WWE Owns the wrestlers. I own the originals.

This story is dedicated to Lauraxxx, who knows why. I know it's not the story we originally joked about, but for some reason, that story wouldn't happen, this one did instead. And I hope you like it anyway.

Warning: Later parts of this will be for mature audiences only. I may end up having to post some of this on AO3 instead of here so I don't violate any rules. Because yes, there will be sex in this one.


Hard Habit To Break

Madison Aldridge had not been born Madison Aldridge, nor had she been born Madison Montgomery, as her husband Theodore Aldridge believed. Her birth name, as was written on the old birth certificate which was in her private safe in the back of her very large walk in closet, was Honey Combs.

There were times when Madison wondered if the best her mother hoped for her, was to grow up a stripper. Then, there were other times when she was positive that her mother only wished she could grow up to be a stripper. Her mother had worked the pole a few times, but was never a huge success at it. Ma's real career lay in ADC, sponging, and the occasional fuck for the bucks. But Ma had her hobbies, oh yes she did. Ma liked musicians, the more shaggy and unkempt the better. She was a regular at every bar that advertised "Cold Beer, Live Music," trying desperately to pick up musicians. She never got the lead singer, she usually ended up with the bass player. Sometimes the entire band was out of her league and she ended up with the band roadie. Ma didn't care, as long as they had something to do with music, she'd open her legs for them.

Her mother expected Honey to follow in her mother's footsteps. Brenda Combs was not one of those poor women who pinned all her hopes on a daughter that would escape the hard life of living in the projects and do well for herself. Brenda Combs believed that if the life of a low level groupie and welfare mom was good enough for her, it was good enough for her daughter. When Honey was young and got all A's on her report card, Brenda Combs would snort and go, "Why you wasting all that time on building your brains when brains ain't gonna get you nowhere? You should learn to shake your ass, girl, that's where the money's at." And when Honey was sixteen, she made her drop out of high school. "You can read and write and the law says you don't have to go to school no more, so guess what? No point in wasting yourself."

Honey hadn't minded too much, by that time she had already past discovering boys and was on to men. It started with the second rate musicians Ma brought home. The first one raped her, but gave her a hundred dollars to keep her mouth shut. The second one, she just asked him if he'd like to fuck her and when they were done, she told him she was underage and she'd tell the whole world unless he gave her a hundred bucks. That scam worked pretty well for awhile, sometimes she didn't even have to threaten, they'd just give her the money to sleep with her.

Then, when she was fourteen, a friend of hers introduced her to professional wrestling and she loved it. Loved watching these men dressed in barely more than their underwear (well, most of them, at least) beating each other up. Sure, it was scripted, but there was a lot of real pain going on there. And, she had to admit, it was a total turn-on. Her mother could have her skanky musicians, Honey wanted the warriors of the Squared Circle, she wanted men who weren't afraid to roll around in an arena and put their crotches in each others faces if they had to. She loved seeing these half naked men pinning each other, or just grappling with each other. Yeah, baby, it was so close to guy on guy porn that she wondered why it was even legal, never mind not even age restricted.

Even more wonderful was discovering that most of these wrestlers were straight and loved pussy. Sure, guy on guy action was hot as hell to watch, but her reaction to seeing two honestly gay men was, "Well, I guess I'm not needed here." But nope, most of the wrestlers were straight and they wanted to fuck. And they loved to fuck her. By the time she celebrated her seventeenth birthday, she knew what she was, she was a ring rat. A regular who traipsed around the territory, scouring rides to get to the next event. Gas grass or ass, baby, no free rides. She almost never had extra money, and never had grass, unless one of her mom's musician friends left it in the shitty apartment. But that was okay, she had a fine ass, they all told her so. And she sure as hell wasn't afraid to use it.

She might have lived out the rest of her days doing this, until she got too old or she got knocked up. And even the knocking up would have just been a pause more than a stop. It was her life. Sure, she knew there were other things in this world, but not for a girl like her. Not for a third generation welfare kid. The best she could hope for was to one day qualify for section eight and get into one of the new projects that sprang up from time to time. Get there before the rats and the roaches, the drug sellers and the drive by shootings. Sure, in a few years it would be all that and more, but for a few years, it would be relatively nice. But then she met the guy who changed her whole perspective on life, who in some ways could be considered the father of Madison Montgomery, which was damned kinky when you thought about it.

