Operation Pick Me Up by Sarge

February 2, 2011

Episode 5: Elisha Cuthbert

Well folks, the very first CFA PPV has come to an end, and was that amazing or what? Brawl Bawl was a huge success, living up to its name with some intense bawling coming from a few losing ladies as they were humbled before an enthusiastic audience.

I had some serious consoling to do that night. I think a tear actually came to my eye as I watched poor Kate Beckinsale get rolled onto a stretcher and carried away from the main stage. I decided to give her a bit of time to come to, but she was definitely going to need some TLC in due time.

I decided my first port of call however, would be the dressing room of softened up beauty, Elisha Cuthbert. Now, I love Scarlett Johansson as much as the next guy, and if it was her on the end of a beating, I’d probably be paying her a visit. But this is the second babe I’ve had to visit after being defeated at the hands of Scarlett, and seeing poor Elisha humbled before all her fans saddened me greatly. I wasn’t sure what was harder to watch; her bountiful chest being softened and bruised throughout the match, or her pretty face going blank as she was smothered out on her feet by Johansson’s own ample breasts. My heart quickly sunk as I witnessed Elisha collapse helplessly against the turnbuckle.

I didn’t waste a lot of time getting to Elisha’s room after the show. After all, I had a busy night ahead of me. Once I found her dressing room I knocked on the door and let myself in. My jaw dropped. There was Elisha, sprawled on the sofa, dressed in quite a revealing top and her midriff bare as she held an icepack to her stomach with one hand and nursed one of breasts with an icepack in the other hand.

I’d always been a fan, and thought she was pretty cute, but, wow. I mean, wow. Even teary-eyed and exhausted, laying on that sofa a completely broken babe, she was still absolutely gorgeous. I had never met Elisha before, and I was actually surprised, standing there, at how fine she looked. I felt a couple of butterflies buzz about in my gut as she turned to see me and smiled tiredly.

“Hi,” I tried to say. “How you feeling?” Stupid question, really.

Elisha frowned, but she looked so cute doing so. “I’ve been better,” she moaned. “I feel like I’ve been through a tornado.” I did my best not to stare at her barely clad form. “Yeah, it looked tough out there.” I stated sadly. “I wanted to leap into the ring and break it up as soon as she sent that first slap to your chest. I had a hard time watching the rest.”

Elisha glanced down at her breasts and then looked up at me gloomily with her pretty, though tear-filled eyes. “I know, look what that bitch did. I can’t even wear a bra right now. They’re so sore.”

Given permission, I glanced down at her chest and pouted. “Aww, damn that whore. Well, they still look pretty damn fine to me.” They did. Although one was substantially bruised. “Ha,” she sighed as she pointed at her right breast. “Who on Earth is going to want anything to do with this?” I playfully hoisted my hand into the air. “Is that an invitation?” I teased.

She smirked at me wickedly. “Seriously?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “She’s battered me into ugly-ville AND now I’m a loser to boot.” I decided to take a seat at the end of the sofa by her feet. “Oh yes, seriously,” I assured her. “So you finally lost a match and copped a few bruises. You’ve still posted more wins than losses and you still look absolutely amazing.” She blushed a little. “Thanks, but she did beat me pretty bad,” she whined. “I don’t know what I did so wrong.”

I smiled at Elisha warmly and offered a tip. “I don’t know, maybe you could have done what she did, and softened her up early with some breast shots.” She grinned wickedly upon my suggestion. “Wow, that’s actually a good idea. Do you think I should try that in my next match?” She asked. I nodded. “It seems to do the trick,” I told her. “You know how hard it is to bounce back from breast attacks. I say use that experience to your advantage.”

Elisha gave me a mischievous smile. “Well my next opponent isn’t going to be worth playing with then,” she teased. “What ever will you do if I face off against one of your favourite girls?” My pants seemed to shrink at that stage. As hot an image as that formed in my mind, I wondered just what WOULD I do if she took my advice and ended up devastating the breasts of one of my favourite babes? I’d probably feel pretty guilty. I wasn’t even sure what to say. I decided to play nice. “You are one of my favourite girls,” I said sweetly. “It wasn’t easy seeing you take a few of those shots tonight.”

