A Professional Courtesy

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy hated a lot of things. She hated long flights on planes. She hated showers where the water wouldn’t get hot enough. She had Southern cuisine cooked by people who had no idea what Southern cuisine was supposed to taste like. She hated traffic jams, ads on her Youtube videos, stupid romance movies, particularly attentive referees, the taste of peanuts and bees. Oh, God, did she hate bees.

But, more than anything, she hated having her money taken away. And yet, that was the situation she currently found herself in, thanks in no small part to the man who was currently groaning on her hotel floor.

His name was Yoshida Sato, though that wasn’t the name he’d given her when they were corresponding over emails. There, he’d gone by the generic name Ryu, and he’d been pleasant enough to start when he contacted her for a mixed wrestling session. Wendy’s side hustle had been drying up lately, so she was happy to have someone knocking on her door, and he was willing to pay good money, too. A two-hour session, and he even dropped a little extra for recording, always nice to get that in there. He paid the deposit, she set up the hotel room, the date was set, everything was looking good, she was on the path to making some good money on a Saturday.

And then he canceled. At the last minute, too.

That, in itself, wasn’t too big of a deal. Annoying, but it was something you had to get used to as a session wrestler. Guys flaked and bailed. Sometimes they were full of shit, sometimes they had legit reasons. She was ticked, but she got the deposit, so…whatever. It wasn’t the end of the world.

But her opinion on the matter changed when she asked the reason and got this as a response text.

Ryu: Apologies
Ryu: but i had another session today with Goddess Neith
Ryu: She really wore me out

Wendy took a long while to read that weaksauce excuse as she sat on the edge of her bed, looking out over a room she’d paid to use and a mat she’d bothered to clean, while she wore the wrestling outfit he’d specifically requested her to wear for their time together.

Spoiler

Processing it. Thinking it over. Digesting. Considering options and what the most mature, sensible route would be. When the moment passed, she finally responded.

Wendy: can you come up, anyway?
Wendy:: I just need to see you for a second. face to face

‘Ryu’ did as asked, and when she opened the door and let him inside, she let him know exactly what she thought about being stood up because of a session wrestler with a swift kick in his nuts.

And no, he wasn’t into ballbusting. That wasn’t on his list of kinks, and she could guess it from the way he cursed up a storm on the floor. Neither was trampling, but that was precisely what he got when she planted a foot in his chest and ground her bare foot into his chest. She’d made sure to wear a thick robe, too, so he wouldn’t even be enjoying the view, and she took the opportunity to pull his wallet and phone out of his pocket.

The first step was making herself whole. She went through his wallet, looking at his ID in the process, and emptied it out in her quest to even the scales. He didn’t have too much cash on hand, not enough to cover the money he owed her, but it would get her half of the way there. She had an idea on getting the other half, too, but for that she needed his phone unlocked. ”Don’t move.”

Wendy held the phone in front of his face to unlock it, only he completely ignored the order and whipped up with all kinds of movement, making sure it wouldn’t register his face and unlock. A few hard stomps to his ribcage showed him why that was a bad idea.

After a little scrolling, she came across what she wanted - Neith’s hotel and room number. ”Perfect.”

Since she suddenly found her schedule clear, Wendy took the time to give Ryu a more thorough beatdown before she kicked him out, reported him as a timewaster, freshened up, then left her hotel for Neith’s. It was only a short walk away, lucky her, so she head there on foot and had a little time to ponder what the exact approach to all this would be. The right words to say, the sort of tone she wanted to set, the body parts she would talk if intimidation didn’t work and maybe even if it did…

She arrived at her competition’s room just a little before dark, and gave the door a hard knock, before she stepped back and rose to her full height. With her dark coat and her scowl and her high heels, she was going thick with the intimidation, wanting Neith to know she was in trouble the second she opened the door.

…of course, that would all fall apart if Neith was taller than her. Crap.

