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The two combatants roared and screamed, staggering around the ring, their thick arms and chest twisting in effort as they engaged in a prolonged contest of strength. Ivan placed a hand under Colt's jaw and slowly forced his head back as both men roared in effort, Colt jerking Ivan as if he was increasing the pressure on his back. Unable to power out of the hold, Ivan snapped his head forward, smashing his forehead into Colt's face. That was the most dangerous stunt of the match, Justin having to pull the headbutt at the last moment and Colt having to make sure his head was where it was supposed to be.

The two men had misjudged the move more than once, and when they did it showed in the rest of their performance, but tonight the stunt was executed perfectly. Seemingly stunned by the power of the blow, Colt lost his grip and staggered back, furiously wiping at his face with both hands as he shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Ivan powered in and took Colt into a Bear Hug of his own. Now it was Colt's turn to bellow in pain as Ivan trapped Colt's arms inside his grip, preventing Colt from fighting back. Colt's face twisted in agonizing effort as he slowly began to power out of Ivan's embrace as the crowd feverishly cheered him on.

Ivan began bellowing with the effort of holding the hero in his grip, but Colt wouldn't be denied. With a final roar of effort, Colt broke free as Ivan staggered back. Colt charged in, slamming into Ivan as he gripped him around the waist, hoisted him off the floor, and then threw Ivan backwards, Colt riding him down in a devastating Rack of Ribs. This was the move where Justin hurt his knee in the previous show, when his leg got tangled up with Colt's, but it looked like a clean landing this time. Ivan screamed with the impact. Colt wasted no time in throwing himself across Ivan for the pin.

Ivan was hurt but he wasn't out of it yet, and with a snarl of effort, kicked out on the two count. Colt leapt to his feet before jumping high in the air and dropping to his ass beside Justin while driving his elbow into Ivan's chest in a massive Chest Compression. Again, Colt threw himself over Ivan. Ivan struggled weakly, but the match was over, and David counted Ivan out with three wild slaps of his hand against the canvas. Steve rang the bell and Colt jumped to his feet, throwing his hands in the air, David briefly holding one of Colt's hands up before releasing Colt so the victor could parade around the ring, seemingly forgetting his cock was hanging out for all to see.

As Ivan slowly crawled out of the ring, staggering his way down the aisle in naked defeat, Steve crawled into the ring with his microphone to conduct the post bout interview.

Our bouts lasted around fifteen minutes, with another fifteen minutes of the performers running their mouths between bouts. Five bouts, at approximately thirty minutes each, meant our show ran between 2½ and three hours.

Steve handed Colt a towel, holding it low in a clear indication Colt was to wrap it around his waist, but instead Colt used the towel to mop his face as he panted. It wouldn't do to deprive Colt's fans of what they'd paid good money to see.

"That was an... unexpected... exhibition," Steve said.

Colt took the mic and began to walk around the ring so everyone could get a good look, seemingly not noticing Steve's play on words. I stayed on Colt as Greg followed the defeated Ivan, taking crowd shots as the villain was jeered. Greg then started working his way back to the ring, continuing with his crowd shots, particularly focusing on any women he could find that were clearly excited by what they'd seen.

"I never had any doubts I could take that commie," Colt snarled. "Just as we didn't back down from a fight during World War II, and just like we kicked Germany and Japan's ass, I'll never back down from a fight with evil, and I kicked that commie's ass!" Colt bellowed, pointing after the retreating Ivan. I smiled. Colt was really good in his role. "Russian bear?" he taunted. "More like Russian bear cub!"

The crowd screamed and cheered while chanting, "U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!"

Colt threw his arms into the air and turned slowly, as if joining in the celebration, but he was actually showing off his body and goods to the gathered women. He brought the mic back to his lips. "Next time you want to tangle with the Six Shooter, bring some more guys!" Colt called after Ivan before throwing his arms into the air again, stretching his body taunt to again show off his rippled physique and big cock.

Steve gave Colt his moment in the spotlight, allowing him to run his mouth, but after a couple of minutes Harlow strutted down the aisle dressed in her trademark, deep plunging, high riding, black leather vest top and short shorts with the black widow spider's red hourglass on her ass.

As Colt finished up his monologue about how Tatiana was safe, but if there any more Ivans who wanted to have a go, they knew where to find him, Harlow crawled into the ring, twisting and turning to show her ass and breasts in the most seductive manner possible. Bout two was about to begin.

