Uncommon Sense Chapter 14
By Batistafan
Rating - NC-17 for violence
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to
your site that's fine, just let me know.
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not
be deemed appropriate for all readers.
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim
to them as they are property of their respective companies of
license. Thank you kindly for not suing.

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

"Man is the only animal whose desires increase as they are fed; the only animal that is never satisfied."

Henry George
US economist (1839 - 1897)

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Leaning backward in his chair, brow furrowed with arms folded across his chest, Eric Bischoff was the picture of intense contemplation. He pondered the suggestion given, as he stared at the conniving pair before him and seemingly endless silence ensued as he considered his words carefully.

"You know, Chris, I dare say that I am the biggest proponent of 'must-see-TV'. But, be that as it may…I still have to consider the safety factor for everyone involved here." Eric leaned forward, a despondent look on his face, and rested his elbows on the edge of the table that served as his makeshift desk. "I may not be particularly fond of her, but the fact remains that she is not a wrestler, nor has she had any training as a wrestler." He shook his head, dispelling the idea. "I cannot in good conscience, put her in the ring with you."

Chris Jericho, who was sitting next to Christy, cast a furtive glance, and then pursed his lips together. He knew that if he didn't find a way to appeal to Eric's intrinsic desire for recognition with the masses the idea would fall flat before the unscrupulous General Manager would even consider it.

"Okay, I understand that you have to take into consideration, the liability aspect but it's not like she's going to get in there and be forced to endure intense pounding." He gestured with his hands as Christy nodded in unison next to him. "It's basically just for show, and in a round about way, it might just scare her and teach her a little lesson."

"I certainly believe, that if what you said is true, and she did in fact, throw your keys in the trash can…she should be made to undergo some disciplinary action, but I don't think that any of that should entail some 'in-ring fiasco', that's bound get the attention of the board of directors faster than a catered brunch!" Eric frowned and shook his head once more. "Vince would have a field day with this, I can't do it."

"Vince likes ratings…" Christy reminded him. "If you can get her in a match and all goes well, who knows in a week or two she can be put in another one that can be filmed for a live RAW. No one's ever done this sort of thing before…you'll start a whole new type of rivalry…Vince will see you as the one on the cutting edge of creativity. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you haven't thought of teaching her a lesson for the mess ups she's had since she's been here."

"Eric, think of it this way…" Chris regrouped, attempting another approach. "If you write her up and suspend her, the WWE loses one of its best wardrobe consultants, designers whatever, despite the fact that she's had a rocky road here and then we're stuck with that ass clown, fat boy…what's his name?" He turned to Christy for assistance.

"Max." She supplied.

"However…" Chris continued, "All I'm suggesting is just a teensy little intimidation technique if you will, a way to let her know in no uncertain terms that 'our kind' should stick with 'our kind' and that her kind is better off in the bowels of the arena doing what an hourly employee gets paid to do." He scowled roughly. "She's eavesdropped on half of the roster, God knows what all she's told and to whom…" He said, relating what Christy had told him before the meeting. "You saw what she did to Christy's shirt last week…you obviously heard what hell that caused for her…and more importantly, I had to pay two hundred dollars to get another FOB key for my Bentley!" His voice began to rise to a level that indicated he was fed up to the hilt. "This would be a safe way to get her to stop her shenanigans and you can still keep a great designer on the staff. She is after all a great designer, like you said, which I don't have to remind you, helps RAW out tremendously, considering that because of you, we are the premier brand." His anger caused his chatter to rattle out like BB gun pellets.

Eric sighed and looked down at his desk, deliberating the idea. The intent to appeal to his longing for acknowledgement from anyone who would notice apparently had worked. "Okay, here's the deal…Exhibition Match ONLY…you will not…and hear me clearly…you will NOT…subject her to any bumps, clotheslines, body slams…none of that! I can't afford a lawsuit on my hands. We'll label it as a no disqualification, inter-gender, intra-staff match you know just to make it sound really treacherous and we'll do it tonight since this is a house show…I don't want this thing being filmed on a major network or any shit like that. It'll just be something for fun for the local fans." He stood up putting his hands in his pockets and pacing, ignoring the smiles of both Chris and Christy. "You can call her out to the ring, confront her about what she did, jerk her around a little bit, maybe a tad of hair pulling…then you'll push her down, put her in the 'Walls of Jericho' and let her tap out."

