A murmur of anticipation runs through the crowd. It�s an odd sensation that bounces between those assembled. A sensation that matches the pairing of enigmatic figures next scheduled to grace the ring.

LaKeisha Bates, a seeming star in the making with every single tool, particularly a menacingly buffeting backside that, on its own, put butts in the seats. The �Big D� homegirl had done everything she�d been given the chance to do, which seemingly meant physically and mentally torture, Rumpshake, and otherwise destroy Kylie Sanders. But with that mission accomplished, little had been thrown her way.

Several pockets of LK�s fans bellow their disapproval of the FAWN hierarchy and hold signs aloft noting �Fear of a Black Champ� and �Kylie�s seen the light, so will you�. The excitement in their eyes is evident as much as the anger. An opportunity against a known star like Abby Hoffman was a couple steps up from the flattened hick from the sticks. This could be the start of the tearing down of the establishment, and by tearing up a hippie. The irony dripped heavy.

The �flower children� in the stands also exude an emotional intensity. Their girl had debuted on FAWN and it was to have been a glorious return to the �Summer of Love�, if in January. But a heavy dose of rust, an inspired Desire, and one VERY nasty rendition of a Strawberry Fields Shutdown turned Meltdown put Abby down and, for many weeks, out. Tonight would be a reintroduction of the real thing; the fun-loving, aerial-assaulting refugee from Haight/Ashbury, a beaming, bubbly blonde with a penchant for extreme violence.

As The Grateful Dead�s "China Cat Sunflower" chirps into the loudspeakers, all eyes turn to the entrance ramp. Pyrotechnic spinners shoot out heralding�nothing. Suddenly, a murmur and then a cheer blossoms from one side of the crowd. The cameras and spotlights frantically pan until they hit upon their intended quarry. A lithe, sinewy blonde with large, blue eyes that constantly smile and sparkle, walks through the audience! Her lightly tanned body radiates exuberance and energy. The crowd gives her plenty of room, as it seems her escort has those close, a bit on edge. As the blonde nears the ring, it finally becomes clear why. She is attended to by a simian! A baboon to be precise. But one that seems to walk next to her friend with a regal bearing, if a royal were to hold placards under their arm. The crowd erupts as they recognize the duo, and even before the PA can welcome her, much of the crowd picks up a chant.

�AB-BY. ABB-BY.�

As Abby gets into the �Dead� groove, she starts dancing through the audience, stopping every so often to get jiggy with someone she likes. Meandering and twirling her way down, her long skirt and tie-dye crop tee provides a miasma of swirling color. Abby gets to the guardrail, where she takes off her billowy skirt, and throws it into the crowd, leaving the Cosmic Cutie in her tie dye bikini briefs and matching belly tee. Next, Abby removes her floppy suede hat, and places it on the head of hunky guy in the front row. Playfully kissing the happy youngster on the lips, Abby gives him a hug before bounding over the barrier and onto the floor. The camera picks up on two things: Abby�s beautiful dimpled smile and the fact that the most accomplished valet/ape in women�s wrestling history, Muncle, is placing his stack of placards in Abby�s corner. Abby playfully skips a lap around the floor, slapping hands with each side of the front row, before scaling the turnbuckle and doing a backflip into the ring. Muncle, the more reserved of the two, of course follows her in.

They are both jolted by a distinct turn in musical taste, as Christina Aguilera's "Can't Hold Us Down" begins to pump over the arena sound system, LaKeisha Bates makes her entrance at the top of the ramp, Muncle sidling out of the ring holding his ears, drawing a few chuckles from the crowd.

Ft. Worth's Nubian Princess stands topside for a moment, legs slighted parted, hands indignantly on her hips as she disapprovingly views the crowd. She is a vision in baby blue: a mesh bikini top, matching thong bikini bottoms that exhibited the entirety of her long, shapely legs and the exquisite glutes for which she was rightly renowned, and matching boots. Waves of golden-brown hair cascade down to the small of her back, her radiant skin a similarly delicious cafe-au-lait.

