Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or real people in this story. The characters are owned by the WWE and the real people own themselves. There are adult situations in this story and it's rated M for a reason, so if you're too young, you should look elsewhere...or skip the entire middle of this story. You've been warned!

A/N: So this story is based off of this tweet by Chris Jericho:

Maid walked right into my room without knocking even tho the tunes were cranked. I was in my undies. She was way more embarrassed than me.

After reading that, this story was just screaming in my head and who am I to deny them anything? So this is strictly a one-shot deal based around the tweet. I got a little out of hand writing it and it ended up way longer than I anticipated so I hope it doesn't drag. I think that's pretty much all you need to know about the story. I really hope you enjoy it and reviews would be wonderful. I'm a big girl so be as brutal as you want to be. :)

Music was always the surest fire way to wake up in the morning and when nobody was around, it didn't matter how loud it could get. That's why Chris found himself blasting tunes from ipod as soon as he woke up. Sure, it was nearly the afternoon, but he was living the rock and roll…wait, no, the best-selling author lifestyle and it had to include some perks, like sleeping in late. When he was at home, he had three children to worry about so sleeping in was definitely one of the perks. In fact, it might be the only perk.

When he toured with WWE, there were tons of guys around to hang out with. If Adam or Jay wasn't there, he could hang around with some of the younger guys, hell, he and Randy Orton sometimes went to the movies together for the hell of it. The point being that there were plenty of people with whom he could chill and drink a beer with. The same thing was true of Fozzy. When he was with the band, they hung out and went partying and they met exciting people and hung out with them. The metal world was large and vast and there was constantly someone new to meet.

This author thing though, well, he was the only person who wrote the words on the page (though it'd been edited) and so he was out on the road alone, hotel rooms blending together and signings starting to blend together as well. The people were always different, but the setting was all the same. He almost wished he'd set up some kind of VIP event thing for his book tour. He could have mini-book clubs with some of his fans, get their assessment on the book and really feel the feedback instead of getting snippets like, "I loved your book!" or "This chapter was my favorite!" from rushed fans.

He was lonely, so lonely he'd been desperate for human contact of any kind. Any kind turned out to be playing Scrabble with his wife over the phone. Yes, this was the fast-paced life he was leading, playing word games over the phone. God love technology. When he resorted to doing anything with his wife, it screamed desperation. Sure, they'd been trying hard this time around, actually spending time together, talking, taking vacations, having me time, but it was all skirting around the serious issues they had. They weren't happy, didn't sleep in the same rooms, and their ideals were growing farther and farther apart.

It was easy to pretend that everything was cozy for everyone else. On nearly every talk show he had to talk about his "wonderful wife," and the grin he'd adopted for the part had become a second skin, something he could slip on easily. When he'd been on the Wendy Williams show and he'd asked about his wife, the mask had never been brighter or stronger. What he neglected to tell her and her estrogen-filled audience was that the three or four times he'd lost his wedding ring usually had to do with him leaving them behind in a hotel room after taking it off because he was sleeping with someone else. He didn't think that would go over so well with the audience, in-studio or out.

This charade had to be kept up until at least the book was done. After that, he didn't know what was going to happen. Well, he did know one thing that wasn't going to happen, but he didn't dwell on the things that weren't going to happen. He didn't regret the things he'd said about Jessica in this book or the last one; the feelings he'd felt during that period were true and it was only right to include what he was feeling. The fact that he didn't feel those things anymore was just how things had worked out. After the book thing was over and once he returned to wrestling (whenever that was, he hadn't decided yet as he felt like he still had other things to do), then he'd start to ease into this divorce thing so as to not traumatize his kids.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door to his room opening or someone walk in. It was only when he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye that he realized there was someone in the room with him. His body went rigid with fear. He could probably take anyone who didn't have a weapon, but the figure looked slight and he hoped some chick hadn't gotten into his room without permission. He'd dealt with these types before, but never had he had someone break into his room. He cautiously went into the other room, forgetting that he was just in his boxer shorts and skin.

He saw the back of someone and they were in a maid uniform. That wasn't quite right, they were in a French maid's uniform, a very well-constructed French maid costume. From here, he could see a very, very short skirt that was leaving little to the imagination as he could already see a pair of white panties underneath. His eyes traveled from her backside to the long stems of her legs, starting at the skirt and traveling down, down, down the fishnet stocking to an impossibly high pair of black heels. How in God's name could anyone walk in those? Hold up, who the hell was this person? He wasn't sure that this hotel, fancy as it was, made their maids dress like that. If they did, he would be surprised they weren't slapped with a lawsuit. From what he could see, the woman was a blonde with a short bob and tall, perhaps as tall as he was with the heels she was wearing.

He cleared his throat, "Um, excuse me? Can I help you?"

"Oh, sir, you frightened me!" she turned around and pressed her hand to her heart or her breast because those were certainly almost on full display. The top was actually corseted now that he looked at it and it was certainly being used to full effect. He couldn't even tell you what her face looked like because her breasts were gorgeous. He'd always been a breast man and these were spectacular. "I did not know you were in here."

