Isa Armstrong vs Arlise Christiaens - Debut Match

[Liesmith]

Standard Match - Winner determined by pin, submission or knockout

Well, here she was.

The debutante at her first dance. The newcomer taking her first steps into a new world.

This was going to be fun.

Isa Armstrong couldn’t deny she felt a little frisson of excitement at the prospect. Stood in gorilla position, waiting for her cue, staring at the curtain and listening to the roar of the crowd…

She could already feel her blood pumping that little bit faster, the first traces of adrenaline kicking in as the anticipation rose to fight the faint nervousness she felt. Restlessly, the half-Irish girl shifted her weight, adjusted the fit of her costume, tossed her hair back.

At the best of times, she wasn’t a fan of waiting. Her match might be the first of the night, she might know almost nothing of her opponent beyond her name but that just made Isa all the more eager to get to it. To show the LAW crowd, management and her opponent just what she was capable of.

Fortunately, she didn’t need to distract herself for too long. Soon enough, the first strains of her music were piping out and one of the staff was ushering her out. Isa went willingly, stepping out through the curtain into the lights of the biggest arena she’d ever graced with her presence.

There she paused for a moment, head bobbing almost imperceptibly to the beat of her theme, hands resting either side of her waist. Then she was off, hips swivelling from side to side as she sauntered down the ramp, arms extended just enough that her fingers brushed against those of those fans bold enough to proffer their hands to the Temptress.

As she came to the corner of the ring, Isa stretched out a hand, caught the post and used it to swing herself up to the edge of the ring, then to her feet with casual catlike grace.

Once on the apron, Isa didn’t dip to slip through the ropes. Instead, the young woman took a hold of the top cable, placed a foot on the turnbuckle and vaulted up, spreading her arms wide in an invitation for the assembled fans to take a good long look. Sharp green eyes scanned across the rows of seats, the heady sensation of being the centre of attention driving away any lingering butterflies and leaving her feeling as light as a bird.

She took a deep breath, lowered her arms. Glanced around once more, a slight smile playing across full lips, before Isa shifted her position, taking a seat atop the turnbuckle facing back up the ramp. Legs crossed, smooth muscles flexing taut in her thick thigh as she bounced it seemingly carelessly up and down atop the other.

Leaning back with one hand gripping the turnbuckle, the other brushing back her hair, Isa awaited her opponent’s entry with utter nonchalance. She was quietly eager to see what this Arlise would bring to the party.

This was going to be so much fun…

[Winter]

Arlise Christiaens only allowed herself twenty minutes.

Minus her shower - that did not count. Twenty minutes to prepare her appearance for the match. A few times Lise thought she might get too anxious; that she might go crazy worrying that she had not picked the right clothing, painted on the right amount of makeup, selected the wrong perfume. Worrying that she would make the wrong impression. Even as her moment to enter the ring loomed, Arlise had a not-insignificant urge to visit a mirror.

But she resisted. Mina's presence looming nearby made it easier, reminding her of her re-dedication - a fresh focus on the finer details that she needed to carry with her into the squared circle. And those details did not involve choosing between fifteen different outfits. Outfits didn't win matches.

Arlise stood as the picture of self-care anyway. Her long red hair hung past her shoulders, simple, straightened in the early afternoon, clean, shining; her eyes had been carefully traced in black, a contrast to the soft pink she had chosen for her lips; her skin shined with the radiance of one who had managed to overcome her recent troubles and slept better for it.. And her attire, though she hadn't spent hours this evening selecting it, had been chosen earlier in the week - red and black, hugging all the right places and revealing others. It would serve as a marker for her determination to be more Titania, less the recently struggling LAW rookie.

She had been told she looked quite stunning, anyway. After firing a smirk at Mina, she leaned against the wall and glanced at the monitor above her.

Another part of her ring rebirth was ensuring that she didn't become smitten with every gorgeous opponent that crossed her path. Already she found herself struggling with that one. Isa Armstrong, she of the raven hair, delicious curves, and exotically dark skin, was a gorgeous woman. One who knew well how to flirt with the crowd and the camera taking in her entrance.

Appreciating her was fine, Arlise reminded herself. But her focus was on the wrestling. She need only ask which parts of Isa that she should squeeze, that she should bend, until the woman lay beaten on the mat. Then she could introduce herself more thoroughly.

Her music replaced Isa's, and Arlise moved to reveal herself.

Arlise emerged to a crowd still happy with her presence, by the sound of it. Pleased with that, she stopped on the stage long enough to offer them all the sight of the length of her body in a poised pin-up pose before strolling down the ring, a hand on one hip and the other offered to the near side of the crowd for a few passing slaps.