Elisha shifted and turned on the couch so her feet changed ends and she now laid her head in my lap, looking up at me with those sexy eyes. “Aww, you’ve got a bit of a soft spot for me do you?” She flirtingly cooed. I smiled, tilted my head to the side and scrunched up my shoulders as if she’d found me out. She was damn right I did. “Tell you what,” she mused. “You promise to visit Scarlett’s next opponent before their match and lend her some tips and maybe even training help, and I will extend that invitation your way right now.”

I raised an eyebrow playfully. “Invitation?” I asked. Elisha snaked her right arm up my chest before resting her hand behind my head and slowly brought my face down to meet hers. “To nurse these tender orbs of mine,” she whispered in my ear. Elisha then surprised me by lifting her head slightly and locking her lips onto mine. Good thing I was already sitting down. My legs would have just given way. Of course I returned the kiss and we were soon entangled passionately on the sofa.

We embraced for quite some time, and afterwards I helped massage out some soreness from Elisha’s tender areas. Both of them, if you catch my drift. I ended up staying with Elisha much longer than I had originally planned. I guess she had a particular magnetic charm about her. Not that it was hard for her to sway me. Oh well, the others would just have to wait.

This is Sarge, signing off from another episode of Sarge’s Operation Pick-Me-Up. Thanks for reading folks!


January 22, 2011

Episode 4: Rachel Bilson


Hollywood cutie Rachel Bilson lasted a mere 4m 37s in her debut match against Hilary Duff. It was no secret all her fans were hoping for a more solid performance in her second bout, against Keira Knightley. Well, at least it lasted longer.

Rachel was positively manhandled by Keira on Friday night. In fact, Rachel did not get a single shot in at her opponent. Keira took advantage early and maintained control throughout the entire eight minutes of the match. Well, I say match. Let’s just call it a beating.

I was a bit flat last Friday night. Any of the girls I had a soft spot for seemed to come off second best. It left me in a bit of a slump. I trudged down the hallways backstage after the show, headed towards one of the league lounge rooms. After seeing some of those beatings, I needed a drink. And I knew where the good stuff was kept. There was a bar fridge in one of those lounges. Kirsten Dunst had shown me the stash a couple weeks back. Supposedly it was all communal. And nobody ever kept tabs. Thanks for the tip, Kirsten!

I slipped into one of the lounges and began helping myself to the bar fridge. I was startled by a cute voice coming from the sofas. “While you’re thieving beers, grab me one?” A fair request. “Sure,” I responded as I grabbed one for me and one for the sexy sofa voice. I turned and looked back to where the voice came from. It was the totally gorgeous Rachel Bilson. She lay across one of the sofas, looking up at the television screen mounted on the lounge wall, watching a repeat of the Seyfried/Doherty match.

She glanced up at me as I approached. “Why are all the fighters here complete psychos? I expected some good tussles. But a lot of these girls just seem to want to hurt their opponents as much as possible.” I smiled down at her from over the sofa as she lay down with a hand on her forehead. “I guess some of them will do whatever it takes to win.” Rachel glanced up at me, and then back to the tv, and frowned. “Take Shannen Doherty for example,” Rachel observed as Shannen painfully wrenched Amanda Seyfried’s breasts about on the TV screen. “She’s just dirty. At least Keira left my breasts alone. I couldn’t have handled it if she went after my boobs. Could you imagine these all bruised up?” She flashed opened her robe, giving me quite a candid view of her gorgeous chest, covered only by a pink lace bra.

It took me a moment to respond. “Wow,” I stammered. “Yeah, uh... That would have been horrible.” Rachel smiled pseudo-shyly up at me. She knew she had me hook, line and sinker. “Are you planning on writing a piece about me for the media?” She asked coyly. Well, I sure was now. Rachel slowly sat up, still holding her head with one hand, and patted the cushion next to her invitingly with the other. I obliged and took a seat next to her on the sofa. I offered her one of the beers and she took it, thanking me with a very enticing smile. She was in a very playful mood for someone who had been knocked unconscious earlier that evening. I must admit though, it was nice to see her attempting to keep her spirits up. I felt I owed it to her to assist in whatever way possible.

