“You can do it, Oliver!”
The stadium is packed to capacity, full of twenty thousand screaming, rowdy fans who’ve completely lost their minds screaming to set a new indoor decibel level.
But the only voice I hear is hers.
My eyes dart from legendary boxing announcer Michael Buffer, who stands in the middle of the ring waiting for the clock to strike midnight signaling the end of Christmas Day and the start of Boxing Day, directly to her like a hawk.
It’s like my entire body is a heat-seeking missile zeroed in on her.
The moment I see her the entire arena goes silent in my mind, fading into the background. Nothing else matters. Nothing else ever mattered, but her.
She does a little jump from her front row seat and gives me a subdued wave from her chest level. I can’t help but look as her breasts bounce from underneath the tight, white tank top she has on underneath her button down.
My cock hardens instantly, pressing against the hard plastic cup that’s secured inside the jockstrap I’ve got on.
I feel the damn thing push out as my dick fights to free itself from any and all barriers between us.
I grit my teeth so hard I can feel my mouthpiece cracking as my nostrils flare and I snarl.
I haven’t seen her in four years…the four longest years of my life.
What is she doing here?
How did she get a ticket?
And what the hell is he doing here?
“Come on, Painmaker!” he yells.
He being her brother, Ethan.
He didn’t tell me he was coming, and he sure as hell didn’t tell me he was bringing his little sister Ella, the only woman I’ve thought about since her family up and left London four years ago.
The same woman I’ve visualized each and every one of my professional opponents disrespecting up until this point, which has led to my perfect record.
That’s all it takes for me.
I train harder than anyone, but that only gets you so far.
The night before every fight I just imagine these savages I’m about to come to blows with saying something about her, or even worse, laying a hand on her.
And that’s why all my fights have ended in a first round knockout.
But tonight is different. I’ve made my way up the ranks and this fight is the biggest of them all. And to see her here takes me to another level I didn’t even know was possible.
“It’s tiiiiiiiiiiime!” Buffer says, and I know Christmas day has ended, and did I ever get the best gift in the world just in the nick of time.
Her. Here. Now.
And I’ve got a gift of my own I’ve been saving for her and her alone and I’m tired of waiting to give it to her. I’m tired of the anguish and the internal struggle.
All that’s over, as soon as I end this scrub on the other side of the ring.
“Tonight…we are going to witness the most anticipated match in the history of professional boxing,” Buffer says.
I hear the words, but I don’t take my eyes off her.
Buffer is right, because now that she’s here, I’m going to destroy this piece of trash so fast I break every record. I don’t want to wait another second to tell her how I feel about her, and how things are going to be from now on.
Mine. That’s all she needs to know. From now on she’s mine and mine alone.
I don’t care if she’s got a boyfriend or not. That’s over. I’m the only man for her and that’s how it’s always been.
“For the heavyweight championship of the world,” Buffer says into the microphone, as his voice finds another level of intensity as his words ring out through all the speakers inside the arena.
Oh yeah, I’m ready all right…ready to tear this motherfucker’s head off so I can get to my woman.
“Boxing fans, are you rrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRReady?”
I jump in place, bringing my knees up to my chest, as I get higher than I ever have before. Almost before my boxing shoes touch the mat I’m throwing shadow punches so hard into the air I could rip my rotator cuff.
Not tonight. Not a chance. Even if I did I’d destroy this guy with one arm, or no arms.
“For the thousands in attendance, and the millions watching around the world. Live…from the sold-out O2 Arena in the capital city of England and the home of the U.K. Parliament…Loooooooooondon. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get ready to rrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRumble!”
One of the worst things a fighter can do is get too hyped up for a fight. It’s the easiest way to walk right into a fist to the jaw.
Despite the fact, that I’ve never felt so alive in my entire life.
Despite the fact, that I can feel my heart beating against my ribcage.
Despite the fact, I take no supplements, the closest I’ve come to performance enhancing drugs is an extra helping of steak and eggs…my body is in complete animal mode, more so than ever before.
And just when it’s time to visualize my opponent disrespecting my woman, the woman who still doesn’t even know she’s mine yet…he does it himself.
Six foot six inch, two hundred and forty-nine pound Joshua Anthony catches me staring into the crowd and follows my line of sight to her.
“I’m gonna take her down after I take you down, Paine,” he says from across the ring.
My eyes shoot towards him just in time to catch him blowing her a kiss and then turn back to me and laugh.
This isn’t just a boxing match. This is a fight in the truest sense.
I squeeze my fists so tight I can feel the tape that holds my hands in place underneath my gloves rip.
My arms start shaking and I can feel foam coming out of the sides of my mouth as I stop breathing like a human, and start growling.
