RAZ-NEVA TOURNAMENT

July/August 2000, in Romania 

On the trip back to Bucharest from Monaco, Jada felt somewhat of a shift in the chemistry with Ayano. He had always been chivalrous and attentive, but now there was a sort of guardianship to his demeanor around her. It seemed like he now had to be in physical contact with her in public, in case someone thought she might be single. Jada didn’t know if it was just that they now had a secret between them or if he was being a little possessive of her. 

When they got back to Ayano’s place in Bucharest that evening, Jada decided to ask him a few questions as they unpacked in the bedroom.

“So, what did you tell Nikos about Saturday night?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. They traveled with Nikos this time, so she wasn’t able to ask him on the flight and it was driving her crazy.   

“Well, I thanked him for the coke…” he said obtusely, knowing exactly what she was getting at. “I didn’t mention anything to him, iubi. I’ve known him for a few years and generally if I don’t bring something up, he won’t push it.”

“Really? Are you telling me the truth, or is there a bro-code?” she asked, sort of teasing but not entirely. She put her purple dress on a hanger in the closet, wondering how good the dry cleaning was in Romania.

“A bro-code?” he called over his shoulder, putting away his toothbrush in the bathroom.

“Bro is like brothers, like men will say things only among each other and the code is to never mention the conversation around women,” Jada explained. She noticed his English was nearly perfect, but sometimes he showed his age by not knowing some of the slang she used.

“Oh, we call that the man-conspiracy here. Of course we hide all kinds of things from our girlfriends. Murders, jewel heists, sexual details… I’d tell you more about it, but that would kind of defeat the purpose,” he said with a big smile as he walked back into the bedroom.

“Very funny. Okay, so Nikos probably knows. He saw us walking out of their room,” she said unhappily as she shoved her empty suitcase under the bed. Ayano walked up behind her and grabbed her ass as she was bending over. 

“What? What does he know? Most men couldn’t imagine a night like that in their wildest dreams. The guys will think whatever they want to think, like I was watching a sexy pillow fight or something,” he joked, hugging his arms around her waist as she stood up. Jada turned around and pointed her index finger directly on the middle of his chest.

“If you ever want a night anything like that again, you’ll keep your mouth shut,” she said as he looked at her innocently. “I know men talk, but please, I don’t want to get those ‘yeah, I heard about you…’ creepy kind of looks.”

“Believe me, you’ll never get a look like that. If you do, I’ll break some bones,” he told her. “Speaking of which, I have a Răz-nevă fight Thursday night. Do you want to come?” he asked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together in excitement.

“Yes, I do. Who are you fighting?” she asked him. She pictured him the way he was when she first met him: bare-chested with sweat running down his hard body.

“Eh, this guy Cosmin Draghici. He was a class below me until a few months ago. He barely qualifies,” he said dismissively.

“Does it get bloody?” she asked.

“For him, it might. Honestly, iubi, I only lose a fight if I get paid a lot for it. And help others make some money. Sorry, you are with a man who throws boxing matches,” he consoled her, not looking the least bit sorry.

“Then what’s the scene like? Lots of criminal-types?” Jada wondered if and when she would find out if she was the only criminal in this relationship.

“Well, they serve wine there. That’s good, right?” he said, obviously trying to find something nice to say about the venue.

“Ah. So, you’re saying it’s not fancy,” she gathered. She was picturing what a Las Vegas boxing match looked like from TV and movies she had seen.

“No, no, it’s okay. It has tablecloths on the tables, everyone wears shirts. Nice shirts. What I’m trying to say is that there are only two types of women there: those who come with their boyfriends or husbands and the ones who go to look for a boyfriend or husband.” Ayano explained, getting undressed for bed. Jada loved looking at his stomach as he pulled off his shirt, his abs and the curve of his spine making him look especially graceful. Like a marble statue of a discus thrower. 

“I see. Like that photo of the woman kissing your bicep,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Am I supposed to do that at the fight?” she teased.

“No, no, no.” He grinned. “Those women want to be trophies. You… are different. You are educated, talented, and you have your own biceps.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, my friend…” she smiled back as he touched her small but strong biceps adoringly and gave her a look that made her feel like she had definitely made the right choice in coming to Romania for him.

