SSMM Ch2

“Well, that’ll cause trouble,” Annette says disinterestedly when she sees Ava in her sexy, red, maid getup. It’s not the reaction that Ava had hoped for as she climbs into the back of the car.

“Go,” Annette says to the driver, who pulls away.

The car is a nice Audi. It’s not flashy, but it’s comfortable. The fact that Annette has a driver is more impressive to Ava.

“You don’t sound bothered,” Ava notes, adjusting her cleavage. The outfit is tight, it pinches, and a part of her worries that she’s taken on the appearance of a caricature from a horny anime.

“Trouble’s good,” Annette murmurs, deep in her phone. “Viv loves trouble.”

“Sweet,” Ava replies.

SSMM

The house is about what Ava expects. It’s huge, but it’s not a castle or anything. It’s typical of this balmy rich people community: stucco, rustic distressed wood, and lovely ceramic shingles the color of copper. The landscaping is to die for; perfect flowerbeds hug the house with plenty of palms and some artful vines and creepers on exposed brick. The vast driveway is all artful flagstones, but as smooth as glass.

Raindrops dot the windshield as they approach. There are lots of cars in the driveway, which amazingly has room for all of them. This house has better parking than most of Tampa.

Annette lets out a sigh of relief and nods toward a battered Honda.

“She came. Thank fucking Christ.”

“Who?” Ava is having to adjust herself again. This is happening a lot in this outfit. Also, she hadn’t planned on getting rained on. Does Annette have an umbrella? Someone does: the Honda’s door opens and an umbrella pops open as a blonde climbs out.

“Our mascot. Someone has to make FUTA look good if everyone fucks up,” Annette says, finishing her drink and tapping the divider. The driver is the one with the umbrella.

Ava peers curiously at the ‘mascot’ as Annette climbs out. She doesn’t look like much; she’s a pretty blonde about Ava’s age with a nice figure, but those are a dime a dozen in Tampa. She’s not trying very hard; there’s an earthy quality to her looks that Ava can appreciate. She’s dressed the way that Ava wishes she were: workout shorts and a T-shirt bearing the face of a hideous man with mutton chops. Was Annette worried that this girl wouldn’t come?

Annette’s already out of the car. Ava scrambles to follow and the mascot sees her. The mascot’s eyes widen a little at the rather over-the-top amount of busty jiggling that even getting out of a car involves in this outfit. The shortness of the dress is supposed to be sexy, but around strangers, it’s actually anxiety-inducing. Ava tugs at it self-consciously as she tries to huddle with Annette under the umbrella.

The mascot hurries over.

“You see the weather?” she asks Annette without preamble.

“Is a hurricane going to kill us all?” Annette asks.

“Uh, no.”

“Then what good is it?”

The mascot seems a little taken aback by that. “Hi,” she adds to Ava, and she’s staring. It’s an attention-seeking outfit. Now there’s attention. What did Ava expect?

Blushing, she sticks a hand out.

“I’m Ava. Gopher.”

“Hailey. I play soccer,” the blonde replies, shaking.

The driver is already moving bags from the car and heading for the house.

“What about the weather?” Annette asks impatiently. They crowd the two umbrellas together; luckily the rain isn’t very heavy.

“It’ll storm and there are flood warnings,” Hailey says succinctly. “They told me not to come.”

“You did the right thing.” Annette scowls and looks at the row of cars. “OK, there’s Christy, at least. I swear to god, if I have to spend the weekend here and nobody shows up I’m going to kill everyone.”

“Neat,” Ava says nervously.

“Maybe don’t make that joke,” Hailey cautions, holding up a hand. “There’s a CCL girl here.”

“It’s me!” Ava holds up her hand excitedly.

Hailey frowns. “No. Not you. You know, someone who, uh… survived those killings? So let’s not do **** jokes.”

“Oh.” Ava shuts up.

Annette rolls her eyes and looks up at the house. Hailey joins her with a sigh.

“And I won’t make guillotine jokes,” Hailey adds to Annette, who snorts.

“Make them. She’ll love it.”

“You are the first person I will behead,” Hailey replies without hesitation. “Objectifying young women to increase shareholder value. Literally first in line.”

“Love that spirit.”

They all turn as headlights round the curve. Another beautiful car is approaching. Annette places her free hand on her hip, looking expectant as the black Mercedes pulls up, parking a short distance away.

The driver and the passenger get out heedless of the rain and go to the trunk; so they don’t have a driver to carry their bags.

The driver is tall, with violently dyed hair in a shade of lavender. The passenger is a petite Asian girl with a bubblegum pink bowl cut. The passenger is dressed with the unassailably cute and chic sensibilities of an actual person not from America. The driver wears jeans and a black flannel that don’t really hide her supermodel curves. She’d be popular at a CCL party, although she doesn’t look very friendly.

“Who are they?” Hailey asks.

“Belinda and Chitose,” Annette replies neutrally. “FUTA Wrestling. Glad they made it.” She looks irked, but it’s not clear which of these two she doesn’t like. Maybe it’s both.

Suddenly, Ava is getting rained on.

Annette and Hailey are heading for the house.

Ava… has not received any orders. So these two new arrivals are with FUTA; they’re all on the same team. She’s never heard of FUTA Wrestling, probably because it doesn’t exist. But someone wants it to exist; that’s why they’re pitching it here. Makes sense.

Belinda and Chitose are still unloading bags. They seem to have a lot of stuff. Right… stuff for pitching. Probably a costume or something. Chitose is clearly the wrestler; she’s tiny, but visibly stronger than Belinda. Belinda must be a coach or a producer or something.

Ava can’t just stand there in the rain; she’s getting wet, and the storm clouds have no appreciation for the amazing cleavage that she’s showing off.

Follow Hailey and Annette?

Or help Chitose and Belinda with their bags?