Flowers and Fisticuffs

B was a solid grade, Kimiko knew just how solid it had been with the sturdiness of the knee that came with it. Had she been back in school, a passing mark was enough to be proud of and this one was certainly higher than she achieved on average across every subject save for PE. But the blueblood’s stamp was not really one of approval nor would it stand up in the court of yelp reviews where stars were king and letters were something hastily and disjointedly scrawled by irate customers. So Kimiko was out of luck, seeing only speckled dots in her blurred vision rather than a twinkling halo of circulating stars over her head as they were so cruel to tease in the cartoons. Damn elusive celestial bodies…

Though a heavenly body presented itself nonetheless, towering over her in domineering fashion the view of Gwendolyn's outfit looked a little less silly and a whole lot more flattering in this light… but that might have been the blunt force trauma talking. The delivery girl found herself squinting at garbled words, having been hit so hard it sounded almost like her sparring partner was speaking a whole other language.

“Par-what? Oh.. PERfume.” She suddenly remembered Gwendolyn wasn't American either, her poor English skills could be overlooked. “Yeah… the vanilla is really nice actually… in general but also on you.” The brunette had only just begun to sit up, tucking her elbows under herself to rise when Gwendolyn draped herself across her like fine silken sheets. Eased back to the mat she lay still, mind slow to understand what was transpiring through the hazy stupor of what might have been a concussion. Her legs were pulled taught, a nice stretch at first but a grimace signified it started to go a touch too far past what justified as a good burning sensation.

“Uh…” Gwendolyn‘s weight on her chest felt oddly pleasant, especially when she settled in snuggly. The heiress’s wrestling gear had certainly left very little to the imagination but its sleek form-fitting nature, but being firmly pressed together like this proved Kimiko’s mind wrong as it filled in the gaps enough to flush her cheeks a rosy red hue. If distraction was the goal it had been achieved tenfold as Kimiko’s arms remained limp and maluable as Gwendolyn pinned them to the mat. Her fingers coiled back, giving a small squeeze into the grip as if the two were simply playing a game with one another. When the blond rocked against her, a shiver ran up her spine escaping out her lips in an embarrassingly dopey chuckle doused in the perceived perverion of the moment.

“I…erm huhuh… are we still wrestling?” Kimiko muttered through a goofy look plastered over her face. The question seemed rather genuine, the subtly of the offer made souring so far over her head that it perhaps struck an airliner flying overhead. She was only loosely schooled in professional wrestling, born and raised slugging it out on the playground and the streets. This was certainly new… the nice kind of new, but the twinge of pain. In her thighs from Gwendolyn, firm hold was enough to confuse this situation as somewhat of a mixed signal. She responded softly in a dreamy haze with mild concern to the proposed ultimatum. “Dancing is fun. I don’t know ballet… Like, how to do the tip-toe stuff.”

Although conquering the simplistic delivery-woman was unequivocally a foregone conclusion within Gwendolyn's lavish book, the competitive challenge presented by Kimiko was absolutely an exasperating and unexpected outcome. Especially considering the supposed inexperience she entered this squared circle with tonight. The crick in Gwen's spine telling the tale of a Bearhug that rivaled certain Amazonian adversaries of hers alongside a German Suplex that matched Gwendolyn's in seamless form and flawless execution. Concocting devious stratagems in order to outwit one's adversary is indeed no rudimentary feat. Gwendolyn herself preferring the serene solitude of her palatial estate or office settings along with being served soothing tea as the tranquil backdrop to ruminate on her own corporate dealings and subterfuges. The Haughty Highblood much rather preferring these sophisticated settings as opposed to her current vexing situation...on the cusp of an unprecedented defeat against her delivery woman and daring to acknowledge she'd been bested by a skilled rookie who quite literally ate her lunch earlier in the day.

But concoct a strategy she did, using Kimiko's naiveté to her advantage with a knee strike that ultimately felled the ogre-strengthened parcel worker. Pangs of sympathy brought a twinge to her eyebrow as a spreadeagled Kimiko still conversed with chipper camaraderie towards Gwendolyn in spite of her underhanded tactics. Pondering as to whether this daft delivery-woman still considers her a friend in spite of that act of duplicity...but all lingering doubts were summarily disregarded once Kimi started recouping and soldiering back up. An upright Kimiko capable of executing all manners of strength based offense was a situation most disconcerting, therefore Gwendolyn opted to disable those options by clambering atop her adversary like an overeager paramour and positioned them in a manner that furthered misbegotten romantic innuendo. Capturing her foe's legs and intertwining them in a grapevine that tested Kimi's own natural flexibility as any visible space between them disappeared in the process. Crimson blushes were shared considering the heated warmth betwixt bodies...albeit with a satisfied smugness to Gwen's facials upon seemingly subduing Kimiko.