"Mrs. Aldridge?" a voice cut through her memories. "Mrs. Aldridge?"

Madison looked up to see Sofia, the maid staring at her. She shook her head and smile. "Sorry, Sofia, wool gathering."

"Yes Mrs. Aldridge," Sofia said.

Madison had been trying for the last year to get her to call her Madison, but Sofia wouldn't do it. "We're not friends, Mrs. Aldridge," was Sofia's reasoning. "I appreciate that you and Mr. Aldridge are my bosses. I am grateful that you pay me better than the going rate and that you give me the time I need to go to college, but we aren't friends. You are my boss and I won't talk to my boss like I would my friend."

Madison respected that, but she wondered if Sofia would respect her as much if she knew Madison's past. Or, that Madison had never graduated from High school, just had a GED and a few college classes. She meant to go back to college full time, that was one of the reasons why she got involved in all of this in the first place. But, instead she found herself falling into the life Theo Aldridge and his friends expected of their wives. Charity events, luncheons, pastimes of the idol rich. She was supposed to better herself and instead she was just another name in the society section. Oh, sure, they flattered her. "Mrs. Aldridge, you helped raise almost a million dollars for cancer research, you are such an asset to this world" but the truth was, she was just a pretty face who could make phone calls and coax very rich people into making donations that seemed impossibly large to anyone struggling to make a living, but in truth, were a mere drop in the bucket. Anyone could do what she did, as long as they had the right connections to go with the pretty face.

"Mrs. Aldridge," Sofia asked, looking hesitant. "Can I get something for you?"

Madison shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

"Then, do you mind..." Sofia looked about the room and made a helpless shrug.

Madison stared at her, puzzled for a moment, then realized Sofia was trying to hint that she needed to clean this area, the entry hall, and Madison standing there was not helping. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sofia! I'll go to my office."

"Thank you. I mean, if you have business in here, that's fine but-"

"No, I was just checking the mail," she scooped the bundle of magazines, junk mail, bills, cream colored expensive envelopes, into her arms, and left the room.


She met him an event, he wasn't even one of "her" guys, not a member of the indy group she usually hung with. This guy was an invader, he and his friends coming up to stir trouble and add a little excitement. He had manged to bring "her" champion down, even though it wasn't a title match. She had enjoyed watching this guy take on Rob Wydell, the overconfident asshole deserved to be taken down a few pegs, and this guy had done it. But the matches after that had been, well, boring. So, Honey found herself drifting to the back of the gym, sitting on the floor against the wall. She pulled a book out of her handbag and started reading.

"What'cha reading, beautiful?" a voice asked.

She looked up, it was him, the guy who took out their champion. Or, "That Asshole," as Wydell had been calling him since the challenge was announced. She took a lot of grief from her friends and the wrestlers over her reading, so she tried to slide the book behind her back. Before she could, he reached out and nabbed it from her hand as easy as you please.

"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn," he commented, reading the cover. "Do you like it?"

She nodded. "Yeah, this is the second time I'm reading it."

"That good, huh?" He handed it back to her, and sat down on the floor across from her. He had changed from his wrestling trunks into jeans and a t-shirt. He had showered too, because his hair was still wet and he smelled like baby shampoo. She knew a lot of wrestlers bought store brand baby shampoo. It was cheap and mild enough to double as an all body wash too. He had picked a good store brand though, because it mostly smelled clean, not powdery, like some smelled.

She shrugged, folding over the page she had been reading and closing the book. "I do that when I read. I read a book fast, 'cause I wanna know what happens, then I read it slowly to savor it."

"First time you're starving, the next time you're just hungry?" He grinned.

"Something like that," she said, appreciating how accurate the analogy was.

"So, what's your name?" he asked.

"Honey," she answered, wondering why he was sitting with her. He came with his group, and his group traveled with their own group of women, surely one if not more of them were willing to keep him company, he didn't need her. Besides, Kiki had told her Wydell had been checking her out and she hadn't slept with him yet. It would be a nice feather to her imaginary cap to sleep with the current champion, even if he was an asshole.

"Honey, what?" He asked.

She sighed. "Honey Combs."