He tried to force himself to look at the girl's face, but he could already feel himself getting hard just looking at this woman's body. She could have had the ugliest face in the world and he wouldn't have cared with that body. He forced himself to look at her face and wasn't disappointed. Perched on her short blonde head was a maid's hat jauntily tipped to the right. She smiled at him, well, more like smirked at him as she ran her fingers lightly over the handle of the feather duster in his hand. His eyes became mesmerized by the action.

"Um," he said, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand lest drool just start to pour out of his mouth.

"I was just…cleaning up a bit," she said in a French accent as she shrugged one bare shoulder. "If you want, I leave and come back…"

"Uh…no," he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear as her face turned from a smirk to a grin.

"I just clean up room," she said, starting to walk towards him, her hands still stroking the handle of that feather duster. She stopped right in front of him, "Have you been dirty boy?"

"God yes," he whispered as she lightly brushed the feathers over his bare chest, tickling him and making the goosebumps raise on his arms. "Hell yes."

"I thought so," she said before throwing the feather duster over her shoulder and then deftly reached inside his boxers, stepping closer so her chest was pushing into his chest. "You are very dirty and I clean you up."

"Yes," he said, only being able to master monosyllabic words at the moment. He closed her eyes as her hands continued their ministrations. He felt her breath on his lips and he opened his eyes and leaned forward to capture her lips in a searing kiss. She stopped stroking him and pulled her hand from his boxer shorts to come tangle up in his hair as their kisses propelled them backwards and towards the bed. Her skirt was so poofy it was getting in the way, but he didn't care that the scratchy fabric was brushing against his stomach as they fell onto the bed.

She pulled away and he watched as she started to tug on the elastic of his boxers, leaning over him so he got a full view of her cleavage. She glanced up at him as she pulled down the fabric of his boxers. She wadded up the boxers when she pulled them free from his body. "I wash these for you," she told him, throwing them to the ground.

She started to crawl up him again and her hand was back on him and he groaned and arched his hips into hand as she found a rhythm the caused him to buck his hips every few seconds. He nearly blew his load when her tongue swirled around the tip of his cock and then sunk further on him. He grabbed the back of her head, grabbing her hair and guiding her mouth on him, not caring that he might be choking her. She didn't seem to mind though if her voracious sucking was any indication. She kept it up, bobbing her head up and down, stroking the parts she couldn't reach until Chris could feel himself start to lose it.

"Wait," he breathed out and it was enough for her to pull away from him. "I'm about-"

"Uh uh, not yet," she said, knowing what he meant and standing up. "We can't have all that messiness, I think you need to find another place to put that."

She turned around and started to bend over grabbing her panties and starting to pull them down slowly, exposing more of herself with each second. When she slowly stepped out of them, he couldn't stand it anymore and stood up, walked over to her purposefully, grabbed her by the waist and took her right there. She gasped at the sudden intrusion, but then relaxed. She had to grab the dresser in front of her for balance as Chris started untying the corset in her back. He only did a couple laces before he reached around the front with his right hand.

"Now who's dirty?" Chris growled in her ear as she raised up a little bit to try a different angle.

"Still you," she told him huskily. "Don't stop!"

"I thought you had to clean," he told her, but she was lost in the moment. "Look at yourself, you dirty, little whore."

He stared at the two of them in the mirror on top of the dresser. She looked so disheveled, her hair was messed because of his hands running through it earlier, her hat was nearly falling off, her breasts were falling out of her top and her face was flushed with lust and exertion. He looked dominant and powerful and he thought it was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen. Where was a video camera when you needed one?

"Do you see yourself? You're the dirty one, letting a stranger just fuck you like this."

"No, no," she moaned as she tried to find a rebuttal, but he was flummoxing her.

"Yes, open your eyes," he said, stilling. "Look at you. Walking into my hotel room looking like this, begging to be fucked, that's what you wanted, right, to be fucked? And you call me the dirty one? You're the dirty one."

"Yes, yes," she said, opening her eyes and looking at herself before her eyes moved to his. "I'm the dirty one!"

"I thought so," he said. When they finished, she straightened her back then squealed when Chris lifted her up and threw her on the bed. She stared up at him in surprise as he looked down at her territorially. He came down to lie next to her and she sighed into him as his hands reached up to her hair and to her scalp, finding the pins and taking them out before pulling off her wig.

"I want to see you," he told her, his voice soft and emotional. She lifted her head up and shook out her beautiful brown hair. "There you are."

"Hi," she said, looking up at him.

"I haven't seen you in months," he told her, his nose nuzzling against hers, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. "I didn't think I'd see you…"

"I thought you might be lonely," she told him. Only she would ever know what he was really feeling. Even Jessica had thought he was having fun because it was like a mini-vacation from life.

"I was," he said, "but only for you."

