Make a bet with La Diabla to raise the stakes.

“Not just yet,” you reply. “I have an idea that I think you’ll like.”

La Diabla tilts her head curiously. “Oh?”

You smirk at her knowingly. “What do you say we make a little wager on the outcome of this match?”

She perks up, clearly liking the idea. “Hmmmm. You sound like you have something in mind.”

Gesturing at her match outfit, you say, “You seem to like wearing that little number around. And I know I certainly enjoy seeing you in it. So if I win, I want you to wear it to your workouts for...oh, let’s say, a week.”

She winces a little bit at the thought, but says, “Okay. But I’ve gotta get something if I win, too.”

You shrug. “Name it.”

“Ooh, somebody’s confident,” Diabla giggles. “All right. My demand won’t last a week. In fact, it’ll only take you one minute. Sixty little seconds. Not a lot to ask for, is it?”

“Depends on what I’m doing for that minute,” you reply dryly.

“Oh, right!” She slaps her forehead as if she forgot something, but it’s clear that she knows exactly what she wants. “I should probably tell you that. If I win this match, you will spend one minute...”

She turns around and puts her hands on her hips, wiggling a little bit for effect.

“Kissing. My. Ass.”

You’re a little apprehensive at the thought of having to compound a loss with that kind of total humiliation, but you’ve come too far to back out now. “Fine. If I lose, which I won’t. Do we have a deal?”

You extend your hand to her, and she shakes it firmly. “Deal. Let’s get down to business.”

You head back to your corners, the opening bell rings, and the match begins.