Alicia Soto vs. Angela Belti - Lost In Hollywood

[BlackAkuma]

”Heh.”

It might not have been apparent, what with all the hair about her face, but Angela had a smile on. A small one, but a wild one, and a flicker on her eyes, one that even took her by surprise. She knew where it came from, though - it had been a while, too long, since she’d have to work through hits like this. Even her bout with Alaina had been a more traditional affair. This was rougher, wilder, the sort of bout that she would’ve had in the earlier days of her career, when she was still unseasoned and untested. Alicia was giving her flashbacks.

Not just in the way she attacked, either. When she looked over and saw the Hollywood Siren styling for the audience, she could see some of herself there, back when she would draw the crowd in with poses and flexing while she tramped her foes underfoot. Too many forgot the difference between a pro-wrestler and a fighter. Anyone could fight, but their job was to do it and make it look good.

It was effective, and all the proof Angela needed of that was the tiny, but familiar, Italian-flavored cheer she heard nearby, as Dizzy pumped her fist and threw a sheepish wave back at Alicia.

She had little time to contemplate, though, as her opponent was moving in with the next moment, keeping the ball rolling. Angela had only begun to sit up when the Latina grabbed her by the hair - a light touch, much appreciated - and walloped her across the neck, knocking her up against the barricade. The blow left her coughing, and she had enough will to strike back, throwing her forearm against the younger wrestler’s stomach, but the blow fell well short of her usual hard hitting standards. She needed more time to recoup before she could truly go wild, and Alicia seemed wise enough to not give it to her so easily.

[HotWheels]

Siren put a lot of stock in appearance, yeah, because she knew she could get more fans on her side by playing up what her mama gave her, but at this point, she knew that the scene had surely turned ugly to the sight of the crowd and cameras. Both women had taken on the look of proud lionesses gone feral in their fight: Angela all knees and elbows and wild hair on the floor, and the Siren with her increasingly sweaty hair hanging half out of her trademark headband (which she had to pull down to make sure it didn't pop off of her head) and her stance falling into a fatigued, aggressive hunch. And the Hollywood hottie fucking loved it. If she had a choice, every fight would turn out this way, and the pearly whites showing through her disheveled state, breaking through her tough bitch façade, told that story. Reminded her of pinning down assholes in her school gym when the need arose.

And ugly though it was, the crowd was enjoying. Even down here on the floor where the acoustics were poorer than in the ring, she could hear their cries and the specific declarations of a few nearby (one of them in particular about her ass) as she took her lower thigh to Angela's neck and sent her back against the barricade. Hell, she could barely hear the referee behind them, just having finished the one on her double-count out timer. Nothing to think on right now, anyway. Siren stepped up again, ready to follow up, but the veteran just didn't have the good sense (or proper degree of cowardice, maybe) to stay down and drove a forearm into Siren's stomach.

Siren well knew that the blow was only about half as hard as she could hit, since she still had an ache in her shoulders that told the story of the full extent of her strength, but it still made the unprepared Latina grunt out and reel back with a hand on her stomach. The big Italian could take those three wild hits from Siren in succession and still hit that hard; this must have been what it felt like to fight a fuckin' Terminator. Siren didn't have a hydraulic press, and she was pretty sure that would be illegal. Maybe she needed to be the press.

Straightening, she swiveled and grabbed hold of the barricade over Angela's head; she drove her hips at Angela's head, trying to pin it between her curves and the barricade. Just something to keep her in place for a sec. Then, maybe, she could try to lift this heavy bitch.

[BlackAkuma]

In hindsight, throwing that forearm might have been a bit of a mistake and a waste of energy. She only had so deep to go with her reserves these days, a far cry from the young, fresh bodybuilder who could go through two or three matches a night with enough left over for the after party. The longer this dragged on, the more that the stamina game would play in Alicia’s favor. Youthful vigor just wasn’t something you could replicate, at the end of the day.

Call it a mental assault, then. Trying to get in Alicia’s head, show the wily woman that she was far from finished, despite her haggard appearance. It would take a lot more than that to truly keep her down.

