Pick on someone your own size with the Amazing Ronnie

"I think I need to wrestle someone I have a chance with," you finally say. "What's the fun of just going out there knowing I'll lose?"

"Amazing Ronnie?" Asks the scheduler.

"That's right," you say. "It sounds like I can take him."

"Alrighty, little lady," the scheduler hands over the clipboard. "Just sign on the line and I'll go get you a swimsuit. D-cups?"

"That's right," you answer and he gives you a strange smile.

You sign the form and set it back on the table. He returns from a side door with a pink bikini. Not the sort of thing you'd normally wear, but it could be worse.

"You can change back there," he gestures to the room he just left. "The match is in five minutes or so."

You and Sara head into the back room, just a small windowless cell with a rack of bikinis and a gym-style bench. Sara plops down and watches you as you strip out of your coat. She admires your body and you make a show of placing your feet up on the bench and slowly rolling down your silk stockings.

"Very sexy," Sara says. "If you didn't have to hurry I would eat you up, young lady."

"Can I get a raincheck?" You ask as you stand naked before her.

Sara pulls you to her and you lean in and kiss. Her hands are warm on the bare skin of your back and her tongue tastes like peppermint in your mouth. You reluctantly pull away from the kiss.

"I've gotta hurry up," you say and quickly step into the bikini bottoms.

It's a generous cut, covering most of your ass and tying at your hips. The top is certainly revealing, but it too does a good job of covering your assets as far as bikinis go.

"How do I look?" You ask, modeling the bikini.

"Like the hottest babe at the beach, circa about...oh...1986," Sara says.

You both laugh. Sara gathers up your clothes and carries them for you as you both exit the tiny room.

"Good," the scheduler says. "Ronnie is all set in his corner. What do you want your name to be?"

"Just Joy," you reply.

The scheduler shrugs and says something to a stocky man in a referee shirt. He then turns back to you.

"Alright, Just Joy. Head over to your side's entrance there," he points to a tunnel that leads beneath the bleachers and to the wrestling rings. "They're all set with the hot oil, so just wait for your name to be called and head on out."

You give Sara a last kiss and stand at the mouth of the entrance tunnel. You can hear the crowd murmuring with anticipation for the next match. Your stomach is filled with rabid butterflies.