The smirk she wore faltered only once, when she caught the faintest few words from the nearby announcers while ascending the stairs - enough to understand that she had been labeled a "struggling rookie."

But Arlise became the picture of confidence again while swinging her legs into the ring. None of the outside noise would change how ready she was to restore her good name of Titania.

In poured a series of cat calls, but her attention was on Isa. She reminded herself - do not strike up conversation. Keep this professional. Enjoy the intensity of the match, but do not get swept up in it.

The saucy redhead offered Isa a simple raised eyebrow, nod of her head, and a hand extended for a quick, respectful slap of their hands.

[Liesmith]

Well, well.

On first glance at least, Isa had to confess that Arlise Christiaens certainly looked like somebody she’d enjoy fighting. Gorgeous red hair, killer curves and an outfit to match… As far as looks went, she was already anticipating getting on the mats with this lady.

It was an appreciation clearly shared by the fans but Isa did her best to hide her thoughts for the moment, at least. She just watched, bouncing that leg in tune to Arlise’s music, as the other woman made her way down the ramp with a polished gait – something Isa could appreciate. How much of her opponent’s confidence was justified remained to be seen but she certainly had it (or could fake it) in spades.

Honestly, Isa preferred it that way. The uncertainty was all part of the fun. There were times when she liked to be prepared but, for a normal match? She enjoyed not quite knowing what she was up against.

That way, either she ran into someone like Arlise and it was a delightful surprise or, at least, she didn’t have to dwell on the less pleasant options.

Once Arlise had gracefully entered the ring, Isa shifted her posture, turning her back to her opponent for a heartbeat before leaning back until she hung upside down off the turnbuckle. She held the pose for a moment, then her hands planted themselves firmly on the mats, her legs came up and over until she was stood on solid ground once more, facing out over the crowd.

Swiftly, she spun to face Arlise and the hand her opponent was now holding out to her, a gesture which Isa met with a raised eyebrow of her own before she sauntered over to join her opponent.

The Temptress raised a hand of her own, reached out to accept… and swept her hand up to run it through her hair, shaking it back. Hopefully, that would draw Arlise’s eyes up for the crucial second it would take Isa to step up, coming within a whisker of invading the redhead’s personal space but very much up in the other woman’s face.

Resting a hand on a cocked hip, the raven-haired woman smiled a feline smile and reached out with her other hand to trace it down Arlise’s well-toned bicep, tilting her head back a little as she did to accentuate the swell of her own full chest.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Red,” She said, almost playfully, “Hope you’ve got your tapping hand ready…”

[Winter]

Arlise soaked in the show-woman-ship, the confidence, the athleticism, but she could not gain a grasp on Isa Armstrong until the other woman dodged her extended hand. In that moment, the redhead didn't believe she wanted to bother introducing herself any further than through enough strikes, holds, and throws to leave the beauty flattened on the mat. She curled her fingers back into a fist and offered nothing but a flattening expression to Isa's rude antics.

But before she could, she was left with a view of Isa's eyes. While the Belgian beauty did not retreat, she did lean back far enough to get a better look at the stranger now close enough to bash her in the face. Her brow furrowed - curiosity more than annoyance, though the annoyance remained.

More curiosity struck Lise at the sensation of the hand stroking her arm, and the redhead couldn't stop herself from glancing in the direction of that hand. Her gray eyes slid back to study Isa's attractive features - and for a half-second, the alluring curves leading to her breasts- for intention. She mulled whether Isa sought to butter her with her intense presence and touch and have her for dinner this evening. Yes, Lise allowed herself to acknowledge Isa's raw, sensual intensity. But she found that she could stick to acknowledgement instead of her usual reaction. The overly-excited and intrigued one.

And with her clearer mind, Arlise decided that Isa did not, in fact, wish to seduce her and render her easy prey. "Hope your tapping hand is ready" was too on the nose for someone aiming for enchantment. It struck Arlise more as bluster, and with a still-flat smirk, she responded in turn. "No, and sorry, I forgot to bring my spare. You may have to keep your surrender... vocal."

[Liesmith]

Was Isa being rude?

Quite possibly, but it was less a question in her mind of being rude and more of making things more… interesting than just a business-like handshake. Sure, that was probably the sporting thing to do but it was also dull.

Not to mention she needed to put on a show. To make sure the fans remembered her, though she was increasingly determined to make sure Arlise remembered her as well – not in quite the sinister way that might have implied.

