Preface:
Several months ago, I started a thread asking about the meaning of “apartment house wrestling.”
https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=99513.msg670329#msg670329 Some of you brought to my attention the origin - the infamous Sports Review Wrestling magazine, which ran the iconic apartment house wrestling series during the 70s and early 80s. The series featured erotic stories and posed pictures of women in bikinis fighting in a lush apartment in front of a clandestine group of wealthy powerful men. Several of you who grew up in the 70s shared with me that AHW was your gateway to the female fight fetish, inspiring many fantasies of moms, teachers, neighbors, etc. battling it out in the apartment. I particularly enjoyed the funny stories of buying these mags in the drugstore and hoping your parents didn’t find out the true content.
My purpose of this story is to write a tale set in the SRW/AHW world in the 1970s, using the magazine itself as a motif, mom/neighbor fantasies, and the real life experience of teen boys reading them all rolled up into one story.
Acknowledgments:
I’d like to thank npom for helping with the idea and for lending me his characters Nina, Tina, and the three boys. His stories featuring these characters and more can be found on FCF. The reference to a Labor Day beach fight is a nod to one of his previous stories. The characters of Olivia, Claire, and the ever mysterious “Dave Moll” are from the magical pages of SRW. In fact, I have no original characters in this story, except for a few very minor ones, (Bunny, Dolly, and Lulu). Direct quotes were used from the August 1977 issue of SRW (pic at bottom). Again, thanks to all of you who publicly and privately shared your stories of AHW with me and inspired this story. I hope in some way, you see your teenage selves in here.
Peace,
Kiva
Summer of ‘77: A Tribute To Sports Review Wrestling’s Apartment House Wrestling
Some folks like to get away
Take a holiday from the neighborhood
Hop a flight to Miami Beach
Or to Hollywood
But I'm taking a Greyhound
On the Hudson River Line
I'm in a New York state of mind
-Billy JoelEverywhere I look in this attic, I see memories. My husband and I moved into this house shortly after our wedding. Our children grew up here. We laughed, we cried, we dreamed, we loved here. It feels so surreal and bittersweet to be moving. This house is like a museum to our lives. But time moves on. The kids left long ago and raised their own families. I’m a grandmother. My husband and I are in our so-called “golden years.” With our health and physical limitations, we need a smaller and simpler place.
It’s impossible not to feel emotional while cleaning out the attic. Mostly everything stored here will go. There are sports trophies and scholastic awards. There are old toys that I’ve kept around for sentimental reasons. There are some old books and old clothes. Some of the kids’ artwork from school is still here. In a corner of the attic, I notice some collectibles. I thought my son Rick had taken these long ago.
As I rummage through sports memorabilia and baseball cards, I experience another flood of happy memories. I see a pile of old comic books and magazines. Are these worth good money? I wondered. As I flip through the pile of nostalgia, one particular magazine slides from the stack and practically into my lap. I gasp. I didn’t know it still existed, but there it is, a reminder of an incident long ago that I’d rather forget. I glance again at the cover. Sports Review Wrestling August 1977. On the cover, WWWF Champion Superstar Billy Graham stares back at me in his tight tie-dyed T-shirt and head bandana flexing his massive python biceps. But it was another photo inserted to the right of Superstar that haunts me. A redhead in a bikini is twisting the arm of a brunette, also in a bikini. Below is a caption declaring the action “a titanic apartment house wrestling match.” I remember it well - Apartment House Wrestling. The memories are vivid, too much so. It was the summer of 1977. Jimmy Carter was in the White House. I remember Son of Sam terrorizing New York City. I remember it was the summer Elvis Presley died. I remember it all now…And I remember Nina.
Yes, it was the summer of 1977. Nina, Tina, and I were your typical suburban moms. Our teenage sons were friends. Our husbands had common interests. I think I was the one who thought of the idea first. We would all spend a weekend in New York City. However, we would split by gender. The boys and the dads would go together. Meanwhile, the moms would have their own separate getaway in the Big Apple. The guys planned to watch pro wrestling at Madison Square Garden on Saturday, then a Yankees game on Sunday. The ladies would shop on Saturday, then see a new hit Broadway show called “Annie” on Sunday. Then on Sunday night, we’d all return home.
It was late Friday afternoon. Nina and Tina would be over soon. Our husbands were expected to return from work any minute. Rick and his friends were downstairs in the game room, excited about the trip. They would see Superstar Billy Graham defend his belt against the legendary Bruno Sammartino, the man he stole it from by cheating, in a steel cage return match. From below the stairs, the boys bantered. With the door at the top of the stairs opened, I could hear every word.
“Bruno’s gonna kill him,” my son, Rick, said.
“I don’t know. Graham is very tricky. He could pull it off again,” Nina’s son, Jim suggested.
“I bet there will be blood everywhere,” Tina’s son, Bobby, excitedly interjected.
The debate continued for several minutes before shifting to other wrestling topics. I heard the names of Andre the Giant, Ivan Koloff, and “Big Cat” Ernie Ladd. Then the conversation took a turn I did not see coming.
“Who’s the best ever apartment house wrestler, Salome or Denise?” my son asked.
“Salome sucked,” Bobby answered. “She had one lucky win against Cynara, then did nothing.”
“Cynara beat Denise twice,” Jim added. “I still think she’s the best. Who cares? They’re old now. That was a few years ago.”