Eric seemed satisfied with himself as he turned and stared directly at Christy. "You are not to be anywhere at ringside, do you understand?" He waited until she swore a 'Scout's Honor', crossing her heart childishly and then he turned his attentions to Chris.

"No one says anything about this match to anyone else especially her…I will go talk to Nancy about it personally, give her a run down of how she should react and show her how to tap out."

Chris resisted the niggling impulse to tell him that if anyone should know how to tap out it would be Eric.

Eric turned his back toward the conspiratorial duo as he began to decide the time for the intra-staff match. "I'd like to have this match toward the end of the night so that we don't interfere with any of the other matches that people actually care to see." He shook his head, doubting seriously if what he was about to do was even conscionable.

"That's fine with me." Chris announced as he stood to his feet and embraced Eric's hand in a covenant shake. A little hair pulling…he knew exactly what he planned to do, and if he had his way it would involve a hell of a lot more than just a bit of hair pulling.

Neither he nor Eric could have known how easily the two of them played into Christy's hands. The fact that she had been banned from ringside was a blessing in disguise. That little detail alone ensured that as long as she stayed fairly low-key about the whole thing, Dave would never know that she had been the driving force behind the entire arrangement. She also shook Eric's hand and the two excused themselves one at a time from his office, so as not to arouse any suspicions.

bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

The black coal pencil scratched furiously over the paper as Nancy sketched in the final details for her tribute to John Cena's deceased friend. She wouldn't risk taking the precious design to just any screen printing company, instead she would scan it into Max's laptop and e-mail it to the screen printing company in Amarillo that she had come to know and trust implicitly with all of her designs. The small company was discriminate in its taste as far as proposals went and very protective of Nancy's clientele. She had established such a wonderful rapport with the owner that they tended to favor her. Nancy's design requests usually got pushed to the very top of their list.

She chewed the end of the coal pencil thoughtfully as she used her index finger to smudge the line she'd just made, softening it. Tonight had been a slow night. There were few requests for wardrobe fixes and barely any design projects remaining that hadn't already been completed.

This project, however had taken on a life of it's own…it seemed as if every time Nancy resumed working on it, that something about it needed to be changed or she simply ended up coming up with a better idea for the graphic, and had to incorporate the new inspiration into the original design. Her mind kept drifting to thoughts of things other than her current design, specifically something tall, dark and covered in sweat and tattoos, and she constantly had to realign her thinking in order to stay focused on the task at hand.

Max had all but disappeared, his back hunched as he labored over the undertaking of consuming a ham and cheese hoagie. Nancy was content to simply enjoy the peace and quiet in the wardrobe area, unaware that a huge rift was forming behind the scenes, about to swallow her quest for serenity.

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Dave let the hot water sluice over the front of his body as he leaned his head back and rolled his sore shoulders. His head had definitely not been in the game this evening. He hadn't been able to do much else except imagine what might have transpired had Max not come into the hotel room earlier that day. He was a little glad that Max had come because otherwise he wasn't sure if he would have had the power to stop himself if they had indeed started something. And Dave Batista's dirty mind had no problem conceiving a million different things he could have started, keeping his thoughts in check proved to be more like trying to hold a thousand rubber balls under the surface of a pool with only two hands. He groaned, grasped the knob and then turned the water off, reaching for his towel and then slapping it around his waist…it reminded him of this afternoon when Nancy had lost her towel, and it made him grin roguishly.

He stepped out of the showers and whisked his hand through his wet hair as he strode nonchalantly toward his belongings, relieved to find that they hadn't grown legs and taken a stroll like last time. Dave had barely begun to dress when he was approached by John Cena, who was shaking his head, obviously perturbed with something.

"You okay?" Dave inquired as he tugged on his slacks, and ran his thumb and forefinger down the razor sharp crease.

John appeared to be somewhat confused as he stopped to answer Dave's question. "You rode with that girl Nancy from Wardrobe last night, didn't you?" He scratched his chin.

Dave instantly stiffened up, as he nodded, wondering what John could possibly be about to ask.

"So you know her a little bit right?" John asked, facing Dave head on.

The thought that John might be prepared to ask Nancy out on a date floated through the forefront of Dave Batista's mind, and the instant stab of jealousy caused him to clench his jaw reflexively. "Yeah, why do you ask?" He stood to his full height.

