Free New Title 1 by Edward Lee, John Pelan

our society. So they dress up and come to the ring so they can be sluts for a night. They regard wrestlers as nothing more than pieces of sexual meat to be used in order to fulfill their own fantasies. Male-dominated society has been sexually exploiting women for the last fifty centuries. Well, women become ringrats so they can do a little exploitation of their own. Here, the wrestlers are the bimbos.”
    An interesting extrapolation, but Straker still didn’t quite get it. These guys were dopes.
    “Don’t be such a hopeless romantic, Captain. Women are sick of double-standards. If men can be promiscuous, so can we.”
    “You almost sound like you’re one of them,” Straker pointed out. “A real ringrat.”
    She casually hitched up her halter. “Perhaps, in part, I am.”
    Jesus. She certainly was interesting, but Straker, oblivious to his own double-standards, couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Every so often she’d lean forward against the rail, giving him a glimpse of devil-red panties. The firm, heavy breasts swayed in the top as she cheered, and two or three times her rump accidentally brushed his groin. Straker winced in anguish, his penis hard again.
    “Watch the finish,” she said. “Strong will duck and throw Ghoula into the ringpost. Then Ghoula’ll turn and throw a ball of fire right into Strong’s face.”
    Straker tried to concentrate over the cacophony, then winced as if slapped when The Fabulous Ghoula whipped around and did exactly what Melinda had predicted. There was a loud pop! Then a radiating, smoky sphere of flame seemed to leap from her hand into Strong’s face. Strong went down, flailing in phony agony. Bells clattered, and then the ref waved his arms and disqualified Ghoula. The crowd exploded.
    “Wow,” Straker said dumbly. “How’d she do that?”
    “A flashpot, that’s all. The heat dissipates almost immediately.”
    Some patrons were actually in tears as Strong was carried off on a stretcher, her hands clenched to her face. Then Ghoula jumped down onto the ring skirt and kicked the stretcher over. A few kicks to Strong’s head, then Ghoula strutted off, cackling like a witch as fans booed, threw cups at her, hurled invectives.
    When she strode down the railed aisle toward the locker room, however, she took one look at Straker and stopped. “Looks like this is your lucky day,” Melinda whispered. Oh, no, Straker fretted. He could smell the obese woman as she approached, a fetor like dirty musk. Then she stepped right up to him, cut a sly, gap-toothed grin, and winked.
    “Hey, sweetcakes,” she said.
    “You talkin’ to me?” Straker blundered.
    Unabashed she pressed her sweaty, mat-stinky hand against his crotch, gave a squeeze.
    “This package for me, sweetcakes?”
    Straker stared, appalled. Her malodor reamed his sinuses. She gave his crotch another shameless squeeze. “Yeah, sweetcakes. I like this package. Meet me at the bar later and I’ll unwrap it for ya.”
    Then she threw her head back, guffawed, and strode away, her sheath of fat trembling like jello.
    “I think I’m gonna be sick,” Straker moaned.
    But Melinda excitedly grabbed his arm. “This is perfect! What a lucky break!”
    “What are you talking about?”
    Melinda’s breath warmed his ear as she whispered. “Are you blind? She’s got the hots for you! She thinks you’re a male ringrat.”
    “Yeah, well, she can think again.”
    “Captain, this is an ideal opportunity for you to go undercover just like me. You can get together with her later—”
    Straker’s jaw dropped. “Not in this lifetime,” he assured her. “You’ve got to be out of your mind if you think I’d—”
    Her glare of disapproval severed the words. “What’s the matter, Captain? Not willing to go the course for the sake of the case?”
    “No,” Straker said.
    “Don’t have what it takes to do the job right?”
    “No,” Straker said. “I’m not going to ‘get together’ with that obese, unwashed female