[HotWheels]

Safiya Ashour used a foot to close the door behind her as her bringer of late-night delivery walked back down the hall, and she promptly made for the bed. The order, a sweet treat from a nearby cafe, would serve as a fine way to commend herself for a successful and satisfying day. Two sessions with good-natured, paying customers after several weeks of stress getting set up in Japan, and the money that they had showered her with for her efforts, made her feel as if she picked up precisely where she had left off upon leaving Egypt. Ready to settle in and stream something tantalizing, Safiya shed the robe that she had only worn to conceal her naked form from the delivery boy, climbed back into bed, and settled back with treat in hand.

Remembering that she had forgotten to move the camera the last client had requested for the video he wished to post, Safiya stretched out with a foot just far enough to shift it aside with her toe and watch a couple of episodes of Bridgerton. She settled back again, crossing her legs and starting on her treat in the dim light of the hotel room as she had so many times over the years in a dozen different countries. Hopefully, room service had gotten her notice and would leave her alone until morning.

She had made it through one sex scene and half of her treat when she heard a harsh knock on the door. Safiya paused the show and stared with irritation at the door as she sat her treat aside. Room service would not knock so loudly. She would have suspected a client returning, but both had not seemed like the type to return with their infatuation and demand more, having been fairly professional and courteous. That did not leave Safiya with many answers, and with a sharp disgust in her movements, she swung herself off the bed and grabbed her gold one-piece and robe both, taking an extra fifteen seconds to pull the former onto her figure. She hoped no one had freely shared her hotel room number. That joker would not enjoy the consequences.

She unlocked and swung open the door with malice to find a woman standing there before her. With her eyes narrowing, Safiya looked her over. She was taller than the longtime session wrestler in her heels, which contrasted most of the female clients she entertained. While Safiya did have a female client who would visit in the next week, she did not believe that she was looking at her now. Actually, the other woman looked annoyed. Safiya merely scowled back. "You must have the wrong room number."

[BlackAkuma]

Waiting was another thing that Wendy hated, and yet she found herself doing it right now, as she waited for this woman to answer the door. It might not have seemed like a long time to most, but it was longer than she felt like waiting for Neith - what kind of name was that, anyway - to come and answer. She could hear movement on the other side of the door, but she was taking her sweet time getting there, and Wendy gave the door another sharp rapping just to annoy her further.

The door swung wide open a second later, and Wendy found herself looking down at her competition. Down. Down was a good start.

She didn't answer the woman right away, taking a second to look her over, get a better ready on her. It wasn’t too hard to see why some of her own clients might be seeing this woman on the side - she had a look to her, Wendy would give her that. Exotic, maybe middle-eastern or something like that. Dark skin, haunting eyes, and a smooth, curvaceous form that even a robe couldn't hide. She probably would’ve been fine for some light fantasy session, but any girl off the street could pull that off. Guys came to her because she could back up her look and really take them down. No fluff, no pretending.

Hm. She almost looked as pissed off as Wendy did, too. Good, they were on the same level.

”No, bitch, it ain’t.” She sometimes had to pretty up her accent for her clients, but here she didn’t bother and let the rural Georgian spill out. She leaned in, ready to shoot out her hand in case the door was slammed in her face. ”Neith, right? See, I know that, ‘cause I just squeezed it out of the client who tried to skip out on my session because your little ass wore him out. And I’m betting that’s not the first time you lost me money.”

Wendy brought her finger up and pointed it her way. ”Here’s the deal.” She raised up on her toes a bit, emphasizing the size difference, a lioness marking her territory. ”You and your lame makeup kit need to ramble on down to Kyoto, or Mitaka, or Toda, or wherever-the-fuck else. This area around here, near LAW? This is Wendy Winston territory. My street. You're trespassing.”

Short, to the point, direct. Wendy had established authority this way plenty of times. It worked on the dumb girls in her older promotions, it would work on some glorified escort.

[HotWheels]

Ah, an American. American clients tended to be so pushy. Maybe this was the woman who had contacted her for a session; Safiya believed she mentioned that she was an American student in Japan. But, then, why would she have decided to come to Safiya's hotel door and promptly call her a bitch? The idea of a scorned girlfriend or wife came to mind, but Safiya could not remember any of those who had ever come to bother her. She only offered a service, and she did not ask questions about the relationships of her clients. Safiya had been conceived through cheating, and frankly, she did not care to know that level of business.

