Take Me to Church

[BlackAkuma]

”If the heavens ever did speak…she's the last true mouthpiece…every Sunday's getting more bleak…a fresh poison each week…"

Lucy made her way through the Tokyo streets, just as the sun was setting in the distance, humming a song that had been stuck in her head all week and just refused to get out of her head. A little Latina girl with multicolored hair, tattoos all over her skin, and a backpack strapped to her that was nearly half her size - she had to make for a weird little sight, no getting around it. Then again, that was the beauty of a place like Japan, especially around LAW’s arena. The most famous wrestling show in the world attracted all types of misfits. Whatever the size, shape, language, or style, just turn the right corner, and you’ll find it.

Abnormal was normal, and it suited her even more than Flagstaff if she was being honest. Back home, she’d never fit in. Too loud, too proud, too rowdy. She was always getting stray looks for her tattoos or for holding hands with the wrong person in the wrong place. Here, nobody gave a fuck. She was a unique little snowflake in a blizzard.

That being said, she was still having some trouble developing connections, meeting new people, interacting with the crazy culture. Willy and Theo were…well, they were Willy and Theo. Bonehead they were, but they were her friends, even if it didn’t always seem that way. She wouldn’t have been hanging out with them if they weren’t. But she needed a little change of pace, had to widen the social net, and that was why she found herself standing in front of apartment on the fancier side of Tokyo.

Neith.

Lucy took a moment to check her phone, making sure the address was right and the GPS wasn’t acting up - nope, this was the place. Looked about right, too, though it was a little less fancy than she would’ve expect for a goddess. No flaming chariots, no Latin chorus serenading as she entered the doors. Just a clean, upscale lobby with plush chairs and a lady at the front desk looking at her like a lost stray.

”That looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work…” Lucy flashed her best smile at the receptionist and slid into the nearest elevator without a word. She pressed a button for the right floor and promptly let it take her up, leaning against the wall as she recalled all the crazy little things that had led her to this point. Meeting Neith had been a weird stroke of luck all by itself, coming across her at a small time concert, to say nothing of the little challenge that the boys had gotten into with her, the one that ended up with them as her ‘servants’ after they both lost a match. All fun and games, and she wouldn’t have cared too much in normal circumstances, just chalked it up to weird LAW shit.

But Neith was a strange one. Intriguing. She had this whole Egyptian goddess thing on, and while she knew it was just a gimmick, she leaned into it more than most would’ve, totally had the aesthetic nailed down. There was a regal way she carried herself, a royal way she talked, this mesmerizing glow about her, and it helped that she had an insane body to back it all up. It also helped that she was fairly sure the two of them had been making a connection while she was busy beating up Willy and Theo, with no shortage of come-hither stares exchanged between them.

Something was there, and she was here to find out what that is. Officially, she’d shown up to help Neith edit some of her fetish videos, helping to put them into a more pleasing package for internet consumption. Unofficially, well…there was a reason she’d packed a few extra clothes in that backpack, and not just electronic equipment. ”Amen, Amen, Amen…”

Once she was on the right floor, she slipped out, promptly made her way to Neith’s door, and gave it a few quick knocks. She happily stuck her head in when the door opened to get a good look at the place—at a glance, she saw lots of fancy furniture, a pristine floor, and a killer view of the city. ”Hey, hey.” She slipped her way with a wink. ”Right on time, just like I said.”

Lucy, Out On The Town

[HotWheels]

Safiya considered herself a businesswoman, no schemer or strategist. She had more in common with the champions of The Wolf of Wall Street (including the denial scene) and The Devil Wears Prada (naturally, Priestly was the hero of that movie) than Verbal Kint, but she had to admit that she certainly felt like her subtlety in earning the services of two strapping men who had dreamed they could conquer her on the mats had her wanting to write a memoir on her caper. Having not quite stopped sighing to herself in the short time since their encounter, Safiya made sure to do so yet again as she lounged on her chaise sofa and sipped a campari spritz. One leg bounced across the other as she pondered, and though a schemer she was not, she schemed about how to best use her newly dedicated muscle.

One glance at the clock made her sigh again, but for a far less satisfying reason: she should be ready to let in her guest. That assumed Lucy Alvarado proved punctual, anyway. She had received all marks so far, not least of all because she seemed willing to help Safiya lock her bandmates into servitude. If Safiya had her way, like she tended to have with clients who had certain meetings with her, she would arrive... Safiya squinted at the clock from behind another sip of her spritz, trying to gauge the perfect time.

