this show on the road then, you obsessed witch.”]

He took two steps back before crouching into a stance, raising his arms and ready to get it on. The Japanese crowd wasn’t going to understand French, so they could say what they want to say while their faces say otherwise with a smile since Zulime cared so much about keeping appearances.

The crowd had been electrified by Zulime's grandiose entrance and were sending their energy forth. The Riverboat Queen loved it. She was soaking in all of the love that this crowd had to offer, and letting her heart beat increase in speed. Then she cooled herself off, mentally. The real prize tonight would not be the audience's adoration, but rather, Pierre's pride. The Quebecois man was standing there with his thumbs in his trunks, trying to act like he was not impressed. Zulime knew what effect she had on people, especially men. But Pierre was cool enough to not give her the reaction that she wanted. That would be okay, for now. The night was going to be a long one, and Zulime was going to make it that way.

"[This match is your fucking funeral, and I am going to make a great show of that as well.]" The Cajun girl knew how to make her French sound sweeter than honey, and she also knew how to make it sound like she was attempting to stab someone in the soul. She tilted her head to the side before she weighed her next words. "[I intend to speak very little with you tonight. Or at least, very little with words.]" Zulime crouched down in her wrestling stance. The bell had rung. It was now time to see if she could live up to her impressive entrance.

As she approached the Quebecois man, she moved with her capoeira steps. She was 100% positive that Melvin would be watching, and if he wasn't, she would bitch him out when she got back home. In the interim, she had practiced a little bit. The Cajun girl thought that the match would soon descend into anarchy where her natural ability to improvise would help her out, but she wanted to start off with what she had been practicing.

The Riverboat Queen knew that her timing would have to be flawless. But she had not come out with a brass band so that she could take it easy. Zulime threw herself downwards while planting a hand on the mat to give her a sense of balance, as her leg shot out to try and sweep Pierre off his feet. Or at least, have it look like she was going to do that. What she was hoping to do was send it slow enough and wide enough where it would easily be seen and dodged, but in doing so Pierre would stick his head slightly forward. From there, Zulime would switch her hips and send one of her strong legs upwards to clock Pierre with a kick right to the face.

She had only practiced it a few times. But just like most of the things that she did in her life, the Riverboat Queen approached the move with a hearty confidence.

Inwardly, Pierre was quite frustrated, though he didn’t make the reason as to why known to Zulime or even to the crowd. They were going to mask it all with smiles and nice words but the man wasn’t having any of it. This was a match made by Zulime’s own doing, so her pulling out all the stops with her own entrance was something that had Pierre not as surprised when it did happen. It just didn’t do many favours that Zulime herself had to upstage the Quebecois up when it came to entrances, Pierre made do with the one he got and yet this Cajun cunt might as well bring in the whole goddamn circus. Now he has to win that match. Otherwise, his debut would just be a distant memory. He didn’t wait for months to get a match only to get that kind of result. That won’t do. It had to be spectacular.

Pierre ignored Zulime’s other comments shaking his head as he got into his stance. At the very least, she wasn’t going to speak much. Which was good, considering how hearing her fluent French was constantly frustrating the man. Sure, he did wrong but was Zulime that oblivious to her own wrongdoings? That is what made his blood boil. If Zulime was that intent to getting her revenge then Pierre might as well get his own tonight. Could get a good fuck too. Works for him.

The bell had rung, Pierre already moving around the Riverboat Queen as she settles into that same capoeira stance. His eyebrow raised as she would get into her steps. As much as he was buzzed that night before, he still remembered that bit about this, Zulime went into that very stance in their “spar” that got cut short. And here she was doing the same thing for real this time. Even down to the sweep that Zulime would start off within this match. Christ, does she not know the meaning of insanity? As far as he was concerned, Pierre was keen on doing the same thing if she really hasn’t learnt her lesson from last time. Only this time, he was going to punish her much worse than just landing on top of her. Seriously though, why did he do that? Such a drunken mistake. Like the rest of his stuff that night.

So instead of just jumping over the leg like some skip rope, the French-Canadian would step back, the fact that this came up slower than before made it easy to not try and use his reactions. This would, in turn, let her kick sail out of reach before he can step right back in and then charge in on the attack. He certainly wasn’t born yesterday and would then step right back in yet again. His arms lunging out and his head stuck out a bit forward. [“God you’re such a dum-PUUUUUGH!”]

His speech suddenly cut short as soon as her foot came up and smacked right on the face of Pierre, not seeing that the Riverboat Queen switched legs and clocked him with the other one, another subterfuge but this time was used in battle. A bit of spit flew from his mouth as he was suddenly caught unawares of that kick, the French-Canadian stumbling of back and at the direction where the kick came from. Blinking hard, he really did not know what hit him as he looks to get his footing right and not stumble too far.