But there was something in the levelness of the other woman’s reply that made the Temptress all the more determined to earn herself a reaction.

Though only Arlise would be close enough to see the sudden glint in the younger woman’s emerald eyes when the redhead fired a shot right back.

That was more like it.

”Quite alright,” Isa returned, grin widening a fraction to bare just a little teeth, ”Personally, I’m happy to accept either… Though I find my opponents have difficulties talking once I get these around their neck…”

Her hand slipped from her hip as she spoke, tracing a slow path down the curve of one quad before tapping the side of her thigh for emphasis.

”Tap about here for preference, though I’m not that fussy.”

Of course, there was a degree of bluster to Isa’s remarks – surely Arlise would be an order of magnitude more dangerous than the bulk of the opponents she’d faced back home. But at the same time she’d submitted or choked out enough ‘better’ or bigger women to be confident in her ability to do just the same thing to the redhead given half a chance.

Of course, half the fun was that the woman opposite would be trying to do exactly the same thing to her. Isa was as happy as anyone to squash an opponent but such contests lacked the intrigue of having to challenge herself for the win.

She hoped Arlise would challenge her in the most enjoyable way.

[Winter]

Arlise literally recited the words in her head, because she knew where Isa's hand had slipped - to one of her favorite places on the planet. No, don't look. Don't get interested. Don't do that at all.

She did. She glanced squarely at the hand Isa had lowered, though far more intently, she looked at the hip and thigh that was the focus of the conversation. And everything she saw... certainly appealed. Of course, administration had to choose tonight to pit the Belgian against the exotic, full-bodied newcomer who had spent the entirety of their fifteen seconds in one another's presence alluding to stuffing Arlise between her thighs. The redhead had to actively remind her own brain not to start chewing on her lip from the tension.

Only glancing Mina watching from ringside helped her unhinge her gray eyes from Isa's warm, welcoming legs and restore her cool focus. Her daring look settled on Isa's lovely, dark features again, and her hand returned to her hip. She could play this game, as long as she didn't become infatuated by it. "I prefer to not mention where people should tap ahead of time. It's interesting to see what people touch first when they're beneath my body and can't find a breath." For her own means to distract, though much more subtle than Isa's, Arlise slightly tilted and rubbed a hand where the strap of her leotard tried to hold onto her rear, under the guise of straightening it. Isa seemed the type to get the message.

The referee, who had watched closely and nervously for any pre-match violence, finally gathered the confidence to step to the space almost between Arlise and her verbal sparring partner. She declared that they should separate and even dared to lightly push against their stomachs with the backs of her hands. Arlise, for her part, raised her eyebrow at Isa once more, but obeyed, taking to the ropes in the moment before the bell rang to squat low to stretch, making another display of her rear.

No, not too much of that. Focus. Just focus.

[Liesmith]

Whatever the rest of the match might turn out to bring, Isa had to admit to enjoying the verbal sparring. Her eyebrows arched, her eyes following Arlise’s slight adjustment of her gear with no shame before tracing up the flat plane of the redhead’s stomach to the full swell of her bust – one that certainly looked more than equal to drowning the fight out of any victim.

That was actually a sight Isa would quite enjoy seeing, albeit not quite from the perspective Arlise was half-threatening, half-promising.

She was just drawing in a breath to respond when the referee found whichever rock she’d left her courage under and stepped in, gently trying to force the two fighters apart.

Not content to meekly surrender the last word to Arlise, Isa complied but with a final ”I look forward to it,” as she backed away and returned to her corner.

Then she turned, to find Arlise busy stretching. Isa blinked. Tilted her head slightly. Not an unpleasant view, but given what they’d been talking about? Very much another half-threat-half-promising gesture.

Two could play at that game. Turning slightly, Isa lifted a leg up so that her foot was propped on the top rope before leaning into it. Very slightly exceeding a 180 degree angle, the Temptress was hitting an oversplit for a moment before she lifted her leg off the rope and fired a couple of kicks into the air before planting her foot back on the mat.

Had Arlise seen? Maybe, Isa couldn’t be sure she’d been looking. But she was guessing Red over there would want to see the effect of her oh-so-subtle squat.

Regardless, when the bell rang it found Isa lazing against the turnbuckle.

She waited a moment, then slowly pushed herself out, a hip swaying strut carrying her in a circular path towards Arlise.

”Ready to dance, Red?” She joked as they closed, before firing a sharp kick, looking to catch Arlise in the hamstring before ducking away from retribution.

Just a standard opening gambit as far as Isa was concerned.