But that was not her issue, either. When the woman revealed the reason for her anger...Safiya could not help but smile that seemed far more Neith than herself given its likely nauseating self-satisfaction. Neith had infringed upon another session wrestler's territory and taken her clients because she had done such a fine job entertaining them? The woman may not have known it, but she might as well have come to Neith's door to shower compliments upon her rather than yell at her. All she heard amounted to "you did a better job than me."

And Wendy Winston wanted Neith to leave after admitting these tantalizing tidbits to her? Neith looked smugly into the taller woman's face as she tried to make herself taller, not an ounce of timidness present in her posture. In fact, her only reaction came in crossing her arms over her chest. "You tell me that I'm doing a better job than you have, and you ask me to leave," she answered, matter-of-factly, in the raspy lisp of her accent. "Your newly satisfied former clients will be very disappointed if I was to leave so soon after I arrived. You can also offer to pay off the next twenty-three months of my LAW contract."

Neith performed that wiggle of the shoulders that signified the clear superiority of her position, and she let her eyes trail down the hallway. "So please, carry yourself out of here, and maybe you should be the one to find your way to greener pastures. I have the spoils of your money to enjoy for the rest of the night."

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy knew what was coming when saw that smile. Maybe she wouldn’t know the exact words, but she could make a guess. The curl on Neith’s lips wasn’t too far from the one she’d often wore herself, when she had cornered and she was about to enjoy her time, when she was in control and getting ready to have her way. The only difference was that when she wore that smile, she was actually about to dominate. Neith, on the other hand, was suffering from a delusion, a poor mental state that Wendy was about to ure with the back of her hand.

Ugh, this bitch.

She was preparing herself to deliver that slap, too, when Neith let fly with an interesting detail: She was a LAW wrestler, too. That would explain why she’d set up in the area - really, Wendy should’ve guessed that from the start. There weren’t too many non-wrestling women with that skin color and that accent hanging around Tokyo.

More importantly, though, it was giving her an idea. A damn good idea. She could’ve just beat this bitch blue and black, pillar to post, and called it a night…but why do that in private when she could do it in public, drag her through the mud, embarrass Cleopatra here in front of her clients, get a notch on her win record, and make more money of it than she would’ve if her client hadn't canceled? Lemons into lemonade.

”You’re LAW, huh? Me, too. Looks like standards dropped since I joined up, though.” ‘Since I joined up’ was only a few months ago, but Neith didn’t know that and didn’t need to know. She puffed up and folded her arms as she gazed down on the slightly smaller woman. ”Tell you what, airhead. You act like you want to be smacked, and that’s fine with me…but let’s make it a thing. You and me, official match, anything you want. A little something so my fans can see why the grass ain’t greener on your side of the fence.”

She stepped forward, just enough for their breasts to press together, adding some spice to the challenge. Even with all the material in the way, she could feel a tingle at the touch.

[HotWheels]

Neith felt a comment about Wendy's setting a new, low bar if LAW had dropped their standards in recent times, but she knew much of her sass and wit was lost on the typical brute. Doubly so an American one. Subtlety, most of them did not do well. The woman had more to say anyway, trying to make herself taller in the process. As a woman who had left strikers and linebackers kissing her feet to escape her holds, Neith continued to regard her "power" stance with complete indifference and that dismissive smile that she wore so well.

She did not know what the attempted bully would propose, but when she proposed it, Neith did not think she could offer much better. Her eyes narrowing likely revealed the plot that began weaving its way to fruition in the manipulative goddess' mind, ones she had wielded against hundreds of clients to appeal to their fantasies. They worked much the same way in dealing with her enemies, as a few production company rivals could testify. She wanted this to be official? Opportunity one...that was precisely the sort of match Neith wanted posted online for LAW's fans to see. She scarcely noticed the American pushing into her space. "Your...excuse me, my client wanted a camera. If you want official, we use that."