“Would you like me to write about you for the CFA media?” I answered her with a question of my own, enjoying this jovial back-and-forth, kind of needing a bit of a pick-me-up myself. Besides, she seemed to appreciate the attention as well. “Sure, and you have to promise to do a piece on me when I post my first win, too,” she answered, flashing me another flirtatious smile. If she wasn’t aiming to be seductive, she indeed had a very naturally desirable charm about her. My mind didn’t even comprehend the extra workload involved in writing on her future first win. My mouth was on autopilot. “Definitely,” I agreed. Seriously though, as if my male mind was going to comprehend the word ‘no’, mid-conversation with this stunning starlet.

“How’s your head feeling?” I asked sympathetically as I reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. It was almost a cheeky grin she gave me this time. “It’s been really sore all night. And I don’t know if it’s the beer or your company, but it’s starting to ease off.” I probably blushed slightly upon reply. “Ha. Yeah it must be all the beer.” She giggled and rested her hand on my knee. “Well, you’re certainly not hurting.”

But just as things seemed to be shaping up, the universe reminded me it really wasn’t my night. I swear, for whatever reason, Rachel looked as though she was about ready to jump my bones right there. That was when Amanda Seyfried breezed through the lounge, making her way past the sofas. Rachel noticed her and called her over.

“Mandy! Are you ok? I saw the match. Doherty is a psycho.” Amanda had obviously been crying. Her eyes were still puffy and red, and she had trouble making eye contact with Rachel. She answered, but did not seem to want to talk about it. “I’ll be fine once that bitch gets a taste of her own medicine.” I nodded agreeably, and Rachel offered her some of her beer. Amanda took a few gulps and handed the bottle back. “Thanks” she smiled warmly at Rachel. “That hit the spot.” She glanced over at me, only just seeming to notice my presence. “Are you Rachel’s trainer or something?”

Rachel butted in quickly, half-answering for me. “Oh, this is Sarge, he works for the CFA media people. You know, writes articles of interest for the fans. You haven’t read his column?”

I crinkled my nose and hoped she wouldn’t answer that. She did. “No, I’ve never heard of it,” Amanda confessed.

“That’s okay,” I told her. “Most likely the only people aware of the column are those I’ve written for. “And me!” Rachel chimed in.  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise you were in the middle of something,” apologised Amanda. “I should leave you to it. I really need some down-time after that travesty.” Rachel waved enthusiastically. “Enjoy your rest,” I said offering her a warm smile.

Amanda returned the wave and smile and exited the lounge, leaving Rachel Bilson and I alone on the sofa again. “I need to do some light training in the gym. I’m sick of being completely dominated,” admitted Rachel. “Want to join me?” I was more than happy to oblige. “Sure, I’ll spar with you a bit,” I offered.

So Rachel Bilson and I headed off to the CFA gym for a short sparring session. Rachel was still quite sore, so we took it easy. A bit of ground work and submission practice mostly. Not the least because we both seemed to enjoy flirting and working in close quarters. Hopefully Rachel will take a few of those moves into her next match. And if she does, well maybe she just might find that elusive first victory. Or, you know, at least stretch the match out past ten minutes.

This Sarge singing out. Tune in next time for the lead-up to the first ever CFA PPV! Thanks for reading, folks!



January 8, 2011

Episode 3: Kate Beckinsale

Two weeks ago, I watched the beautiful Kate Beckinsale get worn down and eventually pinned by action star Milla Jovovich. I was saddened watching Kate go down, but also proud of how she fought. It was a long, tough battle.

Yesterday was a slightly different story. My heart completely sank as I watched gorgeous Kate go 0-2 with a humiliating loss to the uber-sexy Scarlett Johansson. Sure, everybody expected Scarlett to get the win, but that made it no easier seeing Kate take such a beating.

I watched the jumbotron along with the rest of the crowd as Scarlett gave her post-match interview. She was joking around, looking relaxed and almost fresh. Frowning, I rested the bridge of my nose on my cupped hands as I waited for Kate’s interview, expecting a very sullen beauty.

Nothing.

No interview. No Kate. Nothing. This was a bad sign.

With only one match to go for the night, I decided to stick around and watch it. A wry smile crossed my face as I witnessed a little retribution for Kate as the woman that first beat her, Milla Jovovich, was taken down heavily by powerhouse Amanda Righetti. That’s called karma, Milla.