“Hold on, guys,” I heard my son say, “I got the latest issue right here. Check this out, Olivia vs. Claire. Two bikini babes. A wife against a mistress.”
“No way.”
“Let me see that.”
“Hey, don’t grab.”
“Look, she’s about to go for the tits.”
“Oh man, she’s sunk her claws in her ass.”
The conversation stopped me in my tracks. Women? Apartment house? Bikinis? Wife? Mistress? Tits and asses? Did my son get his hands on some porn material? I was about to find out.
I scurried down the stairs under the guise of being a good hostess. I saw them on the floor with a wrestling magazine turned faced down. Rick bought them every month at the drug store, so I knew it wasn’t porn. What were they looking at?
“Would you boys like anything else to drink?”
They shook their heads. “No, Mom, we’re good,” Rick answered.
I headed back upstairs and continued to listen in.
“Take a look at these pictures of Olivia,” Rick said. “Do you think our moms could take her?”
“My mom could definitely take her,” Tina’s son, Bobby, said emphatically.
“I think it’d be close and very tough,” Rick pontificated. “But I’d have to go with my mom.”
“Yeah,” Nina’s son Jim added. “I’d pick my mom over Olivia.”
“No way,” Bobby argued. “Olivia would crush your mom.”
“My mom is a lot tougher than she looks,” Jim objected.
“Alright, guys,” Rick interrupted. “Let’s say our moms are in a round-robin apartment house wrestling tournament. First up is Bobby’s mom against Jim’s mom.”
“My mom, easy,” Bobby was quick to answer. “She’s taller, and she’s a better athlete.”
“No, my mom,” Jim retorted. “She might be short, but she’s strong and can hold her own.”
“Alright, Rick,” Bobby said. “You’re the tiebreaker. Who wins? My mom or Jim’s mom?”
“Um…” my son stuttered. “Uh…that’s a tough one…Uh…I don’t know. Let’s call it a draw.”
I breathed a strange sigh of relief. At least my son had learned diplomacy and gave a politically safe answer. In all honesty, I’d never wanted to see my friends fight, but if they did, I was sure Tina would trounce Nina. Bobby was right. Tina was a beautiful woman. At 5’6” and long straight black silky hair and tan skin, she had exotic features, like a Polynesian. Nina was 5’3” with a thick but voluptuous 140 lb and a massive 40-inch bosom.
Tina was a good friend. She could be assertive, and she had a mischievous and adventurous side to her. Nina was an easygoing type, generally quiet and passive. For some reason, she seemed to attract trouble and ended up in conflicts due to odd misunderstandings, but she would stand up for herself when bullied. There were rumors that she had a few fights. One story said that on Labor Day weekend at the beach, she fought the same woman twice and lost both times badly. She never discussed it, and I never asked her, but Tina would always have a good laugh trying to imagine it.
The boys’ conversation continued. “Okay,” Jim said. “Next match, Rick’s mom versus Bobby’s mom.”
The men arrived. Perfect timing to end this inane adolescent discussion. “Let’s go, boys,” I shout. “Time to go.”
We loaded up the station wagons and headed for the big city. I drove the women while Tina’s husband drove the six guys. The drive was only a little over an hour and a half from the suburbs. Manhattan at night looked fantastic. The girls and I checked into our hotel and had a few drinks in the lounge. Afterward, we had enough time to take a walk through Rockefeller Center. The panoramic view of the city from the Top Of The Rock Observation Deck was breathtaking. As it was getting late, we headed back to our hotel.
As we walked along the sidewalk, I paused to glance through the many magazines on display at the newsstand. What I saw made my jaw drop. On full display, among the sports mags, it was there, standing out. Sports Review Wrestling. Superstar Billy Graham was on the cover. There was more. Two young women, Olivia and Claire, in bikinis, locked in a vicious struggle.
“So, that’s it,” I said out loud. That’s what Rick is reading. That’s what the boys were talking about. Do they buy this trash at the drugstore? I needed to know more. As Nina and Tina were window shopping nearby, I purchased the magazine and buried it in my handbag.
We stopped at the hotel bar for more drinks. Perhaps we had a little too much. In our hotel room, we continued our giddy, girly conversation.
“So, do you think our boys are having sex yet?” Tina giggled, half drunk.
“Well, I can assure you that they think and talk about girls,” I answered. “You should have heard them earlier today.”
With those words, My two friends perked up. “Tell us, Edie,” they insisted.
Oh no, I thought. What did I just open up? I reached into the handbag and showed them the magazine.
“This is what they’re reading,” I informed.
“Well, Lordy, will you look at that,” Tina laughed. Nina gasped. We flipped through the pages.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“Well,” Tina suggested, “I think our boys are growing up. I see two bimbos fighting in bikinis, and our boys enjoy it. Look at this picture…the redhead got her…Ouch.”
“So,…” I asked, “Do you think we need to be concerned?”
“I don’t,” Tina responded. “It seems perfectly natural to me. It could be a lot worse. They get this at the drugstore. We can’t keep our kids locked inside a bubble.” Nina nodded.
“I guess you’re right,” I assented. “They’re teenage boys. Of course, they’re going to look at pictures of girls.” I laughed. “You should have heard them. They wondered how we would fare if we fought these women.”