"Well…" John frowned and ran his hand over his five o'clock shadow. "I just overheard the weirdest thing." He tossed his bag on the bench beside Dave's and it landed with a soft 'plop'.

"What's going on?" Dave asked secretly pleased that it didn't appear as if John was about to ask her out. He slipped his grey dress-shirt on and buttoned it quickly. Dave didn't seem overly concerned about John's impending revelation, as it was probably just something to do with the project that she was completing for him. Nancy had told him about it on the way to the gym, though she had not given him specifics. He slid the belt through the loops on his slacks and pulled on his shoes.

"I just heard overheard Bischoff talking to someone in his office and I heard him agree to put Nancy in a match." John announced, shaking his head and frowning. "He's putting her in a match with Chris Jericho…it's only an exhibition match, but it's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of…I think I should probably go tell her about it, mainly because I heard Bischoff telling Chris not to say anything to her." John felt a certain loyalty to Nancy being as she was completing a design project for him, but because she had also been willing to do it even in her free time. "I'm not sure if there was anyone else in the office with them, but I know for sure Chris was in there."

"You're kidding me." Dave said straightening sharply as he halted his bag packing. "This has gotta be a joke." He tried to appear calm, but on the inside he was beginning to panic. Dave knew full well the animosity that Eric had for Nancy. He also knew that any type of exhibition match involving someone who knew nothing about wrestling could prove dangerous, especially if Chris Jericho were involved.

"Naw I don't think it's a joke, Man." John explained, his voice carrying out on a nervous laugh. "I think I better get down there and tell her."

"No." Dave said firmly. "I'll take care of it."

"You sure?" John asked. "Because I can let her know right quick, maybe show her some moves or something."

"Just do me a favor." Dave demanded. "If anyone comes looking for her…you haven't seen her, okay?"

John could tell by the thinly concealed resentment, that Dave held some sort of partiality for Nancy. "Will do." He shook hands with Dave, who stuffed his suit jacket in his bag, instead of donning it and snatched the bag up in his hand, walking hastily out into the hall.

Dave stormed out of the arena into the parking area, past the attendant and slung his bag into the Ferrari. He was so furious he couldn't even mutter an intelligible curse to himself as he started the engine up and swung the car backward out of the space, tires squealing in protest. He wheeled the powerful machine around to the back door where the buses were currently parked and waiting and then backed it in between the two monstrous black buses. The show would be over in less than a half hour, and he knew if he didn't hurry, he might be scraping Nancy up off of the mat, instead of treating her to dinner and a drink.

He whipped up the parking brake and slammed the car door shut with unwarranted force behind him, stalking back into the arena. Dave knew where the wardrobe room had been set up and he quickly traversed the maze of halls making a determined bee-line for Nancy. He pushed the wardrobe door open and when his searching eyes found her, he began to calm down, determined not to alarm her. She was sitting in the chair, her curly hair slung over one shoulder, with her legs tucked up underneath her, just the way he had imagined she might be…complete with the pink painted toenails peeking out from beneath the iridescent, plum-colored, broomstick skirt. She was humming again, softly as she swept her pencil over a sketch pad, an indecipherable tune like last time and yet again he found he liked it.

"Hey." He said softly, resisting the inclination to lay his hand on the back of her bare neck. "Doesn't look like you've seen much action around here tonight?" He observed, relieved to see that most of the machinery and fabric had already been packed up and was ready to be loaded.

"Hey, yourself." Nancy responded brightly, closing the flap of her sketch pad and sliding it onto the table next to where she sat. "Nope. Not much of anything. Slow night."

He bit his lower lip and ran his hand nervously through his damp hair. "What would you say if I asked you to leave with me right now?" He watched her smile as she tilted her head in confusion.

"Now?" Nancy asked, "The show doesn't end for another half hour and I still have to help Max with everything…could you give me 45 minutes?"

"I don't need your help." Max piped up as he tried madly to hold in a grin. The evidence showed as a furious blush on his chubby cheeks. "You can go right now."

Dave was secretly thankful for Max and with no desire for delay, he turned to look for the shoes that she was constantly not wearing. He spotted the strappy, high-heeled, taupe sandals lying askew on the floor and picking them up by the straps, realizing that she wouldn't be able to run in them. He turned to Nancy. "See? He said he'd cover for you, come on." He was trying desperately not to make her feel rushed, but time was slipping past. "You can put these on in the car…Don't forget your purse." He cupped her elbow in his large hand and began to lead her to the door.

