Wrestler 4: Wrestler

By charles fisher

More Gooley, more girls, more insanity. New girls arrive, some leave. More trouble with the Mafia and the police.

• Language: English
• Publisher: charles fisher
• Release date: Aug 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386275800

Book preview

Table of Contents

Wrestler 4 | Hot Girls and Cold Beer

The End | Gooley and the girls will return in Wrestler 5, Natural Breasts and Unnatural Acts

Wrestler 4

Hot Girls and Cold Beer

State of Connecticut

Division of Criminal Justice

Office of the Chief State's Attorney

300 Corporate Place

Rocky Hill, CT

January, 2010

––––––––

Please sit down, Mr. Gooley, Caroline Barnes said. I am Assistant District Attorney Caroline Barnes. Thank you for coming. 

I didn’t come..... Gooley began. Oh, I’m sorry, he laughed. I’m used to the smart remarks my girls make.

Your girls? Barnes said, adjusting her thick black glasses. She ran a hand through her long, dark hair and stared at Gooley. What do you mean, your girls?

You know, they are my girls. The wrestlers. My employees.

Oh, I see. And how do you treat your employees?

Very well. What is this about? Certainly you didn’t ask me here to discuss my employee relationships.

No, I did not, Barnes said as she leafed through a thick file. I called you here to discuss the criminal activity your company supports and promotes, she smiled. What do you think about that?

I think you are wasting your time. The local police and the local D.A. have decided that we have done nothing wrong. Ask Detective Domenic Antonelli. He cleared us of any wrongdoing.

He is under investigation as of March 2009 for corruption linked to your company.

He doesn’t work for my company, Gooley said. If he’s crooked, it has nothing to do with me. In fact, that investigation was triggered by his covering up for his own officers, who were extorting and soliciting prostitutes in the arena parking lot.

And just how did those prostitutes get there?

How should I know? I’m not in charge of transportation for hookers. They were outside the arena, beyond my control.

He claims you blackmailed him.

He’s lying. You cannot blackmail an innocent person, Gooley said. Not that I would do that, because I would not.  Perhaps you should be looking at the Bridgeport Police Department if you like corruption.

We are, and that is a separate investigation. Until then, we are looking at you.

We are an entertainment company, Gooley said. What you see on television is staged and scripted. It looks real because we are very good at what we do.

Sure you are. That’s why you have prostitutes running all around your shows, servicing your customers. Then you show their actions on TV, and your ring announcer makes lewd comments about what they are doing. You even provide raincoats for them to hide under.

That’s all part of the act, Gooley shrugged. I have no control over what 10,000 audience members do. The police are supposed to control that.

And who controls you? Barnes said, sitting back at her desk.

I control the wrestlers in the ring. I have no legal obligation to control the audience, nor do I have the means to do so. I don’t own the arena. The people who do are supposed to provide security. That’s why the police are there.

"And then you film the police and threaten to have their pictures published in that awful rag sheet, The National Informant."

Ever hear of the First Amendment, counselor? Gooley smiled.

It doesn’t extend to extortion.

"I extorted no one. Again, you’re on the wrong track. I don’t own the Informant. We turned over pictures to the police detailing their own illegal activities. One Chief killed himself, and other detectives are under investigation by Internal Affairs. None of them gave me a dime, nor did they do me any favors."

I don’t believe you, Barnes said. And there is the matter of several murders committed at wedding receptions for your so-called employees. I am looking into that as well.

The State Police looked into it already. They found no evidence of my people having anything to do with Testamara’s mob war. Come on, Miss Barnes, we run a wrestling company; we’re not the Corleone family. I’m not even Italian; I’m Jewish. Everybody in Bridgeport used Testamara’s at one time or another. Two known hit men from Chicago were later killed in Greenwich; perhaps they were the ones behind it. Sounds like a good Martin Scorsese movie to me.

Well, there are just too many coincidences here. Most of your wrestlers have prison records; especially the women.