So apparently, she did learn. Who knew?

Zulime was a sensual woman, and the physical sensations that she enjoyed were beyond count. She loved the rollicking drums that provided the background of her piano improvisations, in that dingy little bar in the shady part of the French Quarter. She loved the way that the crowd popped when you pulled off a flashy counter that left the other wrestler reeling, when everyone was on their feet and demanding that Zulime do more. But right now, she loved the feeling of Pierre's smug, stupid face against her foot as the Riverboat Queen pulled off the feint brilliantly, sending the Quebecois flailing back.

The Cajun girl rose up to her fullest height. She had knocked the hated Pierre back, but she knew that the first blow's effects would not last for long. Immediately, she charged into action once more, her large legs pumping as she moved to cover the ground between them as quickly as she could. Her arms were pumping like a piston as well. She knew that it was not going distract from the fact that her large breasts were bouncing up and down and left and right, but Zulime didn't really mind that. After all, she was here to put on a show, and she knew that there were a lot of people here who purchased a ticket for the sole reason that they would see a lot of body parts that were otherwise inaccessible in daily life, which they would surely see in good time. That was the ultimate goal here, after all.

The second before the two were destined to collide, Zulime jumped into the air. She had done her best to learn the moves and their names, but she recognized that there was a lot that was simply beyond her, at least for the time being. Her improvisational ability helped her get through her matches, for the most part. Capoeira could become her base over time, but Zulime was still going with the flow. So when she jumped into the air, she knew that she was doing what was called a Lou Thesz press. One of the trainers at the gym was kind enough to show this particular move to her, and she was sure that with more practice she would have had the move work a little better.

But for right now, she was pretty content to be a flying ball of fury with her legs spread wide. She was hoping that her speed and her body weight would mow her opponent down to the mat, hopefully with Zulime right on top of him. Zulime's arms stretched out forward, as if to embrace Pierre in a hug. Only, her goals were far less wholesome. The Riverboat Queen was trying to control Pierre's upper half as she guided the Quebecois man to the ground.

And once she had him there, she would envelop the man's head within her breasts. Most men would like that particular move, but she knew that Pierre would find it quite humiliating. Or at least, that was what Zulime was going to be going for...

Pierre may not know everything about what happened during that night, some things were foggy and some he just wished to forget. However, what he did remember was Zulime’s first move, and pretty much most of what her offence came to. Even in a near drunken state, he was able to dodge such a move. Although this one came just a tad bit slower than the previous attempt, this was still something he could deal with. Though why would she go for it again when last time it pretty much ended up in a position where she would be going crazy like a bull seeing the colour red? The Quebecois did not think too much about it; all he was seeing was an easy shot. Last time he pretty much went easy. This was a match, and he wasn’t going to pull any punches. Pierre had the next few attacks all but planned, gotta be when you’re a quick thinker.

Shame he wouldn’t get to the point of doing anything soon as her foot struck his face, catching him unawares as the Riverboat Queen got her easy shot of sorts. It pretty much was the kind of attack that many wouldn’t catch, and it was unexpected. Yes, Pierre did see that Zulime was going for her Capoeira, but didn’t think that she was that advanced. Was she hiding this from him? Most likely, she practised it so that she found a way to bait the French-Canadian in for a good shot. The crowd loved it, much to Pierre’s chagrin.

But that was the first shot, hard-hitting as it is. This was still the eve of the night, and it was going to take much more than that to keep him stunned. Even if Zulime looked to have the strongest set of legs than most women. Once he stopped stumbling around like an idiot, getting traction under his feet, he came to turn back at the woman, seeking retribution for it all and to pay her back tenfold. Already this was his debut, and he got hit. That wasn’t going to bode well for him, and he just needed to turn the tables early and stop Zulime’s momentum.
At least, that is until Zulime had her earlier momentum coming straight towards him, running after the Quebecois like a world-class sprinter trying to catch a thief. And that sprinter would leap up towards him like a lioness catching a buffalo. Soon as he knew what hit him, a pair of breasts knocked right on his face, the ones that he got a good grope with. Large as they are, good to feel with the hands and wouldn’t mind motorboating them…if only that night went differently.

