Fetish Wrestling

Everyone has worked with someone they hated. I’ve never had a job where there wasn’t someone who made my life miserable, or whose very presence pissed me off. Usually you just have to put up with them, but every once in a great while, you can get even…

“Dave” was a dick. Stoop-shouldered, balding, in his 50’s, Dave was a patronizing and irritating bastard. He’d been at IBM his whole career, had been making good money, and hated contractors. He thought they were bad for the company, that the only people worth a shit were regular employees, and he made it his personal priority to fuck with all of us. Nothing overt, but constant subtle pressure was put on everyone whose badge said “Contractor” on it. I think he developed this attitude from working with the guys from India, probably because they were so soft-spoken and accommodating, but maybe he was just a racist. I dunno, but whatever the reason, he took every opportunity to send us on little errands, wouldn’t get back to us if we needed something, criticized anything we did and generally made our lives hell in a way that couldn’t be directly protested.

I was pretty good friends with the guy sharing the room with him, who was another full-time employee and one day “Robert” called me up. An said. “We’re going for coffee.”

“Um, ok, let me just finish up a few things.”

“You don’t understand. We need coffee NOW!”

Right. I headed over to his office and he met me about halfway there. His eyes were shining with glee but he wouldn’t tell me what was going on until we had our coffee in the cafeteria. Once we finally had a table, he said, “Ok. Dave’s a fetish wrestler!”

“Huh?”

“He’s a fetish wrestler!”

“Dude, I’ve got nothing. WTF is a fetish wrestler?”

It turned out that there were men who pay women to wrestle them into submission. Some of them did it as a sort of hobby and others were extremely serious about it. Dave was one of the latter. Several times a year, he’d tell his wife he was meeting up with old Army buddies but went to Fetish Wrestling conventions instead. They were highly organized, had rings set up for use, referees to score the matches and everything. I never quite understood the need for refs, but hey, it’s not my fetish. There were web pages devoted to the women who were available to wrestle and Dave’s favorite was a woman named “Red Robin.” She was a little tiny woman who was an absolute beast and he paid her thousands of dollars every time he’d go to one of these conventions for her to wrestle him for about 20 minutes per match. We went back to my office and pulled-up Red Robin’s website.

“Why does he pay this woman to wrestle him? She’s ugly as hell. Do they fuck after?”

“He says no.”

“Let me get this straight… Dave lies to his wife, flies out to California to have an ugly woman named Red Robin wrestle him into submission, pays her $400 per match, and DOESN’T fuck her?”

“Yep.”

“Bullshit.”

I went on to the main wrestling site and started reading Dave’s posts. And there were a ton of them. He talked in great detail and depth about the “sport”, had invented his own move, called the “Twisted Ostrich,” and told stories about amazing matches he’d won and lost. Look, I’m all about people’s private lives remaining private, and I probably wouldn’t have done anything if he hadn’t so consistently been a fuck to me. But he had, so game on! I registered a fake account under the name Sue_Plex on the wrestling website and started corresponding with him.

I started by asking him some technical questions about the Twisted Ostrich, but it wasn’t long until he started asking me personal questions. As time went by, I fleshed out the character so within about a month he had become quite good friends with Miss Plex. I told him I was a late-20s single lawyer living in D.C. My marriage had ended because my husband just didn’t understand my interest in such a harmless sport. It was so nice to talk to someone like him who really understood me.

It was unbelievably satisfying. Every time he’d send me on some stupid errand, I’d think of how he was confessing his private life to the character I’d created. Oh, and he lied his ass off. He dropped a good ten years and his wife somehow. Finally, he asked for a picture. Well, I’d already downloaded a whole set of a girl who looked about that age, and the photos didn’t look professional. I started with a simple one and he gushed about how hot I was. Over the next few weeks, I sent him more and more photos, each more revealing than the last, until the girl was fully nude, but didn’t look posed.

He started trying to be really sexy, and started talking about how the best way to end a good wrestling match was with sex. Hold the phones! He’d told Robert that there wasn’t any sex at the matches! I probed a bit and he finally admitted he had sex with the girls he wrestled.

I fucking knew it!

They were hookers working a special kind of crowd. It made more sense he was spending 400 bucks per match. I amped up the sexy talk too, including wrestling into it. It was gold.

He was hooked. His work slowed down, he became obsessed with Sue_Plex and quite frankly, my work suffered as well having to answer all his notes. Fortunately, he didn’t notice because he was too busy sending off love letters. Now it was driving me nuts, because here was this creepy 50’ish guy who was still giving me a daily ration of shit but was secretly having an online affair with a character I’d created. Robert and I had a ton of fun fucking with the poor guy, but one day, he called me up again – “Coffee. Now.” At the cafeteria he told me that Dave had another “Army reunion” coming up and we should see if we could get him to come to D.C. to meet “Sue” instead. Hmmmm. Genius! I sent Dave an email and said we should get together some time. Boom. In a flash, he responded that he had been thinking the same thing and had some time off in a few weeks. Would I be interested in him coming to visit?

Yes. Yes I would.

As Sue, I arranged to meet him in D.C. at local hotel. As the day approached, Dave became more and more excited and fucked with us less and less. He still tried, but the conviction and heat wasn’t there anymore. Robert and I were going nuts, having to act like nothing was going on while Dave prattled on about how happy he was to hook up with his old Army buddies, what a fun trip it would be, how he was hoping he didn’t get pinned down by the snow, etc. I guess he thought he was being clever, but since we already knew the entire story, it just came across as pathetic.

He left early on a Friday to catch his flight, smiling like a champ.

Tuesday morning, he showed up looking like his best friend had died. We asked what was wrong and he tried to play it off like he was just tired from his long weekend, but as soon as he could, he sent Sue a message asking what the hell had happened and why hadn’t she showed up? We waited to respond until after lunch. He was a basketcase. Finally we fired back a furious message that we’d called his house on Friday just to leave him a message and some WOMAN ANSWERED! We said we’d pretended to give her a survey and we knew about his wife and 4 kids. So he’d been lying to us all along. Basically, we went batshit crazy on him. We told him if he ever tried to contact us again, we’d tell his wife everything. We waited for him to get the email, watched him surreptitiously read it and then we watched him have a meltdown.

He started sweating like crazy, called his wife to check on her, and finally left early. He was never the same after that. He pretty much stopped messing with contractors and kept to himself. We never sent him any more emails and he never sent any to Sue. My contract ended not too long after that and that was the last I heard of him.

It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

(This story was submitted from a guy who wrote this book)