Harlow strutted across the ring with plenty of ass swing, stopping close to the still sweaty Colt. She looked pointedly at his cock before bringing her gaze back to his eyes.

"Colt... I had no idea..." she purred as she casually drew her finger down his gleaming chest and then slowly stuck it in her mouth. "I always thought a bear was bigger than an eagle, but I see I was wrong."

Colt smiled as his eyes roamed her full, lush, body. "Thank you, Black... or is it Widow?"

"Call me Harlow, please."

"Okay... Harlow."

"I liked how you handled that nasty Ivan... and how you protected Tatiana," Harlow purred as she twisted slowly, the sex radiating off her in waves. "I haven't seen anyone around that I didn't recognize. Is... Tatiana... here?"

Like the men in the show, the women were stunning. Harlow stood a tall 5'10" and was built like the proverbial brick shithouse. She'd had some work done on her chest, and her now ample breasts only enhanced her sexiness. Like the men, she was toned, fit, and athletic. While the women didn't have the raw power of the men, they made up for it with speed and agility, and they gave away nothing in their ability to put on a good show.

"No. She's hidden safely away."

"So you and her aren't...?" she asked, Colt and Harlow both ignoring Steve as they flirted.

Colt smiled as he shook his head. "No. My life on the road isn't for her. It would put her in too much danger. I'm too visible... too easy to find... as you saw. No, Tatiana is safe, happy, and dating a nice doctor who helps children with birth defects so they can walk and run like all the other kids."

She purred into the mic. "Oh... Colt... you're such a nice man." She glanced down at his cock again. "But not too nice, I hope."

His smile spread. "You saw what I did to Ivan. Could a nice guy do that?"

Harlow shivered. "No." She paused, holding his gaze before continuing. "Why don't you go to my room? Maybe you could show me your gun... and maybe some of your... moves... Six Shooter. Or was it Eight Shooter?"

"Just six."

She smiled like a cat thinking about a particularly fat and tasty mouse. "Not after tonight," she breathed as she again drew her finger down his body before cupping his manhood.

"There you are, you wench!"

I was nearer the changing room this time, so I spun to point my lens toward the back of the crowd as Candy stood there, her fists parked on her hips. I zoomed in on her face, showing the audience she was clearly pissed about something.

I kept my camera on Candy as Harlow rolled her eyes in exasperation, knowing Greg was capturing it all. "Why don't you wait for me in my room. I'll clear this up and be there in a few minutes," Harlow cooed.

Colt smiled, handing the mic to Harlow and then slapping her on the ass to make her giggle as he passed. "Don't be long."

"This won't take but a second."

As Colt slid out of the ring, Candy climbed in. Candy's actual name was Melissa Krane, but Candy Kane had a lot more cachet. Candy was dressed in a one-piece bathing suit like affair with deep sculpted cutouts on the sides that left only the thinnest pieces of fabric connecting the top to the bottom. Where Harlow was dark with rich brown hair, Candy was a fair skinned strawberry blonde, and of course her suit was red with white stripes. Candy was about three inches shorter, and two years older than Harlow's twenty-nine years, but she was just as athletic, just as beautiful, and just as heavy chested.

"How dare you, you bimbo!" Candy growled as she rose to her feet.

Steve seemed baffled by it all as Harlow glared at Candy.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harlow smirked in return.

Candy stomped across the ring to Harlow, pausing just inches from her, their full breasts almost touching. "Don't deny it! I know it was you!"

"I still don't know what you're talking about," Harlow sneered.

"The photos of me showering? The ones posted on the internet? And now this video?" she yelled, holding a cell phone aloft.

"I didn't take any pictures or video," Harlow sniffed, but her attitude made it clear she probably had.

A small smile danced over my lips as I watched the building drama unfold on the camera's tiny monitor. Steve was smart as hell, but nobody played the befuddled MC better than he did. As the two women sniped at each other, he looked back and forth between them in utter confusion.

"So you don't know anything about the video?" Candy demanded, her eyes hard.

Harlow smiled. "Not a thing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a gun that's waiting to be polished."

Harlow thrust the microphone into Candy's hand before spinning on her toe, clearly intending to walk away. Candy shoved the mic into Steve's hand, grabbed Harlow's arm, and spun her back to face her before the woman could take the first step.

"Don't you turn you back on me!"