She hung back slightly, "Max, are you sure? I know you have that thing tonight."

"Go away and stop bothering me." Max joked. "I'm fine! Go on, get out of here!" He shooed the both of them with one meaty hand as Dave grinned victoriously giving Nancy a look that said 'See I told you so.'

Dave gingerly cracked open the door mere inches, peeked out and then turned to Nancy and placed his index finger against his own smiling lips telling her not to make a sound. He transferred his hold from her elbow to her hand and laced his fingers through hers, opening the door. Nancy didn't know whether she could move. The strong, secure feel of his hand around hers and the smell of him, spicy and sweet as well as the protective heat of his body all worked together to make her feel something she wasn't sure was possible. She felt safe. It was a sensation she wanted to fall into and wrap herself up in.

Dave stepped out into the hallway, pulling Nancy behind him and after looking both ways, holding her hand and her shoes, he picked up his pace, leaving Nancy to nearly jog just to keep up. As he wound through the labyrinth of halls, stopping, looking around corners apprehensively and then speeding up again, Nancy was left with the image of her feet floating up off of the ground and her body flying in the air behind him as he paced toward the exit as if they were being chased. Dave reached the back door and when he finally slowed, Nancy halted.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked, slightly concerned "You're dragging me like there's a fire and the alarms didn't go off."

He knew she was joking, but in her eyes resided a look of fear. "The car's parked right outside of the door, and I'll tell you everything later, but right now there's no time." Dave spoke calmly and evenly as if there wasn't a care in the world. He tried his best to conceal the obvious and allay her fear at the same time, but she wasn't buying it, she wasn't budging and he was getting mighty nervous as he glanced down the hallway from where they had just come.

"Please, tell me what's wrong." Her voice was soft, her eyes probing his for an answer.

"Do you trust me?" He had to know, he didn't much care about anything else at the moment and since she hadn't yet decided he was insane and taken to running away from him, he still had some hope but he had to hear her say it. Dave watched as she nodded and gently said "Yes."

"Well, then let's just put it this way…if you don't leave with me now, I'll just have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out." At that very moment, Eric Bischoff rounded the corner, and spotted the retreating pair at the end of the hallway by the exit. He turned and changed directions heading right for them, with his hand raised in the air as if he wished for them to wait.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna regret this?" She said, as Bischoff called out to them to stop. The slow rise of Dave's eyebrows and his attempt to suppress a laugh seemed to say. 'Because you probably will.'

With his ever present cocky grin and a nonchalant shrug, Dave reached around behind Nancy, his arm brushing her hip and pushed the bar on the heavy metal door causing it to swing outward. Then looking back at Eric, he noticed the man had picked up his pace. He looked down at Nancy and gestured toward the open door. "Move it." He didn't yell his demand or even raise his voice, he didn't have to. He punctuated his command with a playful swat on her rump. That millisecond sensation of his hand against her flesh, followed by her cry of surprise and her speedy departure through the doorway, brought a devilish grin to his face. Dave raced behind her to the waiting car and after half pushing, half assisting, he managed to get her and her skirt in the passenger seat and the door closed without anyone losing a finger or toe.

Dave couldn't help but laugh as he climbed in and the engine roared to life. His rearview mirror revealed that the door behind them as it swung open and an irate general manager stood silhouetted in the light from the hallway, as the Ferrari screamed up the ramp and out of the loading dock.

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Eric watched the taillights of Dave Batista's Ferrari fade away and he smiled…true he was angry, but at present he was more interested in seeing how he could benefit from developing this into something that would get him ratings. He had made a big to-do about how he wanted to keep this match under wraps, when secretly he had been looking for a way to bring some controversy back to RAW. He was desperately seeking an avenue for which to make Teddy Long's show look like an episode of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood.

And now he'd found it…oh, of course, he could make it look like he was only going to make the girl follow through with the match because she had run away tonight, when in fact he had harbored no intention whatsoever of ever letting this be a private, local fans only exhibition match. Yes, he had every intention of gleaning as much benefit from this match as he could. The idea had struck him after Chris and Christy had left his office. In his experience, nothing done in secret ever brought a man any measure of glory, and nothing that Eric had ever done had been for any other reason than gain, monetary or otherwise. This was no different…this match might be a ratings booster after tonight, being as it was his intention to hype the match at the pay-per-view by debuting it the night after, on RAW. He hadn't counted on there being a bonus involved and now after having seen her being whisked away by the Champ…he realized he'd finally found a way to put Dave Batista under his thumb…and keep him there.