TOURNAMENT ARENA

The night of the fight, Ayano told her a little bit more about Răz-nevă tournaments. He had to arrive early so, when the fight was due to start in three hours, he started rushing her to get ready. He was fairly prompt and he hated that she didn’t pay attention to the time, like many Brazilians. While he hadn’t given her explicit instructions on what to wear, she noticed him glancing over at her a lot as she was getting dressed. She took that to mean that she shouldn’t go out of her way to look sexy. She put on a cropped blue tank top and a long skirt with a tribal design of a dragon on it.

“Is this okay?” she asked, putting on a choker necklace. “Too casual?”

“No, iubita, it’s fine. You look great. You don’t even have to wear heels if you don’t want, it’s just drinks with a bunch of sweaty guys,” he said, throwing a few things in a duffel bag. 

“I was born in heels,” she retorted.

“And I definitely recommend getting very drunk. It’s going to be loud and full of adrenaline in there. Stay with Sergei and Nikos and Dumitru. When you go to the bathroom, bring one of the girls with you. Who did you already meet, was it Antonija?”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” she said absently, opening her mouth slightly while applying her black eyeliner. She was leaning over the bureau to see in the mirror.

“Sergei invited a Moldovan woman he’s after. I forget her name. I’m sure she’s bringing some other interested parties,” he speculated. He looked at the clock on his bureau. “C’monc’monc’mon!” he said, slapping her ass a few times. 

Jada turned around and made an unconvincing “how dare you” expression at him.  

“You are acting like it’s Christmas Eve. It’s so cute!” she laughed, turning back to the mirror to finish her makeup. Ayano grabbed her around her bare waist and kissed her neck.

“I wish I could fool around with you before the fight, but it’s bad luck,” he told her. She rolled her eyes at him. 

“You think everything’s bad luck,” she said. Other things he had said were bad luck included dropping a pair of scissors, an even number of flowers in a bouquet, and sitting in the corner of a table. He lifted her up and returned her to the ground.

“Not everything’s bad luck. This, this is probably good luck,” he said, squeezing her breasts as they both looked ahead at the mirror. She grabbed his wrists and pulled them away.

“I’d be ready by now if you’d stop being so grabby!” she said teasingly. She wriggled away and grabbed a wedge sandal while looking for the other. In a few minutes, she was ready to go.       

The big guy, Iosif, drove the five of them to the venue in a black 1970 Mercedes-Benz limo. The traffic was terrible as usual in Bucharest. They would all be meeting up with several of Ayano’s friends and supporters later on. Ayano was practically bouncing with energy for the entire ride. The guys were regaling Jada with tales of his past victories and passing around a flask, which Ayano had to decline because of tournament standards. 

The sun setting had lowered the temperature some, but it was still sweltering August weather. The tournament was at a large arena near the center of downtown. Iosif dropped them off and went around back to park. The five of them entered noisily through the back, the guard nodding to Ayano as they passed. It was barely any cooler indoors. Air conditioning was not as prevalent in Europe as in the US, to which Jada had become accustomed. They walked down a large hallway until they reached the locker room. Ayano quickly swooped down to give Jada a kiss.

“<I swear, guys, if you let anyone so much as spill a drink on her...>” he said in Romanian, pointing to all of them and looking lightly stern.

“<Don’t worry about a thing! She wasn't bad in the sparring in Marseille. Keep your head in the fight!>” Sergei told him.

“<We won’t let her out of our sight. Promise,>” Dumitru assured him. 

Jada assumed they were talking about bets and didn’t expect them to include her in every discussion, but it was getting annoying when they’d speak Romanian in front of her when they didn’t have to. She was not going to be excluded. 

Ayano looked like he was going to burst out in excitement. He gave her another kiss and looked like he swallowed a thought just in time before it came out his mouth. 

“Have fun,” he told her instead. “Everyone bet large, I mean it!” he yelled over his shoulder, heading back to the locker room. He walked off, a nondescript silhouette in a black Puma tracksuit carrying a duffel bag.

On the way to their seats, Dumitru handed Jada the flask. Like a good Romanian boy, he was drinking some of that strong spirit made from plums. 

“He has to win three out of five rounds. Rounds are three minutes long,” he started telling her, his cigarette hanging off his lip. 