She waited for the inevitable laughter or jokes, but he shook his head and said, "I'll bet your mother thought that was so cute."

She shrugged. "Probably thought it would make a great stripper name."

He rolled his eyes. "Your mom sounds like a winner. Hey guess what?" he asked abruptly changing the subject.

"What?"

"I have five thousand dollars on me." He grinned. "Don't tell any of these losers or they'll probably try to roll me."

"Five grand?" her eyes widened. "How you get that much money? Push a liquor store? You deal on the side?"

He shook his head, a look of anger clouding his face, and she cringed, scared she'd provoked his wrath. "I don't do that shit," he said.

"Sorry." Her voice came out higher than she intended.

He frowned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just sorry I offended you," she said.

He shrugged. "You didn't. I just don't like people who sell drugs. No, I got this money the old fashioned way, I won it on a scratch ticket. Do you believe that?"

"Wow," she said, impressed. Her mother and her friends did those things all the time and the best she ever heard of them winning was her mother winning five hundred bucks one time. Five thousand was amazing. "So, now you rich, whatcha gonna do, go to Disney Land?"

He laughed. "Nah, nothing so mundane. Let me ask you, Honey Combs, do you have your own place 'round here?"

She shook her head. "Seventeen, I live with my mom, still."

"Does your mom allow you to have company?" His head was tipped to one side and he was studying her.

"Yeah." Normally she would have said no, although her mother wouldn't have cared if she'd had the entire indy group she hung with stay in their shitty two bedroom apartment. But she didn't like having overnight guests with her mother there. Ma might only go out looking for the boys in the band, but she wasn't above trying to get a little action from any guy in the house. But, dear, sweet Ma actually was having a fling with a bass player who hadn't kicked her to the curb lately, so she was on the road with him, which meant Honey had the place to herself. "She gone though. Last she text me, she say she be back in a few weeks."

"Wow, she and my mom ought to get together, they can fight it out for mother of the year." He offered up a lopsided grin, that seemed carefree and easy, even though his words indicated a past that was as rough as hers, maybe even rougher. "Well, Honey, I'm going to be in your fair city for a week. I'm going to kick your champion's ass next week too, so why bother to head home? I could take this five grand and spend part of it on a cheap, shitty hotel room for a week, bunk up with my friends, but eh, that sound boring. So, what I thought is that maybe I could stay with you."

"With me?" She studied him. She knew the score, he didn't want a place on her couch, he expected he'd share her bed with her too, although she was thinking they'd use her mom's bed instead, because it was a double, while hers was a twin. "What's in it for me?"

"Mind blowing sex," he said, not mincing words. "I may not look like much, but I'm good. I'll show you things probably none of your usual guys have shown you." He grinned, his eyes dancing. "And, if that's not enough, I'll make sure you eat good this week, and when it's time for me to leave? I'll give you a thousand bucks. Sound fair?"

She should have been insulted. She knew he was buying her, as if she were a common whore. But her mind was dazzled with the thought of a thousand dollars, all hers. There was so much she could do with that money. And really, when you thought about it, he wasn't really accusing her of anything that she really wasn't. She was a whore, she just usually was a pretty cheap one.


Madison put the mail down on her desk and sat down. Her office was a professionally decorated mixture of muted colors, creams, tans, and browns, with beautifully restored antique furniture. The few pops of color came from the expensive artwork on the walls. Expensive and for the most part, originals, and all carefully chosen to compliment the room. She had to give the decorators credit, they knew what they were doing. Some of her friends did their own decorating, found it fun, but not her. She knew that if she had decorated this room, it would have had modern furniture, bright colored walls, and just screamed "Raised in the projects!" She had done everything she could to leave her old life behind her, but some things she couldn't get rid of. Fortunately, when Theo bought this...mausoleum of a house, he had expected she would hire the best decorators money could buy to fix it up right and they had done just that. Sure, they had asked her opinion on things, but she was an expert at reading people's expressions and body language. She would look to see what they thought was best and then agree with that. She was sure if anyone asked Lindsey, the owner of the decorating firm about her, Lindsey would say that Madison's tastes were perfect.

