Can Do Ep. 12

Daylight flowed through the bedroom window, which looked mostly west toward the mountains glowing in the sunrise. Trinity squinted, remembering she'd forgotten to lower the shade. The lump under the covers next to her shifted, an arm slid across her breasts, fingers searching for a nipple. The blonde lay back, content to let it happen. When the hand moved to her cock, she stopped it.

"Sorry, no more nookie for you. I have to be hard and eager in the evening." She pulled back the covers.

Melanie blinked rapidly, putting a hand over her eyes. "Yeah, I know, Trin. Can't fault a girl for trying. What time is it?"

Trinity peered at the clock on the night stand. "After eight. Damn the sun comes up late around here. Winter in the mountains, huh?"

She slithered out of the bed, feeling cum leak down her thighs. "How many times did you come last night, Mel? You're a one and done kind of girl, usually. This doesn't feel like just one."

"You got me excited--first time in a long time," Melanie said. "I know it was at least two, maybe three times. You want to go again?"

"Sounds nice, Mel, but I do have to save myself. I'll make coffee, though."

She fumbled through the unfamiliar coffee maker, determined not to ask for help. Much longer than she expected, she brought two cups to the bed, where Melanie was talking to Willow, all thought of sex forgotten. The brunette took the coffee automatically, eyes never leaving the tablet. Trinity sipped her own cup--not bad--and went to the bathroom for a shower.

Melanie was still talking when Trinity emerged, properly shaved--except for the crotch, hair slicked back, other parts brushed or plucked. She dressed in ancient, comfortable sweats, taking her cold coffee to the microwave for reheating, then sat at a window looking at the mountains to the southwest and the ski lift car passing at regular intervals.

Waking to Melanie had been a bit of a shock, though she remembered the night in great detail, which made her sad. Instead of being a relaxing time, the sex turned into a mutual mercy fuck neither really enjoyed. Melanie asked for more because it would have taken her mind off Willow. Had Zenova done any better, found willing company after the dinner? Part of her hoped she had. Another part hoped she hadn't and was cross and out of sorts. It would make her more vulnerable during the fight--no, test, not a fight, no winners or losers. Ha.

She must have dozed. She awoke to hear the door close, the suite quiet in the empty sense of the word. A note lay on the table, telling her Melanie was out shopping for the baby, she'd be back later. Trinity decided on a walk. Sitting in the hotel would only make her think of Zenova. She dressed and bundled for the day, forecast to be low thirties--1 Celsius, she corrected herself, which made it seem even colder--and clear.

Outside, the air was more brisk than she expected with the sunlight. The initial shock of feeling cold seep through her coat, gloves, jeans, and hat evaporated as she walked, creating internal warmth from the welcome exercise. She made two circuits of both hotels, striding with arms swinging, only the concentration on keeping her pace foremost. Passing the main entrance of the Grand Hotel, she kept her head straight, refusing to look or think about who was inside. After the second circuit, she made two rounds of a soccer--football--pitch to the northeast, stopping to watch people on the south end of the lake. Done, slightly sweaty, she decided she needed air.

The ski lift ride was pleasant, rocking, crowded. The jostle of skiers and their gear pushed all else from her mind. At the first stop, which wasn't actually the top, but was as far as she wanted to go, Trinity sat on the patio of a casual restaurant, sipping an outrageously expensive mug of mulled wine, scanning St. Moritz below, with both hotels in plain sight. From the distance, she couldn't recognize any people, they were barely moving dots along the river, which suited her fine. She didn't need to think about who they might be.

She was back in the suite by early afternoon after a light meal in the hotel restaurant. Melanie was still out, no sign she'd been in. Trinity sat on the couch watching the day crawl by. Eventually, she went to her bedroom, all signs of the previous night gone. She lay on the bed, seeing shadows and patterns on the ceiling. She was asleep when Melanie came in, an uncomfortable dream of Zenova and her trying to talk, but each unable to understand the other.

At nineteen hours, Trinity walked into the foyer of the Presidential Suite. Nothing had changed. Guests milled about, eating and drinking--she'd do that later. Eric waited, dressed impeccably. She wondered if he owned anything but bespoke suits and handmade shoes.

"First floor, room to the left. It's best if you don't look behind the tarp. A robe is on the bed. Someone will come for you. Where is your manager?"

"Sorry," Melanie said, not quite skidding to a stop. "I was speaking with people about next year. Which way?"