As soon as that match ended, I was on a mission to find Kate Beckinsale. After asking one or two people completely out of the loop, I finally ran into Ellen Page backstage. She politely took a second from filming her interviews to point me in the direction of Kate’s dressing room. Apparently Kate was helped back to her room for some much needed rest. I decided I’d visit anyways. She’d have plenty of time to rest shortly.

I knocked on Beckinsale’s dressing room door. No answer. I knocked a second time. A third. Still nothing. I was worried about her, and feeling a little bold, so I pushed the door open slightly and peered in. Kate lay on the sofa in her underwear, eye’s closed and unmoving. Her scantily clad body looked amazing, chest gently rising and falling as she sucked air into her deprived lungs.

I was probably staring for over half a minute. Who could blame me? I eventually regained my senses and spoke, trying to keep my voice as a raised whisper, not wanting to disturb her too much. “Kate, you up for company? You wouldn’t have to talk to me. I’d be happy just ‘being here’, if you’d find it comforting at all.”

Kate opened her eyes slowly and turned her head to look at me. She looked exhausted. I offered a warm smile and a half-wave. She returned the smile and I completely melted. She had an amazing smile. She waved me over and I obliged after gently closing the door behind me.

She had closed her eyes and was resting again even by the time I kneeled by the sofa. Why did I kneel? Well that gorgeous smile of hers sent me completely weak at the knees. Standing was no longer an option.

Up close she looked even more stunning. My eyes wandered up and down her defeated, yet still glorious body. She was ever so pretty. I watched her lips move as she spoke to me. “You’re that new behind the scenes guy aren’t you? Sarge is it?” I nodded, pretty chuffed that Kate Beckinsale of all people knew who I was. “Yeah, that’s me,” I confirmed. “Half columnist for CFA, half moral-supporter and cheerer-upperer.” She giggled cutely. “I could do with a cheerer-upperer,” she confessed.

She opened her eyes and slowly rolled onto her side, leaning on one elbow and resting her head against that hand. Her long brown hair flowed down her arm to the sofa and her pretty brown eyes flickered irresistibly at me. “So how would you cheer up a gal that has just gone 0-2 after being humiliated and smothered out under another girl’s dominating breasts?” She asked me very solemnly, obviously quite upset at herself for getting into that position.

I frowned sympathetically towards Kate, really feeling for her. “Well for starters I’d let her know her first opponent, Milla Jovovich was beaten stupid shortly afterwards. Then I would confess to her that she is probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever clasped eyes on, and that for what it’s worth, my heart broke into at least six-hundred tiny, miniscule pieces when I saw her unconscious in the ring.” Kate half-smiled and blushed a little as I continued. “And that Scarlett Johansson’s a fat cow who deserves a good hiding.” She giggled again. She had the cutest laugh. “I’d also say something funny just to hear that cute laugh of hers,” I told her. Kate’s smile widened a little.

Kate rolled onto her back again and stretched, appearing a little uncomfortable. “My back is killing me,” she complained. “My damn chest is sore too.” She reached a hand across her body and gently rubbed at one of her breasts. I picked my jaw up off the floor. “How are you at massages?” She asked. I assumed she meant her back. I secretly hoped I was assuming wrong. “I’ll be famous for them one day” I stated confidently. She smiled rather sexily at me before shifting onto her stomach.

Kate lay face down as I climbed onto the sofa and kneeled over her backside. Sure, I might have snuck a peek there too. Really though, you wouldn’t? As far as I was concerned, she looked perfect from every angle. As if her entire body had been hand-sculpted to my exact specifications. I ran my hands along the small of her back and began to gently massage her sore areas, being careful not to apply too much pressure. I mean, I did see the match. I knew how hard she had been hit. These muscles of hers were very tender. Kate arched her back slightly as my hands moved up and down her back, eliciting a soft sigh from her lips. I couldn’t believe I was causing Kate Beckinsale to make noises like that. I was in heaven.

After a good back rub, she rolled beneath me, turning onto her back. My hands caressed her hips and she stared straight up at me with those pretty brown eyes again. Her lips curled into a smile and her eyes grew even bigger and brighter. Before I even realised what she was after, she had grasped my hands and brought them up to her chest. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot the other sore muscles,” I teased. Kate released my hands and let them do their own work as she then latched onto my hips and pulled me along her body until I was resting just above her navel. She reached up and pulled my head towards hers, meeting me halfway and whispering simply “Thanks” in my ear.