“Well,” Tina chuckled, “In my younger and wild days, I might have done something like this. HeIl, even now, I bet I could take that brunette.” The three of us laughed.
“And that’s not all,” I added. “They debated which of you would win against each other.” We laughed even louder, but something told me I revealed something best left unsaid.
“Well, they chose me, didn’t they?” Tina chuckled. “They couldn’t possibly think Nina could beat me.” At this point, I suspected we all had at least one drink too many.
“No,” I answered. “They decided it would be a draw.”
“A draw?” Tina cackled, her voice becoming louder. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? We’re just going to have to settle it right now. Come on, Nina. Let’s you and I wrestle right here.”
I didn’t like this. Tina and Nina generally got along, but Tina had a habit of flinging subtle putdowns at Nina. It seemed to me that Tina had insecurity issues, and verbal jabs at Nina were one way she tried to feel better about herself. Sometimes, Nina gave it back to her, but more often, she silently took it. Nina had a passively agreeable personality, but I knew she would get annoyed at Tina’s ribbing, and I mentioned it to Tina.
“I know,” Tina continued. “Let’s have a three-way wrestling tournament. There are two queen-sized beds in this room and three of us. The winner gets the bed to herself while the two losers sleep together.”
“Count me out,” I said. “I’m exhausted, and I want to get to sleep. I don’t mind sharing the bed.”
“That leaves Nina and me,” Tina responded. “Ready, Nina?”
“Oh, I don’t know about this,” Nina answered.
“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” Tina urged. “It’ll be just us girls having a fun tussle, just like those junior high school sleepovers. Let’s strip down to our panties, we’ll tangle, and the first person to get a three-count pin gets the bed. So let’s do it.”
“Oh, okay,” Nina muttered. Typical Nina. She doesn’t like confrontation and usually capitulates when pushed.
“Oh, you’re not really going to do this?” I moaned.
The two neighborhood moms undressed to their bra and panties before climbing onto the bed, facing each other on their knees. “Ready?” Tina inquired. “On the count of three, our girls come out…One…Two…Three.” Both women reached behind their backs, releasing the bra clasps, before pulling the straps off their shoulders.
“Impressive!” Tina exclaimed, marveling at Nina’s 40-inch mammaries. Tina’s boobs were no slouch either, proportionate for her body and perky for a woman close to forty years old, with her lively nipples still pointing more straight ahead than downward. I noticed Tina wearing sexy black bikini briefs while Nina was dressed in only white cotton panties. “Now, get ready to wrestle,” Tina instructed,…”Ready, set, GO!”
The two women threw their arms around each other, giggling, as they tried to pull each other down on the bed. Nina, with the stronger upper body, forced Tina on her back. Tina wrapped her long legs around Nina’s waist as the topless grapplers rolled side to side. Finally, they rolled off the bed and onto the floor, still locked together.
Tina had the advantage on top of Nina but couldn’t gain enough leverage to pin her shoulders. Finally, the long dark haired beauty rose, broke the hold then stood on her feet. As Nina slowly picked herself off the floor, Tina picked up a pillow from the bed, swung, and whacked Nina in the face with it knocking her back to the floor.
The shorter, older woman was stunned and confused but unhurt as Tina dove onto her chest, planted her knees on the shoulders, and pinned her arms to the carpet. “One,” Tina counted. “Two…and three…I win!” Tina stood up and rose her arms in victory.
“You cheated,” I protested.
“Yeah, Tina, you cheated,” Nina added.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Tina snickered. “Pillows are fair game. It looks like the queen gets the queen bed to herself.”
The following morning, we had breakfast at the hotel restaurant. We said nothing about my friends wrestling the previous night. I wanted to believe it was nothing more than half-drunk girly fun. Our day was planned; after breakfast, we would hit 5th Avenue. After the waitress took our orders, we talked about which stores we’d visit until Tina changed the topic. “Hey, Edie, let’s see that wrestling magazine again,” she suggested before I handed it to her from my handbag.
“What was that called? Apartment house wrestling?” She asked, flipping through the pages with her manicured, dark red polished nails. “Oh, here. My goodness, will you look at that? Listen to what it says,” she laughed as she began to read aloud:
“Olivia's magnificent body arches with strength as she cruelly bends back Claire's lithe legs. The look of the conqueror turns Olivia's exquisite face into a mask of savage power lust.”
“Can you imagine?” Tina laughed loudly, nearly choking on her orange juice. Here is some more:
“Olivia pushes Claire's face into the carpet, rubbing flesh across fabric until Claire's cheeks and forehead sting from carpet burns.”
“Ha, ha,” she laughed. “Just look at this picture. Where can I sign up for this?”
“Tina, please keep your voice down,” I requested, afraid of attracting attention. It was too late. At the next table, a party of three men dressed in the most expensive suits I’ve ever seen in my life looked at us with strange curiosity. One of them in particular, a tall, dark-haired man in sunglasses, seemed especially interested. Tina continued:
“Olivia doubles Claire over, turning the blonde's exquisite body into a mess of agonized flesh.”
“So there, you have it,” Tina announced. “Olivia is the winner…I’ll take her on.”
“Tina, STOP,” I pleaded. That man is staring at us. The three of us turned our heads to the next table, catching the gawker in the act. The man gave us a slight smile and a wave.