Trinity led, remembering that in Europe the first floor was the one above the ground floor. The room was partially furnished with a chair and a bed with a tarp.

"Lovely place," Melanie said, wrinkling her nose. "Makes you wonder about family sometimes."

Trinity undressed, laying her clothes on the tarp, taking time to examine herself in a mirror leaned against a wall without a tarp. Was this the look she wanted? Tall, svelte, broad shoulders, handful-sized breasts with pale nipples, nearly washboard abs--with moderate definition of her six-pack, hips wide and muscular enough to give her a defined waist, legs to match her arms--taut, but not ripped or shredded. Above it all a sharply defined face with blonde hair slicked back, giving the blue eyes dominance. Yeah, this is the bod that drives Zenova crazy. She dabbed something behind each ear from the small bottle Yelena had given her discreetly before donning the thigh-length robe. It was silk and fit well, even if it did allow the tip of her cock to poke beneath the hem. Melanie noticed, shaking her head.

"It's a sexfight, Mel. Ain't nothing to hide."

Ten minutes before match time, a woman led Trinity down the stairs to the foyer. It was empty except for staff hustling between the main area and the kitchen. Eric stood at the double sliding doors, hand up. Inside, Zenova was being announced. He gave Trinity a faint smile.

"Alphabetical by last name," he said. "Do not read anything into it. Tomorrow we do it in reverse order." He gave her slight push on the shoulder. "Your turn. Good luck."

She heard her name, home--no mention of The Hurricane this time, which was good. She sauntered into the main room, now lined with a mat she estimated to be fifteen feet on a side, chairs all around, six to a side. Every guest had a seat, none stood. Bet they paid through the nose to see this, she mused. Bunny sat in the middle along one side, with a half-empty flute and a big smile. The woman who spoke only Czech was nowhere to be seen.

Trinity stood face to face with Zenova, their robes open, cock's rubbing together. The brunette looked stunning. She had more curves that Zenova, but it was all sculpted, nicely defined, eminently fuckable. Her hair was in cornrows tight against her scalp. Hard nipples scraped against her own, the duel of breasts and cocks a slow dance, prelude to serious, rowdy sex. Trinity gazed into the deep brown eyes set in flawless olive skin and found everything she ever wanted.

Trinity felt the silence like a warm blanket. The guests watched as if struck dumb. Why did she feel so good? Why did she want to jump on Zenova and fuck her until no one could tell there were two people? Unless ...

"You're wearing that stuff Yelena gave you, right?" Trinity said in a low voice.

"Oui," Zenova answered, a lecherous cast to her face. "As are you. I can smell the sex rolling off you."

"We're in a lot of trouble," Trinity grinned. Pheromones, Trinity decided. Ronja and Yelena were more devious than she originally thought. Which was probably why the pair of enhanced fighters was explicitly disinvited from the match.

"The best kind," Zenova grinned back.

A woman in a white shirt and bow tie stepped between them to restate the rules. There was nothing new from the previous night, the recitation was for the guests who hadn't been invited to the earlier meeting. As she let the woman's words flow around her, she considered her cock. It was harder than she'd ever felt. Seeing Zenova lick her lips at it made the erection almost painful in a way Trinity wanted to last forever. She didn't want to come, but knew if she did, she'd spray the brunette from chin to crotch with enough cum to fill several shot glasses. From the way her lover's cock twitched she felt much the same.

"Any questions?" Trinity heard the woman say, breaking her image of Zenova's cock filling her mouth with warm cum. She shook her head; Zenova did as well. "To your corners, then."

As if with one thought, each woman grasped the other's cock, stroking it slowly. The touch was electric, making Trinity tingle from pussy to nipples, and almost to her knees. Despite it being cold out side, both women were coated in a thin sheen of sweat, which no doubt made the pheromones more potent.

"Bon chance, salope," Zenova purred. "You will need much of it to avoid crawling away humiliated."

"Keep some of that luck for yourself, bitch," Trinity answered. "It won't be me crawling away."

Her hand was slick with pre-cum when she and Zenova broke the mutual masturbation. As she turned, the brunette surreptitiously dropped a wadded piece of paper into a pocket of her robe. Excited murmurs from the guests told of growing anticipation of an epic sexfight. Trinity was sure she'd last fifteen minutes because it was now obvious to her Ronja and Yelena had not only provided them with mutually attractive pheromones, they'd managed to extend the enhancement beyond three days--the conniving cunts. It was going to be an intense match. She dropped her robe on her chair, waiting, aware of hungry eyes devouring her.

