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Luckily, tonight’s match will only be in front of a small crowd. I’m standing before the locker room’s floor-length mirror, making sure every blade of my cropped, fire-red hair is gelled into place, tightening my wrist and ankle wraps so that Rhea won’t have a chance to snap my joints while we’re rolling around the ring. The concrete floor is cool against my feet, and I hop on my toes a few times to keep the blood flowing.My girlfriend, Kai, walks in with a handful of masquerade masks. I have to decide who I’ll be tonight: the alluring badass in the Arlecchino, or the underdog in the Columbina. Kai cycles through them, placing the Columbina over my eyes.“I’m not feeling this one,” she says. “People know you too well already. The self-deprecation won’t work.”I joined Women’s Masquerade, an all-girls’ submission wrestling league, a year ago, and have been on an unprecedented winning streak. Rhea is the only woman in the league I haven’t forced to tap out, and I’m looking forward to my Grand Slam Championship tonight, but since Kai will be missing it for her mom’s birthday dinner – or rather, I’ll be missing an important family moment in order to achieve my wrestling dreams – she’s insisting that everything be perfect in her absence. The keystone element of Masquerade is the characters we play: my persona has always shifted from bout to bout, illustrated by the colorful masks I wear. Sometimes, I wonder whether my in-ring personas have bled into my relationship with Kai, but we just moved in together and haven’t fought about it yet, so maybe I’m just being neurotic.While the personas are fabricated, though, the wrestling is real.“There,” Kai says, strapping a scarlet Muta around my head. “Silent strength. That’s you.”Her fingers flutter over my stomach, and I think back to this morning when they were inside me, her tongue flicking my neck. I growled my orgasm into a pillow. There was so much I wanted to say to her afterward, so many parts of me she hasn’t gotten to know yet, so much I’ve shielded from her. There’ll be a time, though. Soon, I tell myself.“Thanks,” I say. “Wish me luck out there.”“You don’t need it,” she says, gathering her bag and heading out the back door. On the way, she catches me glancing at her open-toe stilettos. “Hey. Don’t get distracted.”She knows I like feet, but it’s yet another thing we’ve never really talked about. It’s something I’ve been ashamed of since my teen years, and nowadays it feels like a corked bottle that’ll never be opened.“Yes, almanbahis şikayet ma’am.” I mock-salute her.She shakes her head, and she’s gone. My entrance music rattles the small building as I make my way to the ring. A few fans slap my shoulders in support. Rhea is waiting – shorter than me, sinewy arms, rock solid build, bare feet with kickpads.I need to watch out for those feet. Every time she pummels an opponent into submission, she lays them on their backs, and steps on their faces in triumph. Not to hurt them, mind you, just to let them know who’s in charge of that ring.That ends tonight, Rhea.We touch hands as a show of respect, then get ready to battle. I slip the mask off to wrestle, but it’s still not the real me; here, I fully inhabit my character, not Ursula, my real self, who has been playing second fiddle to my wrestling character lately.I tackle Rhea straight away, putting her on her back, getting ready to lock her in my trademark armbar. She slips away, though, snatching my ankle and twisting me into a pretzel. We go back and forth like this for a minute or two, neither quite able to get a submission hold locked in.The fans are holding their breath. Everyone came here to see me destroy her, and as I loop my arm around Rhea’s neck and flip her over, I know I’m about to give them what they want.But Rhea reverses the move. She’s studied my techniques, knows my regular finishers, and isn’t going to give up easily. She pushes my face into the mat, then sits on my back and hooks my shoulder under her elbow, laying on the pressure.Rhea, that bland underdog with no personality, is about to make me tap out.The pain becomes excruciating, and I wiggle beneath her, trying to create an opening. She moves with me, settling herself into a crouching position, so that her bare foot is right under my face. Her feet are sweaty with the work she’s done to get me down here, and I can smell it on her.“Should have spent more time training instead of picking costumes,” she says. I want to smash her face now, make her pay for that.But her armbar is too strong. She shifts her weight for even more leverage, and I slap the canvas over and over, submitting to her.My streak is over. I’m just glad Kai isn’t here to see it.The bell rings, signifying Rhea’s victory, and I go to roll out of the ring to let her celebrate.“Don’t move,” she says. I stop rolling and stay on my back. I know what’s coming, and the fans are clamoring for it to happen.Rhea sets her warm foot almanbahis canlı casino on my face, her soft sole pressing against my cheek. The smell is more potent this time. Humiliation burns in me. Two hundred people are watching this.