WrestleMom Ch. 03

Jerry was right. Alice started bucking, throwing her legs high in the air, lifting them up, having them hover around my mom's neck like two waiting pythons.

"Here it is, here it is, Cole!"

Alicia shifted herself back, latched her legs around my mom's neck and had her hooked: Time for my mom to go down headfirst into the lush Amazon rainforest. Alicia cranked the pressure up, pulled my mom's head down with her hands and locked her in tightly.

"This is it!" screamed Cole, "This one is all over! This one is all over -- ...oh my, OH MY!"

Then, there was silence, a silence so deep and profound that it washed over the entire arena. A split-second later, after the crowd processed what they'd seen, they released a huge, collective, hollowed gasp. Alicia, who just seconds ago had victory in her grasp, had wrenched her head back and slapped her hand on the mat, signifying her submission. What had happened? How did Alicia just lose the match... and her title? She had the victory right there. What happened? Her triangle looked unstoppable. What could've happened? The answer came from a brief, quick-second close-up shot which sent the male members of the crowd into an unchained gorilla frenzy: To counterattack Alicia's submission, my mom had drove her own head down deep into Alicia's sweet zone...and drilled the bushy beauty with an overpowering tongue-lashing submission. Ding-ding-ding.

"Here is your winner...and the NEW Divas Champion: Tina Torrile!"

Mom got her face out of Alicia's vag, got on her knees, smiled to the crowd and wiped her hand over her wet lips.

"Ahh!" She got her hand raised and was given her first-ever major championship.

"Oh my God! Ohhh! Ohhhhh!" I could've sworn for a short second there that Jerry Lawler's heart had stopped. "She, she, she, she...licked to win! Licked to win!"

Prouder, I couldn't have been. The imaginative booking of mine was decried as crass and disgusting by some, but to those that matter like Vince and even Triple H, the finish of the match was simply genius. This feeling of fulfilment, it could not have been sweeter. I had the respect, the rewards and the glory. Looking back, this was indeed my crowning achievement as the booker of the Divas division.

***

Okay: No more wrestling matches. I can hear some of you cheering back there, yeah you! Well, good, because I'm with you. If I mention anymore wrestling stuff it would be exactly the same as what I've already covered. If you're curious, I'll let you know that my mom stayed champ, girls chased her for the belt, I brought in some new girls, little clothing, rolling around together, you get the picture. Now, this right here is the real meat to the story: My meeting with Gina DiMaggio, the hot fitness model mom. I really wanted to meet her and learn as much as I could about her life, her parenting skills and, most importantly, her relationship with her son. Hell, this is a woman that sent lingerie pictures to her son's coach so her boy could be on the football team! A woman that lets her son have unlimited access to all her erotic pictures, that allows her son to post said pictures online! She was the real hot mom! I could not wait to meet the living embodiment of my hot mom fantasies.

During one of WWE's international tours, I was allowed the rare week off. At this point, I'd just received Gina DiMaggio's phone number, but hadn't spoken to her. With much nervous excitement, I called her...

"Hello?"

"Hi there," she had a strong New Jersey accent. "Who is this?"

"Umm, it's me, Bruno, from the WWE."

"Oh hello there!" she perked up, "I was hoping you'd call, how you been?"

"I'm good, yeah, I'm also free, I got lots of time and I was thinking maybe we'd meet?"

"Oh that's terrific," she replied "I'd love to meet-up."

I let out a big sigh. "Yes, oh yes. We'll talk about how to get you into the company, pitch you some stuff, you know how it is." I was bluffing, lying if ye will. I did it so I could have more leverage with her. It may have been unethical, but I was more than willing to stretch the truth.

"That's terrific, wow, this is all so much. I can't believe I'm going to meet a real WWE writer, wow."

"Yes, yes you will. So, how about we meet in Newark this Friday?"

"Yeah, sure, that works out great for me. Where do you wanna meet up?"

"Umm, anywhere is good, like some diner somewhere, something like that is good with me."

"Oh, you know what? That's perfect. Hold on a sec," I heard some ruffling before she came back on the phone: "Ok, go to this diner called Sam's Place, can you find that?"

"I can, yeah," I said as I typed into Google Maps. "Yep, just near the arena, right?"

"Yes, right there. Meet me there around, umm, just after eleven, can you do that?"

"Sure, I'll be there."

"Okay, thank you so much for this, bye-bye, see you soon, bye, bye!"

