Since the whole restraining order incident in Los Angeles and her subsequent visit, Maniac had generously invited Erica to stay at his residence. After their late-night discussion over spirits and smokes, her maestro had made his intentions and his expectations of her clear.
“…this bullshit with them is over, you have this match with him and win or lose you part ways.”
Those words repeated in her head the last few days as did her promise to uphold his wises. Physically he she felt prepared to face Hans at Havoc. Maniac had provided some intense training sessions having her focus on her speed and agility against a larger opponent. She was quick, and confident that she could also pack a punch despite being smaller, and weaker than Hans. She’d wrestled men back home in Mexico, and would definitely incorporate some of that Luchas style in the ring with Hans. He wouldn’t get the opportunity again to grab her ankle.
Anyone watching him at the last show would have seen the evil in his eyes. The determined look of pain he wished to inflict on her physically to match what he had already done mentally. It was here that she, she wasn’t quite as prepared, in her mind. It gnawed at her this game Hans was playing. For months stringing her along like some needy dog at the pound, begging at the cage to be petted. Handing out treats for her tricks and good behavior.
“You’re going great Erica, keep your guard up there… remember to check your blindside…always look to the crowd…when your back is to your opponent, they are your eyes…look at them and you’ll know where your opponent is and can get a sign of their next move.”
He wasn’t encouraging her in those training sessions, he was grooming her. Setting her up to be his plaything. The way he looked at her, the way he held her waist. That smile he had that one time she managed a Lou Thesz Press and had him pinned to the mat.
“That was great…use your speed just like that…”
He had her, hook, line, and sinker and with one slip of the hand. The heat from his training session elevating his temperature…when he went to scoop slam her his hand felt like a heating pad between her legs. It was a wonderful warmth, and he let it slide from her inner thigh straight down to where his fingertips engaged her pussy and she felt herself moisten to his touch. The world around her disappeared and then…Splat…she hit the mat from the slam. There he was looking down over her….reeling her in.
“I knew you could take it!”
He winked and reached his arm out to help her up. Mindlessly she had taken his big warm hand and allowed him to pull her up in a daze and she belonged to him then and there. Oh, he had her, and he knew what he was doing holding her at a distance, making her beg…interacting only on his terms. At first, she thought it was just an accident and coincident…he just so happened to be sweaty every time she walked in and needed to change his shirt making sure she saw him take it off. His sculpted body glistening like condensation on the outside of a glass of soda in a commercial and she wanted to drink him. He just so happened to be in the stretching area when she was, sitting in a position where the bulge in his pants was pointed right in her line of sight. His mild, sexual grunts as he reached for his toes, the left side, then the right side, and forward. When she went to the sauna, there he was, naked except the towel around his waist.
“Come on…there’s room for two!”
That grin of his when she was about to close the door and leave him to it, but he nearly demanded her to join him, scooting over and patting the bench for her to take a seat. He made her sit there and watch him, sweating, those little moans as he stretched his neck…or so he said he was doing as he tilting his head back like some invisible person was on their knees sucking his dick. He made her fall for him, he had fondled and flirted and made her love him, but when others were around she was invisible, he had a wife, a whole life outside of HWA that she wasn’t a part of and didn’t exist in. She wasn’t going to be his secret, she wasn’t going to play second to that red headed bitch, even if she was on her way out. He belonged to her as she did him. He set them on this path, and he wasn’t going to just leave her on it alone.
She had replayed their whole saga in her head these past few days. Struggled with the thought of keeping her promise given how angry she now was reliving those details. People calling her crazy, psychiatrists labeling her with stupid mental illnesses, her poor mother being lured into this, her reputation sullied by his lies. Erica was on the HWA App, looking in the archives at Hans’ Art of War interview on mute. That #### Vanessa interviewing him, they staged the whole thing. It angered her now that her mind was clear, now that she could see how he used her, manipulated her, and turned everyone and everything against her. Funny, how suddenly she wises up, he doesn’t want to play anymore and needs protection.
All these months and now he comes with some bullshit restraining order. It pissed her off. A part of her still wanted him, but another wanted him destroyed for what he had and is doing to her playing the victim. Her maestro was a gracious host, but if she was going to get into the right frame of mind for Havoc, she couldn’t do it here. She still had to prepare for the mental challenge ahead and she pulled out a tab of paper from the bar and wrote a note.
Maestro, thank you for these past few days. You always know exactly how to steer me in the right direction. I made a promise to you, a promise I intend to keep. You’ve brought me this far, but the rest of this road to Havoc I must walk alone…I’m sure you will understand. I will see you in Alaska. – Tu estudiante, Erica
She set the letter down where she knew he would see it, grabbed her bag that she had packed and left the estate. As she got in the Uber leaving she looked back, saying to herself now what she told him face to face just days ago…
(Erica): Si, maestro...after Havoc...prometo...prometo!
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