“Who is the guy he’s fighting?” she asked, taking a gulp from the flask and trying not to let anyone see her eyes water from its burn. It didn't taste like nail polish remover like the one Nikos made, at least. 

“Draghici? He was just a boxer until he got into Răz-nevă a few years ago. Ayano’s been doing this a lot longer,” Dumitru reassured her. 

“You will think Draghici is moving underwater compared to him,” Sergei said poetically.

“Hey, we gotta find Varujan soon,” Nikos said. “He’s the bookie, to place the bets,” he explained to Jada. They made brief eye contact, but Jada was still worried about him seeing them outside the hotel room in Monaco and looked away quickly. 

“How much are you guys betting?” she asked them. They walked into the brightly lit main arena and took a table by one of the ring’s corners. Only a few other tables had people at them already, presumably other friends of the fighters. There were around sixty or seventy tables in the room, she estimated, all covered in dark red tablecloths. The tables that were occupied were already littered with glasses, bottles, and ashtrays. As she checked out the crowd, she determined it was largely made up of white guys with dark hair who didn’t trust outsiders. 

“Eh, I’m gonna do five hundred thousand lei. That’s what people make in about a month here,” Dumitru said. Jada estimated that was about seventy bucks in the US, which was about what the average Brazilian made in a month, too.

“I’ll do the same, then,” she said. She wanted to show she had faith in Ayano but she also didn’t want to flash too much cash around. 

“Okay, let’s get some drinks and then we’ll go find him,” Nikos decided, craning his neck to find a waitress. He waved a petite one with black hair and blue eyes over to the table.   

“<We’re going to get a bottle of whiskey and a pitcher of beer.> Jada, what do you want? Wine? Brandy?” Dumitru asked. 

“White wine, please,” Jada said. There were several local brandies and liquors to try in Romania. Most were very, very strong. She’d stick to wine.

“<She’ll have a bottle of the best white wine you’ve got,>” he told the waitress.

“<You got it. Thank you. I’ll be right back,>” she said, smiling warmly. 

“Can I have a cigarette from one of you guys?” Jada asked the table. It was hard to handle all the cigarette smoke unless she was smoking one herself. "When in Rome," she thought. Having the taste of smoke in her mouth made all the second hand smoke less noticeable, even though she was still immersed in it. Nikos was sitting on her right. He got out a pack of a brand she had never heard of from his sleeve. When he wasn’t wearing a suit, he always carried his pack rolled up his sleeve like the greasers did in the 1950s. He presented the cigarettes to her and Jada took one.

“Ah, there’s Varujan. He’s at the long table in the back,” Nikos pointed out a fat old man in a tan lightweight suit smoking a cigar. His belly was quaking with laughter as he squeezed some poor waitress’ ass.

“I’m not going over there. Here,” Jada said, taking the lei out of her purse and handing the wad of cash over to Dumitru. She put the cigarette in her mouth and Nikos promptly lit it for her. 

“He wouldn’t be like that to you. No one here would,” Nikos explained, as if stating a fact that everyone knew.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, you’re with us. Everyone knows we work for Ayano,” Nikos replied as he and Sergei gave money to Dumitru as well. Dumitru went across the room in his light jog to Varujan’s table. Jada very much doubted that a simple metallurgist warranted this much respect.

“Hey, is Tanea coming tonight?” Nikos asked Sergei.

“Yeah. I have a fight here next week. You guys should make a point to mention it, she might want to come…” Sergei said hopefully to everyone, even Jada. Sergei was dressed distinctly in 70s clothing, preferring collared button-down shirts in a dull color palette. Today’s was black and he looked strange without a leather jacket. They all usually wore them. 

Dumitru returned to the table at the same time that the waitress was bringing their drinks. He said that the bets were looking about fifty-fifty for Ayano and Draghici. Jada wondered if this should worry her at all. The guy couldn't have been that bad if the betting was evenly split. 

The arena was starting to fill up. Iosif had rejoined the group, scoping out each table on his way over. Shortly after, Antonija arrived with three other women. All of them were wearing short, strapless dresses and high heels. The men at the table rose to greet them.

“<Hi, sweetie!>” Antonija greeted Dumitru first with a kiss. “Hi Jada! Nice to see all of you! This is Tanea, Loredana, and Mara.” The women greeted everyone, took their seats, and ordered some more drinks. Most of the conversations at the table were in Romanian by now. It was getting louder and hotter inside.