Bischoff let the door close as he stepped back into the hallway, chuckling and then whistling a familiar tune. He was about to go inform Chris about his opponent's hasty departure. If nothing else, he could get some satisfaction out of seeing Chris lose his temper.

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

It was dark and the breeze was light, carrying the heat away with it, giving a much needed sense of rejuvenation. The gentle wind was tugging at her silk skirt and swirling it above her calves as she leaned against the railing of the bridge to watch a gondola float effortlessly along below them. The River Walk of San Antonio was alight with bright and busy storefronts and tourists, college students and locals, all searching for a good time.

None of that seemed to catch her attention or his, for that matter. The earlier mysterious and rapid exodus from the venue was now forgotten or at least it seemed to be, as the strains of music pumping from the open door of a bar floated past the two of them and became lost in the rise and fall of chatter and ambient noises along the bridge.

He was asking her more questions, less threatening questions than he had before, her favorite movies, songs, things to do in certain towns she had visited since her employ with the WWE. Nancy answered each in turn and asked her own. They found that despite their nervousness, conversation seemed to flow easily and even when he found the courage to ask her what she planned to do for a few days between now and their arrival in Puerto Rico, Nancy didn't feel the strange sense of panic that she always did when someone began to trod dangerously close to the grounds of her past and her privacy.

"Are you going home?" It was a simple question, but he watched her stare into her glass as she answered, as if there were something of value in the bottom of it.

"I haven't decided yet." Nancy took another sip and swirled the amber liquid around.

"Where is home?" Dave remembered she had told him that she hailed from Amarillo, but that didn't mean that Amarillo was her home.

"Home is on the road…" She said smiling, masking the wound again so he wouldn't see it. "But as far as where I get my mail…that would be Amarillo." There was no harm in telling him that much, she supposed after all they were just friends it's not like she would have to come clean to him one day. "Are you going home?" She asked wondering if he still lived with his ex-wife or if he roomed with someone else…the thought of him bunking up with another woman put a strange taste of acid in the back of her mouth.

"I'll drive home tomorrow and park my car for awhile…then I'll fly to Puerto Rico the day before the pay-per-view, so I can be there to receive my daughters when they fly in." He smiled again when he thought of his girls. As much fun as he'd been having in the past week, he missed his daughters and couldn't wait to spend some much needed time with them.

"Where's home for you?" Nancy asked, probing further, hoping that he was blessedly single and living alone. Strange how she couldn't put her finger on why it even mattered.

"Seattle." I just bought a condo several blocks away from my youngest daughter's school. He knew why she was asking, he could tell by the look on her face that she was wondering if he lived with someone. "I should probably air it out when I get there. No one's been in there in weeks, so it's probably stuffy as a tomb." He caught her look of satisfaction out of the corner of his eye.

The two of them continued conversing as they stood on the bridge watching the gondolas floating by, some filled to the brim with people and some holding only a pair of lovers. The breeze began to pick up, bringing with it the tempting smell of rain. Nancy admired him as he leaned against the rail, the occasional gust fluttering the lapels of his grey shirt, which he had unbuttoned to just above his chest. She liked the way he told her about his past and was able to laugh when he did so. He had nothing to hide and he trusted her enough to talk to her about it. She watched his adam's apple bounce when he laughed, and she couldn't stop staring at the twinkle in his dark eyes when he spoke. Every few minutes when he subconsciously rewet his lips with his tongue, she felt her heart stop. Several times she wondered what it would be like to feel those lips on hers, and several times she had to turn to look at the river because she could feel a flush creeping up into her cheeks.

Clouds began to cover the moon, and the soft wind became decidedly rougher, whipping her skirt and her chestnut curls into a frenzy. Nancy laughed when the first blast of air spun her skirt almost up to her hips and she held on with one hand to her glass and the other to her skirt.

"You're determined to give me a free show aren't you?" Dave asked, laughing and taking the glass from her so she could hold on to her skirt.

"I guess so." She giggled and handed him the glass, following him back into the bar so he could return their empty drink glasses to the waitress.