[Winter]

Arlise, whose gray eyes betrayed only challenge, allowed herself to admit that she looked forward to this, as well. Of course, she tried to temper that when she turned to stretching. The brand of... physical entertainment that had become an addiction had proven more of a distraction than a boon, and until she could rectify her inability to focus in spite of that physical entertainment, all her attention needed to be on herself - what she could do, how she was performing, how she distracted her opponent.

She was left unsure whether she had done the latter with her squatting; she didn't sneak a peek across the ring until she finished that squatting. Isa did not appear to be enraptured when she did. No, the curvy vixen was - Lise tried not to groan - offering a view of her own body. One of those thick legs, specifically, and her own ample rear. No one stood close enough, perhaps aside from the ref, to see that Lise's expression fell slightly when she forced herself to look away, but her eyes again fell on Mina and her resolve returned. Admiring later. Wrestling now.

Fortunately, the referee seemed to agree. Arlise peered out at the fans and raked a hand over the top rope before she turned and smoothly, neatly stepped her way into range of the oncoming Isa, settling on a plan to open rather than drinking in the woman's body. Mostly, anyway. There was still a healthy amount of drinking...

Just enough that Lise couldn't do much more than respond to Isa with a sharp "Always". She didn't have the best reaction to the kick, either. The Belgian saw it coming, found her footing to dodge, but the kick was too rapid and compact to avoid entirely. She sidestepped enough to avoid having Isa's foot connect at the height of the kick, but there was still a smack against her thickly-built thigh nonetheless and a grimace that crossed her lips. Not enough to down a woman with her powerful and voluptuous frame, but my, did it sting.

Isa was already out of range to throw a kick back herself, so carefully, Arlise slinked her way closer, feinting with a dip of her shoulders as if she was going to rush directly in but leaning back and thrusting a heel at Isa's knee instead. Leaving the lass with gymnast-like legs imbalanced seemed wise.

[Liesmith]

Arlise moved well. Isa, with her pole dancing background, felt she had an eye for that. The redhead, whatever she owned as a backstory, moved with a purposeful powerful grace that couldn’t help but draw the Irishwoman’s eyes to the broad swell of Arlise’s hips – perhaps the equal to her own enviable set – as they swept down to a potently-built pair of legs.

She hadn’t anticipated a response to her query, thinking it more in the rhetorical vein, but she acknowledged Arlise’s answer with a quick grin. She appreciated a good quip and all the more for how it stoked her feeling that this? Was going to be a good fight.

That sense only intensified with the first feeling of her foot smecking against Arlise’s hefty thigh with a pleasing sound and a sensation just as enjoyable. It wasn’t quite where Isa had intended to land it, more on the side than the hamstring, but still she felt a good start. She’d yet to find an opponent who could fight after she was through with their legs and, while Arlise undoubtedly had an attractive set, Isa fully intended to remove them as a factor in the match as far as she could.

She licked her lips unconsciously.

Still, it was still really early in the game. She needed to be cautious as Arlise prowled towards her and Isa didn’t need to read minds to guess the redhead had retribution on the brain.

Steadying her stance, the Temptress readied herself only to make a slight misjudgement – seeing the subtle crouch Arlise slid into as she approached, Isa anticipated a takedown coming her way. And while she was eager to take this to the ground, she planned it to be on her terms. So the raven-haired woman planted herself, ready to absorb just that…

And it was her turn to have to rapidly adjust to a sudden kick.

Isa got her leg up, taking the heel to the side of her calf in preference to her knee, but it still left her momentarily off-balance as she switched stances.

[Winter]

Arlise knew before her heel struck that she didn't have the knee itself. That would have been too easy for the woman trying to rise to ring prominence once again, she supposed, but she certainly wouldn't have minded her every plan succeeding on such an important night. Her near-miss - she watched her foot catch muscle instead of joint - did clarify more pieces of the Isa puzzle, however. The darker beauty did not lack experience or speed.

Missing her mark did not completely ruin the redhead's schemes, however. Her shoulders remained hunched, and while they might have lowered for the feinted dive, they could still be useful against an opponent who had just lifted a leg off the mat.

Lise followed through the kick, planting her foot into the mat near where her blow had struck Isa's meaty calf to keep her balance. And she drove forward, as if the kick had never interrupted her momentum, to close the last bit of distance between Isa and herself. Her fiery hair whipped behind her while she ducked low, seeking to drive her shoulder into Isa's gut and wrap arms around her midriff. Towards the ropes with her, if the Belgian had her way. She groped for a grip on Isa's waistband in the meanwhile.

Her aggression had fallen lax, of late. Titania should thrive on aggression.