Erotic Fight Club Ch. 01: Meeting Ronda

"You look fine, just a bit sweaty and flushed. Luckily you're dark enough that it's hard to notice." He winked at me when I shot him a look. "I'll clean up here; you go in the bathroom and compose yourself a bit."

I smiled and obliged, snatching up my panties and shorts as I waddled into the bathroom, clenching my pussy as tight as I could so as not to make a complete mess. Inside the bathroom I squatted over the toilet and squeeze out most of James' cum. The sounds of my pussy squelching as I did so were a bit embarrassing, but it was just us in the room still so I didn't pay it much mind. I also took a wet towel to my thighs to make sure no dried cum lines would appear later. After taking a quick pee I redressed, checked myself in the mirror, and went back out into the locker room.

James had just sprayed some air freshener and I coughed while laughing, "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. It probably smells like straight up pussy right now, I was wet as hell." After James had unlocked the door I went back to stretching and he helped. My coaches came back in with about two minutes to go and soon I was being ushered down the halls of the MGM Grand and out to the Octagon.

When the cage door swung shut I realized I wasn't nervous at all. My mind was calm, I felt loose, 'Maybe a little too loose,' I thought as I felt a bit of leftover cum drip into my panties. The tunnel vision I experienced in that first UFC fight was weird. The seats weren't even half full at that point, as I was the first fight of the night, but Bruce Buffer was getting ready to announce my name. I don't even remember him introducing the other girl, her name was Tanya Clarke, and all I could focus on was her face. She wasn't ugly, but she also wasn't attractive, and she looked mean. As my eyes focused on her furrowed brow I noticed she had a big pimple in between her eye brows and I think I might have cracked a smile. Thinking back now I probably looked like a complete psychopath: just a blank stare while all the officials asked me small useless questions and then a random smile while she is being announced.

When Bruce Buffer turned his attention to me I finally came to my senses a bit, enough to hear him anyway, though I continued to mostly just stare at Tanya. "And now... Introducing her opponent! Fighting out of the Red Corner! She's a mixed martial artist with a professional record of four wins and no losses! She stands five-foot-three-inches tall, weighing in at one hundred and fifteen pounds! Fighting out of Albuquerque, New Mexico... 'Mama' Miyah Salazar!" I broke my stare to glance around at the crowd and managed a wave. The production crew were getting their cameras and cords out of the way now and Bruce Buffer was gone. It was time to fight.

When the bell rang I came out quick and took the middle of the Octagon with my hand out to touch gloves. She was still mean-mugging me but she tapped her left hand to my left hand as a sign of sportsmanship. We began to circle each other; I did my best to keep the middle and not let her take control, trading a few jabs with her as we danced. She landed a hard leg kick but I answered with an overhand right that hit her in the cheek and followed it with a kick to the body as she backed up. When she came forward again I ducked a lead left hook and went to the body with three quick punches but then caught an uppercut to the mouth. She threw another leg kick and I moved backward, light on my feet. As she moved forward I came forward as well with a jumping knee that only glanced her shoulder thanks to a well-timed dodge on her part. The lunging attack put me closer to the fence now and her in the middle of the Octagon so she pressed the pace with a volley of strikes that pushed me against the cage with my guard up. I clinched her quickly and landed a hard knee to her abdomen before immediately throwing her with a hip toss.

Tanya landed hard on her back, possibly caught off guard, and I was on top of her in side control. I could hear her gasp for breath as soon as we were on the mat and realized I must have knocked the air out of her. I quickly slid my knee across her belly and obtained full mount. Sitting back out of her reach for a second I threw a big elbow that she blocked, and then another. She grabbed my right arm with her left hand but kept her right arm up to block so I leaned to the right and brought my left elbow down and across her cheek which opened her up. It might have rocked her too because she went to grab my other arm but the grip of her left hand loosened enough for me to wrench my arm free and grab her attacking arm with both hands. In one swift move I'd wrapped my legs around her arm and began pulling back as hard as I could to force the tap.

I sprung to my feet and yanked my mouth guard out before letting out a roar in victory. It probably wasn't my most attractive moment but the adrenaline and exhilaration just takes over. Honestly, the next ten minutes were a blur and I barely remember having my hand raised and my victory announced before I was backstage again talking to a few people from the media, nobody notable other than Ariel Helwani, but at least he seemed impressed by me.