“When does Ayano go on?” Jada asked Sergei.

“He will be in the middle. He’s a welterweight, they call it, but he’s just a kilogram below the maximum weight. That way, he’ll be stronger than most welterweights but faster than the heavyweights. The featherweights and middleweights go first, then the welterweights, then the heavyweights. Iosif is a heavyweight. He fights next week, too,” he told her, knocking back a small glass of caraway vodka. He answered a few more questions, but then couldn’t appear gracious anymore and joined the Romanian conversation. 

ROUND ONE

When the tournament started, there were actual women in bikinis holding signs. Only about a fourth of the crowd was female. Nikos kissed the small gold cross around his neck and Dumitru made the sign of the cross for good luck. Jada was relieved that the fights were starting because she wasn’t engaged enough with the table’s conversation to ignore the heat. 

The smaller, faster fighters went on first. They all got grand entrances, with spotlights and booming announcements over the loudspeakers. There was a path that led from the locker rooms through the crowd of tables to the ring. Advertisements for all kinds of Romanian businesses were on the ring’s floor, on the fighter’s robes, and on most of the signs in the room. The fighters were all pretty impressive, Jada noted. She speculated that she would have a chance at beating only half of the guys who went on if she had to fight them without any weapons. It reminded her how much more training she needed.

Jada was mainly observing the people at the table. Tanea, the Moldovan, chatted with Sergei in Russian. There must be some history lesson there, but she did not want to bring up anything political. Tanea’s thin arms and brusque mannerisms reminded Jada of a sexier version of that dalmation movie villainess. 

The women announced a group trip to the restroom and off they went. Jada chatted with all of them through Antonija’s translation. It was mostly pleasantries about each other’s appearances and praise for Ayano’s fighting ability. She did, however, mention Sergei’s fight next week and what a smart, talented guy he was later on. Sergei was out of earshot but she had a feeling it would get back to him. It never hurts to get on someone’s good side, she thought. Tanea looked very interested, but only in her subdued version of enthusiasm. Jada was pleased to see Tanea chat Sergei up some more during the next couple rounds of fighting.

Then, Sergei got up after the featherweights finished their rounds. He went to one of the corners of the ring and got some water, tape, and an extra mouthguard ready. After a long-winded description in Romanian, the announcer’s voice rose and fell like a roller coaster as he introduced “Ayano Ilanescu!” to the crowd. A spotlight shone on the archway to the locker rooms and there he was, in a black robe and black shorts. No advertisements. His applause was the biggest yet. Jada could no longer sit back in her chair. He winked at her as he walked by.

“Cosmin Draghici!” the announcer boomed after his description, the crowd responding almost as enthusiastically. She paid no attention to anyone else, her eyes were glued to Ayano, who was consulting Sergei on a few things in the corner. It looked like he had removed his nipple piercings for the fight. Both opponents stepped forward to the center, barefoot, with not-so-heavily padded fingerless gloves. Not that she was nervous. She had seen plenty of violence in her life, but this was the first time she would watch someone she cared about in the ring.

“Why is he using a left-handed stance?” she asked Dumitru, knowing Ayano was right-handed. Dumitru grinned and looked straight forward. She hadn't noticed he was wearing a diamond stud earring in his left ear. That, and the toothpick he had in his mouth for some reason, made him look extra smug.

“You’ll see,” was all he’d tell her. 

The referee began the match. Before she knew it, Ayano had landed five jabs to Draghici’s body and a powerful hook to his head. The impact was so forceful and unexpected that she jumped a little in her seat. Nikos and Dumitru saw and smiled at each other. There was nothing Jada could say to prove she wasn’t delicate.

Ayano’s footwork was unusual. He was leading with his dominant leg, his right, and pivoting in a triangle pattern. She couldn’t figure out how he was landing so many hits on this guy. It did look like Draghici was moving underwater. The match was being recorded by a few guys with large video cameras, the old kind that had to be rolled around on stands. Jada decided she would have to watch the tape of this match and slow it down to understand.

