Something Spicy

Thorn was over six feet tall, Australian, with a thick, fulsome body that she did little to hide. Tonight, as she sat by the bar of Roppongi, one of Tokyo’s seedier bars, she certainly wasn’t trying to be conspicuous. Thanks to her size, she stood out in Japan no matter what she wore, but today she was going for extra effect, wearing a tight, white tanktop that left her midriff exposed, giving the world a good look at all the work that went into her abs and arms, while putting her chest on display. The jean shorts she wore were ripped, and only a couple of inches kept them from being classified as Daisy Dukes, barely able to contain her thick legs. For the final touches on the look, she sported a pair of heavy, steel-toed black boots, and a pair of fingerless gloves to match.

It all made for quite a look, in her humble opinion. The patrons of Roppongi seemed to agree, too, if the looks they stole as they passed by were any indication. Roppongi was in one of the more gay-friendly parts of Tokyo, frequented by people all over the spectrum. But it wasn’t for any of them. No, there was only one fish this bait was meant for tonight.

That wouldn’t stop any of the other minnows from nibbling, though.

Thorn leaned up against the bar, sipping her glass of Whiskey down to the halfway mark. Cradle Mountain, good stuff, fairly rare on this continent, but not the one she’d come from. It was like drinking a bit of home with every sip for her, and she would’ve dearly liked to enjoy it, if not for the asshole heckling her at the moment.

”Said it once, saying it twice, drongo.” Thorn didn’t even look his way in full, on glaring at him from the side of her good eye. ”Fuck off. Before you take a bad fall.”

She took another sip as the guy a barstool away smirked at her with his elbow on the bar, clearly not taking her hint. He was a handsome sort, about her height, brunette, American, somewhere from the South if she was guessing the accent right. Looked like he was wearing a football jersey, something black and blue, though she couldn’t guess the team and didn’t care enough to look it up. Roppongi was a popular place among the tourist crowd, attracting plenty of Americans. Probably some college grad on vacation with his buddies, something like that. Big Man on Campus, probably wasn’t used to being rebuffed from the women he went for, and any other night, she might’ve humored him. Maybe even take him back to the house, break him in with Rose. But tonight was special, and she was making a concerted effort to keep it that way.

”Aw, come on, baby, don’t tell me that.” He waved her words off and leaned in. She was starting to wonder if Roppongi’s heavy synth beats were drowning her out, or if this man was just too dumb to process her words. ”You come here, dressed like that, and you’re not trying to get attention? You spoken for? I don’t see no man around.”

”Smarter man’d figure out why that was.” She looked away from him all the way now, turning her attention to the door and the door only. ”Plenty of pussy around here to try and stick your two inches into. Not sure why you’re barking up my tree.”

That got a laugh out of him, which got a groan out of her. He was one of those types, the kind that treated courting like it was some kind of minigame. Like there was a right way to approach her so she’d give up all the goods. ‘Pickup artists’. ”I know what I like and I like what I see.”

Thorn had to laugh at that one, though she wished she hadn’t. He’d probably take it as a sign that she was charmed by him, instead of just thinking he was a joke.”Christ above, you’re a cartoon.” She finished off the last bit of her whiskey and sat it down.  ”What shitty book you steal that one from?”

”I’ll show you later. Private reading.”He started to reach for her glass, a smug smile on his face, the whole time, like he was about to seal the deal. ”Here, let get you a refill, then we can-”

He’d only laid one finger on her glass before she reached over and snatched said finger, twisting it hard and making him yelp. That drew some attention their way, but one good look at her face told everyone else not to interfere. One of the reasons she’d never had her scar surgically repaired, served as a defense mechanism. Her version of a rattlesnake’s tail.  ”Touch my glass again and you lose the finger.” She let his finger go with a shove, pushing him far out of her personal space. ”Piss. Off.”

Loverbody stumbled away, sneering at her and nursing his finger, clearly thinking about retaliating...but he relented the moment she stood up off the stool and raised to her full height, ready to fight. He just spat at her feet and walked off with his tail between his legs, heading over to the corner of the bar, where some of his buddies were waiting. ”Fine, going. Fucking psycho dyke…”

The temptation to rush him with a knee to the skull  was, indeed, strong in Thorn, but she kept it low for now. She wasn’t here to pop off, she was meeting a friend, and it wouldn’t do to be arrested when she arrived. As funny as she’d probably find that.