As she approaches the ring, her walk is more of a sashay down a Paris runway. Climbing onto the apron, Bates slips one leg inside the ring. Then, with one leg on either side of the ropes, LaKeisha bends at the waist, and with one exquisitely slow and smooth motion, slides her torso into the ring, allowing one lucky portion of the crowd a wonderful view of the weapon she planned to later use to send the Hardcore Hippie down to defeat once more.

LaKeisha scoffs at the enthusiastic stretching and graceful tumbling Abby performs while waiting for the bell.

�Here�s my warm-up,� Bates shouts, turning her bootylicious backside to the blonde and rubbing her cheeks like Alladin if he had one more wish.

Muncle nobly climbs the post next to Abby and holds a card aloft. �Baby got back AND talk smack.�

Most of the crowd cheers the simian�s efforts, though one fresh front-rower heaves a banana in Muncle�s direction. Lowering himself to the floor, he tosses it aside, much preferring plantains.

�Hey, stoner bitch,� LaKeisha interrupts, Abby turning to her opponent from the ruckus below. �Tell your pet to keep it up. Every little one-liner gets you an extra grind, and I don�t mean a Mega Mocha Espresso.� The Nubian Princess gyrates her hips. �Or maybe I do.� �DING. DING. DING.�

Abby strides to LaKeisha, arm outstretched for a handshake.

�I�m sorry you took that the wrong way. But my friend didn�t mean anything by it.�

Bates looks at the hand with disdain and not a little bit of confusion.

�But let�s face it,� Abby says beaming as only she can. �He was right.�

Enraged, LK slaps the hand away and rakes the quintessentially cute features of the blonde, drawing a squeak and a blind stumble from the recipient and thunderous boos from most of the crowd, Muncle looking on in apparent shocked silence. Temporarily blinded, Abby can only feel her head pushed down and the sudden, abrupt sensation of leaving her feet as she tumbles over LaKeisha�s shoulder, her back slamming against the mat, courtesy of a front layout suplex by Bates.

Abby has a look more of consternation than pain. What was wrong with this girl? Iss-UES.

The darling blonde was about to find out how many, as LaKeisha snatches a handful of golden locks and pulls her to her feet. With a powerful Irish whip, the Nubian warrior sends Abby hurtling to the nearest corner, the lithe blonde�s back impacting the buckles with explosive force, so much so that she bounces out of the corner, pained grimace included, only to be met with a spear that folds her up like a suitcase.

LaKeisha�s tackle meets Abby�s unprepared midriff with such power it seems her shoulder might drive clean through the blonde�s body, Hoffman�s long blonde mane bursts into the air as her head whiplashes forward and back, her brainpan then introduced to the canvas with a shocking bolt. Bates finishes the goring with emphasis, driving Abby�s body against the mat.

LaKeisha rises to her knees and stares down at the stunned hippie chick.

�Who needs controlled substances, girlfriend? I think I just knocked you out of your body without�em.�

No response comes. Abby�s sparkling blues eyes turned slightly glassy.

Knowing that only Nebraska would be set up for a pin at this point, LaKeisha goes back to work, standing and intertwining her legs within Abby�s with speed and dexterity. She drops back to the mat, the figure-4 locked into place. Abby, instantaneously startled back to life, squeaks in pain, hands clenching her long, golden locks.

�Ask the bitch,� LaKeisha wails, her beautiful face etched with intensity as she bares down, muscular legs pulsating power. �I�ll snap it, hippie. You know I will.�

Abby shakes her head to the ref�s entreaty.

�No way, Jose,� she grunts, her eyes squinting in resistance, brow furrowed.

The strength in this girl�s legs was way astonishing, like they were powered by dual solar cells stashed somewhere in that celebrated behind. She had to escape soon or, at best, be down to one leg for the rest of the match.

