Gator Bait Oil Wrestling

The Holborn Honey dances on the main stage, swinging around the pole there, reinforced to support her weight.

Wow. Two patrons. Michael knows Sundays can be slow, but damn. Ah, a third patron coming to the door. And a fourth.

Texacon walks into the Gator Bait. He plops his cover charge plus $20 down at the front door and waves off the change. He walks into the main area.

The Holborn Honey go go dances in white boots that come to just below the knee, flipping straight blond hair about as she makes the most of the powerful curves restrained only by a tiny pink bikini.

The Holborn Honey looks to be about 5' 9" maybe 150 pounds, a girl with muscular curves that look like they could crush a man.

Texacon eyes a cute waitress at a table near the main stages and nods at her as he sits down. He whips out his Platinum Card, gets a tab started, and orders a Crown and 7. Tex turns his attention to the main stage, eyeing the gorgeous girl on stage. His drink arrives quickly, and he turns his $100 bills into $20's, contemplating getting up already to support young female college students.

The Holborn Honey smiles and winks to the newcomers as they take seats and the DJ announces the deal. "Want a chance to wrestle the awesome Holborn Honey... then bid the most money... just tell your waitress what your bid is. If you win then you get your money back and the club matches your stake up to a $1,000 payout. If Honey wins the club keeps the money. Either way you win!"

The Holborn Honey turns away and dances about to “Shakin' All Over” by Robin and the Chartbusters. As the chorus plays she turns her powerful backside to the crowd and lets a big shiver run down her spine.

Texacon was just standing up to stride to the stage when he hears the DJ. He gets a strange look on his face, takes off his cowboy hat, and sits back down. He motions his waitress over.

The Holborn Honey pouts as the man with the cowboy hat sits back down, pointing a finger at him and then to her own protruding chest, mouthing "Do you want me?" She smirks and points to the old gator pit filled with oil.

Texacon grins and nods a bit. He's wrestled a lot in high school, and beats people up with ease now a days, but he sees no reason to do anything but roll in the oil with the beautiful blonde. As the waitress comes over, he asks, "Is that for real? Wrestling a Stripper?"

The Holborn Honey glares as she reads his lips. "I'm a dancer, not a stripper," she yells loudly enough to be heard over the thumping music. Honey points down and smiles as her lips mouth, "Your candy ass is mine!"

Texacon chuckles at the cute blonde as he pulls out his checkbook and downs the rest of his beverage. "Tell the club to put THEIR money where YOUR mouth is!" He writes a check, at first writing $1000, but then looking back at her. "You know what...forget that stake matching crap. $10,000. I'm taking 10-1 odds on this, stripper, since you'd like to make this personal"

The Holborn Honey grins as she spies the amount, knowing she gets to keep twenty percent of the take on the wrestling. This could be a big payoff for her. She gives Michael a look and dances down the steps toward the oil pit. Honey blinks as she hears the man taking bets. "Are you serious? I've only got about $50 to my name... but you're on!"

Texacon takes that as the final "yes". He signs the check, and gives it to the waitress to hold. He takes off his jacket and puts it at his seat. He also takes his tie off, but leaves the rest of his suit on, confident that it wont get too oily. A few gropes, a push-over, an easy pin, and he walks away with a hard-on and $1000 dollars.

The Holborn Honey nods to Micheal Vescovi, keeping a low profile in the corner, giving a thumbs up to indicate she won't lose the club's $1000. Honey steps into the pit and reaches down to cup oil, lifting it to splash over herself, leaving her skin shining and the pink bikini translucent.

Texacon walks to the oil pit, taking his shoes and socks off. He steps in, confident grin on his face as he stares down the paid performer.

The Holborn Honey takes her stance and grins, a finger curling into a 'come-on' motion as she eyes him and circles to her right. Honey kicks up some oil and the DJ cuts in. "Whoa there, Honey... let me spell out the rules first!"

Texacon raises an eyebrow as Honey looks ridiculously serious about the whole thing, already in a textbook stance with nice footwork in oil before the match has even started.

The Holborn Honey puts her hands on her hips and sighs as the DJ continues. "You see Tex we don't want things getting... out of hand... if you know what I mean... so keep it in the pit... and no eye-gouging... otherwise feel free to grab anything you can hold on to..."

The Holborn Honey sneers at the DJ, her blue eyes as dark as gun barrels.

Texacon cheers up a bit again. "No problem. Ding the bell, sucker."

The Holborn Honey also waits for the bell as the DJ explains, "Win by pinfall, knockout or submission... good luck... and..."