Gwendolyn biting back her own shivered illicitness from any crotched friction brought upon by any rocking thrusts, none at ringside to appreciate the sight many wrestling fans would have eagerly paid to witness. The blueblood appearing in absolute control and effectively leaving her adversary with those strengthened limbs of hers apparently locked down with little option other than to capitulate her surrender to the pampered aristocrat. Or the deliverywoman could continue their dialoguing much to Gwen's chagrin. "...*sigh*...Indeed, this is as integral a facet of wrestling as any sidewinding suplex or straining submission. Consider this spar a brief lesson in the matter, one I would not mind continuing to instruct you upon in the future given your unforeseen aptitude for the practice. I've yet to see your capabilities towards cutting the metaphorical rug, so I may refrain from schooling you in the art of ballet until I can witness what your skills are on the dance floor. Now, care to submit and conclude the day's festivities?~..." Gwendolyn queried as their warmth became sweltering as they exchanged breathes as well as words, her assistant willing to start a pin count whenever Kimiko's shoulders dared to flatten against the canvas beneath her...

When Kimiko first talked to the AFW recruiter that would lead to her being signed, she didn't know much about wrestling. She was always just a fighter. She tried her hand at traditional style, but strict discipline wasn't what she cared about. In a fight, it was all about punches and passion. She followed her instincts and clobbered all challengers. Wrestling was something else. While she had grappled before, it was never the go-to thing. Why go through all the added steps to put someone on the ground when a kick would do just as well?

“This is a bit different than how I thought it worked… it's ugh… not bad. Eh heh heh.” She could see the artistry in it now and the appeal. Being tangled up on the ground by a woman in fancy underwear was not what she ever imagined was part of the sport. She had heard of wrestling types out there which were more scandalous but had thought it to be a joke. How could you make a fight out of being sexy? It clicked now. Though perhaps all the head trauma was making her blood run a bit hotter than usual with the blond holding her down. One thing was for sure though, if they were still fighting she wasn't just going to give up. What would have been the point of all of this anyway? She needed this, and her business needed that good review from a confirmed customer.

“The only submitting we do at-egh… Shooting Star Shipments is-nhh, is out tax forms… and other sorts o-eugh, sorts of legal documentation.” Her mobility was shot. She wasn't sure how exactly her legs were intertwined with Gwen’s because she had never dealt with this sort of hold before. A small bit of bending at her knees, and motion in her ankles… enough to roll her foot from the back of her heel to the edge of her boot. She twisted and squirmed, wincing at the pain as her legs rubbed up along Gwendolyn’s within their restricted embrace. She arched her back in time with her attempted footwork, awkwardly bumping the both of their bodies together in small thumps to try and find some room to maneuver. Her upper body was significantly easier to work with, puffing out her chest to push back at Gwendolyn’s as she shimmied her shoulders. Her arms strained, pushing back against the heiress’s superior leverage in what would normally be a losing battle.

Nothing she did amounted to a smart plan. Brute force alone would never be enough to overcome Gwendolyn’s technique. No matter how embarrassing being held down like this might have been, no matter how hot she could feel herself getting under the collar with each unintended grinding against her sparring partner, she seemed inclined to fight over forfeit. She would push with all her might and then break to breathe before surging into it again and again. Breathing became heavy, sweat rolling down her face, along her flexed arms, down the length of her legs. If the goal was to wear her down, she was walking straight into it without hesitation.

If she could just get herself out from under Gwendolyn, she could continue where she left off. The bearhug had been incredibly effective before, so why not again on the ground? All she needed to do was break free and roll the blond over. So she would try over and over until exhaustion or Gwendolyn stopped her.

Although submission-styled grappling may have been the wrestling style currently making the greatest impression upon the deliverywoman at the moment, Gwendolyn could attest to the varied schools of thought when it came to one's own preferred method of attaining victory within the hallowed squared circle. Aerial daredevils flying through the sky...absurdly over-muscled neanderthals bull-dozing everything within sight...Fleet-footed strikers building momentum and rearranging faces...those of a more, lascivious nature. One does not accrue a wrestling career as vaunted and prestigious as her own illustrious caliber without having to contend with wrestling styles of all ilk, and furthermore learning how to circumvent and counter each methodology. Such as Gwendolyn assuming that the lack of tangible movement and entrapment of her limbs would hobble the fire-hearted striker whose taken vexing liberties with the haughty blueblood having grossly underestimated her sparring adversary up until this point in the night.

