Okay. From here on out, this fic is going to have some more adult-ish situations. If you are a younger poster on this board, I wouldn't recommend you go any further than this. Some swearing, some heated conversation, some stronger lyrics (lyrics in this chapter are from Rufus Wainwright's Instant Pleasure song), that sort of thing. Nothing explicit but I want to be safe and caution you nonetheless because this story isn't necessarily for everyone. It should be a fun ride for everyone who decides to go on though.


And here we go:

Thanks, btw to my lovely girls Erica and Nicole for listening to me yammer on in chat tonight. You're always so fun.


Some Days Better For My Heart: Part Two


Getting a hard-on every time the boss's twenty-one year old daughter walked by wasn't exactly conducive to long term employment in Hunter's estimation. The girl didn't even dress decently—he didn't even know *why* he reacted the way he had been as of late.

She wore the most obnoxious, pretentious clothing. Shirts that covered up curves he just knew were there, the most boring pants and entirely too long skirts that hid every inch.

He'd found himself staring at her in Production, wondering exactly who Stephanie McMahon really was.

Was she the girl who everyone thought was as sweet and innocent as the Virgin Mary…or was she the wild, would-be rebel he'd caught a glimpse of two weeks ago?

Two Weeks Ago…

Hunter pulled the girl—Cammi? In his arms tighter even as he lifted her for another twist in their dance on the club floor. He'd always loved Rufus.

I don't want somebody to love me
Just give me sex whenever I want it
'Cause all I ask for is instant pleasure
Instant pleasure, instant pleasure

Cammi—shit, was that her name? He sucked at remembering names. Well…it didn't really feel like she'd notice one way or the other, the way her hand was moving up and down his thigh even as they danced together.

You in the traffic for all eternity
How could that speed be where you want to be?
Said don't you really want instant pleasure
Instant pleasure, instant pleasure

Think that all these folks get laid?
Do it 'cause their pain is great?
What you thinkin' anyways?

"You know what's really funny, Hunter? I saw you on the television and I thought that that was you!"

Hunter must have knocked back a few more drinks than he'd thought.

"Huh?" He managed intelligently.

"Like, I thought that was really *you*, Hunter! I thought you were really Triple H!"

She…couldn't be saying what he thought she was saying. Right? Right? Hunter forced himself to stop staring at the brunette in the tight red dress half-way across the room, whose long hair was shimmering in the bright overhead lights.

"I—well, I am Triple H." He said slowly, looking into the wide brown eyes of his date.

She playfully smacked him on the shoulder. "Oh, you silly goose."

Silly? Goose? What the--*nobody* called him silly. What sane woman would think that was a term of endearment?

"I—I don't think I'm quite following you here, Cammi." He told her, having to shout to be heard over the bouncing crowd some of whom were now singing along with Rufus:

If drinkin' coffee's your idea of really cool
You can't expect no crazy chick to notice you
Just sittin there dreamin' instant pleasure
Instant pleasure, instant pleasure
Instant pleasure, instant pleasure

She tittered, and he was glad the music was so pounding, and the crowd around him so active and loud, otherwise he thought glass might have shattered from the sheer high pitch of the sound.

"Hunter, I mean that you were so convincing! I totally thought you were Triple H! I didn't even know you like, existed until I met you tonight. I thought I was meeting the actual Triple H! I liked the Rock a whole lot better, but meeting Triple H was kind of cool I thought. I mean, you actually have touched the Rock before! I bet his skin is really soft. It looks like it is. Is the Rock's skin really soft?"

"I—you—" His head hurt. A lot.

"Well, I mean. Your skin is really soft too!" She hastened to add. She rubbed his forearm thoughtfully. "Really."

Oh, God. She thought he was offended. He wasn't fucking drunk enough to be having this conversation. He swiftly untangled his arms from around her waist.

"I'm—I'm going to have to confess I didn't really notice how soft the Rock's skin was while I was pummeling him in the ring." He shouted over the music.

"Oh." Cammi's face fell slightly and she was still kind of half-bopping to the music. "Well, that's okay. Maybe next time you'll know to look and then you can just tell me. Wow, you're all such good actors though! I totally thought you were Triple H. I always wondered why the heck you wouldn't just stop turning your back when people came at you with chairs. I mean, 'cause I sure wouldn't turn my back on someone with a chair if they kept on hitting me with them. I probably wouldn't put down the sledgehammer either. I'd keep that with me, like, all the time, because those people get violent. Like, a lot. They keep on, you know. Hurting you and stuff. You shouldn't let them hit you so much."

He felt dizzy and realized it was from all the nodding he'd just been doing. "Well. Okay then." He said brightly. He liked his women with a couple more brain cells than this one right here. He'd suspected she wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box earlier this evening when she'd talked about her broken nail for ten minutes at the beginning of the night. But—she'd had…she'd had other attributes that compensated rather nicely.