The knock did not come as soon as Safiya willed it, but it did arrive no more than ninety seconds later, once she had deposited her glass in the kitchen to pour more of the mixed drink for herself and one for her guest. BlazeWave seemed more beer and bourbon than her preferred drinks, but Lucy had already surprised her. Not one to find herself in any hurry, she strolled toward the front door once she had finished pouring. She dressed as casually as she would ever allow anyone who knew her name and reputation to see, a twisted gold crop top leaving plenty of her stomach and chest exposed and a beach skirt revealing the entirety of one leg. Her hair? Immaculate. She had been growing tired of her hair taking so long to grow out again after she had kept it trimmed for a time due to her traveling for sessions, and she had gotten extensions in the meantime. She fluffed them out as she opened the door, and it did not take long for Lucy's head to breach inside to take a look at the apartment.

Safiya wished she had come for a session. Putting her through a few rounds of light torture sounded like such pleasure, and that pleasure washed across her face for a moment. She did still plan to show Lucy how to deal with her boys sometime, however, whether that happened today or later.

At Lucy's comment, she nodded gracefully, not quite the goddess but blurring the lines between the woman herself and the divine aura nonetheless. "Even a sliver early. You should take credit for that. I always do," she told her, sliding the door further open to let Lucy step fully into the room. With some pride, she watched Lucy take in the surroundings. She would never quite have the trappings of a starlet, but she sought to live as much like one as she could... short of being so pathetic.

"How thrilled are my new toys about our arrangement? Have they settled into the idea?"

[BlackAkuma]

Tempting as it was to set her attention on Neith first, there was no real need - she’d seen the woman before, and she knew that, whatever she was wearing or however she’d done herself up, she would look nothing less than spectacular. No, she wanted to get a good look at her hostess’ digs first, and sure enough, she was impressed to take it all in. Maybe it was just that she’d gotten used to squalor - growing up in a household of four with a single mother in a cramped-up apartment tends to create a perpetually messy space, and living with two dudebros wasn’t much of an improvement. But Neith’s living quarters were immaculate, refined, this urbane space of decadence. Much, but not too much of everything, and oh-so clean. It felt more like a fancy hotel than a place someone lived in regularly.

”Yeah, I’ll take credit for whoa.” Lucy spun around to face Neith and had to step back when she got the complete look at her, totally taken off guard. For a second, she legit thought she was looking at an entirely different person, surprised by the longer, gleaming hair. Once she processed that, she was hit with the double whammy of what her hostess was wearing, this gilded ensemble that showed off all of her finest features. You’d have to try hard to find an outfit a woman like this didn’t look good in, but even so, this one was a particularly inspired choice.

And here was Lucy, wearing the same old schleppy junk she always had on, looking like she’d come straight out of the mosh pit. She’d thought about dressing up and finding something fancy on the shelves, but she figured she didn’t want to presume this was more than advertised. Now? Kind of regretting that decision.

Still, she wasn’t about to show it for too long, and she straightened up and found herself before her staring turned awkward. ”Not-” Ugh, her voice was cracking a bit. She gave her chest a good thump and continued. ”Not ‘thrilled’, but I’m warming them up to the idea. Theo’s more worried about the image and the brand and whatnot, but I’m getting him to see the light. Something like this was probably going to happen sooner or later, anyway, with someone far worse. You’re not that bad. I think.”

She gave her a wink and turned back to the room, setting the backpack on the couch as she spun. ”God, this is swanky. Super fucking swanky. Session’s pay that well?”

[HotWheels]

Safiya had grown accustomed to whoas. Whistles, gaping mouths. She couldn't be sure if Lucy found herself shocked by the hair, the desired effect, or if she had simply been stunned by what Safiya deemed casualwear for this very reason. Shifting her pose to appear more relaxed while also presenting more of her abs and the exposed leg looked as natural to her as breathing, and she chose not to interrupt. Let Lucy interpret her feelings on her own. She was no client who needed to be goaded into even deeper admiration for an hour of fantasy.

Eventually, the drummer recovered, and Safiya sashayed her way back toward the kitchen while she listened. She had already started returning with the two glasses by the time she retorted. "I'm the best. But I wouldn't jump to any quick conclusions about my goodness." The matter-of-fact words came behind the sweetest smile, and she held the poured drink out to Lucy, not questioning whether she wanted it or not. Safiya didn't waste time questioning, merely offering.