It was a challenge that her foe seemed keen on answering, too, as she staggered back and clutched her stomach, showing that dogged determination Angela was increasingly coming to expect. She came back fast, and she was fully expecting to take another in the chest for her troubles, maybe even another thigh on the neck.

Instead, she got hips. Right on the face. Smacking her up against the metal and pinning her there, smushing up her features with a solid hit. Effective, with a little tease on top. Definitely the Hollywood Siren’s style.

Angela brought her hands up to paw at Alicia’s waist, but that was about all she could manage for the moment with her skull trapped like this. Oh, and she could say a couple things, too. ”Okay,” She muttered through her puckered lips. ”I owe you for this one.”

[HotWheels]

If a few didn't appreciate the match because it hadn't gotten titillating enough for their tastes, Siren could sure hear them whooping and hollering when she got her hips involved.

There was not much too the move, no; it was more of a way for her to stall and make sure Angela didn't have a quick way to slip away. But for that purpose, it worked, and not a soul would complain about seeing the curvy youngster keeping the veteran trapped using nothing but those curves. Siren glared down at her from above, making sure to keep her a balance and ready to dodge away from any punches, but as it turned out, having the degree of hips they sang about in "Brick House" made her body a decent bludgeon. She huffed in satisfaction when Angela could only try to grasp at her, but the Latina had all the leverage.

She didn't catch what Mama said with the crowd so loud and the woman's face half-smushed, but she was sure it merited her saying something back. "These got some use, eh, mama?", she asked, as she drove her hips more tightly toward the barricade. There was probably some lecture about how this wasn't real wrestling or some shit like that; it was sure working for the Siren.

But if all Angela suffered was a few more seconds of a smushed face, she would get all that old lady spunk back. Minus that blow to the stomach, the handful of seconds had returned Siren's wind, and if Mama was going to be so damn stubborn, the Latina wanted to provide more of an incentive for her to start giving in a little more agreeably.

She unleashed a quick, rough downward strike to Angela's shoulder to keep her pacified. After, she hooked her arms beneath the veteran's chin. She used that grip to try and lift Mama off the barricade and closer to her, into the bearhug position, where...the bold heavyweight did maybe the dumbest and most spectacular thing she had done so far in the match. She tried to lift every ounce of Mama's two hundred pounds, the opening act of what she hoped would turn into a belly-to-belly suplex back toward the ring apron.

[BlackAkuma]

While it definitely wasn’t something she would’ve done in her heyday, she could respect the spirit of a move like this. Showboating to the crowd, drawing them in, being a bit of a tease to rile your foes up. She had been a big fan of gorilla presses during her time, and the same thought process applied. Her only real distaste was for the sensual nature behind it, veering a touch too close to a raunchier side of wrestling than she liked.

That, and she simply didn’t care much for having a butt in her face. Another thing that she and her daughter didn’t have in common, Dio ci salvi.

She didn’t have to endure it for much longer, though, as Alicia seemed to recognize that time was growing slim. Not just from the referee’s count, but to the moment where Angela recuperated. While having her face crushed against the barricade wasn’t pleasant, it was hardly the thing that would stop her from getting herself together. She would need something heftier than that, and the Latina seemed to have something in mind.

At first, she wasn’t sure what the younger wrestler had in mind, thinking she was going to go for some kind of simple brawling after she nailed her on the shoulder. Those thoughts changed as she was pulled in close, grasped in a familiar position - but one that she was rarely on the business end of. ”Are you really-”

Yes, she really was.

Angela was sent flying overhead with a belly-to-belly, flying through the air in an arc that saw her flopping down just shy of the ring. She landed square on her back and immediately sat up after the impact, gritting her teeth and hissing as the pain flowed through her spine. She remained upright for a couple seconds, then flopped to the side as she suffered.