That being said, she couldn’t help but wonder as she sat and waved the bartender over for a refill: where was Lyla?

Lyla was suffering from a hard case of the "one mores", which was her self prescribed illness of binge watching shows on Netflix. Something had managed to catch her interest in passing and before she knew it she was two seasons in, only really moving to assure her television that she was indeed still watching. It wasn't until she dropped the remote and had to fish it out from behind her bed that she had noticed the clock… and remembered she had plans for the evening. "Whoops…"

---

Lyla Moore:

Fashionably late, though notably without the fashion. She had just thrown on some clothes and briefly washed up before heading out the door. She could have texted Thorn she was running late, likely should have, but she figured the towering Australian would be fine without the constant updates. If not, Lyla had a few easy ideas for how to make it up to her… while self serving her own interests.

The Irish pass shouldered her way through the door of Roppongi, hanging by the door to give the room a quick once over. She had spotted Thorn immediately, to no real surprise. The woman was practically a titan. She didn't head over right away, instead taking a moment to size up other patrons. Group sizes, genders, choice of dress… you could tell a lot by the company someone kept. Once she was satisfied with her accounting of the room she would lazily saunter over to the larger woman.

"Hey sexy stranger. Come here often?" One of her saving graces was the her Irish lilt and she knew full well how to utilize it best to help ease any frustration caused from her late arrival.. Lyla would saddle up beside Thorn at the bar, circling around to her far side to cheekily steal a grope at her backside in passing. "Hope you didn't get too deep into a bottle without me. I'm looking to get blasted tonight. Also drink a bit."

Thorn was starting to have a small, slight suspicion that Lyla stood her up, as much as she didn’t want to entertain it. She liked the woman, felt they had a good connection in their match, but at the end of the day, they were still fresh in their relationship, whatever that relationship was. She tried not to expect too much out of people, so it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she did, but she would be lying if there wasn’t a tinge of disappointment. This one had some potential, she’d thought. For what, she wasn’t sure yet, but she looked forward to the surprise.

So her mind was put at ease when she heard that familiar Irish siren call and saw Lyla strutting her way, calm as you please. It was nice to see she still had the easygoing attitude from their encounter in the ring. Sly steps. A dreamy look. Not quite lazy, but taking the moments as they came.

”Nope. Might start if you do, though.” Thorn saw the grope coming and leaned to the side, giving her even more cheek to squeeze. She swung around on the stool and sat with her legs wide open as she faced Lyla, opening the way for her to do as she pleased.

”Deep? Not too deep. Drinking the good stuff, though. Not sure what you can handle with that little bod of yours.” The bartender came over and dropped the bottle off with another glass for Lyla. Thorn popped the top and started filling her own up, taking care not to let it fizz over. ”Whiskey? Or you want another poison?”

The temptation to plop down in Thorn's lap was tempting just to put the other woman on the spot. It would have made for needlessly difficult drinking with having to reach around and potentially have drinks spilled on her. She was far too sober to want to feel sticky and gross so she opted to pull up a nearby stool and gesture to the bartender to fetch her a glass. When one was delivered, she slid it towards Thorn to fill it up without hesitation.

"You are talking about my cultural heritage, mind you. I might be half your size but I can hold three times the liquor, kangaroo kid." Straddling her seat bowlegged scooting her backside slightly until she found a comfortable position. Lyla folded her arms on the bar counter, hunching with poor posture as she peered over at Thorn with a sly smirk.

"That's not a challenge by the way. Pretty sure I wouldn't be able to carry your big ass home if you were too pissed to walk yourself." The pink haired girl would make a swirling gesture with her finger, motioning for Thorn to keep pouring until the whiskey had reached the lip of her glass. She'd scoop the drink up in hand, waiting to drink at the same time with Thorn.

Thorn certainly wouldn’t have complained if she took a seat on her lap, but she was happy to let that be for the moment and not press the temptation. The longer she was around Lyla, the more she came to see the woman as a flirt, enjoying the game as much as the reward. They seemed to be on the same page, so as long as neither of them royally fucked things up, they would reach the same destination. This was just laying the groundwork.