Unfortunately, this did little to impede the delivery-woman's blathering rebuttals, all eliciting a furrowed brow and tweaked eye upon Gwen's countenance. Truth be told, Gwen would have graciously preferred it if the two of them were merely exchanging limb-contorting submissions rather than casual conversations and slow-witted barbs like this. The further Kimiko expressed her innocent naivety, the further it nettled her imperious pride how close she came to suffering such an ignoble defeat, and incited a guilt-riddled conscience from how taking advantage of it was the only reason that conclusion never came about. "...Tch...consider this a future amendment to...ngh...your company's mission statement. Now...ahh...if you'll...k-kindly...kindly...submit with grace...and tact..." Gwendolyn's response taking a backseat to merely sustaining her grapevine as Kimiko's writhing squirms tested it's application, thrusting her back to a swelled puff of their breasts and rhythmic rotation to her shoulders. Alongside the flexed polish of their thighs, all equating to certain level of friction between their sweat saturated bodies.

One or two moments of laborious struggling and hipful thrusts off of the canvas not amounting to much initially...but the conspicuous weakening of Gwendolyn's formerly vice-like implementation eventually started becoming more noticeable. The flustered heiress becoming increasingly weak-willed and nebulous minded with random flickerings of prideful thoughts of attaining a resolute victory being the best she could muster to keep this submission sustained. All in spite of the shared sauna between their body temperatures and grinding abrasiveness in certain places. Gwendolyn scoffing after having long since closed her hazel-colored eyes and started sucking in heaving breathes. Wondering if Himiko was performing this meddlesome foreplay on purpose as a strategic distraction on her part. One that she could irksomely admit was working when she'd be abruptly twirled over onto her back in an exhausted huff. Splayed onto the canvas with the delivery woman mounted atop in a haze riddled state of vulnerability and loosened slack to her noble figure...

Kimiko was a creature of will and fortitude. If something didn’t work, the problem wasn’t the method but the force applied to the application. So when no alternatives outside of surrender had made themselves apparent, she did what she knew how to do and fought. It was a tiring exchange, one that had rivulets of sweat tricking down her body, dampening a dark spot in her bright red undershirt. She was red-faced, being worn into exhaustion but there was something more. Her hard buck and straining attempt to lift her against Gwendolyn’s overpowering efforts and shapely body were intoxicating. She could feel something stirring within her that was enjoying the contact and wanted more.

Little by little she could feel the woman on top of her rocking with her motions, her arms able to lift off the canvas before they were pinned back down. It was working. A few more good tries and… the two tumbled sideways in a complete reversal, Kimiko flopping onto a dazed Gwendolyn. The deliver woman let out a tired breathy laugh in triumph, immediately curling her arms around the woman’s midsection and clamping in a crushing bearhug. She straddled one of the blond’s legs, pinching the heiress’s thigh between her own as she tucked her body into a dense lump pinning the woman’s lower body to the mat.

“Wrestling with you is a lot of fun.”  Kimiko’s cheek was mashed half-buried against one of Gwendolyn’s pillowy breasts and found herself having a small bit of a cuddle before rib-cracking squeezes. She actually had to stop herself from doing anything further, feeling the sudden want to diverge from this spar into something less sporting. It was an odd feeling given she had never really indulged that way before with another woman but something about a classy woman like Gwendolyn being so rough and hands-on was oddly attractive.

The vexing knowledge that she was potentially being thwarted with as mindlessly simplistic a strategy as incessant repetition until achieving one's goals, was the penultimate shame Gwendolyn endured as each bucking upsurge furthered the molding squish of their heaving softness. The sauna-esque perspiration from such heavenly warmth causing a sweat dampened shade to be shared between their mutual attires while sending palpable shivers up the noblewoman's spine with every tender mush. Denying she felt any semblance of enthralled enjoyment was pivotal in encompassing her thoughts, all to her eventual detriment. As lethargic breaths were taken against the nape of Kimiko's neck with the idea to abandon the submission coinciding with the opportunity to do so immediately passing. Kimiko's primitive plan succeeding in reversing her fortunes with a flaccid flop atop the flummoxed heiress, only noticing her predicament in half-lidded befuddlement before her cheeks puffed out a rasped cough from the air squeezed out of her lungs.