Hey, it’s a tough business, Gooley shrugged. You aren’t going to recruit wrestlers at a Wellesley cotillion. My girls have checkered pasts, but they are good at what they do. They are exactly what the customers want to see. Tough, beautiful girls. You’re a beautiful woman, Gooley said. Imagine yourself at one of my shows, surrounded by my beautiful, big breasted girls.

Stop, Barnes said, looking away. We aren’t here to discuss that, she said, her face reddening.

Oh, but we are. Why else would you invite me here? My girls do nothing illegal. Not unless you want them to, Gooley smiled. How would you like to become a wrestler? You have  a fantastic body. You’d fit right in. Make ya famous, he smiled.

I am a lawyer, Barnes said. I have a job.

And I could pay you five times what you make here. Are you athletic?

I am, Barnes shrugged. So what.

So, you could become  a major star if you can take the punishment. Imagine rolling around in the ring with hot, big breasted tough girls from prison. Would you like that?

We’re done, Mr. Gooley, Barnes said, jumping to her feet, her face flushed a bright red. I will be in touch as this investigation proceeds.

Fine, Gooley said. You just remember what I offered you. Think about those hot, sweaty, beautiful girls writhing around on top of you as they try to hold you down.

Get out, Barnes snapped. We’re done.

You’re not done yet, Gooley smiled. Call my office. Ask for Billy Jo. She’ll arrange for you to speak with my personal assistant.

World Wrestling Alliance Headquarters

Bridgeport, Connecticut

January, 2010

––––––––

"What did she want?" Tracy said as she lit up. 

She wants to lock my ass up is what she wants, Gooley said. Uppity, snotty piece of trash. I think I found a chink in her armor, though.

They got Chinks working in the Justice Department? Billy Jo said. They ain’t Americans. What’s up with that? They do the laundry or something?

Not that kind of chink, Gooley sighed. That’s just a figure of speech. It means I found something I can use to get over on her.

What is it? Tracy said.

I asked her if she’d like to be a wrestler. I started talking about rolling around in the ring with hot, big breasted girls from prison, and she almost had a stroke. She turned all red faced and I swear she came in her pants. I told her to call here and we’d have somebody talk to her.

You better sign her up, or she’s going to have you on bread and water in some fucking dungeon in Guatemala, Tracy said. There’s nothing worse than a female prosecutor.

Yeah, Billy Jo said. Then you’ll be the one sucking dick for free instead of us.

Since when did you ever do anything for free? You’re worse than me.

Just do it, Tracy said as she flicked ashes onto the carpet.

You missed, Gooley said, pointing at the mess.

No I didn’t, Tracy grinned. I hit what I was aiming for.

I bought you an ash tray, Gooley said.

It’s on your desk. I can’t reach it, you stupid twerp.

God forbid you should get off your ass and come get it, Gooley said.

That’s right. I’m a woman. I don’t do anything for myself. That’s your job, you cheap little midget. Next time I’ll put the cigarette out on your head.

Two days later, Billy Jo answered the phone and waved at Gooley.

Yes, that’s right, she said. This is the WWA. Yes, this is Billy Jo. Oh, hi. Jim said you might call. You wanna join up? Yeah? You wanna talk to somebody? Okay. I’ll send  her up in a day or two. No, you don’t have to wear anything like that. Yeah. Bye.

Was that Barnes? Gooley said.

Yeah, Billy Jo giggled. She sounded all fucked up, like she couldn’t wait to get her hole drilled.

You could put it a bit more succinctly than that, Gooley sighed.

Okay, she’s horny and she’s bi. I can tell. She wants somebody to yodel in her canyon.

Would you like to do the honors?

Not me, Billy Jo huffed. I’m married. I don’t suck pussy any more.

What a loss to society that is. Get hold of that girl Holly that Shannon likes to lick on. Send her up there; I hear she could convince Jesus to eat pussy.

That ain’t nice, making fun of Jesus.

He was one of ours, not one of yours. I’m sure he’d understand.

He was a Yid? No wonder he came up with all those sandwiches and shit to feed those people. What’s that other meat you Hebes use; piss on me?