Dave Batista turned and took her hand again, the same way he had in the arena and led her back out onto the walk. The wind was whipping with near gale force and she held onto his hand and her clothing as they beat a hasty retreat to his car. He helped her inside and then closed the door, thoroughly enjoying the attractive mess that the wind had made of her curls. He might have found himself standing and staring at her through the passenger window all night if the rain had not begun to fall. Instead he ducked into the car and flipped on the wipers, giving himself a moment before deciding to take off in the rain.

"You never did tell me why we left so fast tonight." Nancy reminded him, as she folded her hands over her beaded handbag, fiddling with the latch.

He remembered he had promised to tell her, but he had hoped she would forget, at least until he found a way to explain to her about the match and show her some simple tricks to keep her from being hurt. "Ah, that's right…I did promise to tell you about that, didn't I?" His voice was low and his eyes darted back toward the steering wheel as they sat parked in the open, rain drops pelting the priceless car.

"I'm guessing I'm going to be in a lot of trouble when I get to the pay-per-view next week." She said, hoping that whatever it was, she could at least leave without a huge blotch on her résumé.

"You won't, but I will." He admitted searching her eyes for a sign of what she was thinking. He didn't really want to tell her about the match, he didn't want to spoil the nice night they had…were still having. He was sure that when he explained his actions to Eric that he would see fit to leave Nancy on staff, he might even realize how stupid his idea for putting her in a match had been to begin with. "I wouldn't worry if I were you…he was after me…it had nothing to do with you." His voice was reassuring and kindhearted.

She nodded and accepted his explanation, belying any suggestion that she believed otherwise. "Well, as long as it's you and not me." She joked after a long second of silence.

"Thanks a lot." He laughed and put the car into gear, taking off slowly into the dissipating rain.

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

"Are you kidding me?" Christy nearly snapped the cell phone in half at the suggestion. "I can't believe you're willing to waste time on something like that! Your never gonna find any dirt on her, she's like Betty Freakin' Crocker…you'd come closer to finding dirt on the Pope!"

"Everybody has a past, Christy." Triple H examined one of his roughened knuckles, as he spoke in hushed tones into his cell phone from his master bathroom in his Greenwich, Connecticut mansion.

"Not her." Christy whined. "You know she left with him again. I don't know how the hell she found out about the match, but she did and she rode off with him again. I'm sure she complained to him about being afraid or something and so he felt sorry for her, like always."

"Stop it!" Triple H bit out over her tirade. "You really don't have the capability to shut up long enough to regain your focus, do you?" He had often recently wondered if dealing with her was worth the hell he went through while getting his goal accomplished. "I asked you to do one thing, and I would appreciate it if you did that one thing! Otherwise, it's going to be a lot harder to get that information later than it will be if you'll just get it in gear and do it right now!"

"How in the hell am I supposed to do that? Huh? In case you forgot, she rooms with her fat ass friend and, it's not like she's just going to invite me in for pizza and beer!" Christy threw her hand up in irritation.

"Well, in case you forgot, she's on the River Walk with Dave Batista at this very moment and her fat ass friend is out with Vicki from the make-up department…there is no one in her room right now, so get your ass up there and find what I asked you to find!" He cut her short by hanging up the phone.

"Stupid ass." Christy muttered. Now she was really in a pickle, but the wheels in her mind weren't rusted too badly, thank God, and an idea came spinning out of nowhere. She slid her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans and hustled into the hotel through the service entrance at the back of the building.

A late night Quinceañera was being catered, and waiters and waitresses, servers and people of all kinds were bustling through the back halls that lay all adjoining to the massive kitchen. Christy scanned the room watching for any sign of someone who looked as though they might be in a position to help her. It was several minutes before she spotted a maid shuffling down the hallway with her hands full of towels. She looked tired and ready to go home, but Christy had a plan.

"Miss!" She called to the housekeeper, and then rushing to her side, she helped grab some of the towels, lightening the grateful woman's load.

"Oh, thanks." The woman shuffled and wielded the large ring of keys as she prepared to open the store room.

"I hate to ask…" Christy began, "but I wondered if you could help me with a little surprise for my fiancé?"

"Sure." The woman seemed eager to simply finish whatever it was she had to do and get on home, she probably had blisters on her feet Christy thought. Her reply, though lackluster was the response that Christy was hoping for.

"I was trying to get room service to bring some champagne up to our room, but because of this event going on, they're really bogged down."

The woman nodded her agreement, noting the crowded state of the back service hallway.