"Bye," I hung up and started formulating my plan. I went to my closet and looked for clothes that would make me look older, since I told her I was 27 and not 19. I already had my stubble growing and a prematurely receding hairline, so I had those going for me. To add to the look, I brought myself a black overcoat, some expensive suit pants and swanky shoes. For those two days before the date, I trained my body and mind for this incredible task at hand, counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds until it was...showtime!

***

That Friday evening, I got in my car and started my hour-and-a-half drive, hands clammy and chest tight. My line of questioning was set: I wanted to start slow, general, then take little tip-toe steps into her relationship with her son. I was deathly afraid that she'd get pissed off if I questioned her primo mothering skills, but I also knew I had the WWE writer thing on my side. Boy, I was nervous, really nervous. Damn nervous.

Around ten-thirty, I got to the diner, my legs trembling as I walked into the sparse, '50's-esque, tiled floor, stools and booths establishment. I took a seat at one of the red cushioned booths, right near the window. I texted Gina, she told me she was on her way, having just finished up at a local bikini contest. Deep breaths, deep breaths. I reminded myself that she was coming to see me, not the other way around: I was the one with the power. Still, I felt as nervous as a kid who forgot to delete his internet history.

At around eleven sharp, I was playing around with my phone, taking as small sips as possible from my coffee, trying to get my mind off the matter at hand so I'd be at least a little calmer. Then, the diner door opened, in came a 5'4, bushy-haired, freckly teen boy. I looked up, thinking it could be Gina. It wasn't, so I went back to my phone.

"Bruno!" I heard from the distance. "Bruno!"

I could've sworn I heard my fake name, though I couldn't quite believe it. So I looked up and, much to my surprise, that freckly teen was dashing towards me.

"Bruno! It's me! Is it you? Bruno from the WWE?"

"Yeah, yeah that's me?" I said in a bewildered state. "Who are you?" I thought the worst, I thought some troll had pulled a prank on me and brought me all the way there to get his own smug satisfaction from my humiliation. I was totally convinced that my luck had finally fallen. Happily, my fear proved to be unfounded.

"Oh jeez I'm sorry: I'm Ronald, we talked online, you know, about my mom."

"Umm, umm, hey!" I said with my voice cracking, "Hey, hey, what're you doing here?"

"I came with my mom, I just had to meet you, jeez, I got so many questions: What's the Undertaker really like? Is Big Show big in person? Are the main-events real? --"

"Sorry, sorry, but where's your mom?"

"Oh she's parking the car. So what's Kane like? What happened to the original Kane?"

"Undertaker's quiet, Big Show is really big, everything you see is planned, Kane's pretty smart and there has only ever been one of him," I said as fast as I could.

"Oh wow! Umm, umm, what does Rey look like under the mask? --"

The bells of the door clanged, the attention of the diner shifting to the entrance way, all gazing at the incoming spectacle of delight. She poked her head in first and then came inside, wearing a long grey trench coat, her heels clacking on the floor. The whole diner cranked their heads to look at the fine, pouty-lipped babe that strode inside the establishment. With fluffy, highlighted brown hair, eye shadow and glossy pink lips, she lit up all and everything in that drag restaurant.

"Over here, Mom, here!" said Ronald.

She grinned and galloped over to my booth.

"Hi! So glad to meet you!" she bent down and kissed me on the cheek.

"Hell, hello," I said as I felt her hot breath, saliva and cheery lip-gloss, along with the jealous stares of the other men in the diner.

"Now here I was thinking you'd be some pudgy meatball, but here you are, a handsome young man, ain't I the lucky girl?"

I blushed a scarlet virgin red. "Thank you, thank you."

The tension was incredible. I had her, her son, the envious glances of the working-men patrons, all on me. I forced my cool back and took charge of the situation.

"Okay, glad you could make it," I said slowly so my voice could stop crack-a-lacking. "Gina, please take a seat, Ronald, umm," I didn't want Ronald sitting in on the conversation, but also didn't want to discipline him. Luckily, Gina stepped in:

"Ronald, sit in the back where I can see you, okay honey?"

"Ok, Mom." Ronald took his seat over at an empty booth.

Now, just the two of us, me and hot mom Gina, staring, smiling. I tried to remember what my first question was, but kept drawing a blank. Panic, panic, panic mode.

"Umm --"

"So how was the drive?" she asked.

"Good, drive was good, left plenty of time."

"That's good, that route's a slog, isn't it?"

"Yeah...So how was the contest?"