What she said made sense. Theo, treacherous as he was, did strike her as the "thinker" of their little band, perhaps too much so. Willy she could imagine she would have entirely smitten after one more, somewhat gentler round between her legs. Lucy had stated her understanding of marketing and knew Safiya had made a fortune off of advertising herself for an extremely niche adult business. She would only benefit them in the long run. "You can leave Theo to me. I'll know which buttons to push." She did not yet have a plan, but no man- no straight man- had ever denied her wiles in the long run.

Swanky. That was not a word Safiya heard often, and the native Arabic speaker had to ponder it for a moment before she remembered what it meant. She wheeled back toward the sofa, where she had a small coffee table pulled into place in case they needed space to work. No need to mention that some of her money came from her past life. "They do. Time is always the problem." She gracefully draped back across the couch and took a sip of her drink. "But people will pay plenty for videos and clips just to watch, which is a more consistent way to make money. One I hope you're able to help enhance." She raised an eyebrow at the other woman and gestured with her head for her to sit down.

[BlackAkuma]

Things had started off a little more awkwardly than she’d envisioned, but it wasn’t something Lucy couldn't recover from. If Neith was put off by the way she’d come in, she didn’t show it—then again, ‘not showing it’ seemed to be her bread-and-butter, so that might not have meant too much. She was still as cool as the last time they’d met, walking about like a queen in her throne room.

She was still taking in her surrounding when Neith returned, handing her a drink she must’ve poured just before she entered. ”Thaaaaaaank you.” She nodded along with it, took the glass, and gave it a quick, curious look. Bourbon, if the look and smell was anything to go by. She wasn’t anywhere close to an expert, but it came off as more expensive than the Wild Turkey she’d tried back home. More decadent smell, thicker body, and probably a bunch of other things that she didn't know the words for, but could sort of just…tell. Instinct.

One sip. Then two. Then three. Yeah, this was the good stuff. She resisted the urge to scarf it all down like a plebian. ”I’ll leave all the button pushing to you, then. Been pushing their buttons for over half a decade, let someone else have a turn.”

That was a topic she could’ve discussed for some time—as aggravating as they could be, managing the boys was one of her fun little hobbies, one she’d grown into, for better or worse. Neith was standing on business, though, which worked fine with her. She’d come around to being useful, so she might as well get to it.

”That I can.” She sat down, set the drink on a coaster, and fiddled in her pocket for some nicotine gum, a little something to help the craving that the bourbon brought on. She popped it fast, then pulled over the backpack and went to work, sliding out her laptop and setting it down with practiced ease. It might be hard to tell with all the all band stickers covering it, but it was a high-end model, one she’d saved up a few pretty pennies for. It had paid for itself a few times over, though, so no regrets.

”So, full disclosure, I don’t have, like, degrees in anything, so there’s no resume to show you. But I’ve got experience. Managing videos, editing, spicing things up, video formatting, compression, blah, blah.” She rolled her hand about, not wanting to dig too deep and risk boring Neith anymore than necessary. ”Willy and Theo are…well, you met them. They’re lunkheads, but fair play, they are good on stage. Really good. But having talent’s not enough these days. Have to sell it.”

Her laptop had been booting up as she spoke, and it was finally where she needed it to be - a YouTube video she’d uploaded just a month ago on the band’s page. Lucy couldn't guess what Neith’s taste in music was, but that wasn’t where she wanted the attention to be - no, she wanted her to see how clean it was, how well the transitions worked, how the shots and frames picked out the exertion Willy was putting into his solo, the speed of Theo’s fingers, the heat of the moment. Giving a high-energy feeling to enhance something that was just a standard jam session in their studio. Editing art was an art itself.

[HotWheels]

Safiya should broach the subject that had whistled through her mind. Lucy, no doubt, had practice in sassing the boys. Outthinking them. Applying logic they could not deny. But Safiya knew better than most how beneficial it could be to show men that one could overpower them, or, at the least, stripping their pride in ways they did not expect. Many could accept a woman as more clever than them, but rarely could they accept them as more physically capable. For the first time, she glanced over Lucy's figure. She was not imposing, but she looked fit. She could manage a few well-applied holds.

