Damsel in Distress
Mar 22, 2020 17:13:31 GMT -5
Post by Admin on Mar 22, 2020 17:13:31 GMT -5
LOCATION: Plano, Texas
DATE/TIME: April 13, 2003
CAMERA STATUS: ON/OFF
IT HAD BEEN RAINING FOR HOURS when the little bell over the door jingled, bringing a welcome gust of fresh air into the cigarette-choked interior of Fat Moes. The blonde was soaked to the skin, the tiny little dress she had on completely see-through and she stopped there in front of the pool table, next to the darkened karaoke stage, looking bewildered.
"Hello?" She called out, clearly not seeing the two men sitting at the bar, one covered in tattoos and the other wearing a luchador mask.
The masked man crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, fanning away the smoke. The moment her eyes met his, he felt a jolt all the way to his toes. He was halfway off the stool before his companion shouldered him out of the way. The girl took a step closer to the bar where the tender stood, looking at him helplessly.
"Payphone's busted." He went back to polishing the glasses with a grunt.
"Oh." Her gaze went back to the two men. "My car broke down-"
The tattooed man closed the distance between them, holding out his jacket. "Your dress..." he began, looking down at the sheer material that was clinging to her body.
She looked down, following his gaze as she realized the unfortunate choice of undergarments she'd made before leaving home. "Thanks," she stammered, grabbing for the jacket and hastily donning it. She shivered, "my cell phone died. Is the phone really broken?"
The masked man watched it play out, watching Jackson flirt effortlessly with the girl, offering to take a look at her poor car before proffering his own cell phone so she could call for a tow truck. A few minutes later they were alone and she was perched on that stool right next to him, shivering and smelling just like a spring garden.
The masked man watched her wipe the water from her face, realizing that she wasn't wearing any makeup – she was naturally that beautiful. She caught him in the act, blushing as she looked away.
"You're not from around here, are you?" He propped an elbow on the bar, peering at her with his ice blue eyes.
"No," she agreed, just the hint of some foreign accent softening her words. "I guess a lot of wrestlers hang out here?" She looked around at the décor, at the vintage posters and autographed headshots covering the walls.
"Sometimes." He smiled, chuckling softly, "we're close to the arena and the training grounds for World Class Wrestling so-"
"Oh my goodness," she stared at him for a few seconds, "the WCWF... I didn't realize. Well, I guess I should have it's just..."
"Pyro," he offered, chuckling as he held out his hand, "and you are?"
"Nessa Wall," she replied, glancing back towards the door. "And that's Brad Jackson. I knew he looked familiar." She favored him with a smile, reaching for the phone and punching in the toll-free number for the auto club.
Pyro watched her, almost salivating as she spoke into the phone, her words clipped with irritation. She hung up, turning to look back at him, catching his hungry look. "You can thank your friend for me-"
"He's no-" his words were cut off as Jackson returned, shaking off the rain theatrically. He walked across the room, pulling off his tank top as he moved closer to her. Turning his back to her, he twisted the cotton between his hands and wrung it out on the floor. The barkeep didn't care but Pyro was seething, hands clenched into fists.
"Your alternator belt snapped," Jackson's eyes were on Pyro for a moment, an unspoken challenge there before the masked man looked away. "Not sure what else is wrong with it, but there's definitely that."
"Oh." She knew nothing about cars. "So, I guess I need to call a cab."
"I've seen a lot of porn movies that start like this," Pyro snickered, slapping his knee in amusement.
Sighing, Jackson turned around. "Have we met before?" The question earned another guffaw from Pyro which was returned with a dirty look. "I'm serious, asshole."
"Actually," she hesitated, "we have, in a manner of speaking. Through email."
Pyro choked on his drink, almost missing the bar when he set it down abruptly.
"What?"
"I'm supposed to interview you tomorrow? I'm Nessa Wall."
He snapped his fingers, his smile brightening. "Right. The graduate student…" smirking, he turned to glance at the bartender. "Gus, bring me another round. And something for the pretty lady."
She didn't drink much, but she couldn't say no, not when he was being so nice. She found herself nodding as she stared up at him. Damn, he was handsome up close.
"So," he said, propping his elbow on the bar and resting his chin on it before turning towards her, "what's your pleasure?"
"I... I'll just have what you're having."
"Pete? You want another one?"
Pyro said nothing. He knew the girl was going to go home with Jackson – the charismatic champion, of course. Sliding off the stool, he looked at the blonde one last time. "I should go. Nice to meet you, Miss Wall. I just remembered I have something I need to do."
He stepped out into the rain, ignoring the sound of the girl's laughter and Jackson's murmured reply as he pulled out his own phone, sending a quick message to Jackson's wife.
