Disclaimer: Here's the deal, I do not own any of these WWE characters, their pasts, their presents or their futures (though there are a few I like to rent). This story is a mere figment of my twisted imagination, and the only characters I own as of now is Layla. Okay, here we go.

Intro:

My name is Layla and manipulation, oh well that's all apart of the game plan. And while I'm sure you've heard my theme song, written by one of the greats, Mr. Eric Clapton, know that there are so many more that describe me. Can you ever trust a woman named Layla? I think not. I'm very beautiful, very headstrong, and isn't obvious, very confident. I just knew the WWE would make the perfect breeding ground for a fiery little thing like myself, so let me tell you my little story. And be sure to play close, close attention, for this gets rocky.

What did I want in the WWE, wasn't it obvious? To be the most respect woman in WWE history and I could only do that by overthrowing the Billion-Dollar Princess. That poor girl doesn't know the kind of power she possesses, I mean damn, she could manipulate anything in the world and she doesn't hone into that power. She's messy, she's sloppy, she makes mistakes that could very well be prevented, and I can't have that sort of thing. Not when I have the power to be in that position and the know-how to use it.

How did I get started? My first encounter with the WWE came when I was about 16...oh you mean how did I get here? Oh, well, my parents of course. My past? Sorry, don't have too much of a dramatic one for you, Mom, she died when I was born, right after I was born, to the minute actually. Pops? He was a truck driver, always off on his rig, but it was cool, he made good money, and he made sure I was well taken care of. He was a good dad, but he died about 2 years ago, of cancer no less. Ain't that a bitch? Doctors just called me up one day and said.

"I'm afraid there's nothing else we can do for your father,"

"What the hell are you talking about?" What the hell did he mean there was nothing else that could be done for him? Done for him for what?

"Your father's cancer has just spread too far," he said, "I'm so sorry,"

"Mr. I think you have got your information wrong. My father doesn't have cancer, he's out on his rig as a matter of fact, and when he gets back here I'm going to be sure to let him know that you're playing with me like this."

"Layla," How the hell did this jerk know my name?

"Who is this?"

"Dr Hayfield, and I'm afraid your father doesn't have much time left, if you can get here I would suggest you get here."

It took a little while but news finally sunk in. By the time I got to him it was too late, all I could do was say goodbye before they pulled the damn plug. Am I a bitter orphan? Hell no, I've come to understand from an early age that shit happens. That's life. Actually, I now know that my parents are together once more and they both know I'm okay. So I just busted my ass to get what I have. I mean, daddy left me the house, the cars, the insurance money, all I had to do was keep the freshest gear on this bad ass body of mind. It's not that hard, especial doing what I do, but we'll get to that later. So I would go to school, go to wrestling school, go home, do my homework, wake up and do it all over again. I had a I was out at a club after just attending a WWE show live in my home town of Las Vegas, Nevada. Oh yeah, the sin city, hot and sexy. Hey, what do you know, just like me.

Well anyway, onto poppin' my cherry, my virgin WWE experience. Like I said, I was about 16, after a show in Vegas and I'm vegging out at Club Tequila when I spot WWE superstar Mr. Kevin Nash. Who passes by Big Sexy with no words, certainly not this chick that's for sure, so I went up to him, asked him for his autograph.

"Hey there little mama," he said looking down at me from his 7-foot frame.

"What's up there big daddy," I said turning on my sultry charm, hey, a girl's got to do her thing. "Welcome to Las Vegas,"

"Why thank you," he looked down at me. Somehow I have that affect on men, and who can blame them, I stand 5'8'', I'm about 140 pounds tops and I'm curvy, very, very curvy. "What can I do you for?"

"You're in Vegas, the question in this city is how much can you do me for," I said with a smile as his eyes grew in size, "No really, I just want an autograph."

"Sure," he said scribbling his name on my magazine. "So what are you doing in this club?"

"What do you mean?"

"This just doesn't look like you," he said looking at my black and gray Gucci stiletto sandals to match my black Dolce & Gabana strapless dress.

"Oh," I said winking, looking down at his black jeans, black boots and sleeveless N.W.O. t shirt, "Well we are allowed to go slumping at least once in our lives, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," he said looking down at himself.

"Look I was just playing," I said, it was time to go in for the kill, "I can see that I've taken up quite enough of your time. Thank you for the autograph Mr. Nash."

I walked off with the hope that soon he would be coming after me. And like a bee drawn to honey, that's exactly what he did.

"Hey wait," he said taking long strides to catch up with me, "I didn't catch your name,"

"Perhaps that's because I didn't throw it." I smiled. "It's Layla, Layla Williams."

"Pleased to meet you Layla."

"Pleasure is all mine," I told him, as it was, who wouldn't want the pleasure of a 7-foot, three hundred some odd pound blonde Adonis?

"So Layla, who are you here with?"

"I travel alone," I smiled, it was true. I usually hunt alone, when you traveled with more than one person it usually threw your game plan all off.

"You shouldn't," he said, "Beautiful young thing like yourself could get hurt,"

I shook my head, "Not likely," I told him, "I'm not one to played with, don't let the Gucci heels fool you."

He smiled as a few other superstars joined him. Soon she found herself looking at Shawn Michaels, Jean-Paul Levesque, and Sean Waltman otherwise known as The Heart Break Kid, Triple H and X-pac. "Hey guys, what's up?"

"What's up Big Kev," Michaels asked, "Who is this fine little thing here?"

"Oh, this is Layla," he told them.

I ended up staying the night with Nash that night. It wasn't at all like I expected, I mean I guess it was okay, but I fully expected him to blow my mind. But he didn't, I guess it's because he was drunk as all hell, but the sex really wasn't why I was there, if he had done his job right, he'd be seeing me again, in one form or another.

Kevin was fast asleep when I left. I didn't need say goodbye; there was no point. Hopefully he did what I needed him to do and if not I'd move on to the next superstar.

12 weeks later...

"Layla, you're pregnant,"

Bingo!

"I'm what?" I asked, surely he was mistaken.

"You're about 12 weeks pregnant Layla, what do you wish to do?"

"You might as well give up the prenatal vitamins." I told him, "This baby I going to make it full term baby."

Six months later I gave birth to healthy baby boy. Terrence Spencer Nash. Only one problem, I didn't want to a mother, I just wanted a souvenir of the night I spent with my first WWE superstar. I looked down at this precious little boy that wailed in my arms, letting the entire world know he was here. He was tanned like me, with sandy blond hair like his dad. His eyes were sea green and he had the most perfect skin complexion. He was gorgeous, indeed a child of mine.

After Terrence was 6 weeks old, I felt that I had done all that I needed to do for this kid. It was time for Kevin to take in his part of the responsibility. I would do well if I never saw this kid again, unlikely but it would do me just fine.

It had taken me the entire 6 weeks to track down Kevin's place of residence but I finally did.

"Okay Terrence," I said to him, "Let's get ready to meet your daddy."

I went up, rang the doorbell and left Terrence sitting in his rocking chair. I left his baby bag with a list of everything that would take care of him, but as for me sticking around raising this kid. Oh no, not going to happen, I had bigger plans for myself and I'm sorry but Terrence wasn't apart of them.