The Arab woman, with the grandmother a close second

The redhead's looking frazzled, sweating profusely, but just won't quite go over the edge, whilst the other five competitors appear more composed, though clearly aroused and enjoying intense pleasure. The seconds tick past without any sign that an orgasm is imminent and the spectators are just starting to calm down after their flurry of excitement, when the pink-haired lady tosses her head back and cries out in ecstasy. Groans from the crowd indicate that another favourite has fallen, but the ginger succumbs almost immediately, her bun coming undone completely in her throes, leaving her hair plastered to her face.

The brunette Josh was training is now struggling the most, tears running down her face while she digs her fingernails into her knees. The Arab lady in the dress is swaying unsteadily and the grandmother's moans are loud enough to hear over the crowd, but the black woman continues to sit placidly. Maybe you were wrong about the heat not being hotly contested.

The end, when it comes, is quicker than you could have imagined, Lorelei's rider climaxing with a single exclamation of delight, the elderly contestant cumming so hard she nearly passes out, the brunette sobbing in frustration as an unwilling orgasm is wrung from her loins and the last competitor finally cracking a smile when her pleasure erupts. Robyn blows her whistle, but the four orgasms happened so close together that she can't immediately announce the winner, much to the consternation of the crowd, which is similarly uncertain.

"We're going to have to go to the video assistant referee for this one," she jokes, eyes scanning the spectators for something or someone. "In the meantime," she continues, "we do know who's getting a paddling, so will her biggest supporter (who also happens to be her husband) please come up to teach her a lesson."

A round of applause greets the smart, middle-aged man who approaches the stage, but while he makes his way to his wife's side, the student coach finally spots you and mouths something you can't understand, gesturing ambiguously with her left hand. You're going to be needed on stage soon for your part in the proceedings, but not until the paddling has concluded and the mounts have cleaned the boards with their tongues for a second time, so you squeeze through the throng to find out what she wants.

Robyn hurries over to the side and leans down towards you. She'd probably like to whisper in your ear, but in the event has to shout to make herself heard over the cheers all around in response to the paddling..

"Can you check the recording while I keep things going here?" She pauses at your blank look. "Get one of the refreshment girls to show you, okay?"

You nod and collar one of the waitresses, who quickly leads you backstage and down some steps to an underground labyrinth you had no idea existed. She opens one of the doors to reveal a small office containing a desk with a bank of monitors and computer equipment, manned by a studious-looking girl with huge spectacles. She turns to look when you enter and your guide takes her leave, heading back to work now she's delivered you safely to your destination.

"Oh, hello, Professor, I'm just reviewing the footage now. It looks like Zahra al-Farisi was last, definitely, then I think it was Shirley Reid, Cornelia Cunningham and Zita Thomas before her. What do you think?"

She directs your attention to the screen displaying a recording of the race which you'd not the faintest clue was being made. You can't imagine where the camera was, but the image is large and clear. Even at half-speed, though, the order of the climaxes is far from obvious, so you decide to take the young videographer's word for it.

"Thanks," you say, turning to leave. "I'd better get back to Coach Goodfellowe."

"Wait! You'll need the timings." She presses a few buttons on the keyboard and a printer under the desk whirs to life, while she explains. "Puck says it's more professional if she reads the finalists off a piece of paper than a tablet." She sounds doubtful, but takes the completed printout, folds it in half and hands it to you. "The names for the mount competition and guess the weight are on the back," she adds.

You say goodbye again and hurry back upstairs, this time emerging onto the stage and heading over to the student coach. You can't resist taking a quick look at the document in your hands and don't recognize the winner of the competition to guess the weight of a cheerleader, but you're surprised by the names of the girls who were the quickest and slowest to bring their riders to orgasm on average.