He's at it again. Hot little blonde damsel in distress. Wouldn't expect him back tonight if I were you.
DATE/TIME: April 13, 2003
CAMERA STATUS: ON/OFF
IT HAD BEEN RAINING FOR HOURS when the little bell over the door jingled, bringing a welcome gust of fresh air into the cigarette-choked interior of Fat Moes. The blonde was soaked to the skin, the tiny little dress she had on completely see-through and she stopped there in front of the pool table, next to the darkened karaoke stage, looking bewildered.
"Hello?" She called out, clearly not seeing the two men sitting at the bar, one covered in tattoos and the other wearing a luchador mask.
The masked man crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, fanning away the smoke. The moment her eyes met his, he felt a jolt all the way to his toes. He was halfway off the stool before his companion shouldered him out of the way. The girl took a step closer to the bar where the tender stood, looking at him helplessly.
"Payphone's busted." He went back to polishing the glasses with a grunt.
"Oh." Her gaze went back to the two men. "My car broke down-"
The tattooed man closed the distance between them, holding out his jacket. "Your dress..." he began, looking down at the sheer material that was clinging to her body.
She looked down, following his gaze as she realized the unfortunate choice of undergarments she'd made before leaving home. "Thanks," she stammered, grabbing for the jacket and hastily donning it. She shivered, "my cell phone died. Is the phone really broken?"
The masked man watched it play out, watching Jackson flirt effortlessly with the girl, offering to take a look at her poor car before proffering his own cell phone so she could call for a tow truck. A few minutes later they were alone and she was perched on that stool right next to him, shivering and smelling just like a spring garden.
The masked man watched her wipe the water from her face, realizing that she wasn't wearing any makeup – she was naturally that beautiful. She caught him in the act, blushing as she looked away.
"You're not from around here, are you?" He propped an elbow on the bar, peering at her with his ice blue eyes.
"No," she agreed, just the hint of some foreign accent softening her words. "I guess a lot of wrestlers hang out here?" She looked around at the décor, at the vintage posters and autographed headshots covering the walls.
"Sometimes." He smiled, chuckling softly, "we're close to the arena and the training grounds for World Class Wrestling so-"
"Oh my goodness," she stared at him for a few seconds, "the WCWF... I didn't realize. Well, I guess I should have it's just..."
"Pyro," he offered, chuckling as he held out his hand, "and you are?"
"Nessa Wall," she replied, glancing back towards the door. "And that's Brad Jackson. I knew he looked familiar." She favored him with a smile, reaching for the phone and punching in the toll-free number for the auto club.
Pyro watched her, almost salivating as she spoke into the phone, her words clipped with irritation. She hung up, turning to look back at him, catching his hungry look. "You can thank your friend for me-"
"He's no-" his words were cut off as Jackson returned, shaking off the rain theatrically. He walked across the room, pulling off his tank top as he moved closer to her. Turning his back to her, he twisted the cotton between his hands and wrung it out on the floor. The barkeep didn't care but Pyro was seething, hands clenched into fists.
"Your alternator belt snapped," Jackson's eyes were on Pyro for a moment, an unspoken challenge there before the masked man looked away. "Not sure what else is wrong with it, but there's definitely that."
"Oh." She knew nothing about cars. "So, I guess I need to call a cab."
"I've seen a lot of porn movies that start like this," Pyro snickered, slapping his knee in amusement.
Sighing, Jackson turned around. "Have we met before?" The question earned another guffaw from Pyro which was returned with a dirty look. "I'm serious, asshole."
"Actually," she hesitated, "we have, in a manner of speaking. Through email."
Pyro choked on his drink, almost missing the bar when he set it down abruptly.
"What?"
"I'm supposed to interview you tomorrow? I'm Nessa Wall."
He snapped his fingers, his smile brightening. "Right. The graduate student…" smirking, he turned to glance at the bartender. "Gus, bring me another round. And something for the pretty lady."
She didn't drink much, but she couldn't say no, not when he was being so nice. She found herself nodding as she stared up at him. Damn, he was handsome up close.
"So," he said, propping his elbow on the bar and resting his chin on it before turning towards her, "what's your pleasure?"
"I... I'll just have what you're having."
"Pete? You want another one?"
Pyro said nothing. He knew the girl was going to go home with Jackson – the charismatic champion, of course. Sliding off the stool, he looked at the blonde one last time. "I should go. Nice to meet you, Miss Wall. I just remembered I have something I need to do."
He stepped out into the rain, ignoring the sound of the girl's laughter and Jackson's murmured reply as he pulled out his own phone, sending a quick message to Jackson's wife.
He's at it again. Hot little blonde damsel in distress. Wouldn't expect him back tonight if I were you.