I sat in my locker room with my team and James for a while as they recounted the fight and threw compliments and criticism at me rapidly. Once the excitement had died down a bit we simply watched the fights together. I was excited to see Raquel Pennington get herself a first round submission since I've always been a fan of hers, and then the fast-paced slobber knocker between John Lineker and Francisco Rivera had us all standing up and yelling at the TV. It was a little bit after that fight that there was a knock at the door so my coach Tom got up to see who it was.

After talking to whoever was outside for a minute he closed the door and came back to sit down with us. "That was one of Ronda's people," he reported, "said that Ronda wants to meet you at the end of the night Miyah." The way he said it was so nonchalant that I almost didn't understand him, but once the words sunk in I actually squealed.

"WHAT!? She wants to meet me!? Ronda Rousey!? Are you fucking with me right now Tom? Tom, I swear to God if you're fucking with me I will rip your fucking arm off!" I'd sprung to my feet and was shaking Tom by the shoulders while everyone laughed at my intensity.

"No Miyah, that's actually what they said. Said they'd come back around with the specifics later but wanted to make sure you didn't leave since you don't have any media obligations."

"Holy. Fucking. Shit." I was pacing at that point, "I've gotta shower and change then. Do I look okay? I haven't seen how bad my face is."

"She barely hit you babe," James replied. He'd stood up and was keeping me from pacing by holding me still to plant a kiss on my forehead. "You look great."

"Okay, good." I took a deep breath, "Alright, I'm gonna go shower."

***

By the time I was clothed and done drying my hair the Paige VanZant fight was heading into the third round. I asked James who was winning and he told me Paige had pretty much been dominating Chambers. This didn't surprise me, Paige was a strong up and comer and would be a big star one day if she kept going at this pace. Not only is she a talented fighter but she's gorgeous as well. She looks like a typical cheerleader with a pretty smile, long blonde hair, well-done make up, and her bubbly personality, but who could also kick your ass. Early in the third round she had Alex in trouble on the ground and was able to snatch the Aussie girl's arm much like I had done to Tanya. When Joe Rogan interviewed her she barely even had a scratch on her.

For the rest of the night I sat in that room only half-watching the fights playing out on the screen, most of my brain was obsessing over what Ronda could want and what I would say, or whether I'd be able to say anything. Part of me thought about asking James to fuck me again in order to clear my mind but it would have been weird to ask my coaches (and some teammates had joined us as well) to all leave again for no good reason. At least none I wanted to share with them.

Finally the fights were over, Demetrious Johnson had defended his belt dominantly and everyone was beginning to file out of the arena. There was a knock at the door and I went to open it this time. A young guy in dress pants, nice shoes, and a clean white shirt was standing there. "Hi, Miyah right?" He stuck out his hand to shake mine so I took it. "I'm Charlie, I work for Ms. Rousey. I believe I spoke to one of your coaches earlier?"

"Yeah, Tom." I responded; my heart was already in my throat.

"We weren't able to get back by here before this unfortunately, but are you cool with meeting Ronda now? She should be back in her suite soon and wanted me to bring you up to meet her." His smile was perfect, in an unsettling kind of way, but his eyes seemed friendly at least.

I couldn't find words, so I sort of whimpered and nodded at the same time, trying to force a smile.

"Okay," He smiled and it seemed more genuine then, "come with me then and we will head straight up there."

I turned back into the room, "James, I'm going to go up to meet Ronda. Do you want to come?" I turned to Charlie, "Can he come?"

Charlie shook his head briefly, "No, I'm sorry. Ms. Rousey was very clear that I should only bring you up."

"Oh, well okay then," I looked back at James apologetically, "Nevermind. Just me I guess." I practically skipped over to him and planted a firm kiss on his lips before shooting out of the door behind Charlie.

It was slow going moving through the crowds of fans, UFC employees, MGM staff, and everything else as we headed to the elevators but my heart was pounding so hard I couldn't hear anything around me. Then we were in the elevator and I felt sick to my stomach the entire way up to her floor. I knew it was just butterflies but really felt like I was going to cover the elevator floor in puke. Then we were at her door and Charlie swiped his card, turned the handle, and pulled it open with a light creak.

