My girlfriend had run into hard times; she had lost her job as manager of KFC and her wrestling school had been closed down which left her bereft of any income. I tried to support her but my minimum wage job wasn't enough to feed us both not to mention high gas prices so she started doing these real seedy backyard wrestling matches for money.
I accompanied her, driving Jenny to and from matches. Everyone called me her boy toy since Jenny was 44 at the time and I was 22; she was a cougar before the term was popular. Her first fight was in this trailer park populated entirely by Mexicans in Newark, DE. It was like entering a third world country and their "ring" was nothing but a nylon tarp a bunch of wooden pallets bound together with twine. There were no actual ropes at all; the crowd acted as them in their place. It was late by the time I found the place and the first match I watched had one woman whipping her female opponent into the crowd. They caught the offending girl-who already had blood trickling down her face from a gash in her forehead-and, in tandem, almost like they were doing the wave, the crowd of Hispanics shoved the bloody girl back as the other woman "bounced" off the audience on the other side and brought the beaten girl down with a flying leg lariat.
"Uno!...Dos!...Tres!" everyone yelled as the girl was pinned.
I swear to god immediately after, like it was her theme music, a freakin mariachi band started playing. Whether they were recorded or live I'll never be sure since it was a sea of bodies shoving against one another to lift the victorious fighter while a few dragged the loser off to parts unknown.
They been dressed like pro wrestlers, wearing the sparkly one piece swimsuits, flesh toned pantyhose with lace up boots. I was a little discouraged when I saw some children running around a few moments later carrying the same boots as the loser had on, like they were trophies. Two ninos were having a tug of war over one while one older man had the girls one piece draped over his shoulder before lifting it in the air like it was a flag.
Jenny's match was next and I was worried for her. She said it paid five hundred bucks, and we needed the money badly, but given the circumstances I was still very nervous since it required a deposit of the same amount, so you basically double your money if you win, and get nothing if you lose.
"So what happens if you don't win?" I asked, trying to be logical but I should've known better than to be that around a woman.
"What? You don't think I can win?" Jenny asked with a stern look on her face. And like every cliche sitcom trope I immediately tried to apologize but a loud trumpet, probably from that unseen band, broke the din of the crowd and everyone parted like the Red Sea as Jenny's opponent came out like their Moses.
She was a tough looking woman wearing a red one piece, with gold Spanish lettering, and matching red & gold luchador mask with devil horns affixed to the top of it. Someone was announcing her over a microphone and it was all in Spanish so I didn't understand a word until her name was said.
"La Diabla!" the guy spoke with a deep accent and the crowd started cheering like a soccer match as a goal was scored. I was so far back, guarding the van, as Jenny pushed her way through the throngs of immigrants to jump up onto the pallet. She was cascaded by everyone's trash as they booed my woman.
Jenny looked great, her dark locks went down just past her shoulders; crunchy with the hairspray that she nearly choked me to death with as it filled the car like a fog while I had been driving. She hadn't been hitting the gym that much so she wasn't exactly in the greatest shape but she looked sexy, wearing her black one piece, the middle meshed so it showed off much of her body and just a little bit of underboob. She also wore black knee pads with white lace up boots. As soon as she planted her feet on the "mat" she was shoved from behind by somebody in the crowd. She stumbled forward and was greeted by the right hook of La Diabla. The crowd started chanting in spanish and a loud old iron ring bell clanged, signaling the start of the match. She'd been spun by the blow and fell into the waiting arms of the crowd who quickly shoved her back into the middle of the ring, right into the waiting arms of her opponent.
La Diabla wrapped her thick arms around Jenny in what looked like a bear hug until the taller mexican woman twirled around, lifting Jenny as easliy as though she were a child, and slamming her down hard with a belly to belly suplex. The pallets rattled from the impact as I could see Jenny's mouth formed an "O" shape as she held her back; her eyes wide in shock as that had to be one of the hardest bumps she's ever taken. The crowd went nuts; singing something in spanish for some reason, like a chant or what I'm not sure but La Diabla was clapping along with them while she genuflected over Jenny for a moment before getting to her feet to rain down stomps on my woman.
Jenny took about two good blows to her head before she was able to cover up but La Diabla seemed to enjoy toying with my girlfriend as she stood with one boot on the back of Jenny's head and yanked up hard on her dark hair, making her scream as though she were on fire. She kept this torture for ten agonizing seconds before lifting Jenny's head up off the mat then releasing her hair to stomp my woman's face into the "mat." Jenny rolled around; I could faintly hear her squeals of pain over everyone else's laughter. Jenny was starting to try to get up, but having no ropes to help her she sort of crawled around like Velma from Scooby Doo when she lost her glasses.