Ding ding ding.

Texacon takes a half-hearted stance, only because Honey took a full-hearted one, and counters her circling for the moment, moving to stay across from her.

The Holborn Honey charges forward, seemingly fairly at home on the slick footing, sweeping a boot at the man's ankles as she slides low.

Texacon is sent flying: straight toward the mat as the well built, but surprisingly quick girl pretends as if she's ducking below a tag at home plate. His face drinks oil before eating the viscous material at the bottom. Absolutely shocked, he spits it out, trying to get up out of the oil, sliding a bit but managing to get up to all fours.

The Holborn Honey gets lower and charges into him immediately, pink wristbands flashing upwards as her hands come up into his chest and her shoulder drives up under his, demonstrating amazing momentum for her apparent size as she attempts to knock him over on his back.

Texacon is knocked onto his back and slides toward the outer barrier of the pit. He bounces slightly off of the wall, still on his back. Luckily the wall is a bit padded. He uses the concrete to scramble up, in obvious surprise at the efforts of the "stripper". Tex glares at her. "You're no stripper. You ain't even a dancer. A fuckin’ ringer. What the hell are you on?"

The Holborn Honey smirks as another pair of patrons enter the club. "I'm just a country girl from Missouri... you ready to give up... or do I get to kick your ass some more?"

Exquisite Corpse steps inside the club, looks about, and finds herself a table to sit in on. She's not above doffing her togs to earn some cash, if need be. But she sees someone else is in the pit.

Texacon wrinkles his toes a bit, along with his eyes. "Congratulations, you corn-bred mule, you caught me off guard." He rips the sleeves off his shirt, know now that this is for real, and that he actually has a real opponent to spar with.

The Holborn Honey ducks a shoulder and charges, aiming to drive him back into the side of the oil pit again.

Texacon uses his curled toes to give him a bit of traction, side stepping a bit and trying to shove her with her momentum into the padded concrete where he stood.

The Holborn Honey is caught with all her momentum headed forward and into the wall. Oil sprays up from her boots as she tries to turn to no avail. She slams into the side, the resulting wave action on the surface of the oil a testament to the force of impact. She winces and clutches her side as slides to her ass with a plop. “Shit... that hurt!”

Texacon loses his confident grin and turns more into a cold-blooded, calculating villain as he walks toward her, aiming his foot to stomp toward her midsection.

The Holborn Honey sits there in four inches of oil as he approaches, waiting to catch the foot in her hands when he stomps, aiming to twist and throw with all her might. "I don't think so!"

Texacon typically would not be turned by such an attempt, but the oil is definitely not his ring of choice, and the strong blonde spins him around. He is able to catch his balance before falling, however, squatting now into the full-hearted stance that he should have started the match off with.

The Holborn Honey is up on booted feet and launching herself into a flying drop kick, oil spraying from glistening legs as they drive out at his chin and cheek.

Texacon is a bit more prepared this time as he catches her and throws her down into the mat. He then attempts to grab her legs to set up a hold.

The Holborn Honey is surprised by the man's ability to use her momentum against her and take her down, squirming frantically as she lands on her back and her legs are tied up.

Texacon tries to grip the slippery, muscular legs of the blonde, using his shirt to get some kind of friction. He takes her legs under his arms and steps over her other side, trying to sit back into a Boston Crab.

Michael Vescovi idly taps untouched drink glass while watching the struggle from the second row, casual attire allowing him to appear as just another patron looking on as the Gator Bait's newest attraction tries to win herself and the club some money.

The Holborn Honey is turned, her big boobs flattening out against the bottom of the pit. She splashes around in the oil until her hair is matted to her head as she looks up, desperation on her face for the first time.

Texacon sits back, taking her tiny bikini with his hands crossed in front of them, stretching them to their fullest elasticity, and then letting them snap back into her...well, snapper!

Exquisite Corpse laughs at the Texan's attack. "Tha's the stuff!" she cries out, cheering him on. "Give the broad what for...!"

The Holborn Honey struggles mightily as her flexing shiny hiney is revealed for a moment before the audible pop as it snaps back into place. “YEEEEOOOOWWWWW!”

Texacon lets go of one leg, leans back, and uses her bikini top to stretch her back even further, pulling her body even further off of the mat and letting her tits become dangerously close to escaping the confines of pink bikini.

The Holborn Honey pounds her fists and the pink wristbands in the oil as her body is bent and her breasts threaten to ooze out of the soaked pink top. Suddenly she reaches back overhead and grips a belt loop, jerking down hard.