"So I came down here to get some and I realized I left my key card…up in the room." Christy gently smacked her forehead with a palm, feigning stupidity. "Anyway I was able to order the champagne, and they'll bring it up in a minute, but I was wondering if you could let me back into my room?"

The woman looked at Christy for a moment and then remembering the hotel policy, she pulled a clipboard from off of the supply room shelf. "What's your room number?" She listened as Christy spouted off Nancy's room number. "And your name?"

"Nancy Adams…but it'll likely be under my fiancé's name…Max Hadaway." Christy cooed. "I can't wait to surprise him!"

The charade paid off as the woman laid the clipboard back on the shelf and said. "If you'll just meet me up in front of your room in five minutes I'll let you in."

"You are a doll." Christy rewarded the woman with a million dollar smile and an excited hop, before the woman smiled in return and then locked the storage room.

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Minutes later the room was open and available for Christy. She tipped the woman a twenty and then slipped inside, closing the door behind her and then making a face at the woman through the wall. "That was too easy." She snickered and turned on the bedside lamp. The room was incomprehensibly neat, except for the things which she concluded must belong to Max. She opened drawers, but all of Nancy's things seemed to still be packed away neatly in her two suitcases. She rifled though the first, being careful to refold anything that she ruffled up. Nothing.

The next suitcase proved just as fruitless, until when reaching down to skim the bottom, her hand scraped on something sharp yet flat in the lining of the side of the suitcase. Christy slid her hand over the subtle object and then found the break in the seam where the flap lifted up and exposed the hidden article. It was nothing more than a tiny, plastic, wallet insert, but it happened to be exactly what she was looking for.

She slid her fingers in between the sides and pulled out a social security card, one credit card and two pictures. She held up the pictures near to the bedside lamp. The first was of a man with what appeared to be his daughter, it had been bent in order to fit inside the wallet insert, and as she unfolded it she saw that it was very old. Turning it over the date said December 20, 1979. The girl was small, dressed in jeans and a thick winter coat, tossing bread to a duck, while her father a handsome man stood smiling behind her tossing his own bread to the ducks.

The next picture was even older. It was a standard Army Issue basic training photo of the same man, the date on the back of it said 1965. He must have been in Vietnam. He was a good looking man whose face lacked the stern gaze of a soldier and whose eyes had an affable glimmer. He appeared as if he might break into a smile at any second. She folded the larger picture carefully remembering to put everything back in its place. She copied the social security number in pen on her hand returned the card and replaced the insert back into the lining of the suitcase. Christy was lugging the heavy piece of baggage back to its original spot, when she heard a key card in the slot.

Christy reached over and snapped the lamp off, and dropped to her stomach on the floor between the beds, rolling under the one closest to the door, heart pounding, and a prayer on her lips. Light flooded under the doorway as the door opened revealing the shoes of a man. It was Max, Thank God…maybe. She might be able to talk her way out of the room if she ended up stranded…at the very least, she had her cell phone in her pocket and the hotel's card in her pocket as well, she could call the hotel from under the bed and direct dial his room over and over until he got pissed and went down to talk to the desk clerk. Before the plan could fully take shape in her mind, she was rewarded with a different alternative.

Instead of flipping on the main light, Max had simply headed straight for the bathroom. He had not, however closed the bathroom door, and Christy could clearly hear the stream of piss hitting the water as he relieved himself. It was now or never as she rolled out from under the bed and tip-toed across the floor to the door. The bathroom light was on and so she knew that the light flooding in from the hall would not be detected. She opened the door soundlessly with a grimace on her face and slipped through the crack closing the door behind her.

She cried out in surprise as her shoulder bumped into the housekeeper, who was standing in the hall behind her. Christy knew that surely the woman had come to confront her. Undoubtedly she knew that Christy wasn't who she'd claimed to be.

"Did you get everything ready?" The maid said pleasantly even through her tired eyes.

"Almost…I have a few more things I have to run out and get, while he showers." Christy hitched her thumb over her shoulder indicating that he was inside and wished not to be disturbed.

"Well I thought that I would take the liberty of bringing you the champagne that you said you requested. Unfortunately they didn't even have it on record that you asked for it, even after two times!" The maid held up a bottle of Cristal and two glasses. "Please accept our apologies, between this Quinceañera and all of the other things that we have going on in the hotel, it must have slipped by again…this is compliments of our chef."