She organized the mail carefully. Junk mail was put in a bin over by the shredder, Sofia would take care of that later. The bills went to one corner to be paid when she had time. Theo had told her that with all her charity and volunteer work, that he would understand if she wanted to hire a secretary who would handle the mundane things like paying the bills, but that idea made her uncomfortable. They had plenty of money, the checking account was never in danger of running low, and if it was, she could just pop on line and transfer over a healthy sum in minutes, but Madison, or maybe it was Honey, felt she had to keep control of things. Besides, when there was always money, paying bills was a simple matter. And lately she was even transferring things to electronic billing, so they just deducted them from the checking account. Still, she got notifications through email and carefully double checked all the figures at least once a month to make sure everything was going smoothly. Theo laughed at her about that. "Why are you so worried?" he said to her once, after she spent two days on and off with the cable company over a ten dollar discrepancy over the latest bill. "Is ten dollars that important?"

Although she smiled and shrugged and tried to brush it off, the part of her that was still Honey, that would always be Honey, was furious. Ten dollars was ten dollars. She could have fed her and her mother for two days with ten dollars. Ten dollars would have gotten her a pack of cigarettes and a Mountain Dew, back in the days when she smoked and drank soda. Ten dollars was ten dollars and it infuriated her that her husband could be so careless about money. Infuriated her that he never knew what it was like to live a lifestyle where ten dollars could mean the difference between eating good for the week, or having to live on rice and plain boiled macaroni. Theo hadn't grown up with the money he had now, but his parents had been far from poor. He had lived a borderline life, the borderline being between high upper middle and low elite class. Now he was in the top of the elite class. Barely in the top, but that was just splitting hairs, wasn't it?

This wasn't to say Theo didn't work hard for what he had, he did. He wasn't a trust fund baby, although when his grandparents died, he had inherited a good sum of money, money he had taken and carefully invested, and grown into a much healthier sum. And even with that, he still worked hard. But Theo just never seemed to be that concerned about money. It was like he knew he had the Midas touch with finances, and therefore, refused to worry about ten dollars here and there. Madison had always believed that rich people lived by the motto, "Watch the pennies and the dollars will take care of themselves," but that had proved not to be true. There was a point in her social circles where people just couldn't be bothered to worry about paltry sums of money that were once so important to her.

The magazine she went through and divided into three piles. One group would go on the Queen Anne coffee table in front of the loveseat in this office. The other would go into Theo office. The third in their formal living room. They didn't have many subscriptions, and so many magazines had on line or Kindle versions you could take with you anywhere, but Madison loved the feel of real paper with real printing on it and she thought that a few magazines around the house, gave the place a homey feeling. Provided they were the right magazines.

The expensive envelopes, she knew were invitations. Parties, weddings, and of course, the endless charity functions. "Theo, Madison, you simply must come to our little soirée, we're dying to see you. And please bring your checkbook, we're raising money for (insert name of current fashionable charity here)" She opened those and organized them into piles. The ones they would have to attend, the ones she would discuss with Theo if they could attend, and the ones she wouldn't even bother with. She started filling out the RSVP cards on the ones they would accept and the ones they wouldn't, so they would be out in the mail tomorrow.

When that was done, she put the small stamped envelopes into the Moser bowl she used for outgoing mail that sat at the corner of her desk. Before Sofia left today, she would check the bowl and bring the envelops out to the mailbox. When she came to work tomorrow, she would bring the mail in. On Sofia's week day off, Madison might take care of the mail herself, or she might let it wait until the next day.

She looked at the bills, debating if she should go through those, just to get it over with. She almost reached for them, then changed her mind and opened up her laptop. She checked her regular email, clearing out the junk mail and sorting the main she wanted to keep. When that was done, she went to her "other" email account. The one with the address. The one that was registered to Honey Combs. The one that he knew. The one that he had sent a message to, two days ago:

I'll be in your area this weekend, any chance I can crash with you? Let me know by Thursday.

It was Wednesday. She had to make a choice soon, because if she wanted to say yes, she had a lot of things to work out. Tapping her recently manicured nails on the desk, she opened another tab and started looking at travel sites.

End of Part One.

Author's notes: If you like this, please feel free to leave me a review. If you didn't like it, please feel free to leave me a review. I live for feedback. And this one wasn't easy to write, so I'm not sure if I'm making it work or not.