“Let’s get out of here and hit the shops,” I said. As we waited for the check, the three men left and headed for the lobby. I noticed the tall man with sunglasses talking to the hotel clerk as he pointed at us.”
“This is creepy,” I said. “Thanks, Tina, for attracting perverts.”
We had a lovely morning walking around town, making stops at Saks Fifth Avenue, Bloomingdale’s, Lord & Taylor, and a new sexy lingerie store called Victoria’s Secret. After lunch, to prevent inflicting further damage to our credit cards, we decided to head back to the hotel for a rest, then spend the evening at Radio City Music Hall. When we asked the hotel clerk for directions, things suddenly became very strange.
“Oh,” said the young lady behind the desk. “Your room has been upgraded. You are now staying in the top floor penthouse.”
“No, I think you made a mistake,” I said. “We didn’t ask for an upgrade. That’s out of our price range.”
“There’s no mistake,” the clerk insisted after verifying our names. “You are the guests of Mr. David Moll. He’s arranged for you to stay in one of his private penthouses.”
“That’s not right,” I insisted. “We don’t know a David Moll.”
“Oh? Well, Mr. Moll specifically pointed you out after breakfast and ordered us to move you to the top. He also paid off your balance, so your account with us is closed.”
“You mean that guy in the suit and sunglasses? This is weird.”
“You see,” the clerk explained. “Mr. Moll is an international financier. He used to own this hotel. When he sold it, he retained the penthouse rooms on the top floor for his personal use. He brings in many wealthy and famous men from around the world to stay in his apartments. This morning, he asked if you were visitors. When we replied ‘yes,’ he wanted you to have a great experience on him. Should I summon the bellhop to move you?”
“I don’t think..”
“YES,” Tina interjected. “Let’s go. Hey, if a rich guy wants to put us in an expensive room, I say we go for it.”
Despite my reservations, I gave into Tina again. As we headed up the elevator, I wondered. It made no sense, but it seemed like the man was on the level. Maybe he was a philanthropist who randomly picked people for a free gift.
As we turned the key to our new room, we opened the door and gasped. The apartment suite was huge, with a sprawling panoramic view of the city. As we stepped onto the lush carpet, we were greeted with a table with golden plates filled with lobster, caviar, truffles, veal dishes, and decadent chocolate desserts. There were three bedrooms with king-sized beds. The bathrooms had jacuzzis and marble floors, and tubs. The furniture was exquisite yet comfortable. The walls were adorned by Van Gogh, Matisse, and Picasso. For about thirty minutes, we explored our new quarters, overwhelmed by its opulence.
“Okay, it’s settled,” Tina spoke. “We’re staying here.”
“I’m not sure about this,” I responded. “Why would a rich and powerful man choose us to stay here among the elite? Something’s not right.” No sooner did I say it when the doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole and felt my spine tingle at seeing the man we saw in the restaurant. “It’s him,” I said with a strained voice.
“Well, let him in,” Tina urged.
“Nina, what do you think?” I asked.
“Well,” she started, “I’ll go along with whatever you two decide.” Typical Nina, I groaned to myself. Always agreeable.
As we opened the door, we stood face-to-face with the mysterious man. He was tall and striking in appearance. His face was chiseled, topped by dark short but thick hair. He appeared supremely self-confident. When he spoke, his voice was as smooth as his dark silk suit.
“Hello, ladies,” he crooned. “I don’t believe we formally met. My name is David Moll. May I come in?” We nervously stepped aside as he gracefully strode into the room, inviting us to sit in the living area. “I just stopped by to introduce myself and tell you I’m honored to have you as my guests in the apartment penthouse. I hope you are all comfortable, and please let me know if there is anything you need.”
After we stated our names and where we were from, I felt awkward. “Um…Mr. Moll,” I said, “would you tell us why you brought us up here? Like, what’s the catch? Do you always give gifts to random strangers?”
“There is no catch,” he replied. “You may use this room for the remainder of the weekend as my guests. I don’t consider you strangers. I saw you simply as friends I hadn’t met yet.”
“Really?” I asked, perhaps a bit cynically.
“Yes,” he answered. “I saw you at breakfast, and it appeared you were interested in my hobby.”
“Your hobby?”
“Yes, Tina was reading it aloud from the magazine.”
“You mean THIS,” I asked, pulling out the magazine from my bag.
“Yes, that’s the one,” he smiled. “Olivia versus Claire, that was a good one. That match took place on this floor, right across the hall.” The three of us looked at each other confused.
“You see,” Mr. Moll explained, “I arrange women’s apartment house wrestling matches. You can read about them in the Sports Review Wrestling magazine each month. We’ll be having matches tonight. I have about 20 prominent guests from Los Angeles, including famous movie producers, Fortune 500 CEOs, entrepreneurial tycoons…”
“So,” I interrupted. “You bring in girls in bikinis to beat each other up just to entertain a bunch of rich men.”
“Not quite,” he answered, his voice as glossy as ever. “You see, the women come here because they love to compete. They come to test themselves. Some want to make a name for themselves. Some are trying to discover who they are. Others want opportunities in acting, modeling, and other fields. A few come to me to settle old scores. I give them what they are seeking. I give them a chance to compete with another woman. I offer them exposure to powerful and influential people. That’s why they come to me, for the possibility of having their lives changed. And…I pay them very well. So…have any of you ever thought about wrestling.”