"Get your hand off me," Harlow growled as she stared at the hand holding her arm, her tone low and dangerous. Despite Steve's apparently bafflement, the mic was always where it needed to be to pick up the best audio.

Candy flung Harlow's arm away as she crowded in, their breast smashing together. "Or what? Ooohhh... I'm so afraid of the scary Black Window," Candy sneered, her voice sing-songing as she bobbled her head side to side. "You're too afraid to face me like a real woman, so you take photos and video of me without my knowledge or permission and post them on the internet."

Harlow pushed back, their large breasts flattening between them even more. "I'm not afraid of shit!" She paused as she glared into Candy's eyes, but Candy didn't back down. "Nobody's afraid of a Candy Kane," she sneered, her disdain clear in her tone, "but nobody with brains fucks with a black window."

"Big talk from something I squash under my shoe."

The two women, their breasts pressed together, glared at each other, neither backing down as the crowd screamed for blood.

"Well," Steve said, before clearing his throat and glancing between the women as if he hated to ask the question. "Candy, do you have any proof?"

"Proof!" Harlow sputtered. "Only proof she has is that she's bat-shit crazy," she continued, spinning a finger just off her temple as she waggled her head.

A nasty smile appeared on Candy's lips as she showed Steve her phone. On the DVD we'd cut in a video of Candy sensually covering herself with a thick lather of soap behind a clear door as she showered, apparently unaware she was being watched. It had taken some interesting camera work, with Greg standing straddle a toilet as we worked together to get Harlow her marks, but we'd finally gotten everything and everyone positioned so that in a mirror in the corner of the screen, Harlow could be seen entering the bathroom and standing there with her phone held up like she was filming. We'd filmed the scene more than a month ago in a motel room, but Steve was going to have to explain it to the audience.

"Is that Harlow in the mirror?" Steve asked as if shocked. Candy nodded as Steve looked at Harlow and turned the phone for her to see. "Looks like you're filming her to me."

We glossed over where the 'picture' on Candy's phone came from, or who was shooting the video on the DVD, but anyone who called us on that was missing the point and was at the wrong show.

Harlow stared at the screen in obvious surprise and dismay. "That doesn't prove a thing! I... I... was just checking my fan mail on the way to... powder my nose."

"Fan mail! You don't have any fans! You're nothing but a lying witch!"

Harlow's lip twisted into an ugly snarl. "Just because I'm not as popular as you doesn't mean I don't have fans." She paused, her snarl fading into a nasty smile. "All my fans are more... personal in nature," she cooed, running her hands sensually over her body. Her nasty smile spread slightly as her voice returned to normal. "But even if it was me that posted the video and photos, why anyone would want to look at a goody-two-shoes, prissy little bitch like you, is beyond me. Have you ever been with a man?"

"How dare you! Just because I'm not a slut like you—!"

"Means you don't know how to please a man!" Harlow mocked, talking over Candy. She took a step back and caressed her body again while writhing slowly. "To be really good, you've got to be a little bit bad." The two women stood glaring at each other for a long moment in unmistakable animosity before Harlow spoke again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go engage in what I hope is a long, hard, gun fight." She mimicked Colt's shooting of finger pistols at Candy before she shoved past.

Candy glared after the passing woman, waiting until Harlow was at the ropes. "Funny you should say gun fight, since you're always running away from a fight," she sneered. "You can't beat me in the ring, so you try to ruin my reputation. You sneak around, hiding in dark holes, waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting victim and inject them with your poison. Maybe you are a black widow after all."

Harlow paused as her face twisted with malice. "You got lucky the last time," she sneered over her shoulder.

Candy smiled as she shoved her phone into Steve's chest before slowly backing away to a corner. "Oh yeah? You want to try to prove that?"

Harlow turned and glaring at the woman as Candy settled into her corner, draping herself over the ropes and striking a relaxed cheesecake pose. Her clear indifference and faint smile spoke of her confidence. After a moment, Harlow turned on her toe and strode purposefully to the opposite corner.

"I'm going to take you down, bitch!" Harlow screamed while pointing across the ring.

Candy's smile and relaxed attitude never changed. "You're going to try."

Harlow glared at Steve. "Let's fucking do this!"

