While I don't really go out much, there was something fascinating about being in farm. The simplicity of the buildings alongside the rough and tumble of tamed nature brought out a more primeval feeling inside of me. I tuck that feeling away and kept it for later, as I prepped for the fight. I'm a bit of mid-maxer to be honest in real life, too much gaming does that you eventually, and so I had arrived earlier and scooped out the place, while stretching and preparing myself for the fight ahead in one of the farmhouse's bedrooms.
My opponent Lysa, while certainly cute, struck her as a fiery opponent, who would definitely take advantage of any opening she saw. This is something I will definitely keep in mind as I hear someone enter the farmhouse. Doing a few stretches more, I turn around and start heading out, noting my appearance with a midriff-barring black shirt and daisy dukes in the mirror, already barefoot after I came in. As I walk, I hesitate, I hear another voice outside of Lysa. I wasn't aware you could bring others, did they plan to double team me? I don't know Lysa enough to be sure. I hesitate and contemplated on what to do, eventually though I decided to face it head out and so I exit the room. Standing at the top of the staircase, I see you looking around and I say, with a mischievous grin on my face.
"Finally, I've been waiting forever!"
The first thing that strikes me is your size: tall, thick, but shapely. The next thing I notice is that shit-eating grin that only makes me all the more eager to clean it off your face. My chin points up as we lock eyes. Standing in the doorway you block my view of what looks to be a bedroom filled with immaculate wooden furnishings.
Could those be carpentered by the farm owners, I wonder. "Long commute," I reply, flicking my chin over my shoulder as if everyone else didn't also have quite the distance to travel. Had I not known better you could pass as a local: a trashy black band tee from musicians no one's ever heard of, denim shorts that barely clear your round cheeks, and smudges of dirt and mud that track along your shins and atop your bare feet. I lean to my side trying to get a better view. Looking past you I ask, "Is that the place?"
"Nah, come with me," you say as you guide me into another area down the hall. You place a hand on my back as we walk -- at first I tensed but feeling the warmth of your palm through my denim jacket put me at ease. We walk into a giant living room and I take in the fightscape in front of me: a vast wooden floor, more oak furniture around the perimeter and a fur rug centered on the hardwood clearing, a sliding glass door with several women idly chatting outside, and a mini bar with various liquors -- mostly bourbon and whiskey -- and two small glasses perched on its counter. You hand me a glass and pour a pungent brown liquid into both. It tastes terrible, but expensive.
"Guess they came looking for a show," I say gesturing toward the women outside. None of them seem to have noticed us (or care to, anyway). "Or maybe they're judges... If you're gonna call something
Barn Wars it's gotta be official, right?"
"Won't need anything official when the loser ends up a broken mess and dumped into the loser's pit," you say before downing your drink. I remember the smudges on your legs...
Looking past the women outside I see what you must be talking about: a patchy dark brown blemish glistening off in the distance.
She couldn't have just had a fight... And won... Could she? I take the thought out of my mind and gulp down what's left in my glass and my body feels ten degrees warmer.
"Come on, let's get to it, I've got a movie to get to and you're already making me late." Your glass clinks on the bar counter and you saunter over to the clearing.
"What movie?" I ask, following your lead. My feet tingling over the soft fur carpet. I can't place the animal, but it was definitely something
big. I unbutton my jacket and toss it on a nearby couch that has been moved against the wall. My bright pink bikini top effortlessly makes my B-cup look marvelous. I look back over to the sliding glass door to approximate a headcount. Ten women, maybe twelve?
"Test of strength," you reply, standing and looking irritable, hands on your hips.
"Oh? Never heard of it, who's in that one?" I ask, now inches from you and back to staring upward to lock gazes. You raise your hands and gesture irritably.
Ohhhh! I smile widely and play it off as cute ignorance. I slowly raise my arms and our fingers entwine. Your grip is crushing. My body tenses and my legs tremble to find footing and balance. Suddenly I can feel the heat from the eyes of the women outside. "Game on..."