Just then, FAWN�s only simian sidekick climbs to the apron and holds up a placard for the crowd �She�s alright, folks. Just a momentary setback�.

LaKeisha catches sight of the sign and adds in the remainder of her reserves, adding a twist and tug of Abby�s tormented limb.

�Is the monkey right?� La Keisha says. �Are you alright?�

In point of fact, she wasn�t very. This girl knew a figure-4 and it felt like her knee might burst like a punctured pinata, but the slight distraction had let her slide to the right a foot or two and with one more agonizing effort, she rotates a quarter turn and is able to snatch the ropes.

�Break it, LaKeisha,� the ref scolds, and she does disengage after a grueling four-second finale for Abby.

Cradling the middle cable like it�s her best friend, Abby struggles to one knee. She slowly pulls herself up, placing the tiniest bit of weight on the damaged gam. It takes some without giving way, but then a baby blue boot slams into the outside of the joint, and again, and again.

Abby howls in pain, turning the battered right knee to the ropes, making it is harder to reach. Frustrated that her bullseye has been taken from her, LaKeisha grabs Abby by the wrist and pulls her free of the ropes. Squatting, and lifting with her thighs and butt, Hoffman is easily lifted overhead, the black beauty holding her, heels over head, at 12 o�clock, for a second then dropping her like deadweight with a brainbuster, the move drawing an audible gasp from ringside.

LaKeisha hops to her feet and slaps her hands. She points down at the spreadeagled blonde in tye-dye.

�The Man may be rentin� you, but I own ya.�

A frantic yet stately snort draws Bates� attention away from her foe. She turns to the corner behind her to see that infernal monkey shuffling through his deck of cards. He pulls one from the deck and launches up to the apron, but before he can present his kernel of wisdom, LaKeisha snatches it free and rips it in half throwing it to the cement below. She takes a swing at the baboon, Muncle easily dropping to the floor in avoidance. LaKeisha points to Abby, while keeping her eye on the simian.

�Hey, monkey. That blonde�s not the only animal I can be cruel to.�

As those in the front row giggle, LaKeisha realizes she�s talking to a lower primate and returns to the pooled blonde.

She pulls Abby to unsteady feet and fires up a shortarm clothesline, but like her valet before her, Abby ducks the blow and catches a wheeling LK with a spinning thrust kick that meets her square in the chin. In testament of the Rumpshaker�s iron jaw, the flush shot staggers her back to a nearby corner, but she does not fall.

Massaging her jaw, she pushes out of the buckles, quickly back on the prowl, if a beeline can be described as such.

Bip�Bip�Bap.

Abby half-dances, half-limps in place, once again finding Bates� chin and cheek with a series of lightning jabs. The swats sting an irate LaKeisha, as does the saccharine grin and dancing baby blues on Abby�s elfin features.

�Your momma has to hit harder than that. Let me show you how my momma taught me.�

LaKeisha�s sends a couple of roundhouses in Abby�s direction, but they are easily dodged.

�Funny,� Abby chides. �I always thought home schooling worked.�

Both girls load up right hands, but it is Abby�s haymaker that connects, Bates� throw never arriving, as her body collapses to one knee. Abby then introduces her right knee to LK�s face to let her know it�s feeling much better. The Nubian beauty drops to the canvas, toppled for the first time.

Hoffman cartwheels to the corner and leaps to the top buckle, the crowd roaring its approval, even moreso when the former trapeze artist vaults heavenward coming down across the black beauty�s supple, slightly spongy midsection. LaKeisha�s body jackknifes around Abby�s body then falls limp to the canvas.

The Cosmic Cutie, sensing an opportunity, hooks a leg, but gets only a one-count from the ref, Bates emphatically pushing Abby off and away.

The blonde bounds to her feet and waits on LaKeisha, the unbeaten one rising slowly, one arm wrapped around her tummy as she gasps for breath.