“Are you kidding?” I snapped. “That’s the most ridiculous thi-“
“I have,” Tina cut in. “If I were younger, I’d consider it. But I can’t turn back the clock. Those girls have about twenty years on me.”
“I may have a place for you. Many of my regular guests enjoy seeing more mature women compete. If we can find an opponent for you, I could have you on the card tonight.”
“I know,” Tina said, “me against Nina…in bikinis.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I groaned.
“No,” Tina pressed. “Let’s discuss this. How much do you pay?”
“If you put on a good match, I’ll pay you both $5,000. Note that I said a good match. I know you two are friends, but I expect you to compete and do everything possible to win. Any laughing, giggling, playing around, or faking; the contract will be canceled.”
“Wait a minute,” I interjected. “Will this be in the magazine? Our sons read it, and I don’t want them seeing their moms-“
“That won’t be a problem,” Mr. Moll assured. “Pictures of your match won’t be printed, but your match will be filmed and made available for mail order purchase on an 8 mm film called ‘Battling Housewives’.”
“What if we don’t do it?” Tina inquired.
“Then enjoy your weekend in my penthouse as my guests.”
“Nina, are you up for this?” Tina asked.
“I don’t know,” Nina replied. “We should think about this.”
“Mr. Moll,” Tina said, “May we have a few minutes to talk among ourselves?”
“Of course,” the sophisticated man answered. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes for your decision.”
Immediately after the enigmatic Mr. Moll left, Tina practically jumped with excitement, her almond eyes widening with her hands animated when she spoke. “Okay,” she gushed. “Here’s the deal. We tell Mr. Moll that we want $20,000, and it’s a winner-take-all. We’ll act like we hate each other and put on a good show. But once we get home, we’ll split it. Wow, just think. Hollywood types will be there. I have always dreamed of being an actress. This could be my big chance.”
“Sounds like a dumb plan,” I objected. “These guys have seen many fights. Don’t you think they’ll easily tell you're faking it?”
“Nina,” Tina instructed, “just watch what I do and go along with it. When I hit you, act like you’re hurt. When you hit me, hit hard. Then we both go home $10,000 richer. That’s enough to buy a new Pontiac Sunbird.”
“Well, that is a lot of money,” Nina surmised. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
When Mr. Moll returned, Tina turned on the charm, smiling as her big hoop earrings dangled when she tilted her head, letting her long hair tickle his face and brush his shoulder. She pressed her shoulder onto his as she proposed the counter-offer.
“Agreed,” Mr. Moll declared. I will return with the contracts. Be at the penthouse down the hall on the left at 7 pm tonight. Wear bikinis. And remember, my clients came to see a fight. Any faking and the deal is void.”
Just like that. In a few hours, my two friends would roll around in bikinis in front of a roomful of men. I sat alone in the luxurious apartment as Tina and Nina walked around the block to buy their bikinis. I looked again at the magazine and read with horror:
“Claire tries to spin free as Olivia's talon nails dig deep into the firm thigh of the beautiful blonde. In these moments, the mistress begins to take the match from the wife.”
Lovely. “Please tell me you’re not going to do this,” I begged my friends when they returned.
“Relax,” Tina laughed. “It will be the easiest money we ever made…Right, Nina?”
Nina nodded. Why does she always have to be so passive? The final few hours seemed to drag on for hours. I fidgeted while Tina constantly talked about what she’d do with $10,000 and fantasized about impressing a Hollywood honcho, and Nina, as usual, was quiet.
The time came. Tina and Nina changed into their swimsuits and sandals and covered up with hotel bathrobes. I tried to quell my anxiety while Tina kept up her annoying joking as we headed down the hall to the neighboring penthouse room. “So you’re really going to do this?” I groaned. I gulped hard as we rang the doorbell.
“Welcome, ladies,” Mr. Moll greeted us at the doorway. “Come this way.” He escorted us into an apartment even larger and more magnificent than the one where we were staying. After we walked past contemporary furniture and artwork, he brought us into an empty room with a thick white carpet and neutral-colored walls adorned by works of Salvador Dali and Max Ernst. Strangely, I noticed one wall was an entire mirror.
“This will be your arena,” Mr. Moll explained. “My guests are currently out on the terrace, enjoying drinks and hors d’oeuvres. They will wait there until all of the wrestlers have arrived.”
“What’s with the mirror?” I asked.
“It’s a two-way mirror. My guests will be seated on the other side. They will be witnessing your match, but you cannot see them. My guests are mostly top Hollywood producers, directors, and actors. To avoid negative publicity, I keep their attendance at my events strictly confidential.”
At that point, two identical twin buxom blondes appeared wearing matching red bikinis and entered the room. “These are two of my assistants, Bunny and Dolly,” Moll introduced. “They will take Tina and Nina to their respective dressing rooms…And you, madam,” he said, addressing me, “I will take you to your private viewing room where you will watch the match on closed circuit television.”
“What? You mean I can’t be with my friends? Can’t I watch it right here?” I protested.
“I’m afraid not. Again, I cannot allow you to see my other guests.”
I shook my head and sighed as the tycoon walked me down the hall into a spacious bedroom with wood-paneled walls, a large round bed, a jacuzzi…and a bar. Waiting inside was a tall, curvy, dark-skinned brunette clad in a tiny black bikini. “This is Lulu. She is my bartender. She will also take your orders to the chef. I believe you will be comfortable here. There is the television screen. It will automatically start when the matches begin. It’s the latest technology used in the third Ali-Frazier fight. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Edie, I must start the festivities.”