As for the other part? "Anything I want..." She tapped at her lower lip as if she even had to wonder. For quite a while, Neith had worked on developing a match that the production companies seemed to love...she merely needed to make some adjustments for it to work as an official match. A couple of acquaintances she had made since arriving in Japan had helped her do so, and she was simply dying to make the match happen. And beating Wendy within that match's particular's set of rules would be delectable. She was biting at her fingernail like a lust-filled schoolgirl the more she thought about it.

"A Heiroglyph Match," Neith answered, ready to savor the confusion from Wendy. "The rules are quite simple. I'm sure you can figure them out if I explain them."

[BlackAkuma]

”Hmph.”

Wendy put a low growl under that ‘hmph’, and turned her nose up at Neith as the woman laid out her own terms. She wanted to do this right now? Uh. She’d kind of wanted a live audience for it, but whatever. She was making some good money online with her Twitch channel and Instagram, so screw it, she could work with that. Hell, maybe this worked even better - she couldn't have brought her cellphone to the ring, but here, she could snap pictures of this bitch’s face wedged up her ass and have it all over Twitter. Soon, the only clients she’d be getting were the creepy guys into maledom and looners.

”Fine, you want to get flattened in your own room, suit yourself. It’ll be your ass when all your screaming gets housekeeping to come up.” She stepped back and smirked, sizing her up again, before the next words made her pause.

Wendy wasn’t a complete dullard. The Mummy was one of her favorite movies - the Brendon Fraiser one, not the godawful Tom Cruise flick. She knew what hieroglyphs were. But a hieroglyphs match? ”A what?” She looked Neith over with pure confusion, then furrowed her brow when she saw her rival drinking in the moment. ”Oh, don’t you talk like I should know what that is, you know damn well you just made that up.”

Wendy had a disgusted groan, then slid her way into the room, more than willing to push Neith aside if she had to. ”Well, go ahead, tell me, get it off your flabby chest.”

[HotWheels]

Neith resisted the urge to start giggling like a manic schoolgirl, too. Peering at Wendy like the cat about to eat the canary, she resisted the urge to state that no flattening would happen, no screaming except for Wendy's own, and no chance in hell that Wendy would like what she planned to propose. But the bold woman had assured her that she could have anything her heart desired, and Neith would gladly take both her new favorite match and the win over her new rival. She wanted to start drawing on the bitch right now...she looked like she had a body under that coat that would be so enjoyable to start marking. Maybe she would write her name on her by the end...

Mmm, Neith was getting lost in her fantasies. Returning to the moment, she tilted her head with indifference. "I certainly made it up. I happen to have a degree of creativity that my employers and clients so enjoy." Wendy looked like she only got creative with her hair, and it was not working for her in Neith's mind. She went to elaborate, but Wendy pushed her way past. Neith did not bother resisting her. No, now, she wanted Wendy in here, tortured by her holds and marked to make it clear who reigned as the superior woman.

Instead of immediately answering, she dropped her robe to reveal her session attire from earlier before moving to where her bag of session supplies lay on the end table. She dug around inside, the pleasure still written on her face, before she produced four small markers and turned to face Wendy, presenting them as she posed against the bedpost. "The Hieroglyph Match allows the superior woman to mark her victim. These are body writing markers. They allow you to write on skin, and that writing washes off...after a few days." She nearly licked her lips. Her words already dripped with desire.

"The markers will be spread around the bed. Or floor, your choice, if you're scared of getting into bed with me. I have mats ready. The first woman to draw a full shape on the breasts, thighs, and asscheeks of her opponent, then force that opponent into any sort of verbal submission, wins the match. A good incentive not to lose...or you won't be wearing a bikini or your wrestling gear for weeks without someone asking." She raised an eyebrow in challenge. "I can probably find a list of common shapes online if you're not sure what those are."

Spoiler

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy came storming into the room like she owned it, because, in her mind, she pretty much did. Until she evened the score and got her money back, Neith owed her, and that meant everything she spent was hers in a manner of speaking, when you really thought about it. That being said, she’d give the woman credit for picking a good room - lots of space to move in, furniture you could move around, and a TV that was bolted to the stand. Probably just to keep people from stealing it, but still, a good thing - Wendy had a habit of getting rowdy in her sessions, and she’d come close to annihilating some appliances on more than one occasion.

