This is an off-site work written 11/10, which has nothing to do with current Beyond The Mat OCs. It does involve Randy Orton, who should've known better by now. He likes to play dumb, but it's gonna get him in trouble.

Maybe you wouldn't call it a compliment, but I would.

"Those lips of yours were meant to suck cock. "

Lit a cigarette and flipped onto my stomach, sharing the cigarette with him. This wasn't our first night together. We get together about once every 6 weeks or so, whenever he's performing within 90 miles of where I live. I don't let him see where I live, though. Broken-down, seen-better-days single-wide in one of the worst trailer parks you could possibly think of...he'd know right out I was a ring rat if he saw.

He asked me once, narrowing those blue eyes on me, why I couldn't take him home. I made up a story.

"My momma's sick and I moved in with her, to take care of her. She lost a leg to the sugar. She's a bitter old woman. You don't wanna go there, Ran."

He hasn't asked me again, so it's sort of easy to hide the fact that I'm nothing more than a ring rat, looking to sink my claws into someone in one of the better companies of pro wrestling, or even UFC, depending on how much they make and how easily I can sucker the boy. Had more than my fair share, but giving different names, dying my hair and changing my look frequently has helped me go for the most part undetected. The other part that's helped is that a lot of those who I've been with got released from their contracts (Good thing I didn't land any of them, right?) and with new people being brought in, there's always new faces to keep an eye out for, to watch their careers, to track on the internet and determining if they're successful or not.

The one in my bed right now is at the top of his career. So. Fuckin'. Hot. His back's to me now as he rolled to his other side to take a drag of the cigarette, and grab his phone. His wife's been texting him-I know her ringtone-and while I was sucking him off, his girlfriend was texting him. It was like we couldn't have privacy.. It was funny to me (although I made like I didn't notice) that he almost lost his hard-on when the girlfriend called, but when his wife called, it was like his cock got new life and surged. I'm guessing that his girlfriend's a priority to him and the wife's sort of tired and played out.

Yet if either of them were really what he wanted, why's he coming to me (literally and figuratively?)

He likes to think he's complicated, but he's nothing more than a big old hick from the Midwest, who stepped into a job that suits him well...with a 7 figure salary. He's hot as hell, he's got a lot going for him, except he's not the brightest guy.

Which is what I bank on.

I traced the tattoo on his back with my nail, causing him to shiver and gooseflesh to rise up.

"Manda, cut it out," he said with a sexy bit of gravel to his tone. He didn't really want me to stop, he just wanted me to change the touch. So I let my nails glide down his back. There was no body fat there, or anywhere on him. He stretched out and handed me the cigarette back when he deemed that I'd scratched his back enough.

I took a drag off the cigarette and 'begged' him... "Darlin'...pleeeeeeeeease let me suck you just like you like it again, before I have to leave? Please?"

"You think I'm gonna say no to that? You're so good, you could suck the chrome off a tailpipe."

I slipped on down between his powerful thighs and got to work. Guys before him (and between our times together) are much easier to 'service', because it's hard to find someone with the combo of length and girth he sports. It's hard to suppress that gag reflex sometimes, but I manage, 'cause I know the big payoff will come somewhere down the line...hopefully when the girlfriend gets tired and played out, just like the wife.

He's stubborn, though. "So fuckin' stubborn," I "complained" when I glanced up at him and unwrapped my lips from around him. Said it with just the right amount of playful bitchiness. He gets enough bitchiness for real from other women, and has event old me I'm his "safe place," and to show me that, whenever I'm giving him a blow job, he shifts a bit so that when I'm about to get him to explode right in my throat, he can delay it and will make me work for it.

"So damn whiny. Stop talking and get back to blowing me."

Maybe you don't let a man talk to you like that, but I bet you'd let him.

Trust me. There are hundreds of thousands of women out there that would, but he likes stealing time with me. And I'm hoping that he's saving up his money like he says he tries to, and that once he starts a slight fall from the top, he'll need me even more.

Then I'll be set for life. See, this one, even when he's too old to wrestle, he'll be the hottest ticket at conventions, signings, all that shit. I'll be taken care of, and the one he'll say "saved" him, 'cause he's of the mindset that when he gets 12 years older, that at 42, he'll "Have" to retire, that his life'll turn to shit.

"You don't never have to worry about that, Big O, 'cause I'll always be here for ya, willin' to do whatever you want..."