I slumped into a large wicker peacock chair as Moll left, closing the door behind him. Lulu brought me a complimentary glass of champagne. What the hell did these girls get themselves into? I wondered. Leave it to Tina to get us into such a crazy situation. I’m missing the show at Radio City Music Hall for what? So my friends, both moms, can roll around in bikinis in front of rich men?
While lost in my thoughts, the TV screen flickered on. The image of Moll standing in the “arena” room appeared. “Welcome, Gentleman,” he began. “I trust you’ve all made yourselves comfortable. I hope you liked the escargot à la bourguignonne Francois prepared for this evening. We will continue to serve drinks during the matches. We have an exciting evening ahead. Later, Stella, a secretary, will take on her former boss, Alice, in a grudge match. Phyllis, a housekeeper, will wrestle Laura, a college professor, and we have two young models, Lynn and Christine, competing to be the face of a new clothing line.”
“Our first match this evening is the first in a series of wrestling housewives. These are two suburban wives and moms with a score to settle in a winner-take-all match. The winner will receive $20,000. The loser gets a long ride home.”
Are you kidding? Tina must have really been shoveling it. This is unbelievable.
“Let me introduce to you, Tina and Nina.”
The two women entered the room from opposite sides in their bathrobes and bare feet. Facing each other, they dropped their robes. Their body shapes could hardly have been more different. Tina wore a sexy, tiny leopard print bikini that left little to the imagination, with low push-up cups showing off her cleavage. Nina, as expected, wore a more modest white two-piece suit, with a higher bottom rising to her waist. At least her top had large full cups to fit those watermelon DDD-sized boobs. Tina looked tan, athletic, confident, and even seemed to be relishing the chance to show off her body in front of invisible men. Nina was three inches shorter but at least ten pounds heavier. Although short and curvy, she lacked muscle tone and seemed doughy in places. Her short dark brown curly hair contrasted with Tina’s long straight black hair, now tied into a ponytail.
“Okay, ladies,” Moll said. “You both know the rules. Go to your respective sides of the room and wait for my signal.” As they followed the order, I saw Tina flash a smile and roll back her shoulders, displaying her bust for the camera. What was with this chick?
“Ready ladies…wrestle!”
The two neighborhood moms circled each other, knees and waists slightly bent and their hands up. They grabbed and groped each other before wrapping their arms around one another in a clumsy dance. Together they tumbled to the floor, rolling from one end to the other, one on top, then the other. I didn’t know much about wrestling, but this looked awkward. What was Tina thinking? She was a fool to think she could pull this off.
The women rose to their feet. Nina grabbed Tina’s arm and flung her across the room. Tina ran into the wall, breaking the collision with her hands in an unconvincing performance. As Nina lumbered after her, Tina turned around, giving her a shove. With terrible acting, Nina stumbled backward, falling to the floor. As she got up, in full view of the camera, she could be seen to be …giggling. How could Moll and his guests not see the obviously fake wrestling these girls were doing? He specifically told them they would not be paid unless they competed for real. How could the men not see this? They did see it.
“Hey, we came across the country to see a fight,” a man’s voice could be heard. “Are you ladies going to mix it up or not?”
I knew it. We made complete asses of ourselves. We missed Radio City Music Hall for…this. Next, we’ll have to go through the indignity of getting kicked out. Maybe we could get another room downstairs. I looked at the TV screen. Tina stood frozen, as if she were in a panic, her face like the proverbial deer in the headlights. I just wanted to get this night over with.
Then, I saw Tina’s face change as she looked at Nina. Her expression turned to a scowl and she grit her teeth, hunching her shoulders like an alley cat. With a scream, she charged at Nina, driving her backward into the wall, the contact producing a loud thud. She backed off just enough to drive her knee into Nina’s belly. Nina fell to the floor, holding her stomach as if she had been shot. Well, that’s better, I thought. That looks almost…real?
I watched as Nina pulled herself to her knees as Tina hovered over her. Before Nina could rise further, the leopard print bikini woman stomped on her back, knocking her flat on her belly. Ok, that looked hard. Tina should lighten up a little.
Next, I remember Tina diving on top of Nina, forcing her arm behind her back and twisting. Nina kicked her feet up and down and squealed in pain as Tina continued to wrench the arm. I don’t like this. I know Nina, and I know she’s not this good of an actress. Tina is hurting her. I know Tina wants the money, but this is too much.
“You give up?” Tina yelled.
“No,” Nina squeaked.
The determined look on Tina’s face alarmed me. She looked like a woman who came for a fight and seemed to have no problem torturing Nina. Frustrated by Nina’s resilience, she pulled her fellow neighborhood mom up by the hair, then proceeded to charge forward, once again driving Nina into the wall. The loud thud was sickening as the impact almost shook the paintings off the hooks. Tina delivered another knee to the belly, then wrapped her arms around Nina, throwing her down.
The taller woman moved in as Nina lay on her back. Seizing both ankles, she dragged her prey across the carpet to the middle of the room. Focusing on one leg, she began twisting the ankle. Nina again thrashed in pain, flailing her arms and groaning. By then, I’d officially had it with Tina. What did this crazy bitch think she was doing? I watched her face contort as she strained to apply pressure in turning torque to Nina’s ankle.