Scrunched facials alongside a slight scrape of her other leg against the canvas were the instinctive reaction towards Kimiko's vice-like affection, her face sunken betwixt her bosom for a slumbering nuzzle. In denial that she had been bested, her noblewoman's pride decreed she persist onward...yet her own odd feelings decreed otherwise. Other thoughts permeated of the lascivious variety after being wrestled down by a mere deliverywoman, a thick-headed rabblerouser...whose sweat-slathered warmth and adorable naivety were all that were on her mind. In that specific instance Gwendolyn recognized what was an undeniable fact...she'd been wrestled into a checkmate. Lacking three of her limbs with only amorous thoughts fluttering around her thought processes and locked into an unforgiving clench. Seconds passed as Gwen undulated and squirmed until underneath her panting breathes and crimson blush, she tapped a submission to her accountant's abject surprise. Jostling Kimoko's shoulder and informing her of the same.

The light shuffling on the canvas, and the labored sounds of heavy breathing were the only things that stood out in the stillness. She could feel Gwendolyn shifting under her but not enough to make a difference and unsure if it was actually struggling at this point or just the woman's attempts to get more comfortable and ride out the bearhug for as long as she could. Kimiko was squeezing, compacting their bodies together as much as she could so unless the blueblood beauty had some sort of secret any crushing wrestling moves she wasn't aware of, this should have been working. The other woman had gone rather quiet though so Kimiko tilted her head to peer up curiously at the woman from over the crest of her bosom. Red in the face from all the blood being squeezed to her head she guessed. Looked like it was working.

She hadn’t noticed the submission at first, only after their impromptu referee had notified her. At that point she le her arms go slack and uncoiled them from around Gwendolyn. The girl leaned back with an exhausted sigh, carefully lifting her knees up and over the other woman to plop herself down into a seated position. The brunette let out a loud chuckle, glancing back to Gwendolyn with a smile and an offered hand to help sit herself up too. “No wonder you have so many of these funny outfits, you’re pretty good at this whole wrestling thing… did you know that?” Kimiko turned around to look up at the accountant with that big goofy grin of hers, gesturing back to Gwendolyn with a thumb. “Did you know she was so good?”

From someone else it might have felt as though they had been taking pot shots, gloating over a victory by belittling a skilled opponent. From Kimiko though it was genuine merriment. Even with how worn down and battered she was, the girl looked positively excited having had such a fierce opponent regardless of the outcome. Clapping her hands on her knees, she lurched forward in an attempt to rise to her feet, groaning softly at the strain. Upon getting up she would start popping her back and rolling her shoulders, trying to get the kinkys out of anything that wasn’t just punished muscle. If Gwendolyn hadn’t gotten to her feet by that time, a surprised Kimiko would offer a hand to help her up.

“Hope I earned that good review. Shooting Star Shipments is always there with what you need.” Disheveled and sweaty, she clasped her hands together and gave a deep respectful bow that would have been welcome in any Primol Group board room here in Japan.

In spite of finding herself no longer entrapped within the relentless embrace of the rambunctious deliverywoman, Gwendolyn still felt herself swathed, cloaked and shrouded in shameful failure. A chilled breeze wafting all around her once separated from Kimiko's sweltering warmth with the defeated heiress opting to merely remain here, spread-eagled and mired in defeat with half-lidded iris' directed to the gym roof. Contemplative and inert as she pieced together the sequence of decisions that led to this unfathomable outcome. Perhaps starting with underestimating the wrestling capabilities of a deliverywoman she tragically assumed wouldn't be capable of ascertaining the difference between a wristlock and a wristwatch. The torqued bearhug disabling nigh all her limbs and escape options, and unlike Kimiko's previous implementation, Gwendolyn doubted that asking for her release would have resulted in her liberation since even Kimi would have learned better by now. In all likelihood.

The snobbish blueblood recognizing she was in a checkmate position and opted to swallow her noble pride rather than risk discovering where Kimi's snuggled affection against her bosom would have led. Incoherent grumblings overheard beneath the triumphant deliverywoman still straddling Gwen's midsection with jubilant sunshine on her elated facials, blissfully unaware of the logic-defying feat she had just accomplished by submitting a multi-time champion and unequivocal veteran of the wrestling business without more than a debut match to her name. "...uh...y-yeah...I kinda knew a thing or two..." The sheepish accountant offering what little affirmation she could muster in her flabbergasted astonishment at the match's result, anticipating a volcanic eruption from her prestigious employer upon her awakening. Who'd start ascending underneath her own willpower on briefly wobbled legs once allowed to, denying any offered assistance from Kimi as a menial means of salvaging her dignity as an aristocratic noblewoman.