“Fighting out of the red corner, without a trainer, and wearing the black trunks. With an official weight of two hundred and thirty pounds, his fighting credentials consisting of twenty-two victories, alllllllll coming by way of first round knock out in the heavyweight division. Recognized over the world as the man who hits harder than any other fighter today, and perhaps ever….Oliver ‘The Painmaker’ Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaine!”
The Union Jack, our British flag, practically covers up all the fans from view as they wave their flags in support of me.
“And now. The champion,” Buffer says turning to the dead man walking. The complete idiot who thought he could offend my woman, and in broad daylight no less, and get away with it. The man who thought he could disrespect us on millions of televisions around the world and there wouldn’t be consequences…devastating consequences. And the man I am about to beat so badly he will look like a little boy who’s finally met a real man.
I keep my eyes on him, letting him know what’s coming.
Buffer approaches the end of his introduction saying, “Representing Germany, Joshua ‘The Man with Three First Names after I Take Yours’ Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnthony!”
Just like you Germans try and take all the beach chairs at the seaside resorts across the Mediterranean in the summer by laying your towel on them the night before. I’m going to hit him so hard he’ll think he’s back in Berlin with all those effeminate hipster boys where he belongs.
I turn back to look at my woman, my instincts telling me to make sure she’s okay. There’s a cameraman right up in her grill now and a bunch of other women trying to get in on the attention.
I watch as she’s constantly trying to move around the side of the camera, like two people who play that game where you both step aside to let the other pass and then both move to pass again at the same time.
But this is different, because the jerk behind the camera is trying to guess her movements, not trying to avoid her.
And there are some celebrities gathered around her now trying to get in the shot, and my attention.
I hate women like that. Girls we professional boxers call pro hoes. Girls just trying to come up on someone. They just want to get inside your place and get some dirt on you they can sell to the gossip mags, or better yet get you inside them and make a baby so they can get paid for life.
Not gonna happen ladies, and I’m using the term ladies very generously when I’m referring to them.
I don’t have random sex, or sex at all for that matter, and when it is time to give myself to someone it will only be with my woman…the woman who I’d give everything right now to be with. The only woman who makes me feel this way. The only woman who I’d ever have children with, and damn do I want to have a big family with her.
And she’s as different from them as night and day.
She’s the light to my darkness, and she will be my wife and the mother of my children…and the first and only to have me when I claim her and make her mine forever.
My mind fills with thoughts of breeding with her, filling her with my seed, and making her mine tonight.
There’s no point in wasting time when you know exactly what you want.
But I don’t just want her. I need her in every way.
She will be mine because when I want something I won’t let anyone, or anything, get in my way. She’s going to be my wife, the mother of my children, my everything.
She’s the only reason I’ve reached this title fight in the first place.
Without her leaving London four years ago I would have quit boxing and gotten a job working in the financial industry, but now I’ve got more money than I’ll ever need.
And I want to use every last penny, all the pence and pound sterling I’ve got, of it to spoil her rotten because she deserves it.
“Paine! Paine, dammit!” the referee says.
I turn seeing him standing at the center of the ring with Anthony. He better enjoy being champ because his reign has less than a minute left to it.
“Where’s your head at, Paine?” the ref says. “Get over here and touch gloves.”
“Fuck him. I’ll touch my glove to his jaw when I break it for disrespecting my woman.”
“I’m going to disrespect her in more ways than that,” Anthony says.
The ref shakes his head and steps away, annoyed by me, but it doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters, but her.
I feel my arms shaking as my stance widens. Suddenly my head starts shaking and my neck tightens as every muscle in my body fires.
I feel like Bruce Banner as he transforms into the Incredible Hulk.
The bell rings and I charge right at Anthony, who puts both gloves up to block the wild, completely undisciplined punch that I cock back and throw with all of my weight.
The momentum from my hips and the power from my obliques, my glutes, and my shoulders comes slamming forward as my glove finds his jaw, just like I said it would.
His tasseled boxing shoes come clean off the mat as his entire body goes flying toward the ropes. The laws of physics are nearly denied as his shoulders clear the top ropes as his body continues falling backwards. The gigantic German continues his trajectory as his entire body flies right outside the ring landing at my woman feet.
Just like a cat that brings home its kill to win the approval of its owner, I’ve dropped this pussy at the feet of my woman, letting her see first hand what happens when someone tries to disrespect this lion’s lioness.
“Get an ambulance!” someone yells.
I feel Jim Gray’s, legendary boxing announcer, hand on my shoulder and the bright lights from multiple cameras stuck in my face, temporarily blinding me.
He asks some rapid-fire questions, but I don’t even hear the words. It’s only noise to me.
I raise my glove, moving the camera out of my way and checking on my woman to make sure the EMTs don’t bump into her or that any of Anthony’s fans cause her harm.
But her seat is suddenly empty and as I frantically scan the area where she was it’s clear she’s disappeared.