Win by pinfall or submission. Stripping and hentai tactics allowed.
The mask felt heavier tonight.
Gabby adjusted it for what had to be the hundredth time, fingers trembling as they traced the edges where crimson and gold met her skin. The leather sat snug against her face, familiar and foreign all at once - a shield she'd grown a little more accustomed to, yes, but one that suddenly felt paper-thin against what she was about to do. It was... just a match, she told herself. Except it wasn't. It was a step further into this curiosity, this... desire that loomed so large in her mind that she had to surrender to it.
She'd known the stipulations when she'd signed the contract. She'd agreed to them, pen hovering over the dotted line for only a moment before her hand - some braver, stupider version of her hand - had scrawled "Eve" across the page. Pinfalls or submissions to win. Standard enough. A bed in the ring instead of just canvas. Okay, theatrical, but she could handle that. Stripping allowed. That one had made her pause, made her think about the venue they proposed - it was small, intimate, the kind of place that felt more like After Dark than a proper wrestling show, though without the careful vetting and control that had made her first few experiences there feel... safer. Basically, a place where a small crowd would come to have a few drinks and... ogle, basically.
But it was the last stipulation that had her heart threatening to crack through her ribs as she stood at the top of the short ramp, staring down at the ring bathed in low, amber lighting. Hentai.
The word alone made her throat tighten. She couldn't even think it without her breath catching, without her mind spiraling into a hundred different scenarios of what that could mean, what her opponent might do, what she might be expected to do. This wasn't playful experimentation anymore. This wasn't Alix guiding her through touches and sensations with patience and care. This was... the next thing. The boundary she'd been dancing around for months, finally staring her in the face. And she had said yes.
She had. She'd wanted to. Hadn't she? The desire had been there, simmering beneath the surface, every time she'd written those private commissions under her pen name, every time she'd slipped the Eve mask on and felt like someone braver than Gabriella Soto. But now, standing here with her pulse hammering in her ears and the faint murmur of the crowd filtering through the curtain, she couldn't help but wonder if it was real desire or just... misplaced curiosity. Fear dressed up as boldness.
Too late to wonder. Her music hit - a generic sultry, bass-heavy remix that felt entirely too confident for how she felt right now - and Gabby forced herself to move. One foot, then the other. She stepped through the curtain, and the heat of the eyes hit her all at once.
The crowd wasn't massive, maybe a few dozen people packed into the dimly lit space, but it felt like a thousand. Their faces blurred together, strangers leaning forward in their seats, some already whispering to each other, some just... watching. Assessing. She tried to meet a few gazes, tried to look as scintillating and composed as the entrance demanded, but her eyes skated away too quickly when she risked giving form to the face and remembering it later.
She focused on the ring instead. On the bed.
It sat there in the center, incongruous and deliberate, sheets a deep burgundy that matched the low lighting. The ropes framed it like a stage, and Gabby felt her stomach twist as she realized just how naked she already felt - and she was still fully dressed.
Well. "Fully" was generous.
The outfit clung to her like a second skin, crimson and gold to match the mask, but there was so much less of it than even her usual Eve gear. A halter-style top that tied behind her neck, the fabric dipping low enough to leave her midriff completely bare and hugging her chest in a way that made her hyper-aware of every breath. The bottoms were high-cut, almost scandalously so, riding up her hips and leaving her legs exposed. It was meant to be alluring, mysterious, the kind of look that screamed confidence.
Gabby felt like she was wearing tissue paper that would fall off. It probably would.
She slid under the bottom rope, trying to move with the same fluid grace, and rose to her feet in the center of the ring. The bed loomed behind her. She forced herself to turn, to acknowledge it, to lean slightly against the post and arch her back in a pose that felt more performative than natural. The crowd murmured appreciatively. She tried not to think about what they were appreciating.
Beyond all that, Eve had one more problem. Her opponent.
They'd told her it would be a surprise. "Part of the thrill," the promoter had said with a grin that Gabby hadn't trusted then and definitely didn't trust now. She had no idea who was about to walk down that ramp. No idea if they'd be kind or cruel, experienced or as green as she was, someone who'd treat this like a match or someone who'd treat it like... something else.
Gabby sucked in a breath, her hands gripping the top rope as her eyes locked on the entrance.
Spoiler