Ayano’s long torso and his posture reminded her of a spitting cobra- moving as if suspended by some invisible string and darting forward smoothly and without warning. Draghici was forced to block his face a lot. Once he had his arms up, it was hard for him to get back on the offensive. Ayano just kept going at him.

“See that? That’s called a matador feint,” Dumitru said loudly over the cheering crowd. Ayano would have one hand in front of the guy and almost step behind him for a moment, like a matador waving a cape in front of a bull. Jada had never seen him perform like this, but she supposed he had to slow down when he was teaching. 

The first round was over and Ayano was clearly the victor. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat. He took out his mouthguard and Sergei handed him some water, which he took in and then spit out so it wouldn’t weigh him down. Sergei was giving him some advice or encouragement. They both looked relaxed but serious.   

The next round, Draghici tried using more kicks, as his attempts to land a punch had not been going very well. Ayano dodged many of them, but Draghici got in a few hits. The crowd oooohed. After a hard miss by Draghici, Ayano got Draghici’s arms up again and delivered jab after jab. The whole room was screaming and throbbing with adrenaline. It was too fast to see, but one of the hits had blood running down Draghici’s face. The crowd roared. They paused and a medic came over to look at it. It was his nose. They cleaned it up and resumed the fight.

Ayano had a taste for blood now. He landed some powerful hits on Draghici’s torso. While he did get in a few good kicks and two or three punches made contact, Draghici lost round two as well. The man’s humiliation was showing on his scowling face. In his corner, Ayano was smirking but still focused. Sergei handed him a towel as sweat was beading heavily on his face.

Most spectators were on their feet. The volume of the arena was almost intolerable. The table had bought a bottle of some strong spirit and toasted to the next round. The third round began and Jada was enthralled watching her boyfriend’s artful movements. Each step was quick and light, his foot not staying in one place for even a second. His strength was carefully rationed- he mainly used jabs unless he had determined it was worth the energy to throw out a hook or an uppercut. 

After another series of fast, heavy punches, Draghici’s mouth sprayed blood. Draghici was pissed and it made him sloppy. The ref broke them up and, after a few minutes, they resumed fighting. Ayano continued jabbing and followed through with a short, measured uppercut, all of the muscles in his shoulder blades and back rippling beneath his sweaty skin. Draghici had blood pouring out of a wound above his left eyebrow. The medics examined him again, but they determined the injury was not going to stop bleeding. Ayano had won the third and final round.

Jada’s table and many others erupted into applause. The announcer’s voice declared the win and loud, cheesy music blasted out of the speakers. Jada smiled to herself, almost feeling guilty for enjoying such a violent, macho sporting event. She watched Ayano soak in all the applause, looking very proud and exhausted. There was something very appealing about seeing him this way, muscles bulging and another man’s blood splattered on his gloves and forearms. Nothing bad could possibly happen to her with this man at her side, she thought. Since she had grown up mostly without a father and no big brothers, she felt like she had to defend herself all the time. It was comforting to know when someone had her back. Ayano had been placed firmly atop a pedestal in her mind. 

The image of Ayano victorious stayed with Jada through the last four fights. She jumped into the conversation- when it was in English- but only to be polite. Getting her hands on Ayano and touching his hot flesh, feeling his wildly beating heart was all she could think about. It was an unexpected and all-consuming craving.

When it all ended, they stayed at the table to wait for Ayano while the crowd cleared out. Varujan came over and distributed the winnings and, as Nikos had said, he made no vulgarities toward Jada but made no such accommodation for the other women at the table. She had no idea what the man had said to them, but she recognized the lecherous tone he used and the false smiles in return.

Ayano came out of the locker room and bounded over to the table. Everyone congratulated him and showed off their wads of cash. Varujan pulled Ayano to the side and said a few things quietly into his ear. Although Varujan was older and in a more obvious position of authority, Jada thought he was deferring to Ayano. And, if Ayano reported to him, Varujan would have had no problem being gross toward her.

“<Hate to break it to you, but Rasvan still hasn’t paid for the last three fights. And there was that business in Zagreb. Turns out it was true. They will be here by tomorrow,>” Varujan said to Ayano.

“<What a pity. I liked him. Is he still here?>” Ayano asked.

“<Close by. I said I would speak with you and he seemed to think that your friendship would cover these large problems. I’d check that pub right in town here, next to the bakery,>” Varujan continued.