Not even those could make her more palatable now. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes searching the room hastily until…

He saw it. His out.

"Wait, wait. I see—I see someone over there. I'm sorry, I'm kind of in a relationship right now. She's my girlfriend." He pointed at the wildly gyrating brunette. "We just agreed to go on separate dates for tonight, see if we should start seeing other people. But—I think I really love her. A—a lot." He amended when he saw the doubtful look starting to appear on Cammi's face.

If you want someone a friend to be
Guess you'll have to win the lottery
But till then repeat after me

I don't want somebody to love me
Just give me sex whenever I want it
'Cause all I ask for is instant pleasure
Instant pleasure, instant pleasure
Instant pleasure, instant pleasure
Instant pleasure, instant pleasure

"So, I'm sorry if I've lead you on or anything! I--just didn't know I was in love with her!" He continued, cringing at the stupidity of the words that insisted at coming from his mouth, as though nothing were even slightly wrong. He all but ran over to the brunette. He swung her around from her dancing partner and embraced her tightly, staring at a wall across the room. He yelled into her ear:

"Look, I'm really sorry about this, but you're just going to have to trust that it's necessary, okay? I'll even pay you for it, if you go along with this. Okay? I'm sorry."

Then he bent down and kissed her. She stiffened in his arms, starting to push him away at first, but then she seemed to freeze, absolutely still for a moment and…

Then she was kissing him back. Really, really well. Wow. Just--leave it to him to pick out a great kisser for this suddenly horrifying escape from his date. Her tongue licked his lips lightly, and he bit her lower lip the tiniest bit. He pulled himself away reluctantly so he could look and gauge Cammi's reaction.

She was gone. He exhaled in relief, then turned back to the girl he'd all but accosted out on the floor. He started to apologize again, though, hey, she'd seemed like she really hadn't minded.

And…oh…no...

"Hello Mr. Helmsley." An amused voice, and light fingers were tracing his chest.

No. No. He had not just kissed her.

His—his bosses' daughter.

His bosses' only daughter. His young, barely in her twenties only daughter.

His lips didn't seem to want to work anymore. They were apparently on strike.

"I—Miss McMahon. I'm sorry about this—I saw you across the room, you were the first person I saw, and—"

"I understand Hunter. I—saw you too, actually, so—"

"Miss McMahon, you have to believe me. If I would have known it was you, I never, ever would have—"

He was so frantic to explain he didn't even register Stephanie's eyes blink fast and hard, didn't see how her spine straightened just a minute fraction, or how her fists clenched and unclenched all in the span of one second at his words.

"Didn't rea—of course." She said softly, but he didn't hear that either. "Because you would never kiss me otherwise."

That he heard, and he blinked down at her. "Well, of course not. Your father would fire me."

"Somehow, I never really registered you as the kind of guy my father would intimidate. I don't know why I'm surprised. Nobody stands up to him." She said almost as an after-thought.

"Well—your dad controls a lot of money, Miss McMahon. Nobody wants to screw up the chance for some of it." He garbled out.

Stephanie nodded. "Nope. That'd just be stupid, pointless. What could they possibly have to gain from it? Nothing, absolutely nothing, after all." She echoed distantly.

He didn't know why, but Hunter had the oddest feeling that they were almost having two different conversations here. He took a small step backwards. "Like I said, I didn't realize." He said slowly. "And if you could—if you could just pretend this didn't happen, I'd—"

If you want someone a friend to be
Guess you'll have to win the lottery
But till then repeat after me

I don't want somebody to love me
Just give me sex whenever I want it
'Cause all I ask for is instant pleasure
Instant pleasure, instant pleasure
Instant pleasure, instant pleasure
Instant pleasure, instant pleasure

I don't want somebody to love me
I don't want somebody to love me...

"What? What would you do, Hunter?" Stephanie cut in.

"I'd appreciate it." He found himself saying.

"Appreciate? Oh, but appreciate is so broad a term, Hunter."

And he felt the weirdest sense as she stepped toward him. Like he was—nervous? Of a twenty-one year old girl?

The hell?

"Appreciate, the kind as in, 'Gee, thanks, Steph for not getting me kicked out of your dad's company, I'm really grateful', or, 'Steph, I'll dance with you and do anything else you want for the rest of the night to make it up to you' kind of appreciation?"

He was too shocked to say anything, which really. Was a first.

"Mr. Helmsley? Let me clue you in." She moved in even closer, her hand on his jugular now. She was talking so softly he had to lean in to hear her. "The answer is the second one, at least it is if you don't want my father knowing about how you all but screwed me on a club dance floor." She finished.

He didn't know what was shocking him the most here: The fact that Stephanie McMahon, Miss Priss herself was….was what? Propositioning him? Blackmailing him? Right here in the middle of hundreds…

Or that she'd used the word 'screwed' in a sentence.

He suspected it was both.

tbc...