Pastrami. It’s Italian.

Yeah, he probably had that too. I bet he owned a deli.

And a catering company, Gooley said.

Did he do that shit in Bridgeport?

Bethsaida, Gooley sighed. It’s near the Jordan River.

I remember hearing about that, Billy Jo said. He had a few corned beef sandwiches and some pickles, and he fed a shit load of people. Probably a Jew trick, she shrugged.

Indeed, Gooley smiled. When they weren’t looking, he sent Peter and Paul to the deli with the SUV and brought back a bunch of food. Years later, Peter and Paul moved to Naugatuck and opened a candy factory.

Figures a Hebe would pull some sneaky shit like that, Billy Jo groused. I bet he made them pay, too.

Of course; double, because he had to deliver. It was a different price because it was takeout.

I used to do takeout, Billy Jo giggled. But not any more, so don’t get no ideas. I’m a good girl now.

That’s not what it says in the bathroom, Gooley said.

You better have Zeke paint over that, Billy Jo said. I don’t do that shit any more. I’m recycled.

Reformed.

Whatever. So Jesus ripped everybody off and scored, huh?

Yup. All us Hebes do shit like that. When he healed the sick people, he used to go through their pockets to see if they had any gold, Gooley said, trying not to laugh.

That sounds like something one of you beanie wearing bastards would pull. I bet he expanded after that, just like you.

Yes, he did. He opened three more delis and a massage parlor for blind people.

Should have  hired him to cater those weddings instead of those rat Guineas.

Uh, Jesus is dead.

That’s what you say, Billy Jo huffed. Them guys with the robes that fuck all the little kids up the ass say he ain’t dead. Ask your rabbit, he should know. If Jesus was a kike, how come in all them pictures of him he ain’t wearing the little beanie?

It was in the cleaners. How the hell should I know? I wasn’t there.

I bet Lola knows, Billy Jo said. She knows all that religious shit. She hid out in a church for six months once when the coppers were looking for her. She knows about Hebes, too, so you better watch yourself. You know what happens when she gets pissed.

I am well aware of what happens. I can still taste lobster. Call Holly, will you? See if you can peel her off Shannon’s face long enough to take a ride up to see this dummy.

You want to take a shot at her yourself? Billy Jo giggled. She has a bigger dick than you.

No thank you, that isn’t kosher.

Kosher, Billy Jo grumbled. Everything has to be kosher with you assholes. If I stuck a knish up Lola’s ass would that make it kosher? she giggled. Then you could eat it.

Not unless Black Belt Bercowitz gives his approval.

Yeah, like that could happen. All you Jews are alike. What do you call it?

Smart.

Oh, that. Okay, I’ll call Holly. Then this whore cocksucker D.A. can play Aer Lingus with her.

That’s.......... never mind. Just make the call.

You sure this D.A. bitch wants to surf the crimson tide? We gotta pay Holly good money for this.

Surf the...... that isn’t a Beach Boys song, is it?

I got one for you, Billy Jo giggled. Hymen-lick Maneuver.

I’m leaving, Gooley said.

Tongue Fu? Billy Jo called out. Congratulatio?

Bye, Gooley said as he left. Try to be a bit more disgusting when I come back, okay?

Okay, but I want a raise, you cheap bastard. That’s a lot of work. Just like a Jew; always trying to fuck somebody over for cash.

State of Connecticut

Division of Criminal Justice

Office of the Chief State's Attorney

300 Corporate Place

Rocky Hill, CT

January, 2010

––––––––

A Miss Holly Trudeau is here so see you from the WWA, a snooty old secretary said.  Shall I send her in? 

Yes, and cancel all my calls and appointments, Barnes said. The secretary left; Barnes quickly fluffed her hair, unbuttoned the top of her blouse, and spritzed herself with Chanel. The final spritz went up under her skirt.

Holly came in and locked the door behind her.

My God, Barnes whispered when she saw the tall, slender blonde beauty.

