Ok, Translation time!!

Scusili prego -Please excuse us
Sono cosi spiacente -I'm so sorry
Siete ferite? -Are you hurt?
No, no, per niente -no, no, not at all
Sono spiacente, ma io dovete chiedere, siete Ashley? - I'm sorry, but I must ask, are you Ashley?
Si, sono Ashley -Yes, I'm Ashley
Lo ho conosciuto! La nostra figlia è un grande ventilatore di il vostro! E siete Matt, Paul e Brian, destra? -I knew it! Our daughter is a big fan of yours! And you're Matt, Paul, and Brian, right?
Si, si, naturalmente! -Yes, yes, of course!
Uno, due, tre! -One, two three!
Forza Italia! – Force Italy, the Italian Force, go Italy, it has many meanings.
Gratzie –thank you

Thanks for waiting for those, friends…-laughs- Keep on enjoying the Kane/Ashley goodness, which will (kinda) make an appearance in this chapter!

At seven thirty, Ashley was hurriedly putting the finishing touches on her hair and make-up. She was only clad in a brand new black and red bustier, a pair of matching flimsy underwear, and thigh-high fishnets held up by a lacy suspender belt that matched her intimates. She'd deliberately turned off her phone and hopped in the shower right away after leaving the boys to themselves, but it turned out that her hair was proving to be a difficult task. She'd blow-dried, wetted, crimped, curled, straightened, gelled, hair-sprayed, tied up, brushed back, moussed, braided, clipped, and bobby-pinned her hair at least a thousand times, and she began to grow frantic as time seemingly sped up and left her in the dust. Finally settling on a Lolita 'do that was curly, wavy and braided, she carefully applied the remainder of her make-up, painting her pouty lips a deep red and extending her lashes with multiple coats of mascara. Taking her eyeliner pencil, the used the foamy tipped end to smudge the black lines around her eyes, lengthening the dark outlines to just outside each eyelid in a little 'wing'. Spreading a bit of pink blush on a brush, she dusted it across her cheekbones, and then packed her cosmetics away. Inspecting the final product in the mirror, she couldn't help but giggle excitedly. In just a little while, she was going to be living it up in the city of Milan, and she just hoped it would be ready for her. Scurrying into the bedroom, her clock screamed the time, seven thirty-five.

"Shit!" Ashley cried out, rustling through her many shopping bags acquired during the day's outing. She scrambled around for a few minutes before pulling out short, puffy black skirt that had mesh layers that stuck out like flower petals from underneath the satin top layer. She stepped into the skirt quickly, swearing under her breath as her feet caught on the netting a few times. Finally dressed, she pulled on her black fishnet sleeves and slipped into a pair of red high-heeled, calf-length boots. As she finished lacing and zipping them up, a knock came at the door.
"Coming!" she called, scrambling round to pick up the mess she'd made in the clothes, towels, hair products and shoes.
The knocks became more incessant and she could hear stifled laughter coming from outside in the hallway.
"Oh Ashley…" she heard Matt call in a sing-song voice. "Come out come out, where ever you are…"
"Yeah, quit wasting time!" Paul snickered. "You're supposed to save the dramatic entrance for Milan, not us!"
She threw one of the boots she'd worn earlier in the day at the door and laughed. "Hold your horses boys, this one's worth waiting for!"
At seven forty-seven, Matt began pounding beats on the wooden door, and Paul joined him as Brian beat-boxed along.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" and grabbing a black sequined pocket book, she headed towards the door.
Upon hearing her boot clacks approaching, Matt began a drum roll while Paul dug down deep for his best ring announcer voice, causing Ashley to break into laughter, "And now, weighing in at a weight that's way too little for her own good, from the awesome city of Milan, she is the future WWE Women's Champion, ASHLEY!"
And with that, at seven fifty on a cool Milan night, the Dirty Diva flung her hotel door open with a flourish and revealed herself, posing and gesturing as Brian and Matt pretended to take pictures.