“<Sergei, Dumitru, come with me for a minute. Iosif, Nikos, please make arrangements for the girls. If they want to go home, get ‘em there but I wanted to hit up Tomescu’s for a drink or two. We’ll meet you there in twenty minutes,>” Ayano spoke to the group in Romanian quickly. Jada had no chance of catching anything. “Jada, we have to go talk to someone. Can you meet me at the club in twenty minutes?” he asked her. 

“Sure. Everything okay?” she asked, knowing she’d receive no information.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. See you soon, iubi. <Let’s go,>” he said to Sergei and Dumitru. He nodded to Nikos and Iosif and they split up.

Jada got in one of the two cars headed to the club, Tomescu’s. The women came along, too. It was a short drive away, in a better neighborhood than the arena. There was a dance floor and a few costumed women dancing on stage. 

“This isn’t a strip club, is it?” she asked Nikos, over the house music.

“No, lots of clubs have dancers. They keep their clothes on,” Nikos replied. Jada noticed a lot of vinyl clothing and fake tits. She decided not to comment. 

Iosif appeared to have secured a table in a roped-off area. An equally huge guy waved them all by to the table on a raised platform.

“Get whatever you want,” Nikos told Jada as a waitress approached. She ordered champagne, the best they had, to show off. Ayano could afford it. Iosif had been sticking to beer since he was the designated driver and outright sobriety was evidently not an acceptable option. He chatted with Loredana, who he seemed to know pretty well. Jada saw people in the crowd pointing out their table to others, too drunk to be doing it with any subtlety.   

Ayano, Sergei, and Dumitru rejoined them before Jada had even poured a second glass of champagne. She poured one for Ayano as he sat down beside her. He had obviously showered, but his body heat was still unreal. Jada kissed him and he reciprocated attentively as everyone shouted and laughed and drank. 

“How’d you like the fight, iubi?” he asked coyly, lighting a cigarette.

“How do you think I liked it?” she deflected, smiling furtively. 

She was hesitant to reveal how exhilarated she felt. She wasn’t one of these chicks who kissed biceps and drooled over her testosterone-filled man. Yet, at the same time, she found herself touching his back beneath his T-shirt, running her fingers down his arm, and being in constant contact with his bare flesh. This was not lost on Ayano at all. He was eating it up. He also made sure to ask her if anyone had bothered her, and of course, no one had. 

The club was fun enough, but Jada wanted him all to herself. She kept thinking about his body weight pressing on top of her once they got home. Of course, they both would have gotten ribbed by everyone if they disappeared too soon. The two of them stayed for an hour, Ayano downing several shots to catch up to the group, until Jada looked at him with eyes that called out, “Please? Let’s go,” as she raked her fingernails gently down his back. If she had one more drop of alcohol, she would be too drunk to do all the things she wanted to do to him.

Ayano announced in Romanian that they were leaving, which led to many cries of protest. Jada wished they could have just disappeared, but it would have been rude. Ayano waved off their complaints.

“Băi, ești sub papuc rău! Cine ar fi crezut că păsărica te va coborî în seara asta?! Că e sub papuc!” Sergei shouted at him for all to hear, followed by a roar of laughter. Jada recognized the word for “slipper” or "shoe" from her shopping trip with Antonija and “sub” most likely meant under, like in submarine. Under the slipper. Got it, she thought. Ha, ha. They were saying he’s whipped. There were worse things they could be saying, she thought, as they walked off.

LET’S GO HOME

Iosif got up to drive them home. The Benz limo had a divider for sound privacy, but the interior was completely visible to anyone. Jada held the back of Ayano’s neck firmly and kissed him adoringly, her attraction to him becoming immeasurable.

“You were amazing up there. I’ve never seen you move like that,” she purred into his ear.

“You’ve seen lots of my moves,” he said, sounding close to modest.

“I like all of them,” she said, groping his chest. “I want to fight like that.”

“You will. You’re very good,” he replied, gripping her bicep.

“I keep training, but I’m fucking my teacher so it’s hard to stay focused,” she said, kissing his neck.

“Fucking is very important, too. You’re doing some very advanced fucking these days,” he teased her, kissing her passionately the rest of the way back to his house. 