”Pfft, that fantasy stuff is for softies.” She waved off Neith’s comment and started taking off her jacket, sparing a moment to check the room’s temperature as she did. “Guys hit me up when they want a real woman knocking them out. They ain’t gotta pretend to go to sleep. No playing make-believe.”

As much as she wanted to keep her front up, she couldn't help a flash of surprise when Neith’s robe came down and she got a good look at the woman’s body. It pained her, truly pained her to admit it, but she had to concede that the woman’s body was a sight to behold, and it wasn’t too hard to see why some of her clients would go for it. She was obviously a foreign beauty, but that came into stark relief when you saw her whole body and viewed all that rich, caramel skin. The glowing blue eyes accentuated it all, and gave her almost haunting quality. Ethereal? Yeah, she liked that word. And those hips and breasts were well above smothering size.

She was hot. Not quite as hot as Wendy herself, but hot. If you were into that kind of thing. Which Wendy wasn’t.

…right.

She snapped back to reality soon enough, regaining her posture while the woman laid out the rules. Her brow raised at the idea of her own body getting marked up, but it was too late to back down, now - besides, the idea of draw silly stuff over Neith’s body and messing up her booking for the better part of a week was enticing. It was a little elaborate for her tastes, reminding her of the ideas her clients got when they thought they were being clever, but she’d roll with it.

”Really like the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” She snapped back at that last comment. Wendy was no artist, but she’d figure it out. It wasn’t like she cared all that much about making the shapes she drew on Neith’s body look good, after all. Hell, the worse they looked, the better.

She tossed her jacket aside, then, after a moment of deliberation, casted her shorts off, too, wanting as few layers between them as possible for this. Her shoes came off next, kicked off to the side, and she backed up to the bed with her arms out and her full form on display. ”And I’ll take you on the bed. Put you to sleep right on it, save you some time.”

[HotWheels]

Neith learned a great deal about her pushy "guest" in her declaration that she did not involve any fantasy in her matches. Ah, one of those who thought sessions an excuse to prove their power rather than merely wielding that power to ensure the client's greatest desires could be fulfilled. "Ah, a one-trick pony," the goddess blandly taunted from the side of the bed. "Are you a horse underneath that frumpy jacket?" Another service she offered to her clients? Good insults.

However, she did not prove a horse. Neith's blue eyes might have cast mere indifference upon the body of her opponent while she held the body markers aloft, but she saw curves that she could see clients enjoying that quickly became packed in nothing but a midriff-and-cleavage-baring top and bottoms that left almost nothing at all to the imagination. The Egyptian's eyes lingered there, but only while Wendy attended to her shoes to ensure that the American would not notice the touch of lust behind them. Those thighs and that rear would look entirely divine marked to no end, and the marking itself? Likely to thrill the goddess. She should find a string that skimpy for future use.

She wished to wrestle on the bed. Neith tried, hard, to prevent her eyes from lighting up, but she likely looked ready to devour the annoyingly attractive bitch then and there. Not once had another session wrestler beaten Neith in a match where neither woman could leave the bed. Production companies paid big money to throw beautiful wrestlers into those sorts of matches to make videos; Neith found they provided good side money, some connections, and a deterrent to some rivals. Most of those girls paled in comparison to the goddess and her wrestling skills. Wendy did not seem the typical modeling waif that tried her hand at session wrestling, but Neith felt her confidence rise with the proposition.

"Or you will be sleeping here tonight. I hope you don't plan to use the shower come morning." As she spoke, she wound around to the other side of the bed from Wendy, placing the markers. One under the pillows. Two under the sheets. One she sat within a groove in the bedpost, likely the easiest of the four to reach in a pinch. Satisfied, she dropped herself onto the bed and patted it, offering Wendy a challenge with her eyes, before she spun up onto her knees in a proper grappling pose. "Let's see if you can match with a goddess, Wendy Winston."