Steve glanced between the two women and then shrugged. "In this corner, wearing red and white, standing five feet, seven inches, the sweetest wrestler on the tour. Hailing from Hershey, Pennsylvania, she may be sweet, but she's still plenty hard... Candy Kane!" The crowd screamed as I smiled. The women wouldn't let Steve give their weight.

Melissa was from Colorado, but we tended to play fast and loose with the talent's personal facts. This was all fantasy anyway, and it helped distance the character Candy Kane from the real-life person of Melissa Krane. Out of costume and makeup, the women could walk around unrecognized, even in their hometowns. That was important, especially for the woman, to keep the creepers under control.

The only incident we'd ever had occurred a couple of months ago when Antony, playing the hero in the third and fourth matches, had been attacked by an overzealous woman after we'd played a titty bar in Charleston, West Virginia. She was clearly drunk, or stoned out of her mind, and she was certain she could heal Anaconda's broken heart. It was funny now, and Antony still took some ribbing over it, but having the woman rip her shirt off and dive for his fly, and then having to wrestle her away from him as she screamed and fought, all the while promising she would never leave him, had freaked out the entire show. Other than that instance, despite our line of work, few connected our in-ring personas with the person who played them, and this was just a job for us.

I kept my lens on Candy as she jumped onto the ropes and preened for the crowd. Greg was on Harlow, catching her sneering, dismissive reaction.

Steve turned his attention to Harlow. "And in this corner, wearing basic black, the widow maker of Wheaton, the beautiful brawler from Beaverlick, Harlow, Black Widow, Welch!"

Payton Riggs had taken Harlow, her mother's maiden name, and Welch, from her mother's hometown of Welch, Texas, as her stage name. While Payton was actually from Dallas, Texas, Beaverlick, Kentucky, was too good a town name to pass up because there wasn't a man, and probably more than a few women, in the audience that wouldn't like to perform some serious beaver licking on her.

David, who'd sat down at Steve's table during the shit talking between the matches rose and slid into ring, passing Steve as the play by play man slid out. Standing in the center of the ring, he called the two women to him and gave them their instructions. The two women, still glaring at each other nodded once, letting him know they were warmed up, loose, and ready to rumble. He motioned them back to their corners, turned, and pointed to Steve.

As with the men, Steve paused, allowing the two brawling babes to make it clear to the audience how much they hated each other with their glares, before ringing the bell.

Unlike Colt and Justin, Candy and Harlow didn't fuck around. At the bell, both women bolted from their corners as if fired from a cannon, Harlow going for a Big Splash while Candy attempted to pull a Crossing the 'T.' Both women were in the air when they collided, crashing to the mat in a tangle of arms and legs. Because of their relative positions when they landed, Candy had her back to Harlow.

Candy and Harlow excelled at speed, their match far faster and more energetic than the opening bout. Harlow wasted no time in grabbing Candy's arms, twisting them painfully behind her back, and dragging Candy over her bent legs in The Rack. After positioning Candy, Harlow fired her legs out while still holding Candy's wrists. Candy flew up, rotating around her anchored arms, to crash face first to the canvas. The move looked incredibly painful, Candy's screams of agony selling the idea, but the stunt was safe because Candy's rotation untwisted her arms from behind her back.

Candy lay in stunned stillness as Harlow bounded to her feet, cheering on the crowd as they booed and jeered her. Candy slowly rolled to her back before attempting to rise. Harlow, realizing Candy was moving, dove in, attempting to execute the pin before Candy could recover.

With an unexpected burst of speed, Candy rolled away, causing Harlow to crash into the canvas, and then completed her escape by leaping on Harlow's back and taking the woman into a Chicken Wing, her arm around Harlow's throat with her elbow sticking out as it would if she were to pretend she had wings. The two women screamed in effort and pain, Harlow first trying to break the hold on her neck, but after failing that, slowly, painfully, dragging herself and Candy to the ropes as Candy cried out with the effort of trying to prevent it. With her last bit of consciousness, Harlow threw her arm over the rope, David sliding in to raise and drop her arm several times, demonstrating to the crowd that Harlow had been choked out.

He rose and slapped Candy on the back, pointing to the arm. Candy released her hold long enough to pull Harlow's arm off the rope before reestablishing her choke. David shook his head vigorously, pointing at Candy in warning. Candy released her choke but continued to sit on Harlow's back as she argued with the referee, waving her arms around and pointing at the now cleared rope. In the early bouts we used mostly pantomime to communicate with the audience, saving the use of words for later in the show.