"Urgh, second," she said with a sour look on her face, "Bitch won 'cause she was sucking the judges."

"Oh," I was stunned by her sudden display of bravado.

"Oh, sorry, I'm, I'm a little nervous."

"Oh, don't be, this meeting is formal, nothing to be nervous about, I'm already impressed with your, ahem, body of work."

She grinned. "Thank you so much. Do you want to see my portfolio? What I've done?" she opened her bag; I stopped her before she could get out her folder.

"Please, no need, I'm very familiar with your work already. What I want to do is get to know you, as a person, because, well, you got the body, the looks, but what I really think sells is the person, the personality, and that's what I really want to get to know."

"You don't say? Well, you must be the first person to ever ask about me, the person, and not, you know, this body. Well, go on, shoot, please ask anything you want."

"Hmm, okay, well," I had the questions locked and ready to go, but I wanted to fire them at a slow, deliberate pace, not shoot my load all over her. "You watch the wrestling shows? Especially Raw?"

"When I get the chance to. My son's a big fan."

"What you think of the current women's division?"

"Sorry, excuse me? I don't know what that is."

"The women wrestlers."

"Oh, them? Oh yeah, I seen some of them. There was the blonde with the boobs and the one redhead with the tattoos, right?"

"Umm, yeah, but I meant more of the recent goings-on, like with Tina Torrile and Alicia Fox --"

Gina put her hands up and gave me a wry smile: "I'll be honest with you: I never watch the wrestling, I don't even like it, I just wanna be on it, you know, 'cause it's on TV, like, everywhere in the world. I wanna be more of a ring girl or a manager, something like that, you know."

"Umm okay, yeah, yeah I see that, yeah," I felt myself sinking like an overweight mid-carder. I started losing my confident sheen. "I just wanted you to know because we have a character on television that's a mom, just like you."

"Really?" she said with mock enthusiasm. "Like, she's the mom of one of the boys or sumthin'?"

"No, not necessarily: She's this hot mom character on television, in real life she's also a mom too, she's a lot like you, if you see what I mean."

"So? So what? I'm sorry, I don't see the connection."

Panic! "Well, umm, you're a hot mom, that's interesting, that's 'cool', it's 'in'. The hot mom we have on our show is like a 'Desperate Housewives' character: a cool, hot, sexy mom. I think you could do something similar."

"Ohh, I see where you're going now, okay, okay: So you're saying they got an opening for another hot mom and you want it to be me?"

"I could be you, it could be, I just wanna ask some questions about you and your life as a hot mom. Will that be ok?"

"Sure," she shrugged, "Ask anything you want."

I was thrown off by how fast her façade had slipped away. Gina came in all Hollywood smiles and kisses, but then quickly regressed into her real hard-nosed self. While I was thinking how to carefully word my next question, she got out a pack of smokes.

"You mind?" she asked.

"No, it's fine."

She lit up and started puffing away. Sensing her real personality, I took the judgement call and dove right in because Gina seemed like a woman who would take a full-on load.

"Umm, okay, so I was talking to your son and he told me you have a very interesting approach when it comes to how you interact with him. Can you tell me more?"

She looked at me cockeyed. "What he say?"

"Umm, that you, you know, are very open about your modelling work with him."

"Yeah, I don't bullshit my boy; he knows his mother takes her clothes off for a living."

"I think that's great, honesty is good, yeah. He also said you model the bikinis and lingerie for him, like, to get his opinion."

"Yeah, he's a male; he knows what looks good on a woman."

The pressure was getting to me, I was slipping. "Ok, a-a-and you also dress like that for him as a...treat?"

Gina's eyes grew wide, her voice rising: "Excuse me: are you questioning me as a mother?"

"Oh no, no, no, no, I think what you do is great, hot even --" dammit! I'd just let her know I was into the idea of her exposing her body to her son. I thought I screwed up for sure. At that moment I felt like a true WWE employee: I'd messed up a can't-miss situation. Nevertheless, I tried to salvage what I could.

"Umm, ahh, I'm just interested because we can use that on TV, you know, we can get you on TV with this information, it's stuff our fans really go for."

She lit out her cigarette, tucked her hair behind her ear, paused, and then responded: "Look: I ain't a dumb woman, I know the effect I have on a grown boy like him, but still, why not? It's what he likes, it keeps him focused and I only do it as a treat. So if it gets him excited and keeps him happy, then I'm happy because it makes things easier for me."

