Fight For You
Sold off to pay her father's debts, Cherry spends her nights dancing and her days longing for freedom. Determined to break free of her life, she transfers from the dance halls to the stadiums where all the real money is made.
The only problem with her plan is that she's not a fighter. In order to learn, Cherry approaches Berlin, one of the best fighters in the stadium. Berlin, however, wants nothing to do with her, and Cherry realizes the hardest fights do not take place in the arena...
Berlin sighed and rolled her eyes as Cherry followed her behind the house, babbling about learning to fight. She ignored Cherry as she removed her leather armor in practiced motions, unlacing her tall boots until they slipped off and loosening the ties on the sides of her shorts until she could wriggle out of them. Despite the lacings between her breasts and the various straps across the front, she unbuckled the choker around her neck and undid the back laces to remove her cropped top.
Reaching for a bucket of rainwater, she poured it over her upturned face, letting the water run down her naked body. Goddess, it felt good. She poured more across her chest and shoulders to wash away the sweat and dirt and realized the babbling had stopped. Finally. She turned and saw Cherry frozen and staring at her. She set the pitcher aside and pushed her dripping red hair out of her eyes. “You want me to train you?”
Cherry nodded furiously. “Yes. I want to be a fighter. I want to get out of The Zone.”
Without warning, Berlin launched herself forward, tackling Cherry and bearing her to the ground with no resistance. Wet body pressed firmly against Cherry’s, Berlin pulled a face. She hadn’t expected much from the pretty blonde girl, but she had assumed she could at least defend herself a little. How long had she been in The Zone? A week? “That’s it?”
Cherry’s breathing was shallow, and her heart was pounding. Her green eyes were wide, but she couldn’t decide where to look—Berlin’s face or the bare breasts right in front of her.
Berlin snorted, no longer phased by unabashed lusty looks. “There’s just as much skin to distract you in the arena.”
Cherry squirmed out from beneath Berlin. She was pinned again a few moments later, but not before Berlin saw something that interested her.
“You’re flexible,” she said sitting casually on the grass nearby, arms resting on her updrawn knee.
In response, Cherry straightened out one leg and lifted the other—vertically and perfectly straight.
It was an impressive move; Berlin could admit that. She looked Cherry over, big green eyes and long waves of golden hair around a youthful face. She was short with a full figure, large breasts and a round bottom, but she looked young despite how mature her assets were. She was flexible, though, and in all her years of fighting, Berlin had never seen anyone quite like Cherry. She wasn’t a fighter, not yet, but Berlin could make her one. If this girl really wanted to get out of The Zone, Berlin could get her there.
She got to her feet, shaking back damp hair beginning to dry in the sun, and watched Cherry scramble up as well. If Cherry failed, it was no reflection on Berlin. She didn’t have anything better to do anyway.
“Fine.” She stuck out her hand, and Cherry shook it with surprise. “There aren’t any spare rooms in this house, but you can bunk with me.” When Cherry opened her mouth to babble her thanks, Berlin held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t seen what I’m going to do to you.”
It turned out that the first thing Berlin was going to do to her was run her to death. Out before the sun was up, Berlin set a fast pace from the start—and outlawed talking.
“If you have enough energy to talk, you’re not working hard enough.”
As they ran through The Zone the village began coming back to life. The Zone itself was split into two parts—one for men and one for women. Mingling was allowed; some couples even moved in together. For the most part, though, the two groups stuck to their respective sections. They didn’t trust each other, and they weren’t looking to make attachments. They segregated themselves by occupation as well—fighters, dancers, and prostitutes—and they kept to their own.
Cherry had never been through most of The Zone. As a dancer, she’d spent most of her time with other dancers or with the one friend she’d had from another occupation.
By the time they had made their way deep into the men’s sector, daily life was already under way. The men held the same occupations as women, and she recognized the stretches of a group of dancers. They passed a few other runners, some sweat drenched, others just heading out. It seemed Berlin was a common sight in the men’s sector; the occasional man nodded at her or even greeted her by name. Seeing Berlin with a companion, however, was apparently not the norm, and Cherry drew intrigued glances when they passed.
As a dancer, Cherry thought she was in good shape, but by the time they finally returned to Berlin’s house, she was gasping for air and drenched in sweat. She pulled off her shirt and shook out the lightweight material, glad her tight pants were too dark to show sweat. A few feet away, Berlin had dropped her hooded shirt to the ground and was stretching out her leg muscles. A thin sheen of sweat swept across the dimples of her lower back, visible above the low rise pants she wore. She tugged off her boots to stretch out her feet and calves, and after a pointed look, Cherry did the same.
Berlin offered her a skin of water, saying, “You’ve got ten minutes. Then I’m going to kick your ass.”