With LK still bent at the waist, Abby flies into action, grasping the nape on either side, she twists Bates� head like a steering wheel as she glides by, dropping her to the mat with a vicious spinning neckbreaker. LaKeisha yelps as her body slams against the canvas, a hand reflexively reaching for her neck as her boots pitter-patter on the canvas in reaction to the pain.

Alas, there is no rest for the weary or hurting, as Abby and the crowd are feelin� it. The blonde is quickly upon her, lifting Bates to her feet and sending her for a crashing ride into the far turnbuckles, LaKeisha picking up enough steam to go flying into the lightly padded buckles. She sinks slowly to the mat, as if in quicksand, her dark eyes unfocused, mouth slightly agape, head resting on the middle buckle, arms sagging around the companion ropes.

Abby raises her hands in the opposite corner, turning to the crowd for their approval, which they happily offer. And she is off, gathering speed at a breathtaking rate, she barrels toward the fallen warrior and, at the last moment, flings her body forward, legs extended.

�One�Two�Three.�

The crowd chants in unison as Abby�s crotch, barely covered with a swatch of tie-dye, slams into LaKeisha�s bewildered face.

�Four�Five�Six�Seven.�

As Abby rides her broncobuster with delighted abandon, Lk�s bewilderment fades to shellshock, the caf�-au-lait body growing more slack with every pump.

�Eight�Nine�Ten.�

Dismounting, Abby joyously observes Keishie knocked loopy, arms drooping at her sides, legs extended in an unmoving �v�, glistening body flaccid. Overcome by the moment, the sinewy blonde moves to the center of the ring and starts gyrating to music only she can hear, that is until Muncle pulls a boombox from underneath the apron and clicks play, Sir Mix-a-Lot�s �Baby Got Back� booming to the appreciation of the first dozen rows on that side of the arena.

Every grind, every pelvic thrust and hump accentuate Abby�s tight, if comparatively abbreviated derriere, her �big butt� dance being in name only, but she�s definitely shakin� what she�s got. A certain regal, furry DJ offers support though his newest notice �You go Grrrl�. But soon after, having decided Abby might need to get back to the task still at hand, Muncle calls an end to the tunes. Abby turns to him, disappointed.

�But she�s not ready for my jelly,� Abby notes, pouting.

Convinced the baboon will not relent, she returns to a stirring LaKeisha, who happily, for everyone�s sake, has missed the gist of the show. She lifts LK to her feet and pushes her forward a few steps, Bates remaining upright, if drunkenly so.

Skipping up to the top buckle, Abby hurdles into action once again, and once again LaKeisha meets unforgiving canvas with extreme prejudice, Abby pulling off a flying bulldog with frightening precision, burying the Nubian�s stunning features into the mat like the head of a lawn dart. LaKeisha�s body shudders then lies still. Head lolled to one side, spittle dribbles from the corner of her full, ruby lips.

That was that. Abby slides into place, turning LaKeisha to her back and hooking a leg.

ONE

TWO

SHOULDER UP.

Abby and the ref share a moment of mutual disbelief, but the blonde is not slowed but for a moment.

�You got some spunk, girl. I think I could like you, if you weren�t such a hayta.�

Abby pulls LaKeisha to her feet and somehow, despite her apparent semi-conscious state, she remains upright, as Hoffman leaves her to climb the buckles once more, the ref indeed checking to see if Bates is out on her feet. Even as the high-flying hippie reaches her perch, he bids the match to continue. Abby needs no further cue. In the following split second, she launches into a missile dropkick.

In some deep, recessed portion of her cognizance, LaKeisha finds the wherewithal to combat getting clobbered from on high once again. Pulling the unsuspecting ref into Abby�s path, she deflects most of the blow to him, although even with the glancing measure she receives, LK tastes canvas once again. But as she tries to shake her head clear, the short, thirty-something zebra looks like he�s been downed on safari. The man, knocked to an edge of the mat, is out cold and no amount of comforting or prodding or pleading from Abby is stirring him from his peaceful slumber.

