💪
There was a long drive to be made and no one wanting to make it. They stood there; a pair of idiots in a parking lot, damn near playing Hot Potato with a set of keys until one gave in. Alex argued that he drove to the location. Missy argued that she made things easier by meeting up with him in Aurora and with the fact she still had to drive back home to Arizona.
When reason only continue to fail, they fought with their usual insults. Then when that didn’t work, they scuffled a third, maybe fourth, time. Missy’s victory was assured this round when she surprised Alex with a pop in his chin. It had only been grappling up until now, but she lost her patience last time when he got her hair all mussed.
Alex was too slow to close his arms and tighten his grip. A “pop” from an irritated Missy is more like getting hit with a couple of bricks in a pillow case. It could leave anyone in a daze, but she knew he could take it. That he’d recover in a few moments.
Seizing the moment, Missy lowered herself to grab Alex by the waist and lift. Where, she had no idea, but the direction was backwards and Alex collected himself just enough to know he didn’t want to get caught up in a very messed up suplex that would only knock Missy out and leave him driving anyway. Alex tapped out. Missy stopped. She accepted victory by sliding into the backseat and rumbling a tired, “Fuck you.”
Missy would come to regret sleeping on her stomach hours later when they made their way back to Alex’s hovel. He woke her up with a hard slap on the ass. Missy may have him giving up on record, but he now has the way she curled up and screamed as she rolled over to protect her rear from further damage. Neither of them truly ever wins.