I continued gently massaging Kate’s chest and asked, “Feeling a little better?” She grinned broadly and winked at me. “Much. I might not be quite as scared about losing my next match if I can score this kind of recovery session.” I might have blushed a little, before responding, “Well I hate seeing you get hurt, but I’m glad I came to check on you.” She smiled a “Me too” back at me.

We continued the ‘recovery session’ for some time, and well, the rest is history, as they say. And a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. But I can say Kate is feeling much better today, and her fans can rest assured, she will be giving it her absolute all come her next match. Unless of course, the allure of a post-match rub-down becomes too much for her. I mean, I might even cheer against her. Just for purely selfish reasons.

Okay, I lie. I could never cheer against Kate Beckinsale. Especially not after our first encounter. Let me tell you folks, she is an absolute sweetheart.


This is Sarge signing out. Thanks again to all for reading Operation Pick Me Up. Take care folks!


January 6, 2011

Episode 2: Kirsten Dunst

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to episode two of Operation Pick-Me-Up!

This encounter of mine took place just last night. With the next Red Friday merely two days away, quite a number of beauties were training in the gym, getting ready for their upcoming matches. So, naturally, that’s where I was hanging out. Well, to be honest, I was in there for another reason.

After meeting Kristen Stewart last week, I offered to train with her a little. It was a win-win, really. She gets a sparring partner, and I get to work out with Kristen Stewart. I mean, really, everybody wins.

But after a good training session and Kristen had left, I decided to stick around. Glad I did. It wasn’t too long before I spotted a damsel in distress. It was blonde bombshell Kirsten Dunst. She had upped the weights maybe a little too much on the bench press and was clearly struggling to put the bar back up.

I leaned over her and grabbed the bar with both hands. “Here, let me help you” I offered as I lifted the bar back onto the stand. I was surprised at how heavy she had it. “Wow, you must be taking this next match pretty seriously. I swear a bus would’ve weighed less than that.”

Kirsten sat up on the bench and swivelled to face me. “Thanks. Yeah, I’ve got Megan Fox. And after my match with Jolie, I realised how much I’ve got to do to really get into fighting shape.”

My face crinkled sympathetically. “Yeah, I saw that match. Don’t sweat it, she’s probably the strongest competitor here. You were unlucky to draw her and Foxy straight up. It can only get easier.”

Kirsten smiled slightly. “Hmm, yeah, maybe you’re right. Besides, Megan Fox hasn’t won yet. She’s not totally unbeatable.” I swayed on the spot, considering that for a moment. “Well, no,” I started, “but she did have a pretty impressive debut.”

Kirsten shrugged. “Eh, against Miley Cyrus? That doesn’t prove much. Not to me.” I smiled at Kirsten’s attempt to build her own confidence. “You don’t think Miley is much of a competitor?” She laughed. “Ha, Miley? Let’s just say she’s a long shot from being the benchmark at CFA.”

I guess she had a point, even if Miley had posted a win to her name before Kirsten managed to. Not that I was going to bring that point to light.

I followed Kirsten as she left the weights behind and approached the treadmills. "I might do a bit of cardio. Want to join me?" She offered. I didn't have to think twice. "Sure, I could do with a workout," I told her. As we took to the treadmills and began jogging, she caught me by surprise with an unexpected question. “So, you’re a friend of Kristen Stewart’s, huh?”

I looked quizzically at her. "I guess. I mean, we get along pretty well. Why do you ask?" She smirked and touched her hand to my arm knowingly, still keeping a light jogging pace. "You were eye-fucking the hell out of each other the entire time you were training." I was definitely going red, and not just from the exercise. "Well, you know" I fumblingly tried to explain. "I guess she's pretty cute."

I was still blushing when Kirsten smiled cheekily and suggested, "Perhaps she'd be a good opponent for me. I reckon I could take her pretty easily." She grinned at me, waiting for me to defend Kristen. The image of the two starlets tussling in the ring ran through my head. She was just teasing me now. I tried to play it cool. "Well, you are a strong competitor. You should probably keep focusing on Friday's match first. You're going to want to be focused against Mega-Fox."