As Abby continues to try and waken her Scud recipient, Muncle shuffles through his cards finding the appropriate �Whoops� sign and holds it aloft to the glee of the nearby fans.

But the message is slowly being turned into one with less and less levity, as LaKeisha recovers while Abby continues to administer unsuccessful first aid. The crowd frantically tries to warn Abby, but as she finally turns her attention from the sleeping official, she rotates perfectly into a quickly-created abdominal stretch, La Keisha sinking in the taffy pull and yanking for all that she was worth, and from the muted mewls of pain emanating from Abby�s glossy lips, Bates still held plenty of capital.

�You forgot one thing,� LK whispers into the Abby�s ear. �I don�t lose�and sure as hell, I don�t lose to no blonde, bonyass bitch.�

LaKeisha pulls back farther on her stretch, forcing another yelp from the captured Cosmic Cutie, her tummy tortured, her spine curved.

�Are Abby�s abbies hurting? REF, ASK HER.�

Suddenly, LaKeisha realizes the fruitlessness of a submission hold in this situation. Even if she could get this stoner to say the words, there was no one to hear them.

�WAKE UP, YOU LOSER,� she screams.

Abby manages to push out a giggle between clenched teeth, but LaKeisha rectifies that with a violent yank.

Hearing the guttural grunt Abby offers in response is nice, but she needs another strategy, namely a knockout. It was the only way.

Bates releases her hold and deftly moves toward a sleeper configuration, but prior to getting it slapped into place, Hoffman puts the both of them in reverse. The duo stumble their way to the far ropes, LaKeisha doing her best to hold onto her advantage, but when Abby doubles over, forcing LK to do the same, they tumble through the cables, bounce off the apron, and fall to the cold cement below, a jumble of limbs and torsos, lightly tanned and burnished milky chocolate.

For a moment, there is no movement, but finally LaKeisha, who remains on top after the wild ride, shakes free of the after-effects and Abby, unrolls the blonde�s body and, taking advantage of Hoffman�s daze, sneaks a set of fingers under her tye-dye bikini briefs.

Abby coos for a moment as LK�s fingers trail softly over her sweetmeat, but when the digits are turned into talons and dig into the tender tissue, her cute countenance is etched in agony.

�Stop. STOP,� she screams, trying to pry LaKeisha�s hand out from between her legs and from beneath its multihued cover, but without success. Colorful pinpricks of light begin to blur her vision, Abby understanding that her consciousness is shutting down from the sensory overload.

In desperation, she forgoes the invading digits and grabs LaKeisha�s head with both hands pushing it toward the ringpost. One final shove gets it there, and, although it is a glancing blow, it is enough to put Bates on the defensive. Giving up her forward advance, LK consolidates by removing the crotch claw and pushing Abby away with her feet.

Both women lie next to the apron, trying to gather their third wind, neither willing to surrender the battle.

But providence smiles upon the Nubian beauty, for it is her hands that stumble across a folding chair that has been neatly squirreled away at some point in the past. Grabbing with both hands, she slides it out from underneath and uses it as a crutch to propel herself to her feet. Abby stands with the help of the apron. Bent over, she sucks in some much-needed oxygen before turning to her foe. LaKeisha, seeing this, brandishes the steel chair.

�THWAP�

The sound of metal against skull reverberates throughout the arena, but it is followed not by boos and catcalls, but cheers. Abby, being well-schooled in the extreme arts was able to dropkick the metal into LaKeisha�s mush before she had gotten the weapon fully raised. The black beauty drops to the cold, hard cement floor as if shot, a dented folding chair lying at the top of her body like a headstone. Her eyes blink wide and she gurgles as Abby hoists her to her feet. The spittle bubbles on LaKeisha�s lips tell Hoffman all she needs to know.