Gwendolyn adjusting her attire once vertical with a concentrated effort on the shuffled linings around her cleavage from Kimi's infernal nuzzles, disheveled and sweat drenched herself and now casting an embittered scowl at her adversary's offered bow...until the heiress snapped her fingers, compelling her startled assistant/referee to snatch Kimi's clipboard from the ring apron and offer it to her regal employer. "Tch..." A flustered pout accompanying her scribbles on Kimiko's performance evaluation before the golden haired highborn handed the evaluation form back to the victorious sparring partner via practically pieing it onto her bosom. "Here, take your blasted review score. Suffice it to say our business here is concluded. However, should you keep tonight's results under the strictest confidence, I may consider hiring you as my personal deliverywoman. Fetching perks and sponsorship deals aside, it comes with a caveat that we continue having training bouts as long as I deem fit. What say you?" Gwendolyn folding her arms with a competitive glare with Kimi's form bearing glowing review's.

The clipboard made a soft “plap” as it was shoved into her chest, sweat-soaked shirt clinging to her body. Gwendolyn’s curtness seemed to be no bother to Kimiko who took the clipboard back with a smile just as well as if had been handed to her politely.

“Of course! We at Shooting Star Shipments always consider our customers' privacy to be paramount to our business model… some people order a lot of freaky stuff after all.” She had almost seemed professional for a moment, regurgitating something she read or saw someplace that had a hint of business speech in it. She coked her head slightly at the offer, not really sure what the blond was getting at. She considered herself to always be a personal delivery woman after all… to many people. Sponsorships and perks? What could mean by that but then…

“We can fight again… while I’m on the clock? I say that sounds pretty darn super Ms.Bittercoat! Sign me up.” Kimiko beamed brightly, just as excited as when the offer to spar was just thrown her way. The whole reason she had considered joining AFW was this very reason and if she could extend the same benefits to her delivery business it sounded like a no-brainer to her.

“Haha, yeah! I’ll fight with you whenever you want. This was really fun. Last time I wrestled it felt like more of a street fight. This time was really different, a lot more racy! I didn't know that was a wrestling thing but it was pretty nice. I can see why you’re good at it. Especially when you dress in swimsuits and stuff.” Kimiko just rambled a bit, thoughts bursting from her skull without a filter, which was a common trait for her when she was excited about something.

“Consider 3S at your service whenever you need a private delivery of a butt whoopin’!” Kimiko awkwardly fumbled her clipboard between her arms as she patted herself down, looking into the various pockets on her shorts. Eventually, she pulled out a silver business card that had seen better days after being tucked away while the two had wrestled. The girl offered it to Gwendolyn. It was simple, thick stock paper cut mostly rectangular. On its face were Kimiko’s business details and contact information written in a mixture of blue marker and glitter pen for the 3S logo.

The brunette would tap the clipboard once one of the two women took the card, flashing them a grin. “Now that you signed for your package, I had better go. The boss hates paying for overtime.” Kimiko clacked her heels together and gave Gwendolyn another bow before absconding, her scurried footfalls echoing in the empty air. About a minute later though she would return, creeping back in to retrieve her work shirt she had set aside before the spar, muttering soft apologies and bowing her head along the way before hurrying out a second time.

Gwendolyn's fatigue stretching farther than the physical exhaustion from the spar as the prideful noblewoman lacked the strength of mind to even issue corrections about her attire not being a bathing suit or establish what the specific details of this business partnership between them would entail. Even withstanding the further butchering of her surname aside from a seethed "BetTenCourt" murmured underneath a hushed whisper through gnashed teeth and overheard only by her accountant in between Kimiko's blatherings. Gwendolyn taking this abject disgrace of defeat remarkably well all things considered, mainly stemming from her ability to control this information from reaching the outside world thanks to the vow of secrecy inherent with their business arrangement. And the wrath Gwendolyn could reign down upon the accountant she should suffer a case of loose lips. An assistant who took Kimiko's card and started reading it after the deliverywoman had departed for the second and final time.

"Ensure Ms. Danzaki is kindly designated an ungraded security clearance status as befitting one who I deem responsible for personal package deliveries to me. Furthermore...offer her an RSVP to my annual birthday festivity." The golden haired highborn then prompting waltzing through the ropes and towards the locker-room showers, the befuddled assistant left alone to ponder what exactly had transpired that day. Gwendolyn swathed in their shared perspiration that darkened her attire, although with the freedom to inhale freely came the freedom of thought and retrospection. Eager to perhaps rekindle this peculiar rivalry and achieve a definitive victory one day, the heiress interpreted this clandestine encounter as a vexing reminder that for all of her myriad of wrestling accomplishments...prodigies can still be found within the most unexpected of places with the capabilities to ensure she never gets complacent upon her vaunted mountaintop. Prodigies, and perhaps companions.