Christina got on the floor by eleven thirty, did her usual round of the richer betters and circled back to the stands by midnight.

All through the hour of dancing it was flushed and hot and wet and dripping. The sprinklers were on again because it was July, and someone passed her a popper and then her body was on fire, and when someone put a hand under her little skirt she moaned, pressed up and they were rubbing and rubbing and she danced along and--

pop.

Song ended, she panted and that black girl with the blond hair was holding her up by the shoulders. "You're so little."

"Yeah, gonna kick ass in the ring tonight."

"Oh," and the girl -- tattoos on her breasts, glistening -- was surprised. "Didn't know that was you."

Christina panted, leaned heavily on the shoulder presented her. "You're good. Dance with me later."

Girl grinned. Her face was masculine, but, nice. Nice and nice and lipstick with muscles. "Yeah, I'll be here."

"Gotta go," and then someone else took her hand, the skinny blond boy that had a hard-on for J ever since he laid eyes on him, so no action there but she said, "get me to the ring, I gotta fight."

"Can you even stand, A?"

Her hips were already moving again, snap, and snap and she pushed him off. "Fine, do it myself. Someone else," and a purr, there was that big black boxer, took on Rob last week and won, cock size of J's almost and the air was vibrating. "Someone else will make sure I get there."

He let go willingly enough. "Good luck."

Already warm again, warm and flushed and the sprinklers were raining down on them. The boxer -- they called him Red? Rain? something -- tilted his head, and she just slid up against him, hard already, hands up straight in the air. "Take me."

He grabbed her by the hips, pulled her onto his own hip. She was grinding down as he carried her, one arm around her waist and holding her up. Christina growled. Ring was getting closer, the big clock near the ceiling of the club almost said one. Rocked against him, harder, closer. Again.

"What'd you take, A?" Red said as he put her down. "Cause you gonna get your ass handed to you. Pink's in the ring later tonight."

"Fuck it, I fucked her," and Christina's tongue lolled out of her mouth, "I don't mind losing to her, s'all right."

The judges already had their eyes on her, one standing up and hand pointed up to the ring. Two ropes and concrete floor; "Need my hand wraps. Toss'em down."

Christina knew she was a crowd favorite. Some of the fans, sitting up in the stands waiting for the first round, were already pointing down at her. She bent over from the waist, tied boots and chaps on. Stripped the skirt off in one go, and shivered as the fabric rushed away from her thighs.

Panties soaked. The judge got on the microphone. "Christina and M. Round one."

A deafening roar, feet stomping. Christina hopped the ropes, felt them rub up against her as she slid into the ring. "Mmm yeah."

Other side, the new kid was already waiting, masked because until she won a few no one cared about her face, only her tits and the way her bones could break.

Christina bowed.

The air started thumping again, bass deafening and roaring in her head, mixing and she was sweating, feeling water and sweat drip down the insides of her thighs and into her boots as the kid threw the first punch. Hair in her face. Christina hit back, skin quivering. oh, oh yeah.

~

They had an hour of dancers on the floor, dancers doing flips and then the sprinklers came back on, more dancing and dancing and dancing. She went down on some big black guy from last weekend while three guys were doing gymnastic flips and tumbling in the middle of the dance floor, then dragged the girl, E, to one of the other rooms and danced in there for a while, heavy house beats lumbering slowly across their skins as Christina pulled the girl's pants down and fingerfucked her all slick with mud.

They were covered in the stuff, it was in their hair and on their faces and the girl bit down on Christina's neck, and they both slid down the wall and into the clay on the floor, breathless. "Seriously," the girl asked her, "how do you have the energy?"

"What?" Christina yawned. The light in here was dim and mostly filtering in the open sliding door; metal walls echo the DJ's cutting, and the booth for this room was in the corner, glass all around to keep the mud out. The music from the main room was still audible from outside.

E slumped down, and took a shaky breath. "You like, fight, and then you fuck, and fight again, and. Jesus. I can barely stand up."

Christina rubbed her breastbone, smeared wet clay down her front. "It's a gift."

"Aren't you back in the ring in ten minutes?"

"Fuck." And she was, so there would be only enough time for a quick and brutal kiss, and a run through the shower room to scrape the worst of the dirt off.

For the last fight of the night it was Christina and Pink, Pink in loose shorts and soaking wet wifebeater, nipples clearly visible. Muscles straining. Watching.

She was way less stoned by now, the drugs fucked out of her. The motorcycle came out for this one, she zipped the jacket on over a different bikini, and took the towel Mer handed her carelessly, wiped off some of her body and then tossed it aside.

Mer, the roommate. Christina kicked her leg out and over the bike, and then it was just her and a long metal ride out through the crowd and into the ring again. She was all greasy and could feel wetness between her legs, behind her knees, under her breasts and god.

The metal walls of the club were banging with cheering as she rode out. Helmet tossed to someone; then she flipped off the bike. "Ready for my closeup."

Pink was quiet, spat over the side of the ropes and then the bell dinged, they were off and this was more concentrated, more precise. Kick out, drop, lunge and Pink countered with blocks and punches of her own. More professional, because they both knew that this was what the people came to see, this is what everyone wanted, what everyone was here for. Everything was prelude to this, oily bodies pounding into each other, again and again, keeping in rhythm to the beat.

~

"You not gonna go in the showers?"

Pink turned around, duffle slung over her back as she headed out the back entrance, rusty door ajar to the alley. "I jog home anyway," she said, shrugging. "Not much point."

Christina tucked the helmet under her arm. Even drenching herself in the showers once the crowds have gone home never erased the smell of sweat; the whole club tasted like it, day in and day out. Through the door the sky was just barely lightening. "Wanna ride?"

"Yeah, okay," and Pink held the back door open a little wider so Christina could wheel her crotchrocket out into the chilly dawn. Pink mounted behind her and, kickstarting the bike, Christina rode off, helmet dangling from her fist.

Pink actually only lived three buildings down from her own skyrise, so Christina was in bed again before the sun fully rose. The light filtering through her cracked window was orange and pink and pretty. She fell asleep with the blankets up over her head to block it out.

 


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