Abby pulls LK close, takes stock of their position, and belly-to-belly suplexes her opponent onto the guardrail, Bates� back curling around the steel gruesomely. She wails back to life, but is unable to extricate herself to either side. Looking for the hippie slut, she finally finds her atop the apron. Unfortunately, at least for all the Rumpshaker�s �Little Asses�, all she can manage is a squeaked �no� and the slightest shake of her head before Abby delivers a guillotine leg drop that makes LaKeisha the latest of Abby�s infamous �human tidily-winks�. Her body spins to the inside of the rail, head clanging off first steel then cement, LaKeisha finally ending the Strawberry Field Shutdown in a crumpled heap, face down, devastated beyond words.

Abby picks up Bates like a bag of seed for the commune and pushes her back inside the squared circle, Muncle lifting one final card high as Abby searches around the apron for one final necessary appliance.

�Pull out your fatties, everyone!�

The wild cheers of much of the crowd combine with the steady buzz of those realizing FAWN history is in the making, providing a deafening backdrop. No one had ever done it, beaten LaKeisha 1-2-3 and now it was close.

Closer still when Abby emerges from beneath the apron with a wide grin, baby blues sparkling, and behind a ladder. A 12-footer. Not Abby�s favorite, but it would have to do. And with the ref still shaking free of some serious spider silk, she slides the ladder in, follows in behind it, and sets it up in front of the dormant LK with impunity.

The crowd roars to its feet as she scales the ladder. This is what Abby Hoffman brought to FAWN. A fearlessness, some would say insanity, that no one could match. Reaching the top, her back to LaKeisha, she elevates without a single hesitation, or perhaps thought, and�

�THOOOOWUMP�

A glorious bird of prey swoops to Earth crushing the bronzed belly of her victim in spectacular fashion.

Abby rolls on the mat in her own anguish for a moment or two, but she quickly returns to LaKeisha. Bates� glistening legs spasm, but it is only a false remembrance hidden deep in her mind. There is no fight, her body no more than a delicious quivering pudding. LaKeisha has left the building.

Abby calls out to the waking ref, quite confused over the fact a ladder is in his ring, but true to his ability, he ignores the hardware and slides into place to make the count, Abby giving the fans a vicarious thrill by covering her counterpart in a sensuous full body pin.

The ref slaps canvas�

One.

Two

THREE

He signals for the bell, but Abby motions wildly for him to stop.

�I want three for each cheek. Gimme a six-count. Three for both sides of the booty.�

Momentarily unwilling, the ref slides down and counts�

Four

Five

SIX.

Again, he rises and this time the final chimes toll, the PA picking up behind them.

�Your winner of the match � ABBBBY HOFFFFMANNNN.�

Abby is doused from head to toe in perspiration, but she rolls off LaKeisha and skips to her feet as if she were as fresh as a daisy. She motions for Muncle to join her, which he does, but only after starting Sir Mix-A-Lot up again. This time the PA is ready and picks up the cue from the boombox, overwhelming it.

The baboon saunters into the ring and joins Abby in a more sultry version of the �Big Butt� dance, Abby bumping and thrusting over LaKeisha�s insensate carcass to the wild cheers of the crowd and the nearby frenzied hops of her companion.

Moving up to straddle LaKeisha�s face as she both hips and hops, Abby takes the Nubian beauty by her wrists and pulls her up into a standing headscissors, her face firmly pressed into the blonde�s crotch. She holds her there for just a moment, Bates� back arching back in a painful angle, or rather an angle that would've been painful had she been conscious.

And then Abby drops to her knees, executing Rumpshaker Lite. On the Richter scale, it couldn�t compare with LaKeisha�s, but as the blonde�s barely covered crotch and rumpus grinds into LK�s face, it remains a sight to behold. The final original member of FAWN - never having been pinned - not only takes the 1-2-3 and the 4-5-6, but now so much more.

Abby rises from her delicately contoured stool and bows to her slumbering partner. If she was going to stop, it had to be now. She was enjoying the ride a little too much. Even LaKeisha didn�t deserve that.