Melanie rubbed her shoulders. "You got this, Trin, I'm positive. Zenova's too sure of herself. She's not thinking long term." It was an unexpectedly perceptive thing for her manager to say. "Go kick her ass."

"Ready. Begin." The woman with the bow tie dropped her hand and backed away as a mellow gong sounded. Trinity and Zenova met in the middle of the mat with a wet smack, cocks and nipples rubbing, hands gripping for purchase. They went quickly to the mat, legs locked, left over right, hands scrabbling for purchase on slick skin, rolling across the rough surface for top position. Zenova got it first. She slithered along Trinity's body, surprising everyone but the blonde by impaling herself on the hard, pale cock. Her hips began a sensuous rhythm intended to bring her partner to climax and gain points.

Trinity expected the move, had planned for it, hoped her lover would go for the quick advantage. She was so predictable. The smug feeling evaporated when she began responding to the brunette's Kegel muscles massaging her cock. The pheromones, the extended enhancement played havoc with her plans. She was going to kick Ronja's and Yelena's asses when she saw them again. No, they'd enjoy it, she'd ignore their advances. No, then she wouldn't have any fun. She'd ... she'd think about it later.

The annoyance had the unintended, but positive, effect of making all Zenova's work for nothing. She'd planned to get Trinity hot, bothered, and first to come. Instead she was frustrated and a little tired, if the slowing of her Kegel muscles was any indication. Trinity began a slow-fast-slow-fast-slow-slow-fast-slow masturbation of the dusky cock, making her opponent chuff and wheeze as she tried to avoid her own march to orgasm.

Who's keeping score? Trinity wondered. How do I score points? Guess I should have listened closer yesterday, instead of daydreaming about fucking Zenova.

When Zenova shuddered almost imperceptibly, meaning she'd come in her pussy but not her cock, Trinity bucked her hips, reversing the position, impaling herself, using her Kegel muscles. Zenova groaned, clearly off balance. Does moaning and groaning mean anything for points, because if it does, I'm ahead.

Fingers on her nipple and a finger probing her ass brought her back to the fight. Her crotch tingled, climax rising through it, a small bead of cum forming at the tip of her cock. She bit her lip as she came, staying silent but furious at herself for losing control.

The women separated, one orgasm apiece, though no one may have noticed. They grappled again, face to crotch this time, sucking cocks and fingering cunts. Trinity was careful; from what she felt as they exchanged top and bottom often in the tight sixty-nine, Zenova had her control back. Neither gained an advantage until Trinity wormed her middle finger into the brunette's ass, massaging all the important parts.

Zenova twitched, making incoherent sounds around the blonde's now painful, demanding erection. If she didn't do something soon, Trinity was going to blow. She was fairly sure she'd stay hard, but flooding her opponent's mouth with cum would probably give Zenova a lot of points. Her only good choice was to continue the ass massage and hope she didn't come.

As she neared her breaking point, they separated. It wasn't clear who started it, but they were apart, scrambling to get up, each with a look of utter frustration. The mat was wet with sweat and cum.

How long have we been at this? Trinity wondered. Are we close to ... Zenova tackled her.

How it happened, Trinity never knew. She sat on Zenova's face, brunette's legs up, wrapped around her chest below the arms, a sort of kneeling sixty-nine. The brunette's tongue laved her pussy and tucked up balls, making cum drool from blonde's cock in a constant stream. Trinity responded by sucking in her opponent's cock and fingering pussy, taint, and ass. She released the dark cock every few seconds to breathe and get better suction, which drooled more cum.

Trinity squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will away the growing rush to orgasm. It refused to retreat, instead building toward the inevitable with each passing moment. Beneath her, Zenova squirmed, working her tongue faster as she fought off her own impending climax. The more Trinity sucked, the harder Zenova wriggled. Got her. She's coming, Another hard suck and ...

The gong sounded. Gentle hands pried Trinity away from the sopping olive crotch.

"No, wait, I've almost got her. A couple more seconds. What?"

"The test is over," the referee said in her slight German accent. "You must let Fräulein de Crie breathe."