“Give up now?” Tina growled.
“No,” Nina again answered. I could not believe what I was witnessing. I had to give Nina credit. She wasn’t going to go down easily.
Nina squirmed on her back and flailed as Tina kept up the pressure on the ankle. Finally, a wild kick by Nina caught her adversary flush on the side of the head, knocking her backward, and causing her to release the hold. Nina turned herself over on her hands and knees as Tina took a moment to rub the side of her head. Infuriated, the brunette beauty circled around Nina, then gave her a stomp on the back as she struggled to stand. Nina fell to the carpet again, then pulled herself up, enduring another kick from Tina. As Tina moved in again, Nina sprung to her feet and fired a slap to Tina’s face, which landed with a resounding smack. Although I wanted this fight to end immediately, part of me felt happy for Nina. For so long, she had put up with Tina’s put-downs, and now this travesty, she finally was standing up for herself.
With both women on their feet, Tina recovered and retaliated with her own slap. Nina seemed unfazed and landed another slap that nearly turned her foe’s head around. With Tina stunned, Nina finally took advantage and rushed forward, driving Tina into the wall, her back crashing with a hard impact. As Nina backed up, Tina, hurt, slumped down the wall, her butt landing on the floor. Nina reached down, grabbed Tina’s ponytail, and dragged her to the center of the room. Tina, kicking and screaming, rose to her feet, but Nina, using her lower center of gravity, wrapped her arms around her opponent’s thighs, lifting her over her head, then slammed her onto the floor onto her back.
Nina dropped down in an attempt to mount her antagonist. Still, Tina resisted furiously on her back, pulling Nina off of her, and the two women again rolled across the floor in a wild melee, arms and legs entwined, bodies twisting. When the dust settled, Tina was on her back with Nina’s thick thighs wrapped around her waist in a scissors hold.
I knew Tina was in trouble, trapped on the floor, with Nina’s legs squeezing her body. She kicked the floor and slapped Nina’s thighs to no avail. I hated every second of this, but I wanted it to be over. And to be honest, I wouldn’t have been heartbroken to see Tina defeated.
The two women lay in that position for a minute. Tina’s thrashing seemed to be slowing down. Her face was in anguish, and it appeared she was struggling to breathe. Out of desperation, the pretty wife and mother stretched her arm out toward Nina, who repeatedly slapped it away. Tina tried inching her body as best she could toward her tormentor with her fingers outstretched. This has to be the end of this nonsense, I thought. Then with a final lunge, Tina hooked the front clasp of Nina’s bikini top, pulling the cups downward, exposing Nina’s enormous left boob, then the right.
Nina, apparently more concerned about her modesty, struggled with Tina’s hands to regain control of her top. Distracted, she loosened the grip applied by her legs, allowing Tina to wriggle free. Tina rolled to the side, panting and holding her sides, as Nina rose to her feet, trying to fix her broken top while covering her breasts with her arms. Surely, they’ll stop this fight now, I thought. They won’t let Nina continue being exposed like that, would they? Wrong.
Tina rose to her feet as Nina was still preoccupied, grabbing Nina’s damaged covering. The two engaged in a tug-of-war, pulling and stretching the garment, both women struggling and snarling until Tina won. With Nina’s massive mammaries now on full display, Tina found her targets, delivering a hard backhand chop to the chest. Nina, more aggressive than I ever imagined her, became enraged and lunged at Tina, trying to grab hold of Tina’s own top. By now, both women, sweaty and their hair in a mess, grappled on their feet, squealing and grunting, until Tina gained the advantage, taking hold of Nina, tripping her feet and throwing her down. As she fell, Nina maintained hold of Tina’s bikini top, pulling it under her breasts, snapping the front clasp open, and letting her foe’s titties spill out. Tina quickly freed her shoulders from the straps.
Nina got off the floor, and the two topless moms faced each other with menacing glares. With their hands up and fingers spread out but slightly bent, like cat claws, both women struck. The room was filled with screams as both women dug their talons into each other’s tit flesh, their mouths open, howling in pain. By now, I was past the state of shock of what my friends were doing to each other for the entertainment of privileged men.
I knew Tina had longer nails, but her breasts were smaller and perhaps more sensitive. Snarling, their faces contorted with pain, the two women stood there, straining, locked in a drawn-out battle of wills…from which Nina emerged victorious! Tina, desperate and in agony, let go of Nina’s big boobs and, with all she had left, slapped Nina’s hard across the face.
Nina withdrew her fingers from Tina’s tortured tits and lowered her body, grabbing Tina around the waist and squeezing her tightly in a bear hug. As their chests pressed together, Nina’s massive orbs swallowed up Tina’s, flattening them to the point of being invisible. The mouth of Tina’s anguished face was wide open but made no sound as Nina squeezed harder, lifting her victim upward at the same time until Tina’s toes barely touched the floor.
Tina frantically flailed her arms, striking Nina on the top of the head, but the shorter woman persevered, not relinquishing her hold. After about a minute, which felt like an hour, Tina appeared finished, her ineffective arm movements becoming slower. Nina looked like she was also tiring, gradually lowering Tina to the floor. Finally, Tina was on her back, showing little movement, with Nina on top of her, the arms still locked in a deadly grip. It would just be a matter of time. Tina would give up, or the fight would be stopped.