”Give yourself some credit, love, you’re stronger than you look. Can say that firsthand.” She was all too happy to pour her out, filling the glass up as high as it would, right to the brim. ”Bet you could haul me to the car at least. To the backseat. Push comes to shove, don’t need to go any further than that.”

She raised the glass for a little toast, clicking with Lyla, before she leaned back and let it flow down her gullet. Vanilla, with a bit of caramel on the side. Just a bit oily, but not enough to ruin things. Some spice on the way down, just enough to give the drink some fight. Thorn’s kind of drink.

She let it flow all the way down, emptying out and waiting for Lyla to do the same. She breathed out, deep, and sat the glass aside. ”Good. Good.” She shook her shoulders out. ”So, how’s my favorite Irish nymph doing? You and your girlf-” Thorn caught herself halfway and held up a hand. ”Friend who is a girl, right. How’re you two getting on and on? Our match get her to loosen up a little?”

Lyla sat up, leaning in close to throw up an arm near Thorn's face. She threw on a serious face with a long dead eyed stare at the Aussie as she flexed her substantially less impressive bicep at the other woman. "Yeah, you're right. I could drag you all the way there by the hair if you'd like."

She dropped back to her seat, lifting her glass carefully to tap the both of them together. Rather than dump the whiskey down her gullet, she took it nice and slow after the first drink, making sure to get a good taste of the flavored liquor. She had all night after all, and Thorn had claimed this was the good stuff so there was no reason to burn through it in a second. A bit of burn on the way down was to be expected, an interesting aftertaste that lingered on her tongue as her cheeks hummed with warmth.

"You sort all your favorites by nationality? How regressive of you. Time to dial up the PC police." Lyla gave her glass a lazily swirl at the mention of Ellie, letting out a wistful sigh. There was something she needed to get out of the way first. "I don't do girlfriends. Friends with benefits only, please and thank you… as for El, she is pretty much the same, sadly. It's rough livin' with a prude, especially a looker like her. You can get the second she comes around to a little private sparring between the two of us, I would be jumping for it."

"How about you? Do you and firetits live together or just work together? I have been meaning to visit. Check the place out, surprise you while you are stepping on some dude's face. Fun for everyone." Nursing her drink had come to a close she set the glass back down on the table. She gave the edge a small nudge with the tips of her fingers, offering it to be refilled again. "You two mess around at all or do you keep it professional?"

”Oh, like the way you say that.” Thorn gave Lyla’s bicep a good rubbing as she flexed, feeling it up. Not the worst, really. She wasn’t a bodybuilder, but she’d seen worse in more places than she would care to count. ”Threaten me with a good time. Keep talking like that and you’ll bring out the sub in me, might see how you do with a whip in hand.”

She was all too happy to watch Ellie down her drink - of her many turn-ons, seeing fine women sipping fine whiskey was one that didn’t get nearly enough love. Her face soured for a flash, however, when she caught sight of Loverboy and his friends in the corner, pointing their way and laughing at some joke that couldn’t have been as funny as they were making it out to be. She let the moment pass, though, closing her eyes with a short shake before she focused on what was important: the devastatingly hot twenty-something before.

”No arguments on my side, don’t worry. Not settling down ‘til I hit the grave.” She started to pour again, filling up one glass, then another. ”Ellie’s a shame, though. Does she really not know how fuckable she’s looking in that leotard? Wasted potential. Can’t even guess how you two wound up in the same circles.”

Though she was curious, as her curious tone and leaning body no doubt hinted. She had her own questions to answer, though, and they were good ones. ”Me and Rose, we fuck, yeah. But not as much as you’d think. Rose isn’t a switch, and me? Only once in a blue moon. For the right person.” She let that thought hang for a moment, just putting the possibility out there. ”So we have trouble getting our rhythm right in the bedroom, not the best fit. Good sharers, though. You ever want to be the meat in our sandwich again, stop by, sure. Might even let you stay awake all the way, this time.”

"Have one handy? I wouldn't mind going Indiana Jones on you for a bit and practice my whip work. You're a tough pass, I am sure you can take a few misplaced cracks." Lyla gave a small wiggle of her eyebrows, running a finger over the lip of her glass. The sour look didn't escape her notice, thinking at first it may have been over something see said until she followed the other woman's glance. She wasn't subtle about it even in the least, turning with a framed neck to peer over at a distant table of giggling chuckleheads. She threw them a small wave and flashed a charming wink before turning back to Thorn as if nothing had happened.