[HotWheels]

The same disbelief voiced by Mama Belti should have probably weighed on Siren. Given her pause, at the very least. Made her realize that she might have risked far less with something like a DDT to the hard floor or a rushing knee. But none of those things were delivering a suplex to a veteran wrestler bigger than she was, and the way the crowd's concerted voice lifted once they realized what was happening told Siren that, even if this went horribly wrong, she had already earned someone's respect by trying.

The initial lift was the hardest part. Angela was not rushing at her, so the Hollywood hottie didn't have any of the woman's momentum to help her with the lift. It was all her thighs, her back, her core, her arms. They almost didn't prove equal to the challenge; every one burned and stretched and did everything they could to pull the awkwardly-distributed two hundred pounds of a muscular human body. Siren roared out with that initial effort, and she knew that a retort from the veteran would end badly for her. But that retort did not come. What felt like a dozen of seconds to her must not have been more than two or three.

With another cry, she threw her overhead. The suplex did not get any elite distance, but Siren could tell she flew plenty far to raise some eyebrows. She fuckin' needed it to, considering the strain followed by the unprotected landing against the harsh floor gave the Californian herself a good bashing. Had her grimacing and pushing up on her elbows. Hell, she didn't need to do any more of that without the faint give of the canvas.

But if the flat landing hurt her, how much worse must it have been for Angela? A hell of a lot worse, Siren found, when she finally turned onto her stomach and saw the veteran topple over. Okay, shit, now she had to get to business. The referee's count reached five, and Siren wasn't going to rely on any fucking ring-out. This match would end with one of them pinned, tapping, or unconscious; she wasn't dealing with that fake win shit.

Scrambling to her feet through a couple of stumbles, she hissed through the pain in her shoulders to again grab Mama by the hair. The other hand slipped under her shoulder, and she strained to force Angela up onto the apron. "Better move, mama. She's countin'."

[BlackAkuma]

”Holy-”

Dizzy’s hand shot to her mouth just in time to stop her from letting out one of the forbidden words in her mother’s earshot, but if there was ever a good moment for it, that was it. She knew that Alicia was strong, sure. She had no problem throwing her around the ring when they sparred, and she suspected the woman could’ve launched her even further if she’d been so inclined. But she was a little mite, barely over a hundred pounds. Her mother was over two hundred, easy, and it was all solid. That Alicia got her up at all was kind of crazy, but that sort of distance?

Nuts. Seriously nuts. And as Angela laid on the mat and caressed her aching spine, she was inclined to agree.

It definitely felt as if the match was ramping up, a far cry from the solid start she’d begun with. The Hollywood Siren had some real game, and she backed it up with moxy - she either didn’t think the move through enough to realize that it would hurt her, too, or she just didn’t care. It had paid off for her though. Angela wasn’t finished, but she was in a bad way, in growing need of an out.

While she probably could’ve gotten into the ring in time to beat the count - albeit, barely - she was grateful to have Alicia’s help, as the younger wrestler came along to ease her back onto the apron, apparently not having a taste for countout wins anymore than Angela did. With a match like this, that would be an infanmia, a disgrace, and she wasn’t about to allow it, win or lose.

”Suplexes on the floor.” Angelan grunted as she rolled under the ropes flopped over to her hands and knees. ”You’ll regret things like that in about ten or so years. Take my advice.” She had a little laugh, not capable of much more than that right now.

[HotWheels]

Siren neither realized nor cared about giving up her body; she had sworn to herself she would leave her whole body a giant, purple bruise in this match if that proved her worth. These matches were the ones that made wrestlers: she didn't need a ton of experience around the business to know that truth. Later, the Hollywood hottie could take some aspirin. Tomorrow, she could visit the nurse. Get a massage. In the moment, she would keep doing whatever the fuck she wanted as long as nothing broke.

Getting Angela's weight into the ring with her own aches proved a hell of a challenge, though. Funny to think that she had just lifted her like that and now couldn't push her up four feet without the veteran so much as resisting. Those muscles told her to stop her bullshit for a while, and she listened to them, loud and clear. Even Mama through advice at her; must have heard all the groaning coming straight out of the big Latina's chest while she worked to get her into the ring. "Gonna worry about that then, not tonight," she grunted out, finally getting the perfect one into the ring. A little less perfection would have been great.