Jada wanted to be wild for him, she wanted to make him feel as spectacular as she thought he was. She remembered how flattering it was when he got into the shower with his clothes still on to fuck her, like he just couldn’t wait, so she thought it would be a good idea to jump him the moment they shut the front door.

When the car stopped in front of his house, they collected themselves and got out. Ayano thanked Iosif, they joked about something, and then Ayano appeared to be insisting that he take a big tip before he left. Iosif switched to his own car and headed off. Then, Ayano went up the stairs quickly to unlock the door. As he was putting down his duffel bag inside, Jada closed the door behind them and looked at him fiercely. She watched it dawn on him that he was about to get jumped and he loved it.

She grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it off of him. He grabbed her top, too, and pulled it off. Off came her skirt and his pants. He was kissing her as he undid her bra when she told him “Fuck me right here on the floor. Now.” Her body pressed against his as she grabbed his cock, feeling him get hard.

She got down on the carpet, on top of her discarded skirt. Maybe it would prevent rug burn. He pressed his body down on top of her.

“I wanted you on top of me all night!” she breathed heavily, their bodies tangling with each other.

“Yeah?” he asked. He tore off her panties, which made her flinch. She felt so erotically vulnerable to this hulking monster about to have his way with her. He plied her thighs open and fucked her pussy with his finger as she moaned. "Fuck, you are ready to go!!"

“You were a fucking beast up there!” she panted. He growled and bit one of her nipples. “Ah! Fuck me, Ayano!” 

He quickly got his boxers off and roughly penetrated her, lying on top of her and staring at her intensely. She felt insatiable, like he couldn’t fuck her hard enough. Her hands grabbed his ass and pulled him closer, harder, and deeper as she screamed variations of “yes!” and “fuck!”

“You like that?” he panted. “Get on top of me,” he ordered. They moved expertly to reposition. She straddled him dominantly. There he was, this bloodthirsty fighter, and she was on top of him, the only one who could tame him. 

“Damn! Ah! I'm taking you… to so many… fights if they get you like this!” he said, still panting while letting his thumb find her clit and rubbing it madly. Jada laid her palms flat on his torso so she could bounce on him with more leverage. She loved looking at his broad pecs and all the muscles in his arms rippling as he pulled her hips. She was so hopelessly aroused by this man. Then, she felt her thighs getting wet. 

"Baby, did you cum already?" she asked, slowing down slightly. 

"No, iubi. That's all you. Your tight little cunt is soaking wet," he said with a wolfish smile. A pink flush spread across Jada's face. He started bouncing her again, this time slapping her ass. 

"Oh!" Jada squeaked. She continued to rock back and forth and then leaned forward to expose more of her ass. Her erect nipples dragged up and down his chest.

"Oh, yeah?" he groaned. "You want some more?"

"Slap my ass so hard… please…" she asked him. Her lips pouted at him while she gyrated her hips to jiggle her ass. Ayano growled at her and started to slap her ass as he thrusted upward. 

"Can we film this sometime? I need to see your ass--" he started to say. Jada put a hand on his mouth and glared at him playfully. Her knees dragged on the carpet as she rode him harder and harder. Jada’s body jolted her with a vicious orgasm. She cried out, her mind temporarily erased as she climaxed. He came inside her with an equally potent orgasm. Jada collapsed on top of him, so grateful to finally have him again. 

“The yin to my fucking yang, Jada. Damn, that was good. I want you at all my fights.” he said to her, their hearts drumming together as if frantically knocking to enter one another’s habitats. 

“Ow, I have rug burn on my knees,” she whined. “And by the way, it’s exhausting to watch you all night and think about fucking you,” she complained jokingly, completely aware of how the fight was much more taxing. She got up and started gathering her clothes.

“You’re funny, iubi,” he said, grabbing his clothes too.

“I know. My poor baby was in the ring! For real, though, are you okay? Did you get hurt?” she asked, heading up the stairs.

“Not really, just tired. I know you would probably like some more, but I’m seriously going to sleep right now. I’m taking a piss and passing the fuck out,” he said, following her. To turn down more sex, she thought, he must truly be exhausted.

Jada got ready for bed and he was asleep by the time she joined him. She rested her head on his shoulder and put her arm across his torso. It was the most peaceful sleep she’d had in a long time.