"This is it for me," he said with another perfect smile. I wasn't sure but something about his eyes seemed mischievous.

I laughed nervously, "So do I just go in and sit down somewhere? I've never been in a suite like this before. She is expecting me right?"

"Yeah, just go on in and make yourself at home. I'm not sure if she's in already, but if she isn't she will be soon. Either way she will know you're there." He pulled the door open a bit more as a signal that I should get moving but before I was able to move he added, "And relax Ms. Salazar, Ronda is one of the coolest people I've had the pleasure of working for. Just be yourself and don't forget to breathe."

I smiled at him, "Thank you Charlie, I really appreciate that." I took a deep breath and exhaled it forcefully through my nose. I was about to meet Ronda Rousey. Holy shit. I marched through the door and was greeted instantly by the light scent of lavender perfume and some mellow music playing from various speakers throughout the suite.

The front room was enormous. To the immediate right was a wall and doorway, and against that wall were various pictures, cabinets, and tables. To the front left corner there was a huge L-shaped couch and massive television. The left back corner was sectioned off into a kitchen and then to the far left was another doorway. Straight ahead was a beautiful glass wall that led to a balcony which overlooked the Las Vegas strip.

I looked around for any sign of Ronda but saw none so I moved forward and peeked into the room to the right. It was dark inside but seemed to be a dining room that led to another set of rooms. To the left the door was partially shut but there was a light on. I thought maybe she was in there changing into something more comfortable so after taking in the pictures hanging about the room I went and sat down on the couch.

It was covered in some sort of velvet or microfiber that felt great on my butt and legs when I sat down. I was wearing a sort of sundress so I crossed my legs like a lady while I waited. It was really quite an awkward situation; sitting on an incredibly famous stranger's couch in relative silence, not sure whether it would be considered appropriate to turn on the TV or anything and not even having my phone to surf on while I waited because I'd forgotten to grab it before rushing out of the locker room. And the famous stranger whose couch I was sitting on happened to be my hero.

For a while I fidgeted with my fingers, picking at the cuticles and nervously chewing at the nails. Then I realized there were magazines on the coffee table, mostly UFC Magazine, so I grabbed one and began flipping through the pages. I'd guess maybe five minutes went by before suddenly, and without warning I heard a voice come from my left. Her voice.

"Sorry to keep you waiting like that, I had to wash all the makeup off and get the hairspray and all the bobby pins out of my hair. Not to mention squeezing out of that dress. You looked amazing in your fight by the way, I was really impressed."

I had looked up from my magazine as soon as I heard her speak; to be honest my heart had jumped a bit because she'd startled me. When I saw her I think my heart might have stopped completely. At least for a few seconds; obviously I survived the encounter. What greeted me from the doorway, of what I now knew must be the Master Bedroom, was a fully naked, freshly washed, and ridiculously gorgeous, Ronda Rousey. She was leaning against the door frame a bit and smiling casually at me, though her eyes were analyzing. So many thoughts rushed into my head. First and foremost: 'What is going on?' Followed by: 'Am I dreaming?' For a moment I was sincerely curious if I'd been knocked the fuck out and was currently unconscious in the middle of the Octagon dreaming about a naked Ronda Rousey.

"Well say something. If you just stare at me all slack-jawed like that you're going to make me blush," she wasn't lying either because as I continued to be at a loss for words her cheeks began to turn a soft rosy-red in hue.

I'd heard somewhere that Ronda rocked a 34A cup, probably on one of the many fan sites I'd visited over the years of idolizing her, but seeing them sitting proud and perky on her muscled chest made them seem larger than I'd imagined. They were nice boobs regardless of size, round and probably a bit more than a handful (though to be fair, I have small hands) with tiny light brown nipples poking out at me. Her waist curved in sharply from her strong back, much like my own, and even though she wasn't at "fighting weight" she looked toned and sleek. Her hips are a bit more narrow than curvy, but the sexy muscled "V" of abdominal muscles that sloped gently into her pelvis caused me to hardly notice. From there my eyes were drawn immediately to the soft brown cropping of pubes nestled right above her slit in the shape of a small heart. Right beside them was her infamous Olympic Rings tattoo. I couldn't really see her pussy due to the positioning of her leg, but what really surprised me – more than the naked superstar standing in front of me – was how badly I wanted to see that most intimate part of her and how warm it had suddenly gotten between my thighs.