Stepping out of the room, she shut the door behind her and took the awaiting arms of Brian and Paul. She skipped excitedly, pulling her friends along towards the elevator. There, they met Batista, who was looking suave in black pants and a white button down shirt. Not too much, but definitely more dressed up than her jeans and T-shirts boys.
"Hey, Dave," Ashley greeted. "Are you heading out with us?"
The former Heavyweight Champ gave her an appreciative twice-over and smirked as Brian's hand snaked around her waist possessively before nodding. "Teddy invited seemingly everyone along. I hear he's even paying for everything."
Paul and Matt traded high-fives. "Fuckin right," the diva crowed, patting Brian's arm excitedly. Stepping into the elevator, they were joined two floors later by Booker and Sharmelle, who eyed Matt wearily but climbed in all the same. Putting himself between his wife and the Version One, the King nodded in greeting to Batista, London and Kendrick as his Queen began chattering with Ashley.
They reached the lobby moments later, and found a hefty bunch of the SmackDown roster hanging around.

Promptly at eight, Teddy ushered them out of the hotel and into the streets, where three limos sat in wait. Choosing the limo in front, Ashley motioned her three escorts to follow her. They all clambered in and Ashley shrieked with laughter as Paul and Brian squished her in between them. Theodore and Kristal were the last to climb in and the General Manager poked his head up front to give the driver directions.
"So Mr. Long where are we headed," Chris Benoit asked as their boss settled back down and straightened his tie.
"Well, playas an associate of mine told me a great deal about some hot spots here in the great city of Milan, so we're going to hit as many as possible!"
This was met with cheers and whistles and Teddy grinned before continuing. "We'll be hitting Club Privé Bizzarre, La Gare Club Privé, VENUS, El Marocco, Pussycat…"
As Teddy's list went on, (and on, and on, and on), Ashley only grew more and more excited.

They reached their first stop, La Gare Club Privé, moments later, and as Ashley stepped out of the limo, aided by Paul and Brian, she gazed in awe at the building in front of her. It was sleek, not at all like the mortar and brick buildings around it, and every time the doors opened she caught a glimpse of rooms bathed in a deep, red glow.
"Oh..." she gasped, and then she jumped up and down. "Oh, oh, oh!! Brian, Brian, come on!!!" she tugged on his arm as Benoit and the rest of their car emptied into the street, followed by the other two limos.
It was then that she noticed the line waiting outside the club, and the sudden gasps and cheers as the some of the Italian public realized who they all were. Catching themselves, they waved and shook hands with the crowd. Running up and down the velvet roped line, Brian and Paul high-fived as many fans as they could reach, before tackling Ashley and lifting her into the air. Batista, Benoit, MVP, Michelle, Booker and Sharmelle got the crowd even more pumped, and as her two friends let her back down to the ground, she found herself scooped up in a pair of strong arms, being propelled towards the club doors.

Sitting at a secluded table with Brian, Matt, Batista, Michelle, and Kennedy, Ashley stirred her Italian Screwball with a swizzle stick and laughed as Kennedy and Dave did impressions. Paul came to the table with a guest, and they were surprised to see Santino Marella, the WWE's new Intercontinental Champion. He nodded appreciatively in the punk diva's direction.
"Screwball," he said. "Good drink for partying."
"Damn right!" Ashley nodded in agreement, toasting him with her sugar-rimmed hurricane glass.
"Come," he motioned for her to get up. "I show you Italian Margarita."
Ashley stared, amazed and excited. "They have margaritas here? Oh my God, I love Milan!!"
Taking his hand, Ashley stood, waving to her laughing friends as she followed him to the bar. Sitting on a stool, Santino ordered the drink in Italian, and when it came, handed it to the blonde woman next to him.
"Try," he offered.
She took a sip and she was blown away by the strong taste. "Holy shit, what's in this?" she asked, taking in a mouthful.
Marella nodded. "Amaretto almond and Jose Cuervo," he explained. "Makes for stronger...flavor as you say? Not so much alcohol."
"Well it's fuckin delicious," she declared, taking another drink and standing. "Let's freakin dance!!" She pulled him off his stool and led him out onto the floor, holding her glass carefully above her head. As they reached a spot near the center of the club, a breezy, almost primal trance song filled the room.
"Oh my fuckin God! This music is awesome!"
The IC laughed. "Italy is renowned for its club music. It's often compared to England's club scene."
Ashley, who'd never been to England before, merely nodded. She'd find out on ECW next week, wouldn't she? She had to force back a squeal. Santino, who was a very good dancer, explained more about his country, and before long, the song was over, and Ashley's glass was empty.
"I gotta go get me another one of these! See ya later!!" and she headed back for the bar.