Thoughts to build upon later. She chose instead to listen to Lucy's diatribe about having practice, not education. Safiya didn't care. Some of the least-cultured, least-skilled, and least-experienced people she had known during her younger years clinging to arms had been the Harvard and Brown grads. Awful people. The working people were typically those who had given Safiya all her success, and even more often, the ones that presented the least problem to her as clients. A few too many were married, but she couldn't have cared any less. She voiced no opposition, letting Lucy continue her presentation while she sipped.

And she already had a presentation. Punctual and not a time-waster. Session wrestlers hated time-wasters. Flashing the young woman a sharp smile and nod of approval, she bothered to lean up on the sofa to look a bit closer. And what she saw, she liked. Safiya employed no one but herself safe for a few production companies willing to resell her videos, and her own work with likely far superior (see also, more expensive) technology proved effective and atmospheric but not particularly dynamic, she could admit as a fan of film. Lucy must have had a keen eye.

"Quality," she shortly praised before reaching over to fetch her own laptop, a bit more delicate but no less expensive. She opened it to an email, Lucy's address already filled in at the top and a large file uploaded and attached. The thumbnail proved grainy, but she imagined Lucy would get the idea well enough: it presented what was certainly the silhouette of the goddess atop a mostly unseen but feminine figure, little more than that figure's white hair visible beneath her.

"I'm going to send you this recording from a few weeks ago." She still had some of the markings from the encounter hidden beneath her top. Fat-assed American brutish bitch. She almost found herself worked up, but she cleared her throat and composed herself as she hit send. "Take...3:34 to 3:44." A short portion of her sweet, satisfying bodyscissor on Wendy. It was one of the most intense holds of the whole match. "I want to see what you would do with it in a pinch."

[BlackAkuma]

Had Lucy practiced this presentation? No, not exactly. Not word for word. But she’d certainly run it through her head a few tiems in the past few days, imagining the way it would go, hoping that Neith would actually be impressed by it. It was hard to get a read on the woman just off their first encounter, so there was no way of knowing if the tech shit would turn her off, if she was the sort of person who’d just want to eat the sausage and didn’t want to know how it was made.

Luckily, Lucy’s inner geek didn’t mess things up this time - she looked over to see an approving nod from Neith, even a smile. She didn't’ strike her as the type to care enough for false faces, so that was a good sign she was on the right track. ”Quality.” She echoed, letting some confidence slip into her voice now that she was on a roll. She took a few more sips of bourbon for added courage - had to ask her what this was, before she left - and looked over as Neith brought her own laptop. A good model, from the look of it. She either had a decent eye for tech or she rolled with some who did.

Lucy raised an eyebrow, a quick quirk, as she peered at Neith’s screen and saw the file come up. Shouldn’t have surprised her, editing this sort of content was the whole reason she’d come here, but just seeing a snippet of her in action was starting to heat things up. She’d played back that exhibition with Willy and Theo in her head more than a couple of times since they parted ways.

”Air Drop, got it.” The two spiffy laptops got along well, and the file slid over and loaded right up, minimal delay. ”Let’s see what we have-”

”Gah!”

Lucy opened up the file and brought the slider to the moment she referenced, just in time to hear a hoarse, Southern female accent come blasting out of her laptop’s speakers. On her screen was Neith, dressed up like someone out of that terrible Egyptian god movie that came out a few years ago, crushing a thick woman with a woman with white hair between her legs. She wasn’t having a fun time with it, either, thrashing around as the goddess’ legs threatened to cut her in half, hating every second of it and muttering curses.

Lucy managed to keep her composure for all of two seconds before she burst out laughing. ”I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll get on it, I just gotta ask.” She went down to snickers as she started opening up the appropriate programs. ”Who’s, uh…who’s your victim, there? She a paying customer? ‘Cause she don’t look all that happy to me…”

[HotWheels]

Mmm, Safiya could relive the sound of Wendy's griping and whining a million times and never grow tired of it. She had to shift on the couch even watching herself tear into the woman's midsection.

She had never bothered much with direct rivalry against other session wrestlers since such pointless squabbles led to less money for everyone involved, but moving into new territory in Japan had made her see fit to become quite aggressive and snatch away clients from those who had not guarded them. And she so enjoyed tearing apart those cocky fitness models employed by production companies. Combining those factors and Wendy's shitty attitude made her more curious about exploring the possibility of starting a string of her own productions competing with the other women who offered to clients. They were typically gorgeous, like Wendy, and did know how to fight. Safiya just happened to be better. It made for good content, nonetheless.