Trinity sat back, feeling cum flow from her cock. She hadn't come, not this time. Neither had Zenova, who lay face up, her breasts rising with her slowing breath. Cum pooled above her crotch hair, her mouth glistened from pussy juice, a stupid smile crinkling her face.

"I beat you," Zenova said, cocking any eye at the blonde. "I felt you come at the last." It was all bravado. Trinity saw the worry in her eyes.

"Nope, I didn't. Almost, but not quite. I'm pretty sure you came, though."

The guests applauded, some cheered softly. Only Bunny seemed unimpressed. His mouth compressed to a tight line; it wasn't anger, wasn't disappointment. He looked sad.

Melanie helped Trinity to her chair, laying the robe across her shoulders. The referee did the same for Zenova. Why doesn't she have a manager? Guess she's her own manager. I never asked.

Eric stood in the center of the mat. Trinity wondered if he'd measured the spot earlier to be sure to get it exactly right. He held a slip of paper.

"An excellent first test. The fighters are remarkably well matched." The guests cheered.

No shit, Trinity thought, we worked at long enough.

"Our thanks to them for an exciting match that ended none too soon. Both women appeared close to orgasm. The points are: Zenova de Crie, twelve points. Well done." The guests applauded. "Trinity Stone, fourteen points." Silence descended, became uncomfortable, and was slowly replaced by more applause. Zenova's face compressed inward, her lips a thin line. She sat on her chair, alone, fuming.

"The second test is tomorrow evening at twenty hours. Please be prompt."

Zenova strode from the room, robe hung over her shoulder, looking neither left nor right, and especially not at Trinity. The momentary glow of being ahead on points vanished with the knowledge her lover had failed in her first attempt at the championship, the thing she was convinced she was destined to win.

"This is great, Trin," Melanie whispered to her. She looked around to make sure no one was listening, then continued in an excited rush, "The big money was on Zenova. We made a killing. Why aren't you happy?"

Trinity slipped on her robe and made her way through the guests in the foyer, accepting congratulations and pats on the back. None of them tried to proposition or touch her below the shoulders, a welcome change from some of the earlier tournament matches where phone numbers, money, and hands made their way inside the robe. It surprised her. Bunny and Eric were deep in conversation to one side; neither looked happy.

She dressed quickly, her thoughts on Zenova, transferring the balled up paper from robe to jacket, intending to look at it later. She peeked into the other bedrooms; the brunette was gone, likely sulking in her suite. On the lower floor, the foyer was empty of all but the staff and Melanie, who shifted anxiously from foot to foot.

"Let's go, Trin. I need to call Willow and tell her the good news."

Good news. Yeah. I won. And that Belgian bitch is pouting instead of trying to find a way for us to get in a good fuck before dawn. Tomorrow, I'm not holding back. I will really kick her ass.

To Melanie, she said, "You want a little action when you get done with the virtual cuddle?"

"Love to. Who do you have in mind? Not you, you have a match tomorrow and need to save yourself. Maybe, I'll troll the bar."

Trinity was grumpy all the way to the hotel.

The other side of the bed was cold when Trinity awoke, cold enough for her to know Melanie had been up for hours, if she'd been to bed at all. The blonde watched shadows on the ceiling, thinking about the first match. She should be ecstatic, she'd publicly bested Zenova. What she felt was the opposite of happiness or satisfaction. Something heavy hit the floor. She went back to sleep.

After nine, Trinity wandered into the living area, long cotton robe wrapped around her. The hotel room was chill despite the soft noise of the heater working hard. The suite was silent, it had the recently occupied feeling of a fading presence. Melanie was gone.

A note and a medium-sized shipping envelope lay on the table. Before she opened the note, Trinity knew what was in it.

Trin,

Willow isn't doing well. All last night she kept telling me she was fine, I should stop worrying, you need me more. I know better. It's her first pregnancy. It's mine, too. Imagine that. You are stronger than me, I haven't helped much this time. I also figured out that my betting habits might get me attract attention if I'm still your manager. I qu I fixed that part.

There's money in the envelope. We did fucking really good last night. The room is paid for through the 2nd. Don't know what your plans are after that. Please come see the baby soon.

Mel

Typical, Trinity thought, crumpling the note into a tight wad. Promises me everything, gets me thinking I'm headed to the top of the mountain, then dumps me. Just like the last fucking time. She threw the note across the room; it bounced off a frost-dappled window. I don't need her. Fuck her. I don't need anyone. Fuck them all.