"Don't I know it… she looks just as good in just about anything to be honest with you. It's a hard life living a door down from that girl and knowing she is off limits." Lyla gave Thorn one of her warm smiles free from the obvious flirtation slathered all over it. Picking up her glass again she gave it another sip with no need to test anymore. "We were bunk buddies at the same wrestling camp. They shoved us together at first. She hated it… to be fair though I made things difficult with, ya know, being me. She put up with me, so I stuck with her and here we are."

The pink haired girl listened to Thorn quietly, nodding along. Thinking on it now, seeing Rose and Thorn one on one together would be a bit odd. They worked well in tandem, to which she had witnessed first hand. The Australian woman did a good job of explaining, far better than Lyla could or would cared to if the roles had been reversed. If something didn't work, she tended to just bolt.

"I wouldn't mind that sometime. Maybe this time I'll make you pass out… I think I got a decent idea of how you like it now." Lyla gave Thorn a sly look, forming a small V with two fingers near her lips. She flicked her tongue in and out, as both a threat and a promise. Calling it all off was another wink before she went to work polishing off her second glass, her cheeks and nose starting to get a bit rosey.

As much as she wanted to bend Lyla over and have another go at the pert bottom of hers, the idea of letting her try the driver’s seat definitely appealed. One of Thorn’s greatest joys was seeing people discover their dominant side, do things they’d never thought themselves capable of. A ‘transformative experience’, as Rose liked to call it. Therapeutic, even. When she finally brought this one to the club, it would be one of many things to explore.

”Can take anything you throw my way, natch. Just, ah, mind the eye.” She brushed her hair back long enough to show her scared eye, then let the darkness claim it once again. ”Only got one working. Little bit protective of it, you can guess.” She had a slight laugh at it, though she couldn’t hide a nervous treble. Going blind was a real fear on her end, no ignoring it.

Having never gone herself, Thorn was intrigued to hear about the wrestling camp talk, and not merely for the story that came with it. Rose had plied the idea of her joining one, just for a month or two, but they had trouble finding one in Japan that would take an older prospect without anyone more established than Rose to vouch. They decided to handle training by themselves, though seeing Lyla in action made her wish they’d persisted. The girl had skills, tying her up like a knot out of the gate, and she wouldn’t mind a taste of that.

If the two of them could stop fucking and flirting, Thorn might ask her for tips. Later, though. ”Baby girl picked the wrong league to be a prude in, only so long that’ll last. You saw how she and Rose clicked in that match?” Thorn whistled at the memory, remembering the gleam in her partner’s eyes as she tore into sweet, innocent Ellie. ”Those walls are coming down. Deadset.”

Thorn was taking slow sips now, only pausing to shiver when Lyla threw out the idea of making her pass out. She’d never been knocked out before, come to think it. Something she was eager to try the more she thought about it. ”You’re tricky, give you that, you might could pull it off. Taught you well in that camp of yours. Funny though,” She flicked her tongue off the edge of the glass. ”The kind of wrestling you’re big on’s not the kind they’d put on a lesson plan.”

"I have plenty of other nice, big, targets. I don't think you need to worry about me whipping you in the eye. Closest it will get to your face is when I make you bite down on it so I can ride you around." Lyla spoke casually as if this everyday behavior, snickering softly between sips. The pink haired girl sat up when Thorn hid her bad eye again, giving her head a small shake. She reached out, breaching the other woman's personal space to tuck back her hair and place a hand on her cheek. Her thumb lightly traced along the scars as she looked it all over. Without any words she slipped away to sit back on her stool.

"Babe. Everyone saw." Lyla threw her hands back behind her head, stretching in place. She had a clear as day smirk plastered on her face. "It's the biggest league with the best competition in the world. Her words. Regardless, it suits me fine. When and if she wants to experiment she can tag me in any day."

"Oh, that "wrestling". Yeah, it wasn't an official thing but plenty of the guys and girls at the camp hooked up for private sparring sessions on the regular. As for me personally, I started learning back in high school how to make girls tap out." Lyla had a big bright laugh about that. She leaned forward to clap a hand on one of Thorn's meaty thighs. "It doesn't how big you are when you are on the ground."