Her tornado of honesty filled me back up with hope. I hadn't pulled a SummerSlam 2010, oh no, I had a shot at keeping this angle going!

"...Great! That's a great attitude to have, yeah, awesome! I-I mean good, good."

Gina shrugged. "To me, I think that if I can look good for my boy, then why the hell not? Others disagree, but I don't see the harm. He's a good kid, doesn't get into any trouble. I can take credit for that."

"Yes, yes, I agree...yeah. I really liked the story about you wearing a sexy get-up for, like, his, umm, parent-child sporting day event --"

She cut in: "Oh! When I wore that tight little sports bra and shorts? Yeah, I remember that: we'd just moved into the neighbourhood, Ronald was new to the school and no one had ever met me before, so I felt the need to impress. So, what was the best way to do that? Letting everyone get a good look at my best asset: my body. After that day, all the male teachers loved me, the dads loved me and the moms, the moms hated me, but Son had it good in school 'cause of me."

"Everyone wanting to be his friend, right?"

"Exactly, I knew that would happen. I told Ronald to only invite home his best, best friends, good kids, not those that only wanted to get to know him because of me. I tell you, when I went to his school, sometimes, the older ones would hit-on me, pfft, like they could? I don't date teens, only men, real men, with real high status," she paused and thought for a second. "Hmm, what's that wrestling company of yours worth?"

"Oh, umm, hundreds of millions, lots and lots."

Gina raised her eyebrow. "You a big earner?"

I got hot under the collar. "Ahh, ha-ha, umm, I do all right."

"How high up are you?"

"On the TV end? Pretty, pretty high up." Success! I'd successfully turned the conversation around from a cold stand-off to a happy flirtatious exchange -- and it only got better from here.

Gina lit out her cigarette and leaned closer. "Come on, I'll tell you more about the stuff I did for my son. Whoa, wait --" she raised her finger and shot me a stern look. "Anything I mentioned or did mention happened after my son turned eighteen, got that?"

I nodded.

She spoke with a big smile glued on her face: "Right: he told you about the stripping game? I'll tell you how that came about: Okay, so I go in to his room and tell him to clean it up, he says he will, so I leave. Little later I return to his room, this time I'm in my bra and jeans, and I see he still hasn't cleaned his room. I shout at him, he looks over, stares right at my tits, then, just like that, he rushes around his room, cleaning the whole place up. I knew I'd stumbled on something good, something to motivate him. So, now, he cleans not just his room, but the whole apartment, and for the rest of the day, after he's done, I'm in my bra and thong, his treat, which to me is just, whatever, that's outerwear to me, I'm not even aware of him checking out my goods. Oh, and whenever the door rings he has to remind me to cover up because I'm just so comfortable like that, you know. So, he's happy, I'm happy -- and I see you're very happy!"

"Oh, umm!" my face was red, my legs were crossed tightly, my raging hard-on tearing the seams off my pants. "Please... carry on."

"Ok, hmm...oh! That's right: the fundraiser! You know how teens are told to sell as many cookies, or whatever, as possible? That whole deal. Well, my son was in this fundraiser, he had cookies to sell, but he was lazy and didn't wanna go door-to-door, so he told the other teens to just come to his place and he'll sell them there. So, that got me thinking: why don't I be the one to answer the door? I could sell them at a higher price by using my 'charms,' if you know what I mean. So, when the first boys came over, I answered the door wearing my best pink bra and panties and got them to pay double. Guess what happened next? Floods of them came over, teens and men, all looking to buy some cookies. I changed around my clothing too: some of them got to see me in a tank top, others in tight pants, some got to see me in shorts, all sorts of stuff. My son won that fundraiser and that school was very appreciative of him and me. I did good, I did good."

I was holding iron between my legs, my face now blood red from the pressure. "Umm, good, good mothering, looking out for your son and all."

Gina noticed my not-too-subtle mood. "Getting a little turned on by these stories, eh?"

I tried my best to put on a professional front: "Oh, umm, just for research reasons."

She waved her arm, "Oh don't be embarrassed: My uncle loves hearing these stories, I think they give him wood. I don't get it myself, but I guess lots of guys think my teasing with my boy is hot, or whatever."

"Yeah, yeah some guys think that."

"Guys like you," she said with a cheeky smile, "ain't I right Mr. High Roller."

"Oh, well, umm, well, you wouldn't be wrong."

"About being turned on or that you're a high-rolling guy?" she said with a grin.

Like a 13-year-old emo kid, I was pretending to be cool. "Umm, let's just say both."