She turned her head so their eyes were lined up and all he could see were those alluring gray eyes that continued to capture his every time they looked in his direction. "I got your book," she said and he understood why she'd come. Inside of her book, on the page where she first appeared, he'd simply written, "I miss you." He knew that Paul would never touch the book if he could help it so he knew his message was safe.

"I'm glad you got it," he told her, rolling over so he was on his back and pulling her towards him. "This was a nice surprise, but it's better if we don't…I mean, if we should keep up with the…Jessica and I are trying…"

"I know," Stephanie said, cuddling deeper into him as if she could crawl inside of him and just be a part of him for the rest of her life. "I've been watching your interviews and everything and you've spoken glowingly about her."

"We played Scrabble over the phone last night."

"That sounds…interesting."

"It was as boring as you're thinking right now," Chris told her. "The plans for that reconciliation aren't going as well as we'd hoped. I think the separation really hurt us as far as thinking along the same plane. Probably didn't help that I was with Barbie for a while there." Stephanie tensed against him and he mentally kicked himself in the ass. Here he was, with Stephanie, beautiful and vibrant and warm, and he was bringing up the rebound of all rebounds. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have."

"It's no big deal," she said, shaking her head a little and tickling his arm with her hair. "Not your fault…"

"Not yours either," he told her. "You found out you were pregnant with Murphy. You couldn't leave then."

"Yeah…"

"Steph, it's okay," he said. "I know how things have to be and I'm okay with that, I can live with it. I've been doing it for the past 4 years, haven't I? I've been going on."

"You never slow down," she told him quietly, lifting his left hand and staring at the tattoo on it. Sometimes she wishes she could lick it off, make it disappear in an instant. Sometimes she wishes she had done it long ago. "You're always going someplace."

"That's always been me," he told her.

"No, it isn't," Stephanie said.

"It's me now then," he clarified. It was true, he was always on the go now, but he had so much on his plate. He'd had the wrestling, the touring, his book, CD's and all the other stuff he had to do. He had no choice but to be on the road. Maybe he hadn't thought so much about why he needed to be out on the road so much, but it was just because he had a lot to do.

"It's you since…everything happened…"

"Stephanie, did you really come here to talk about a past we both agreed was better left then. I'd rather enjoy the few moments I get to spend with you before you have to go back home…I mean, you drove what? Three, four hours?"

"Closer to five," Stephanie told him.

"And Paul will have a coronary if you don't show up…"

"He's on the road with the show, getting ready for his return, helping out backstage," Stephanie said.

"The girls?"

"Grandma's house," Stephanie said. "She loves having them over."

"So you can stay the night?" Stephanie didn't say anything for a few moments, which turned into a few minutes and Chris was starting to think he said something wrong. Was it too presumptuous to think that she would stay with him the night? The last time he'd seen her was the night his contract ended. The sex that night had been desperate and fast. They didn't even get undressed the first time, he'd just pulled her skirt up and pulled his pants and boxers down to his knees before he drove into her. Before that, it'd been around four months. Since they'd "officially ended" things, every once in a while, they'd seek each other out, as if to get one last taste to sustain them before another fix.

"Are you going to stay with Jessica?" Stephanie asked instead of answering him.

"What?"

"I mean…forever?" she asked. "I know that you are like trying right now, but…is trying forever?"

Now it was his turn to pause. "You came to me in a French maid's outfit, called me dirty, and then gave me the best fuck in the last however months it's been since we last slept together and yeah, I have slept with Jessica, but…disaster, I had to picture you the entire time just to feign being interested." He could feel her smile against his skin. "Don't get too cocky, McMahon."

"You're the one who's cocky," and she gripped him lightly, tugging on him once before resting her hand on his lower stomach.

"I guess you're right on that front. Do you ever feel like you're just…running?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation.

"I knew you would…just like, the life you're leading isn't the right one and you're constantly trying to find the right one and it's never quite there, never quite in your reach, but you just feel like if you surge forward a little bit more, you'll get there?"

"Everyday."

"Jessica and I won't work out. I'm waiting for the book fervor to die down and then I'm going to sit and talk with her," he said, "even if I can't have exactly what I want, I can still be happy, I think."

"Paul's with the road."

"Steph, I'm not going to do this again with you. The last time drove me to Barbie Blank, that's how pathetic I became," he told her, shaking his head as that life faux pas. "I couldn't take it anymore. Being your secret is tough enough on its own. Being your secret forever, it's not something I could handle, emotionally or physically."

"Part of my divorce agreement with Paul was that he could have more say in the show, which just shows where his loyalties lied all along."

Was that the feeling of a heart stopping? Or had time just frozen? "Divorce proceedings?"

"Yes, divorce proceedings. I started them a few weeks ago when you sent me the advanced copy of your book. When I read that you missed me, that little sentence and then read the rest of your book, knowing all that I know…I wanted the acknowledgement at the end. I wanted the references to beautiful wives. So I thought I'd surprise you and…surprise!"

"You're mine?"

"All yours," Stephanie told him. "Can you be all mine?"

"I always have been."