Watching herself with fascination, Lucy's laughter caught her off-guard. She peered at her with curiosity for a heartbeat, wondering why she found it amusing more than enticing.

Ah, she supposed she hadn't explained. "Oh, no no. This foolish woman saw fit to cross into my client territory." Nevermind that it had likely technically been the inverse, with Safiya the offender. Lucy did not need the details. "We competed, and she found herself..." She gestured dismissively at the screen before a secretive smile crossed her face; she leaned in closer to whisper the rest. "She suffered, or enjoyed, far worse than this. You should enjoy the full edit."

[BlackAkuma]

As much as Lucy wanted to be in professional mode, she couldn't help but burst out laughing when her screen popped out and that was just sitting there, waiting for her. Just the anguish on the white-haired woman’s face, the despair, the way she was thrashing around, vainly pushing at Neith’s thighs like a rat caught in a steel trap, the way those thighs swelled against her midsection, the muscle rising through those soft curves, the thrilling exertion on the Egyptian’s face, the sheen of sweat along their bodies…

Hm.

Lucy’s laughter was dying down when Neith leaned over to whisper in her ear, killing it all the way. It took her off guard, but that wasn’t the only reason a chill ran through her body, and her fine hairs stood at attention. That voice was the most subtly sensuous of her host's killer features. There was the accent, deep and exotic, with just enough base to ooze authority and just enough tenor to soothe. Neith probably could’ve turned her on by reading an instruction manual.

”I think I will. Yeah.” Lucy straightened up after a moment, finding some composure as she remembered what was asked of her. ”Snip, snip.” She cut out the part in question, pulled it into her editing program, and went to work with practiced ease, her fingers moving with mechanical precision and skill, the kind that only came from gratuitous repetition. Her eyes glazed over for a second as she focused on all the particulars of the scene - the lighting, the texture, the resolution, the aspect, the frames-per-second, little details that wouldn’t have stood out to the average eye but were glaring for her trained one. The video was in good shape already. The lighting wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough to see what was happening. The camera was a little off-center but was catching the action for the most part, and the acoustics were decent enough to pick up most of the grunts over the rustling sheets.

Acceptable. But all things can be improved on. She went to work straight away.

As she opened up her tools and let her right brain analyze things, her left brain took in the scene again, drifting back to the situation. She’d seen her take down the boys, so it wasn’t new to her, but this was different. Seeing her wrestle down another woman, especially a big bruiser like that? Wild. And it was hard to say for sure, but if the ten seconds were anything to go by, she’d been in her element, total control. A regal look on her face, righteous indignation, every bit of the goddess she was billed as.

She had questions. She got one out after a moment to work herself up to it. ”So,” She cleared her throat and side-eyed Neith, trying not to stare at her for too long. Fuck, was she gorgeous. ”You do that often? Wrestle women, I mean. Female clients? I knew guys were into it, but…”

[HotWheels]

Now Safiya, or perhaps Neith, had her attention. Between Safiya's words and the sights on screen, the Egyptian found herself impressed that Lucy could concentrate enough to properly cut out the part of the video needed for the desired "demo" clip, just to get a taste of her editing prowess. Safiya let her work, watching but relaxing while she sipped on her spritz. Yes, Safiya knew her way around editing, but a roughly ten-to-fifteen minute video like the one that contained her brutal destruction of Wendy would take her the better part of an afternoon to finish, and with her LAW contract, she did not have that kind of time to spare. Lucy served as an extra hand to spare her that time, and she could, no doubt, get more done in less time if she found interest in this sort of mundane busywork.

The young woman's mind had wandered, however. Safiya could tell by the way she avoided looking straight at her that she had a question not strictly related to video editing. Mischievous eyes peered at her from over the top of her glass, which hid the knowing smile below. Did she have a sheepish question about Safiya's antics with women? She had learned well enough to read people's interests to suspect that Lucy had a selfish reason for doing so.

"I wrestle women all the time, in much the same way you've witnessed...and more," she crooned, twirling the glass before her. "Clients are rarer. More women would want to be crushed by me than are willing to admit to it or pay for it. I find it a genuine shame. Women have so much to experience and learn from my techniques."

She didn't hide that her words served as an obvious hook if the little fishie wished to take it.