Didn't expect him to yank my hair a bit to cue me to stop, because he wanted to go for his 3rd fuck of the night. I glanced at my watch at the bedside, and sighed. See, if I don't do that, I might scare him into thinking I'm trying to land him. That's showing my hand if I did something that stupid...tried that about 10 years ago with somebody who's now in the 2nd rated professional wrestling promotion, who's on his way out 'cause of drugs now...fortunately for me, he's too stoned all the time to even remember my time in his life. Let's just say that "J.H.", since those are his initials, was my training ground, and if "Big O" ever found out, he'd kick me to the curb so fuckin' fast, I'd never know what happened.

"It's gettin' late. Momma's gonna be in a fit if I don't get home soon," I said with 'regret' in my voice. Even upped the ante with, "I've got to give her her insulin needles in about an hour..."

"Then we'll make it quick," he groaned as he entered me roughly. If I didn't make like I had to leave, he wouldn't rush it. Fortunately, he loosened me up twice already within the last few hours, and with as forceful as he was ramming into me, it didn't hurt all that much.

Within about 10 minutes, he got done, and I got up, and was gathering my clothes. He was exhausted, and yet I could feel him watching me looking for my bra. I made sure to give the show of bending just the right way, and glancing on back over my shoulder at him, "catching" him getting an eyeful, and dressed in front of him too. Blew a kiss to him and left. 10 minutes later, my cellphone was going off.

You want to join me at the PPV?

Oh, shit, I thought to myself...he's NEVER asked me that. And the Pay-Per-View was next weekend, about 500 miles from here. I had to think fast...maybe he was testing me to see if I was clingy or trying some funny business on him. I knew to stick to the story.

Can't, darlin. Momma doesn't have respite care in place. It's too expensive for us. Maybe another time. :*(

He can't say that he always pays for "our" room, since I never stay the night and it's the hotel room *he* needs for the shows he does. He also can't say he always buys "us" dinner, since he doesn't pay for Room Service out of his own pocket. He's given me a few gifts...and he's had to "insist" I keep them. See, the more I say things are "too expensive" and knowing what he makes, he finds it charming about me that I'm not out to "use" him financially.

Scored a beautiful Coach bag, a full length leather trench, and $1000 Neiman's gift card this way. 'Cause he always says he feels bad that at my "young age of 25" (I'm really 34, but he has no idea, since I look so damn good and sold that Neiman's gift card for half the value so I could get Botox, so hush), that I'm tied down to "my sick momma" and never do anything for myself. And of course I have no boyfriend in my life or children. (The reality is my 9 year old son lives in Mississippi with his father, and my 7 year old daughter lives with her daddy and his new wife in Alabama. Yes, I tried passing off the boy as J.H.'s child and that fell flat. Tried showing off the girl as A.C.'s and that too fell flat...*sigh*)

So I guess he's starting to feel a bit of responsibility for me...my phone went off again.

Ok then. Was worth trying, figured you probably couldn't due to her health. But next time, let me know in advance and I'll give you the money for a couple days of home health care.

Can't do that, Ran. That's too much.

I'll decide if it's too much, little girl. Stop arguing with me.

You never let me win. :{ don't want you goin' into your pocket with me. I'll just try picking up a couple extra shifts.

(Forgot to mention he thinks I'm a waitress at Waffle House. Fact is I collect a benefits check and do nothing anymore. Never reported my kids as not living with me anymore so I get triple food stamps.)

No you won't. You work hard enough being on your feet all day, helping your mother out and on your back with me. haha. I'd be pissed off if you worked yourself into the ground. Text me the week before December 18 and you'll get a ticket to TLC tables, ladders and chairs and be my guest. It'll do you good.

alright, darlin'. See you soon.

Later, babe.

See, when he thinks things are his idea and I don't ask for things...he takes care of it. I'll bet you this month's food stamp street value in dollars that he'll "force" me to buy a new outfit to go. And if he wants me to go to a public event, I doubt his wife or girlfriend will be there...so...

...we'll see what happens, won't we?

I got into my 1998 Ford F-150 and headed back for the long ride to the New Hope Plantation trailer park, in Brunswick, GA.

When I got home, I probably should've expected what I found, but was still surprised...

"Aw, shit! NO, you've gotta be kidding me!" I cried...