Kirsten removed her hand from my arm and increased her running pace, looking serious all of a sudden. "I'm focused, don't worry." It was my turn to put her on the back foot. "I saw your interview with Ellen Page," I told her. "You looked pretty intimidated by Foxy. Not that I can blame you." Kirsten frowned. "Well, she does go out of her way to be intimidating. But I won’t be underestimating her the same way I did with Jolie.”

I nodded. “Probably a good move. Doesn’t matter who you’re facing. The last thing you want to do is underestimate them. Surprises happen often. You’re best having them underestimate you. That’s probably how Foxy will go down one day. Who knows, it could even be to you.”

Kirsten looked a little brighter all of a sudden. “Ha, might not be me to beat her. But thanks, that’s not bad advice. I guess what I need to do is use this match as a learning curve. Take away what I can from it, and use that to strengthen my game come my next opponent.” I nodded again. “Exactly.”

She grinned slyly once more, obviously enjoying teasing me. “And then if that little friend of yours, Kristen, ever faces me, she’ll be easy meat.” I was blushing slightly again, but reminded her, “You’re forgetting I’ve passed on advice to her, too.” Kirsten’s tone turned more playful. “Well maybe if I knocked her out, you’d have someone else to ogle in the gym.”

Was that a come-on? I dared not presume so. I mean, this was Kirsten Dunst. Who am I?? Still, I liked the sudden fire behind her eyes and feisty tone. I knew instantly that was what she needed to utilize come her match with Megan. I decided I could help by bringing that to the surface. And if a bit of flirting might get that done, so be it. Hardly taking one for the team.

“There’s enough ogling to go around,” I joked. She grinned again, very invitingly. And the way her eyes lit up simultaneously with that big grin, there would be little use in hoping to turn down an invitation from her. “So you didn’t just come over here to help me with that weight then? It was all about keeping an eye on me?”

Yep, I was right. This would motivate her. I mean, sure, she’s still got her work cut out for her against Megan Fox, but if she’s not quite as intimidated or nervous going into the bout as she’d otherwise be, I was happy. “Just imagine how many eyes I’d have on you if you managed to knock out Megan Fox.”

She slowed her jog again, and I could see the cogs turning over in her head as she envisioned it. “Wow,” she exclaimed. “Are you trying to motivate me? It’s kind of working.” I grinned again, and she went back to jogging, teasing me a little more. “I expect a visit if I do beat this tramp,” she told me. I just smiled back. She knew that was a yes. If somehow, against the odds, Kirsten beat Megan two nights from then, I would be the very first to congratulate her.

I started to realise Kirsten was feistier than I originally gave her credit for. Maybe she wouldn’t fare so poorly against Foxy after all. Oh, who was I kidding? This is Megan Fox we're talking about. Kirsten is boned. I guess being around these celebrities can be very intoxicating. They flash you a smile, and suddenly you want to believe in them. Still, Kirsten was not going to be a pushover. And she was training hard. Win or lose against Megan Fox, Kirsten Dunst was going to be a very dangerous competitor in her future matches.

This is Sarge signing out. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Oh, and all the best to this week's competitors come Friday night!



January 5, 2011

Episode 1: Kristen Stewart


Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the inaugural episode of Operation Pick-Me-Up!

I am Sarge, your host for this little article. I am of course an absolute fanatic of the CFA, and while watching the show from the stands, decided I could keep up morale among the CFA camp while embarking on a little journalistic work.

What does that entail? Good question...

Basically, if a particular fighter is feeling a bit down, or needs a friendly face for whatever reason, I'm all over it. After all, I'm a lover not a fighter, and you don't get that often around here.

It's essentially front-line journalism without the pressure of remembering to bring your interview Mic or having to schedule a meeting time. But I'll record all my encounters here, so the many CFA fans can keep up to date on the recovery of all their favorite losers!

My first visit was to the dressing room of young Kristen Stewart shortly after the New Years Eve show. She had just posted her second loss in as many matches. In fact, Kristen was officially the first CFA combatant to go 0-2. After three weeks of CFA action, only one other fighter is also 0-2, and that is Avril Lavigne, but she recorded her second loss three matches after Kristen on the same card.