Texacon is pulled out of his stance and falls backwards on her, releasing his grip on the other leg. As he tries to get leverage, he finishes what most of the crowd probably wanted: He yanks her bikini top right off. This was not his usual perversion, however, only an attempt to stay balanced in the oil, and he slips and falls to a knee.

The Holborn Honey squeals as she feels her top come off, frantically trying to slither out from under him, covering her breasts with her hands as she rolls to her booted feet. “You! You... sex fiend!” Honey glares as the DJ announces, "I did say by any hold available... looks like Tex got hold of something for us all there..."

Texacon is a bit dazed by her ability to escape. He stutters, "D-D-Don’t flatter yourself..." as he tries to get to his feet.

"There we go!" laughs Exquisite Corpsey as she bangs her beer bottle down on the table. "Get her kit off! And let's see what the bloke's packin', as well!"

The Holborn Honey stomps a foot and puts her hands on her hips, exposing the shimmering warheads of hers, waving back and forth as they point at her opponent, hopefully distracting him as she closes rapidly, actually giving him a literal bust in the mouth, before she grasps him, spins, and sits out into her finisher, the deer in the headlights stunner!

Texacon cannot help the sex fiend portion of himself that she pointed out as he stares at her movement while still trying to gain his footing. Her double melons pound his face, and he smiles slightly before she turns around quickly. He notices a few freckles suddenly on his shoulder before *WHAM*. His face plants into her shoulder and he plops face down, unable to make any type of attempt to roll over.

The Holborn Honey drops an elbow down into his chest to drive all the air out of his lungs before she rolls up to cover his face with her concave abs, grinding them down as she catches one arm with her hands and the other between her powerful legs. “Count! Everybody!” Honey looks up, hair matted to her face by oil, appearing like a drowned rat as she entreats the audience to count the man out. “Somebody!”

"Errr....1?" Exquisite Corpse asks, looking up, a little confused, as she was downing some whiskey shots.

Texacon groans a bit as he hears 1 yelled out.

Michael Vescovi gets up as a unison of voices counting, "One!..." Sliding a tip beneath still full drink glass with the "Two!..." Then disappears into the back for a private dance with the echo of a "Three!"

Exquisite Corpse looks around, to see if anyone else is gonna do it. "4...?" she suggests. "Cor, normally, back in Manchester, we just make the other one cry out 'uncle', or else beat 'em unconscious..."

Texacon weakly attempts to kick out at 3, but can't remotely get his shoulders up at the DJ rings the bell.

The Holborn Honey wriggles about, pressing her flesh down on her opponent, grinning at the count of three and hopping up to dance about with hands in the air and huge buoyant breasts bouncing free. Honey offers Tex a hand.

Texacon is still stunned from the...Stunner, but he quickly turns away from the gesture of sportsmanship, crawling under his own power. He yells to the DJ. "THIS IS BULLSHIT!!! WHERE THE HELL DID YOU FIND THIS SLUT, KRYPTON?!?!? SHE WEIGHS A METRIC ASSLOAD!!!"

Exquisite Corpse laughs, and toasts the dancing half-naked girl with another bottle of whiskey.

The Holborn Honey pouts and puts her hands on her hips. "YOU AIN’T EXACTLY NORMAL EITHER, MISTER ROID RAGE!"

Texacon glares back but ignores her, looking for that waitress. "GIVE ME MY DAMNED CHECK BACK. THIS CRAP WAS RIGGED!" Tex is finally able to stand up, finally staring back at the talented dancer/stripper/mancrusher. "This isn’t over! You're gonna pay for this crap!"

The Holborn Honey stomps after him. "NO FUCKING WAY... I won fair and square, Mister... and I get twenty percent of that money!"

Michael Vescovi hears the yelling of the sore loser, hopes that his dance won't be interrupted and the bouncers can handle this. Michael really doesn't want to get involved, simply hates confrontations.

“Keep your money, you skank. You're gonna need it. We WILL settle this another time!” Texacon walks back toward his table, puts his hat on and throws his jacket over his shoulder as he walks out, staring at any asshole who dares to stare at him.

The Holborn Honey weaves her rather impressive hips through the tables, accidentally catching a chair and sending it flying, testament to the weight she throws around. “Fine! Call me names, but I have to get paid to have a place to sleep tonight! And it's not like you didn't get a show!” Honey stands there glaring and glistening as the man walks out.

Texacon puts up a Texas sized middle finger as he throws the front door open, filled with oil and embarrassment as he heads toward his limo.

(Oct 2010)