When I was sure I had the place to myself, I crept up to the ropes and saw that my darling's towel lay on the mat in a crumpled heap. I reached in and picked it up, held it to my nose, and shook with excitement to know that I was breathing in his actual essence for the first time. It smelled meaty and masculine and made my pussy swell alarmingly quickly. God, I was definitely taking this as a souvenir. In the privacy of my car I could part my legs and rub this towel frantically between my thighs until the friction on my clit brought me to orgasm and relieved the tension. It would be the closest we would ever come to actually making love, to fucking. Or so I thought.

His agent, looking downcast, wandered over to me.

"Hello you," he said. We weren't on first-name terms, but he'd seen me often enough to recognize me. "What are you still doing here? Waiting for someone?" How could I tell him there was only one someone for me and that person was his client?

"Just feeling a bit low after the fight," I said. "I thought I'd give the crowds a while to clear out before I went home."

"He's a broken man," admitted his agent. "This was his big fight. Between you and me, don't be surprised if he retires soon."

All the blood in my body immediately rushed away from my clit and started pounding in my chest. He couldn't retire. Where would I go to see him? What would I do? I slumped back in my seat again, the towel wrapped around my neck.

"Maybe you could cheer him up," suggested the agent.

"Me?" I said, not quite believing what I had heard.

"Yeah. He's in despair back there. I can't get through to him. Maybe his number one fan could reassure him."

I shook with desire and anticipation as I followed the agent down a series of cinderblock corridors. My heels echoed on the vinyl floor as we walked under stark strip lighting, past fire exits and security doors. Not a romantic atmosphere to most, but it was to me; these were the corridors and tunnels that he would walk on his way to and from a fight. Finally we stopped at a red door, the same color as his shorts. I felt panic flutter in my rib cage and desire pluck at my pussy. Maybe it was a mistake to meet him. What if my fantasy man, my broken boxer, let me down in reality? But it was too late now.