T
HE SUN POURED through the window, its rays illuminating Lynn's face. The brunette's features appeared harsh in the bright light. She cursed softly under her breath and pulled the blanket over her head.
Five years ago, Lynn would get up with the dawn and race to the beach. Then, California was the best of all possible worlds. Surf during the day and wealthy young men to entertain her at night. There was no reason to think it would ever end.
Then Lynn discovered the reasons. Money grew short, new and younger faces filled the beaches, and those that remained grew old on alcohol, drugs, and fear of aging. Lynn knew she would have to go on to something else or become one of those pathetic middle-age creatures whom she once laughed at.
So Lynn got a job as a cocktail waitress in a place where men go with women they don't want their wives to hear about. The tips were generous, the work was fast but light, and if a woman didn't |
|
care that the younger girls made the most money, everything was fine. Lynn couldn't understand why she was angry all the time.
This morning, Lynn neede her sleep. It was going to be a big night. tonight, she wouldn't be a waitress. She'd be an apartment wrestler. It was the only fun she got out of life these days.
The alarm went off at 11 a.m. Lynn would exercise a bit, eat a large meal at about one, and then rest. That was theusual routine, and it worked so far. This was Lynn's 10th match. She was looking forward to the day when she'd lose count.
She was also looking forward to tonight's match. Her opponent would be a young blonde fresh from Arizona. Grew up on a ranch, they said, a great big ranch her daddy owned. Now she was in Los Angelos, looking forward to new thrills, new excitement, new everything.
The lady's name was Brooke. Lynn hated her on general principle. She had begged to get Brooke as her |
|
opponent. This would be the blonde's third match. Usually, it would take at least eight matches before a woman would be ready for Lynn. But there was something about Brooke's recklessness that made people think she could handle anything. So they made the match.
Lynn put on her warm-up suit and started her stretching exercises. Her long, lithe body responded like a finely tuned instrument. As the sweat dripped down the curves of her frame, Lynn knew there was no reason to be humble. There was not an ounce of fat on her body, and every muscle was hard and strong. Tonight would be something special.
Lunch was a feast. When she ate alone, Lynn forgot she was supposed to be a civilized human being. She tore at her steak and wild rice like a lioness devouring its kill. When asked to describe how she drank red wine, Lynn once said, "Say I slosh it down. And if I don't, I mean to."
After lunch, Lynn lay down on her bed and watched soap operas. She lapsed in and out |
|