Superstars came and went as some moved on to or came in with their experiences from the other clubs, and since her dance with Santino she'd made three more trips to the bar, danced twice with Batista, (much to Brian's chagrin), tried a glass of Limoncello at Teddy's request and ended up drinking three, had a go on the dance floor with Brian to ease his annoyance, downed two beers, and suddenly she wasn't feeling too good. She knew she was drunk, because she didn't get that way that often, and suddenly the room was getting too small. When she felt the things around her start to close in, she stood from the table she was sharing with Brian and Finlay, leaning on her chair for support.
"Hey Ash, you ok?" Brian asked, concerned.
"Y-yeah, I just need some air, that's all," and she weaved her way out of the club.

Making her way out the door, Ashley took a deep breath. Her legs felt a little Jell-O-y. She noticed one of the limos sitting near the curb and opened the door, collapsing into the back seat. This would have been fine had there not been someone already there.
"Kane! Shit, you're just not having much luck with me today, are ya mister?" She said, crawling onto the seat across from the Big Red Machine. Feeling her stomach wiggle unpleasantly, she lay on her side and closed her eyes.
Kane, who was drinking a bottle of domestic Italian beer, leaned forward, a little concerned.
"You alright?"
She nodded. "I think so...my stomach feels funny..."
Kane blinked and his anxiety swelled. "You didn't drink out of a glass you left unattended, did you?"
She shook her head. "I don't think so. I just don't normally drink this much, ya know?"
The brother of the Undertaker sniffed and leaned back, his worry ebbing. "Don't throw up on my shoes, then."
"How gentlemanly," she remarked dryly, peaking at him through one eye.
"Well it's not my fault you're drunk."
She flipped over on her back. "Yeah, you're right. It's just so awesome, you know?" she looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Partying in the city of Milan, it's easy to get carried away...except you're not getting carried away. Why aren't you inside, living it up?"
Kane grunted. "I only came because Mark bugged me all night. This party thing just isn't my scene."
Ashley nodded and closed her eyes. She could understand. "Sometimes ya just wanna chill out on your own. But isn't that kinda...lonely?"
Kane stared at her thoughtfully, but didn't reply. Soon her breathing softened and evened out, and he knew she was asleep. Looking at his watch, he wondered why he wasn't. It was two-thirty in the morning. He knocked on the window that separated them from the driver, and he heard the engine shudder to life.

Soon they were pulling up beside the hotel and Kane lifted Ashley from the back seat. He told the driver that he could return to the club, and moments later the limo was out of sight. Carrying the passed-out diva into the empty lobby, he lay her gently on a couch and found himself staring at her.
Hell, dressed up pretty and no one really got to see ya, he thought. Sucks to be them.
Turning away, he headed towards the elevator, but not before he spared the sleeping woman one last, long glance.

-Sighs- Whew!! Well, there ya go!! Some Kane and Ashley-ness!! Here's where it really starts!! YAY FOR THE BIG RED MACHINE AND THE DIRTY DIVA!!!!
-Collapses and immediately falls asleep- See ya'll playas next time!!