So there I was, nervous as a school boy, flowers in hand, knocking softly on Kristen Stewart's dressing room door.
"Come in," a sweet-sounding voice called from behind the door.
I pushed the door open slightly and slipped in, closing it behind me for a bit of privacy. Kristen was laid up on the sofa, gently holding an icepack to her forehead.

I had taken a seat on the sofa opposite hers before she glanced across to see who it was.
"Hi, I'm sorry, I won't keep you long," I assured her. "I'm a fan of yours. I managed to get backstage and just wanted to wish you my best and let you know your fans are still 100 percent behind you." She looked thoughtful, as if guessing how I had not been ushered out by security. "You can call me Sarge," I offered with a smile. Kristen was either REALLY in touch with her fans, or just far too sore and exhausted to have any energy to kick me out. Either way, she returned the smile and introduced herself, despite the fact I clearly knew who she was.

Her eyes looked inquisitively at me, and then she spied the flowers I still held and her lips curled into a soft smile.
Her gaze reminded me I even had the flowers. "Oh, yeah, these are for you," I stammered, leaning across and handing her the larger bouquet. "I'll be honest, my heart sunk when I saw you drop to the mat tonight. So I hoped flowers would at least take a little of the sting out of it."

Kristen smiled at the flowers and placed them on the seat, before tiredly asking, "So how do I soothe the rest of the sting?"

I smiled into her pleading, doe-like eyes. "Winning your next match will pep you up."

She lifted the ice off her head and her gaze dropped to it, as if contemplating her last two defeats. I tried not to let her dwell on it too long. "Or, in the meantime, I'm sure a massage will soothe those tired muscles. Where's it ache?"

"Ha, try everywhere," the starlet smirked. "Okay, my neck is pretty stiff. I must have picked up some whiplash as well when Bell pedigreed me." She dropped the icepack next to the sofa and sat up as I moved over to her seat and sat behind her, my legs stretched out past hers. She leaned back slightly, effectively almost sitting in my lap now. I couldn't help but smile as my legs lay against hers and I placed my hands on the back of her soft shoulders and began to gently knead out the knots in Kristen's throbbing muscles.

"Still," she continued. "I'd much rather face Bell again than Rachel McAdams. She's a brute." I nodded in agreement. "She's a dirty fighter, I hope she gets a taste of her own medicine against Chabert next week. I was furious when she was fighting you. I couldn't watch."
Kristen didn't sound too happy talking about it. "Poor Lacey, I'll bet she gets the exact same treatment I did." I shuddered at the thought. I was a bit of a Lacey Chabert fan myself, and the prospect of having two of my girls humiliated by her in as many matches made my stomach churn. Still, I tried to be positive. "Don't worry, someone will take her down a peg one day," I promised Kristen.

I managed to steer the conversation away from Kristen's defeats for a moment, and as I continued to knead her shoulders and move my hands along the back of her neck, Kristen let out a soft purr, well at ease and obviously feeling much more relaxed. "Thank you so much for this," she cooed. "I'll recover much better after this than if I went home sore after the match."

Honestly, I was just glad to see a smile on the starlet's pretty face. It's rough as a die-hard fan to see one of your girls continuously beaten and completely demoralized. And she had such a gorgeous smile, too. I couldn't wait to see her wear it in the ring after scoring her first victory. But how long will Kristen's fans have to wait to see that?

"I think I'll win against the next opponent I get that's around my age." Kristen mused out loud as I continued rubbing her upper back. "The two girls that have beaten me were at least ten years older than me. I just don't have that kind of experience yet. But I'll get a win soon. I'll make sure I do. I owe it to my fans. I won't let them down again!"

I paused the massage and boldly slipped my arms around Kristen's waist, hugging her back into my lap, allowing me to lean over her shoulder and whisper in her ear. "I believe in you. We all do," I assured her. She half-turned to face me and flashed me the sweetest smile imaginable. "Where were you before my last match?" She joked. "You're even better than a pep talk. I'm going to make sure I win my next match for you." With that, she leaned in and gave me a cute peck on the cheek, before lying down across the sofa, her legs rolled with mine, relaxing and no doubt dreaming about that elusive victory.

This is Sarge signing out from Episode 1 of Operation Pick-Me-Up. Thanks for reading, and take care folks!