Chapter 2

The following week was a blur of secretive whispers and hastily covered-up browser tabs as they scoured the internet and the seedier parts of town for any information about the elusive club. They heard rumors of its existence from various sources—whispers at the grocery store, knowing glances from the mailman, even a cryptic message scrawled on the bathroom wall of the local bar. But finding the actual location was proving to be more challenging than they’d anticipated. It was as if the place didn’t want to be found—or perhaps it only revealed itself to those who truly sought it.

Finally, one sweltering afternoon, as they drove down a particularly desolate stretch of road that had seen better days, they spotted a blonde woman leaning against a streetlamp. She was scantily clad in a neon mini-skirt and a tank top that barely contained her ample bosom, her makeup thick and garish in the harsh sunlight. As they rolled to a stop beside her, they could see the hardened lines of experience etched into her face, a stark contrast to the youthfulness of her body.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Stella called out, her voice sugary sweet. “You know anything about an underground nude wrestling club around here?”

The blonde woman, whose makeup was thick as a brick wall, looked them up and down with a sneer. “What’s it to you, hon?”

Georgia leaned over Stella, her eyes locked on the streetwalker’s. “We heard there’s a place around here where we can make some serious cash. You know, with our ... assets.” She winked, her hand gesturing to her own ample chest.

The blonde woman’s expression shifted from hostile to intrigued. She took a drag of her cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke. “Money talks, sugar, but it’s not just anyone that gets into Club Sweet Cheeks.”

Stella leaned out the car window, her heart racing. “What do you mean?”

The blonde woman smirked, flicking her cigarette to the ground. “You want in on the action, you gotta talk to the man in charge. Name’s Rodnell Joseph.”

Georgia’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Rod what?”

“Rodnell Joseph,” the woman repeated, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. “He’s the one that’ll tell you if you’ve got what it takes for Club Sweet Cheeks. And trust me, honey, he’s picky.” She looked them up and down again, her gaze lingering on their curves. “But if you play your cards right, you could be rolling in dough before you know it.”

Stella’s mind raced with questions, but she kept her cool. “And where can we find this ... Rodnell Joseph?”

The streetwalker’s smile grew wider. “Oh, he’s not hard to miss. Just look for the guy with the gold tooth and the pimp cane. He’s got a place on the other side of town. You can’t miss it—it’s the one with the neon pink door.”

The two friends exchanged a look, their excitement tinged with a hint of nervousness. This was it—the lead they’d been looking for. They thanked the woman and drove off, the sound of her laughter fading into the distance.

The pimp’s place was indeed easy to spot—the neon pink door was like a beacon in the otherwise dingy neighborhood. The house looked like it had seen better days, the paint peeling and the lawn overgrown. But the sound of music and laughter spilling from the open windows told them that inside, it was anything but abandoned.

They stepped out of the car, their hearts racing, and approached the door. Stella took a deep breath, her hand trembling slightly as she knocked. A few moments later, the door swung open to reveal a mountain of a man with a gold tooth that gleamed in the low light.

“Can I help you, ladies?” he drawled, eyeing them up and down.

Stella stepped forward, trying to sound confident. “We’re here to see about the nude wrestling gig. We’re looking to make some extra cash for our kids,” she said with a smile that was more of a grimace.

Rodnell’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped aside, allowing them to enter. The inside of the house was a stark contrast to the outside—opulent and clean, with velvet couches and glittering chandeliers. The smell of weed and cheap perfume hung in the air.

“So, you wanna wrestle, huh?” he said, his eyes lingering on Stella’s chest. “You got the goods, that’s for sure. But can you handle it?”

Stella swallowed hard. “We can handle it,” she said firmly, her voice not betraying the fear that was creeping up her spine.

Rodnell’s grin grew wider, showing a gold incisor that matched his tooth. “Alright, then,” He leaned in closer, his breath hot on her ear. “But let me tell you, it’s not for the faint of heart.”

Georgia stepped forward, placing a hand on Stella’s shoulder. “We’re not faint of heart,” she said with a confidence that surprised even herself.

Rodnell looked them over again, his eyes lingering on their curves. “Good, good,” he murmured, stroking his chin. “Because at Club Sweet Cheeks, we don’t play around. It’s all about the show, baby.”

Georgia took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. “So, what are the rules?” she asked, her voice steady despite the knot in her stomach.

Rodnell leaned back in his chair, his meaty fingers steepled in front of him. “The rules are simple, ladies,” he said, his gold tooth glinting in the dim light. “You gotta pin your opponent—and I mean really pin her. But that’s not all. To win the big bucks, you gotta make her cum. That’s right—no faking it, no holding back. The crowd can tell the difference between a real orgasm and a phony one.”

Stella felt her cheeks burn, but she forced herself to nod. “And how do we ... ensure that happens?”

Rodnell leaned back in his chair, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “That’s the beauty of it, darling. You gotta use whatever you got—your looks, your charm, your moves. But let me tell you, the referee’s gonna check that pussy. If it’s dry as a bone when you go down, she’s the winner. But if it’s juicy, honey, that’s when you’re the queen spades of the ring.”

Georgia’s eyes widened at the revelation, and she turned to Stella. “Did you catch that?”