3366 Grappling Gate
Two of Merryville's very few claims to fame were the Cartwright twins. Mona and Bonita -- also known as the 'Amazonian Goddesses of War'-- were professional wrestlers who possessed both the figures and talents required to attract large crowds to highly choreographed athletic events.
Yes, professional wrestling is fake. Just like a Hollywood movie or Broadway play. That doesn't mean it isn't entertaining or the actors / athletes aren't highly skilled. What gave Mona and Bonita an edge over other women wrestlers, besides the fact they were identical twins, was their ability to perform amazing feats of athleticism while making it look like a real fight. Attractive faces and amazing bodies might have added to their crowd appeal.
Their continued success required a move to Los Angeles where at least one movie contract waited. They were only in town for the day and wanted to sell their Merryville home quickly -- warning me ahead of time that another realtor and client might be there when we showed up. Not my favorite way of doing business, but I didn't want to lose the opportunity.
"Oh shit," I said as we drove up to the Cartwright house to see a white Porsche parked in the drive.
"Is that the other realtor's car?" Mark asked.
I nodded.
"Do you know who he is?
"She," I said as I nodded.
"Not one of your favorite people?"
"Perhaps my least favorite on the planet."
"This should be interesting," he said with a grin.
Cathy Raven Hardwood claimed to be one quarter Native American and had the beautiful tanned skin and silky dark hair to prove it. We had been frenemies since the third grade; competing for spots on the cheerleading squad, parts in school plays and later, for boys. The competition remained fairly friendly all through high school, but I wasn't devastated when we chose to attend different colleges.
Now, twelve years later, we were back in Merryville, still competing... for home sales and men. Which is how we went from frenemies to just plain hating each other.
The front door was open, so we walked in.
Raven, as she now preferred to be called, stood in the living room with her client... an extremely large black man who introduced himself as Lansel Norman.
"Go home Janis," Raven said as soon as she saw me. "This house has indoor plumbing which puts it way out of your league."
Mark ignored her and went up to her client. "Weren't you a defensive end for the Skins?"
"Ten years, two knee operations, and fifty pounds ago," the man mountain said with a laugh.
"It's my pleasure to meet an NFL legend." The two men shook hands, Mark pretended to grimace under the larger man's grip and they both laughed at the joke.
I introduced Mark to the owners who seemed slightly miffed that he made a fuss about the football player and didn't recognize the other stars in the room.
"And I'm Raven," my nemesis said. She took Mark's hand to her lips and kissed it. "I hope my client wasn't too rough on you."
Thankfully, Mark didn't take the bait. Instead of responding to the evil, man stealing bitch, he turned to the twins and asked for a guided tour of the house. It was nothing special, except for the full-sized wrestling ring -- complete with ropes -- in an oversized addition which took up a good bit of the back yard.
Mark was admiring a poster on the wall, advertising the twins as the headliners of a recent event in Philadelphia, when Lansel sidled up next to him. I was close enough to hear their conversation. Raven was talking to the owners on the other side of the room.
"You plan on making an offer?" Lansel asked Mark.
"Not a good one," Mark said. "Maybe twenty thou below asking."
"Yeah. That sounds about right for this place."
"You interested?" Mark asked.
"I am, but it's not worth a bidding war."
"Agree, but there's other ways to decide."
"What you got in mind?" Lansel asked.
"You ever done any wrestling?"
"You want to wrestle me for it?"
"Not me. Them." Mark pointed towards the twins.
"You think?"
"Can't hurt to ask. If they say no, there's plenty of other houses to look at."
Lansel nodded in assent as the two conniving men broke their huddle.
"Ladies," Mark said in a voice all could hear. "Mr. Norman and I have a proposal..."
Each man would spend three minutes in the ring with one of the twins. Whoever took longest to pin his female adversary would lose and withdraw from the bidding.
"What if pin your ass," one of the twins said. I couldn't tell them apart.
"I'll give you twenty thousand and let him buy your house," Lansel said.
"And if neither one of you can beat us?" the other twin asked.
"We'll let the realtors duke it out." Not sure what Mark meant by that, but it was unlikely we'd find out. Lansel had at least a hundred fifty pounds on the women and used to be a professional athlete. Once he got his hands on his opponent, she was as good as pinned. I wasn't so sure about Mark's chances and really didn't care. Losing, for once, would do him good.
Mark won the coin toss and chose to go second. While the twins went upstairs to change into proper wrestling clothes, Lansel stripped down to a white T-shirt and paisley boxers.
Mona came down first. I could tell because her name was tattooed just above her large athletic butt which was almost covered by a pair of skintight shorts. She was a big girl with large muscular thighs and well-developed arm and back muscles. Her middle was also a mass of ripped muscle. The only two areas of fat I could see were barely contained in a stretchy sports bra with large nipples trying to poke through the fabric. Her sister soon joined us and, except for the label above her butt, she looked and dressed identically.
"A few ground rules," Mark said while Bonita climbed into the ring. "No kicking, biting, scratching, or punching. Am I missing anything?"
"I won't knee you in the balls if you don't pull my hair," Mona said.
"Is kissing allowed?" Lansel asked.
"You can kiss, lick or feel whatever you can reach," his opponent said. "But no hickeys or bruises, we've got a show in two weeks."
Lansel and Bonita met in the center of the ring. He bowed. She blew him a kiss. Mona rang a bell and the first match got underway.
Lansel rushed towards his opponent like he was going to tackle a quarterback. Bonita easily danced away from his outstretched arms, sending Lansel into the ropes.
He charged again. She faked to his right and ducked under his beefy left arm.
He made another half dozen running attempts to capture the quick footed wrestler, each one with similar results to the first two.
I checked the clock. Sixty seconds of the allotted three minutes had elapsed and the wrestling match was, so far, no more than an unsuccessful game of tag. I was sure the large man could easily overpower the smaller woman, but he had to catch her first and Bonita's strategy was not to be caught.
Ten years out of the NFL, Lansel was no longer in the physical shape required to catch a pro quarter back... or a pro wrestler. He was starting to sweat. His breathing labored. He rested between charges, eating up valuable time.
Bonita, on the other hand, was just getting warmed up. Instead of skipping out of the way of his next capture attempt, she dropped down to the floor and let him clumsily fall over her. She rolled away when he threw his enormous body at her and then jumped back to her feet into a perfect cartwheel while Lansel groaned.
It took him several seconds to get back on his feet and, even then, he just stood in the middle of the ring... hands on hips, legs spread wide, breathing hard.
"Come on little lady," he gasped. "We've done enough dancing. How about we do some wrestling."
"Love too," she replied and ran straight towards him.
...which I thought was a really bad idea until, at the last moment, she dropped down into a baseball slide, right between his legs, grabbing his paisley boxers as she passed underneath. She didn't pull them completely off -- they ended up around his knees -- but before he could decide whether to pull them back up or finish the match commando, Bonita was back on her feet and charging him yet again.
Lansel put his feet and knees together to prevent a repeat game of wrestler croquet, but that wasn't her intention. This time, instead of dropping down to the floor, she jumped high in the air and planted both feet on Lansel's panting chest. She made contact parallel to the ground with her knees flexed and then pushed off with the strength of the prime athlete she was.