Hi. I’m Holly. Jim sent me. Holly sat down, the odor of her body wash drifting over to Barnes. I understand you want to............make a change.

I uh, well, maybe. I need to know what he wants me to do.

Your face is all red. Are you....hot? Holly said, cocking her head. I can fix that for you.

I uh, well, I bet you can, Barnes laughed.

Here, let me show you, Holly said. She got up, walked around Barnes’ desk, and began massaging her neck. Do you like that? she whispered. She worked the muscles, then switched to Barnes’ ample breasts. Those are nice and soft, Holly said. Nice and natural, just like mine. I bet you go crazy and get all wet when somebody sucks them.

I.........Jesus, what about wrestling?

I’d like to wrestle with you, Holly said. She sat down in Barnes’ lap and pulled her skirt up. And I have a surprise for you. I’m not like other girls. She stared nibbling Barnes’ neck and reached up under her skirt. Somebody’s all wet, she sang. You really like this, don’t you.

I do, Barnes said quickly, her breath coming in ragged spurts. What was that surprise?

I’ll show you in a minute, Holly said. She got down on her knees, pushed Barnes’ legs apart, and began sucking her through her silk panties. Barnes immediately started to have violent orgasms. Holly pushed the panties aside and continued until Barnes could barely breathe. Here’s the surprise, she said. She got up, pulled her own panties down, and straddled Barnes’ face. You like that? Go ahead and suck it, it won’t bite you.

Jesus save me, Barnes whispered, and started bobbing her head up and down on what Holly offered her. When they were both spent, Holly fixed herself and sat back down.

I have a contract for you, she said, adjusting her glasses. Five years at a salary of $375,000 per year with bonuses, cost of living  raises, retirement, and full insurance. And an occasional visit from me, she grinned. You will be trained by WWA girls. I warn you, this is not an easy profession. You have to be able to take a lot of pain."

I thought it was all fake.

It’s fixed, not fake. Think of a fixed boxing match. Both fighters know what the finish is, how it will happen, and when. The boxing that takes place in-between is real. Wrestling is like that. Scripted, not fake.

That’s a lot of money, Barnes said. Does he want anything else?

Yes. His file disappears. Electronic and anything else you have. If you’re going to work for him, he doesn’t want your office chasing after him.

That would be...

Illegal, Holly said. Technically, but who will know?

Nobody. It’s my case.

Then think of all  that money, and me crawling all over you, licking you from head to toe for five or six straight hours.

Barnes quickly took a letter of resignation out of her printer, signed it, and left it on her desk. She went to her computer and deleted Gooley’s files as Holly watched, her hands down the front of Barnes’ blouse.

I like your tits, she smiled. The only thing I like better than sucking a big pair of tits is to have somebody suck mine. You can do that next time I see you.

There’s a paper file, Barnes said, wiping her forehead.

Take it with you, Holly said. Then you can take me, and I’ll take you again. Do you like it up the ass?

I, uh, well, cripes, Barnes mumbled. Maybe, I don’t know.

Blah blah blah, Holly laughed. Don’t get all flustered, just say what you want. That’s what we do. If I’m not around, I have a lot of friends at the Sissy Trainer Club who will be more than glad to suck you off, then shove an eight inch cock down your throat, or up your curvy little ass, you filthy little slut. You are a filthy little slut, aren’t you? she said, nuzzling Barnes’ neck.

Yes, Barnes gasped. My God, yes. I am.

Good girl. You’re just like us. Grab that file, and we’re out of here.

World Wrestling Alliance Headquarters

Bridgeport, Connecticut

January, 2010

She’s all yours, Holly said. You own her ass. She’ll be here next Monday to start her training. Holly tossed the state criminal investigation file onto Gooley’s desk as Tracy and Billy Jo watched, trying not to laugh because they knew what was coming next. I watched her delete all your files from her computer, and nobody else is going to pursue the case. Holly leaned over Gooley’s desk, her braless 34Ds nearly spilling out of her tank top. Now it’s time for you to pay up.

"Billy Jo, have Murray