I don't know how much time had passed since she spoke, probably no more than a minute, but it felt like an eternity before I finally snapped my jaw shut and stuttered, "T-thank you Ms. Rousey." I looked away, back at the magazine. "Sorry for staring, I didn't mean to. I was just caught off-guard."

She let out one of her throaty chuckles. I couldn't see her because I'd averted my eyes but I could feel her sly smile, "Well I wouldn't have worn my birthday suit to meet you if I wasn't okay with a bit of staring." I looked back toward her; my heart was fluttering a mile a minute as we locked eyes. "Do you like what you see Miyah?" She moved toward me, that charming crooked smile still on her face but my eyes had trailed down her smooth body and landed on the pair of lips framed by two very muscular thighs. As she reached me she stuck out her hand, "And it's just Ronda. Nice to meet you Miyah."

I'm not sure how I was able to move my arm at that point, but somehow I wrenched it up enough to lock hands with Ronda Rousey. Hers was warm, and I'm sure mine had become ice cold. "N-Nice to meet you too R-Ronda." My entire body had started to shake because of the anxiety and nerves.

"Oh sweetie," Ronda purred, "are you okay? You're shaking." She rubbed my arm with her other hand briefly before releasing me. "If you're uncomfortable you can leave, I promise its fine. Or if you want to stay I can pour you a shot or something to calm your nerves."

I desperately wanted that shot, but my brain was overwhelmed with all sorts of questions still. 'Was I being seduced?' I didn't know Ronda was bisexual, and I knew nearly everything I could about Ronda. 'Did she greet all of her fans like this?' Of course she didn't, this couldn't be a normal thing... 'But why me?' I had to ask her. "Why – Why am I here Ronda? You don't meet all of your fans this way do you? I mean I'm naked around other girls all the time in the locker rooms and all but this just seems more intimate. You look sexy rather than casual, and even if this is casual it's still not normal right? Or is it? Sorry, now I'm rambling... I'll have that shot, please." My face was absurdly hot, meanwhile my hands were cold and sweating and my pussy was boiling. I'd never really felt anything like this before and specifically not the lust for another woman I was feeling at that moment. I'd seen porn of course and I'd complimented another girl's boobs or butt or even pussy as saying they were attractive, but to my recollection I'd never been turned on by them necessarily. But Ronda had immediately made my panties soggy for some unexplainable reason.

She chuckled again after my rant and smiled at me, "Sure sweetie, I'll answer your questions after I get it for you." She turned around then and headed to the bar in the kitchen. Of course my eyes were instantly glued to her ass; it was incredibly bubbly and obviously strong. Her two perfectly muscled cheeks wobbled back and forth as her hips swayed away from me. I couldn't help admiring her back either. I'd seen it before of course, she only wears a sports bra when she fights, but it seemed more vulnerable then in her hotel room and completely nude; still strong but also soft and sexy.

She was back with a shot of whiskey in no time, or perhaps I'd just been lost in my thoughts. I smiled at her and took the shot from her, my hand trembling so hard I was sure I'd spill it. Ronda sat down beside me, not too close, but close enough that I could feel the warmth emanating from her body. Her presence was actually a bit soothing and my nervous tremors subsided briefly enough for me to throw the shot back. I swallowed it hard and held back a grimace. I'd had whiskey before despite being only 19, but I'd never really acquired a taste for it.

The warmth of the shot ran through my chest and to my extremities quickly and I began to calm down. I squirmed a bit on the couch, turning to look at Ronda as to not be rude, and just the friction of that motion made my wet pussy clench with pleasure. I couldn't figure out why I felt that way.

Ronda was smiling at me sweetly, and as I turned she turned a bit as well, moving a bent leg onto the couch while the other was still planted on the floor. I couldn't help but glance down between her legs then to try and get a better look at her pussy, the sudden center of my infatuation. To my great frustration the way she was sitting – leaning over towards me a bit – left almost all of her lips hidden from view. My eyes darted back up to meet hers and she raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'I know what you're looking for.'