Frank loses, but does Sheryl win?

"Cool! But if you lose," Frank continued, slurring his words, "You'll have to give me that skirt and top and stand naked in the corner until the party's over! Still sound like a good idea, Sher Bear?"

"Come on, Frank," Jack intervened, "you know Sheryl's a girl, she can't lift as much as us guys!"

This energized Sheryl, who in her enraged stupor walked up to Jack "Hey! You know I can lift just as good as anyone, especially in pulls! How do you think I got this hot bod!" she waved her arms over her partially-clad self in an uncharacteristic confidence. She did look pretty hot, too, not only with her muscles, but her light makeup and hair done up with a yellow flower in it.

"Alright then, if you insist..." Jack demurred while Frank and Sheryl shook on the contest. The house had a basement gym downstairs, with a platform for deadlifts and Olympic lifts. Jack and two of the partygoers, one male and one female, loaded the barbell and judged from the side. Everyone decided to start with a simple 225 (or, as the powerlifting nerd who insisted on metric called it, "100") for ten reps. Frank took off his loafers, and Sheryl took off her wedges, and both contestants easily pulled everything. Unfortunately for Sheryl, midway through the set her paper towels fell off and fell apart. When she finished her reps and realized why the audience was staring and giggling, she gasped but Frank reassured her.

"Don't worry Sheryl, you lift more than me and that won't be a problem!"

She sighed but felt like she had to continue, her hands clamped tightly on her privates. Another round it was, and another plate on each side of the bar. Frank went first, but had atrocious form, with his back arched like a McDonald's logo. This caught up with him as he struggled to hitch the bar up and up until he dropped the bar with a loud thud and grasped both sides of his back.

"SHIT!" he yelled as he walked a few steps and tried to sit down, but continued to hurt. "Owwww!" in truth, he had simply sprained his back and wasn't in great danger, but his drunken self didn't know how common what he had just done was.

"Frank, are you okay, man?" Sheryl asked her rival while keeping her hands-on and tucked-forward posture.

"I don't know," Frank conceded, "I think I might have to go to the hospital."

"Oh god, someone call an ambulance!" Jack insisted while the crowd buzzed about something a bit more urgent than Sheryl's wardrobe. Even the half-nude Sheryl felt preoccupied with the events unfolding, but her hands kept their inertia on her crotch.