Suddenly, Nina let out a loud yelp and rolled off of Tina. I didn’t see exactly what happened, but I saw the effects. Several scratch marks tracked across Nina’s back, the result of Tina’s talons. The dirty bitch! Tina rolled away. A moment later, the women grappled on the floor again, ending with Nina face down and Tina on top of her.
Feeling numb, I watched Tina sit on Nina’s back, gripping her chin with both hands, and rocking backward. Nina’s neck and upper back were pulled backward. Her face wore a tortured expression. Somebody needs to do something, I thought. Nina waved her arms as if she were signaling her surrender. “Give up?” Tina asked, loosening her hands just enough to allow Nina to temporarily speak.
“Yes, I give up,” Nina answered in a strangled voice. “Please let go.”
Tina let Nina’s face fall to the carpet. For a few moments, she kept her perch on the defeated woman’s back, flexing her biceps in a series of poses. I could hear applause from the invisible male audience. Tina seemed to be lapping it up, seductively cupping her bare breasts, flashing a sexy smile for men she couldn’t see. I now thought I hated this woman. I felt terrible for Nina, but at least she would be paid $10,000. Or so I thought.
Tina pranced around topless in front of the camera for another minute while two more bikini-clad bimbos helped Nina from the room. Infuriated, I summoned Lulu.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “Tell Mr. Moll I want to get out of here…NOW!”
I never saw Moll again, but fifteen minutes later, Bunny, or Dolly, unlocked my door and escorted me down a hallway where I encountered Tina leaving her dressing room in her bathrobe.
“I hope you are proud of yourself,” I sneered.
Tina, apparently oblivious to my scorn, beamed a strangely radiant smile. “Oh Edie,” she bubbled, “you and Nina don’t need to wait for me when you return to the room. First, I have to see David Moll. He’s going to give me the money. And guess what?” she gushed. “David said that a movie producer who is here tonight saw my match. And guess WHAT!” She squealed like a schoolgirl; her almond-shaped eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them. “He wants to talk to me about a part in his next film. Can you BELIEVE IT!…Ok, I gotta run now….I’ll catch up to you later…I’ll tell you all about it. Oh my God, I’m shaking! I’m so excited!” With those words, she turned and left, entering a room from which I was sure I would be banned.
Finally, I was taken to Nina’s room. She stood expressionless in her bathrobe. I hugged her, grabbed her by the hand, and quickly whisked her out of the apartment and back to the penthouse Moll provided for us. We spoke very little. What do you say to someone after a spectacle like that? I helped her wash, cleaned her scratches, and assisted her to bed. I wanted to go home. I didn’t want to see that crazy Tina again. We still had Sunday left. To say our weekend was ruined would have been a massive understatement. With Nina asleep, I sat in the living room area with a million thoughts running through my mind until I dozed off.
I awoke in a recliner chair at 6 am. Nina was still asleep. I saw no sign of Tina. I guessed she was still whooping it up with those Hollywood big shots, but deep inside, I was worried. An hour later, the door opened. It was Tina, wearing her bathrobe but with her face turned away from me as if in shame.
“We’re having quite a weekend in New York City, aren’t we,” I said sarcastically. “So tell me,” I continued. “Are you famous yet? Did you get the big contract? Will Mr. Producer make you a star? Are we talking Oscar material?”
She turned her face slightly toward me. I could see her pretty eyes were bloodshot. A tear trickled down her tanned face. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she sniffed. Sobbing, she entered another one of the bedrooms, slamming the door behind her.
Our weekend ended prematurely. I decided to drive home with Nina on Sunday morning, making up an excuse on the pretext she was under the weather. I called my husband and arranged for the men to pick up Tina after the Yankees game.
The relationship between the three of us was never the same. We never sat down together to discuss the incident. I never found out what happened to Tina that night. I presumed she was one of many women used by the producer for one night, then thrown out of bed in the morning. We never told a soul about the actual events that Saturday evening. Tina never gave Nina her share of the winnings as she had promised. When I asked her, she responded, “Why should I split it? They were about to kick us out because of Nina.” Instead of a Pontiac Sunbird, Tina, a short while later, was driving a Lincoln Continental. I wondered how she explained the money to her husband. Although there was an awkward coolness between the three of us, our boys remained friends for many years.
So, that’s my story of the incident in the summer of 1977. In the attic, I look at the Sports Review Wrestling magazine and wonder if I should throw it in the garbage or sell it on eBay. As far as I know, Nina and Tina’s fight never appeared in a magazine. Thank goodness our boys never saw it. Whether or not it was sold on film by mail order, I have no idea. After all, ads for such events are only marketed to kinksters and fetishists. As I lift some cardboard boxes to take downstairs, I stub my toe and nearly trip and fall. I notice that a floorboard is loose with a plank sticking up. That will need to be repaired before we sell the house. I examine the broken plank and notice something is hidden under the floorboards. What is this? A box. I look inside and find reels of 8 mm tapes. I pull up the first one and read the label on the box:
BATTLING HOUSEWIVES
TINA VS NINA
AN EPIC BATTLE BETWEEN TWO FEUDING SEXY MOMS
Shocked, I stare in disbelief. Then I smile. Then I laugh. Then I laugh hysterically.
“Oh, Rick,” I sigh.