The Quebecois wasn’t thinking about any of those things and was coming to terms that he was on his back with a pair of tits pressed on his face, enveloping him in a fleshy pillow, suffocating the air that he needed. His hands came towards the sides of her body, legs coming up to press the soles of his boots onto the floor, gathering enough energy to buck the Louisianan before she would settle in. The last thing he wants is for her to get comfy and rub this in his face. If he manages to do so, the French-Canadian would roll over and get onto all fours before attempting to get to his feet. [“Sonofa-“]

Zulime wanted to enjoy this. She had always been told that the battlefield or the duelists ring was not a place that you should enjoy. The fields of honor were a place that you did your duty, righted wrongs, and carried on. But Zulime wanted for this to be so much more, a place where she could literally rub Pierre's face into it. Her soft body slammed into Pierre's, and it was not long before Pierre was sent down to the mat with all of Zulime's wealth right on top of him. It was probably not helping her that much she had her boobs right in the guy's face, as he probably wanted, but Zulime was going to use her curvy body to its fullest extent. The sensation of toppling the Quebecois was a good one, and one that she would have to build on if she wanted to come away from this match with a win.

But Pierre was not simply going to lie back and take it. It took little more than a quick shove to get Zulime off her, and Zulime found herself crashing off to the side. It was a simple indignity that Pierre had his feet upon her, which was another tally against the man. Zulime would mentally file that away to give herself more fire to carry her through the match, although at this point her heart was a raging bonfire that threatened to burn the whole forest down. The Riverboat Queen rolled backwards to give herself some more space and launch into her assault once more. She got up to her feet, and took only a second to assess the situation.

The next second, she pitched forward. She ducked down and planted her hands on the map. Zulime was not entirely sure that this move had a name, but she was not entirely sure that would have mattered. The Cajun girl hoped that she could catch the Quebecois man before he got all the way up, but she was going take whatever she could get. Back when she was dealing blackjack on the riverboat, they had a saying like 'whatever's on the table plays'. She was hoping that her improvisational ability would dig up a jack and an ace, as opposed to a set of cards that even an experienced woman such as herself could not get to work.

She was hoping to catch Pierre with her legs and drag him to the ground with a straight shot, if Pierre was standing. If he were not, she would aim so that her body slammed down onto his back to hammer him to the mat. Most men would consider themselves very lucky to have Zulime throw herself against them once, but Pierre was fortunate enough to have that happen twice in only the span of a few seconds.

"Try this, darlin'." She was hoping that all of the condescension that she put into the word darling would convey how she felt about Pierre more than any insult ever could. And given her thick drawl, that was a very distinct possibility.

Unbeknownst to anyone that is watching in the Kyoto arena, Pierre already had a genius, fool-proof plan fixed to the letter in his head from the moment he stepped into the ring. Regardless of what people and Zulime think of him, the Quebecois was a uni grad with plenty of smarts under his belt. He could do some critical thinking when the time calls for it; it just wasn’t all often that he would need to bust something out of that big brain of his for pro wrestling of all things. But this was his big moment, a PPV. He didn’t want anything messing it up tonight. Not even some mendacious, perfidious Cajun that is dead set in getting her “revenge”. Not tonight.

So, when Zulime came with that sweep kick, he would have hopped over, pounce straight on her so that he could get a little ground and pound. With her stunned and hurting enough, he’d get into some of his newaza skills, which Judo and freestyle wrestling gave him some experience to work on the Riverboat Queen. Few arm locks here, lots of leg locks, slap her around silly while mounted on top of her. Maybe slam her head into the canvas a bit before locking in a rear-naked choke before knocking her out cold. While she was on the ground crying and bitching and moaning, the French-Canadian would step right over, raise an arm for the crowd, and walk right up the ramp to celebrate his win and drive into the night to a bar nearby like the wealthy, master martial artist everyone would know not to fuck with. Not even dishonest Louisianans. Yeah, that all sounds good.

Only that none of this shit ever happened.

For one thing, Pierre wasn’t on top of Zulime for one part of his master plan, Zulime was on top of him. Not in the way that he wouldn’t mind. Partially. Having breasts on your face isn’t the worst thing, but when those tits are used with the intent to smother someone’s light out, it was far from pleasant. So, Pierre bucked the Riverboat Queen off before it got incredibly hard to breathe; she wasn’t the heaviest of people so doing that was a small feat. At the very least, the floor stopped tilting after Zulime showed that she had power latent in those legs of hers. Something he wouldn’t admit outwardly, much less verbally to Zulime. Good enough to have him stunned but now he was recovering from that good spell, immediately pushing up to his feet, with the hopes that he could correct this ship and turn the tides to his favour.

Except that Zulime would intercept Pierre before he could say “D’un ocean an l’ature.” Unlike the Lou Thez Press. Pierre legit had no idea whatever the heck this takedown was, a pair of legs suddenly flew straight towards him before latching onto his head and taking him down to the canvas yet again.

Can’t a guy stand up for more than five seconds?

Probably not, if Zulime had her way, and make no mistake, the Riverboat Queen certainly was in just a few minutes since the bell had rung. Grunting underneath after the crowd cheered for what they could see as a handspring takedown…to give it a proper name. Unorthodox, but it has netted results. One of them being Pierre looking straight up at the Cajun as she sat on top of him.