Welp, Siren had here there. The fuck did she do now? She was too alert after shoving her in the ring for a pinfall to do much. Siren sure as hell didn't want to take to the turnbuckle and risk bashing her every sore muscle a second time...

Fuck, no, what was she thinking? This was one of her spots, right here on the side of the apron. And as a bonus, Mama might fuckin' hate it.

Having crawled up to stop the count, Siren jumped down again, and she tried to grab Angela by both arms and pull her to the edge of the apron, where only her head would hang off. As it turned out, right where the Hollywood beauty with the thick thighs could attempt to throw a leg over her and secure a standing headscissor. Rope break would stop her, sure, but the point was how it would look.

[BlackAkuma]

As bad as it might have looked for Angela at the moment, she knew that a window had to open soon enough. Matches weren’t sprints, after all. They were marathons, far more often than not, and the winner often came down to whoever better managed the energy they had to give. Even Alicia’s youthful vigor would have to give out sooner or later, and as she struggled to bring her up on the apron and exerted more precious energy in the process, Angela could feel the pendulum start to swing.

It would come back in her favor, she was sure of it. She just had to be ready when it did. When the younger wrestler put her on the apron, she could tell that time was about to come her way, as she took a hot second to figure out her next move. Considering possibilities, assessing the situation, trying to plan what the next move should be - Angela had been there. She figured the Hollywood Siren would go for something bold next, try to please the audience, take a risk.

She wasn’t wrong, either, though she couldn't have guessed the exact move her foe had planned. She expected the fight to come all the way back into the ring, that she would go for something there. Instead, Alicia hopped back out of the ring after breaking the count, keeping her business outside. ”What are you-”

Angela received her answer before the question could finish, as her head was yanked out of the ring. A thick, dangerous leg swung over her head, her neck was trapped between the legs, and just like that, she found herself in a tight standing headscissor, one that had her looking up at her opponent’s body while her throat was crushed.

A crowd pleasure, one that had the audience whooping and hollering. Angela was less than amused.

But it did give her an idea. The positioning was a little awkward with the ropes, but if she scooted up, just a wee bit, then maybe…

”Hey, that’s enough, Siren!” The referee came over and chided her. ”Get it back in the ring or I’ll start the count up again, come on!”

”Don’t bother.” Angela grunted out, just before she curled up with her lower body and send her leg flying in an arc, one that she hoped would get through the ropes and nail Alicia in the back with the point of her knee.

[HotWheels]

Thighs clapped around a strong, pale neck; ankles crossed at the floor; and Siren had the big veteran by the head. She straightened, her back sending her warning signs when she did, but the more poised position had her weight on Angela's chin and her thighs in position to squeeze. Both parts of her impressive body did their jobs while the Hollywood hottie looked down at the older woman through her draping hair. Given this was the mother of someone who had been licking her calves the week earlier, Siren had no plans to make the hold as sensual as she normally might have, but she did wiggle her fingers in a demeaning wave as she looked down into Angela's face before settling in to look gorgeous to the cameras and the crowd with her hands on her hips.

She whipped her head up, and her hair alongside it, to listen to the warnings of the referee. Again, Siren didn't care to cheat, but the woman only threatened a count and didn't start it. Sounded to Siren like she could milk this a couple more seconds. She spent those couple seconds pumping her legs tighter once more, rubbing her hands over her abs, and taking a sharp knee in nearly the same spot she had taken the elbow earlier in the match. The spot that still ailed her the most. That part of the routine she had not planned.

Her back cried out for reprieve before she did, and Siren, who was already shifting her legs to let Angela free, tumbled forward onto all fours. If the warning signs hadn't been clear enough before, they sure as fuck made themselves clear now after the earlier blows, the hard landings, the suplex. Her whole back pulsed with that familiar feeling that it wanted to tighten and seize up, and Siren, who hated letting people know she was hurting, swallowed down several curses as she tried to get up. For her efforts, she stumbled back onto one knee, her back up against the apron.