“There’s your Grand Slam Champion!” Rhea shouts. She looks down at me with a grin spread across her face, like she’s been waiting for this moment forever.Every other girl she’s defeated has had to endure the indignity of having Rhea’s foot on their face, having her mark left on them, now including me. But apparently I’m special, because she’s got even more in mind.She removes her foot from my cheek, then slides her toes between my lips.“Suck,” she says. “You fucking loser.”I obey, gently sucking her toes, tonguing the bottoms of them. The crowd jeers; some of them hoot and holler. When I finally get the guts to look up at Rhea’s face, she’s wearing a look of curious satisfaction. I don’t think she expected me to do it. Social media explodes with news of my loss and subsequent embarrassment, and I tell Kai about my new reputation as a toe-sucker. A flash of something like jealousy passes across her face, just for a second. I’ve never done anything with her feet, could never bring myself to see if she’d let me.“Great,” she says, annoyed. “I thought I was the future wife of a champion.”Wife?“I’ll make it up to you,” I say. “I have a rematch clause, if I want it. Rhea will probably agree to face me again.”“Yeah, so she can humiliate you even more, in front of more people.”Kai’s got her arms folded, looking away from me.“Hey,” I say, turning her toward me. “I’m not a stranger.”But she’s not having it. “My girlfriend can’t be a loser,” she says. “I want a winner. Or at least someone who’s honest with me. All you do is act like this big-shot champ. This alpha-wolf woman. Now you’re sucking another girl’s toes in front of hundreds of people? Who are you?”I kiss her, hoping for the best. I know she was ready to make love anyway, expecting to celebrate my big win, so she’s already in the mood. Piece by piece, we shed each other’s clothing, toss shirt after bra after hairband onto the floor, then get lost in each other. I slide my tongue up and down her inner thighs, then slowly dive into her pussy. She rubs her nipples, guides my hands up to them, presses down on the back of my head as I service her. When she cums, she covers her mouth with her arm and moans “Oh god” into the crease of her elbow.She turns her attention to almanbahis casino me, bending me over and tongue-fucking my ass while rubbing my clit, and I orgasm within a minute. I had no idea I was so close already. As I erupt and moan my joy, I picture Rhea’s feet in front of my face, imagine the sweet, coppery taste of them.“I love you,” Kai says, kissing me.I say it back. “I love you, Kai.” I know I’ve got to make this girl proud. Rhea hears about my desire for a rematch, and posts an online video that gets a few thousand hits within an hour.The vid involves Rhea sitting in her apartment, bare feet perched on a chair, taunting me. I see what she’s doing. Mind games.“Sure,” she says, “the toe-sucking loser can have her rematch. But this time, nothing gets hidden. Ursula, it’s going to be you and me, and when I make you submit again, I’m going to fuck the shit out of you in front of everyone.”Well, Women’s Masquerade was never what you’d call “family friendly,” but this is taking it to a new level.Kai, snuggling me on the couch, asks if I’m going to do it. I almost ask if she’s okay with it, but I can hear in her voice that she wants me to do whatever it takes to prove myself to her, even this. Over the next week, I train with Kai outdoors. We do push-ups, pull-ups, weight and balance exercises. She holds a heavy bag and I rock it with my fists until they’re bleeding. We make our way down to the nearby creek, and I climb the rocks with my bare hands and feet, working on my grip, ready to show the world who I am, what I can do.I’m coming for you, Rhea.While Kai is at work one day, I take a break from training and wander to the nearby jewelry store.“Hello,” the woman behind the counter says. “Can I help you?” She’s about my height, dark skin, hair straightened into a perfect bob, not a strand out of place. I feel like a bit of a pariah here.“Just kinda browsing,” I say.Then I see it: the ring with Kai’s birthstone on it. I think of all we’ve done together: the late-night drive-in trips, lovemaking on the grass, meeting each other’s parents and realizing that everything just clicked, even when we feared the worst. Then I picture the future: midnight kisses, dinner parties at our home, traveling to every place we ever talked about – Alaska, Bali, the Blue Mountains of Jamaica.“Actually, I want that,” I say, pointing to the ring. The woman looks at me as though I’m joking. But once I bury Rhea in our rematch, the prize money will pay this thing off, no problem.As the woman packages the ring for me, I think about marriage, about whether I’m doing this because I want to or because it’s what I think I’m supposed to do. Whether the real me, the real Ursula, is the kind of person who would propose. Whether I even deserve to be with Kai.