The enormous rush of adrenaline that Christy had been feeling seconds ago, had turned into dread and now satisfaction. "Why, thank you!" She accepted the free booze and glasses and hugged them against her chest as the maid excused herself. Once the elevator door shut behind the woman, Christy let out a huge nervous sigh of relief. "Holy Shit, that was close!" She whispered as she hunkered down the hall toward the stairs…at least if she couldn't enjoy this with Dave, she might as well enjoy it with Lillian.

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

The lobby doors slid shut behind them, blocking the Gale Force winds, and allowing them a respite from the driving rain. Dave had offered to drop her off at the door and then meet up with her after he'd found a parking space, but she was having none of it…she told him she loved the rain, and then she had un-strapped the high heeled sandals and suggested they make a break for it.

He was surprised that for someone who didn't really seem to like fitness, she was fairly fast. Her curls were wet now, the way they had been when he'd come to her room earlier today, and her silk skirt was drenched, clinging to the curve of her derriere and the form fitting v-neck sweater she was wearing hugged her like a second skin. He was barely conscious of the fact that he too was wet from head to toe. Walking behind her in the lobby was providing him the most delectable view he'd had in days and all he could do was follow.

She pushed the button and they waited, laughing about the rain as the elevator made its way to the bottom floor.

"I hope your clothes aren't ruined." It wasn't what he'd wanted to say, but then what did you say to someone who made you so nervous. The two stepped inside of the elevator.

"Look at you." She pointed at his wet clothing. "I like the rain though…it reminds me…of something…nice." She stopped before she spouted off too much.

"Me too." He nodded. "It rains in Seattle a lot, and it always reminds me of my little girls." The elevator stopped on her floor and again he decided to walk her to her door.

"When are you leaving tomorrow?" She asked, hoping that she would see him again.

"Hopefully after you meet me for breakfast again." He was going out on a limb, being bold, and still trying not to sound too confident.

"That sounds nice…" Nancy said accepting his offer. "But it's my turn to treat this time, promise?" He still hadn't let her pay him back.

"I promise." His voice was deep and liquid, huskier than before…he was mere feet from her as she advanced closer to her door.

"I know I have a key in here somewhere." She joked as she fumbled through her purse. Holding the shoes and digging through the purse at the same time proved to be harder than she'd thought and she only succeeded in dumping the few items in her purse directly out onto the hallway carpet.

She bent over to pick up her lip-gloss and then her license, but they both attempted to pick up the keycard at the same time. And they both smacked into one another head first. His bulky frame didn't move, but her lean body bounced backward like a tennis ball and she hit the door back first.

"Ow…" She groaned, laughing and holding her forehead, leaning back against the door.

Dave too, held his forehead with one hand, and her keycard in the other, after his initial shock, he began to laugh out loud. He wasn't surprised that something like this had happened. She was a mess. A wet, clumsy, down-to-earth, absolutely irresistible mess. He would never have to be anything more than what he truly was if he stuck with her. Because she was what she was and that was good enough for him.

She brushed her wet curls back and laughed through a humiliated pout. "How embarrassing." Nancy said softly biting her lip and rubbing the center of her forehead with her fingers. Her smile changed when she saw the look on his face, the way he stood there just staring at her. Nancy couldn't read his expression, but she knew that there was no exasperation in his gaze, no rejection.

He couldn't speak as he stood there, seeing the subtle parting of her lips and the way her eyes deepened into liquid pools when he looked into them. Dave stepped closer, unable to stand so far away. He told himself it was only because he wanted to give her the key, but he knew that was a lie. He planted his hands lightly against the door one on either side of her head and inhaled deeply, rewetting his lips. He smelled her again, that fragrance that hadn't been lessoned even by the rain. Intoxicating. What in the hell was that? It was more like something he'd tasted before rather than smelled, sweet and fresh…It was driving him mad thinking about it. The way she was looking up at him was wrenching his self-control away. His stomach was cramped into a hopeless wall of anticipation.

He was tired of holding back, tired of imagining what it would be like to touch her, and yet restraining himself for the sake of being honorable. He wouldn't wait anymore, couldn't wait and leaning in he grazed his lips against hers. The fact that she didn't seem surprised, but rather she appeared to waiting on it, sent a shudder of yearning through his body. He could stop, he told himself, he could control this. But he knew that she was effectively pinned, even though he wasn't holding her and that simple bit of knowledge prevented him from ceasing. The faint yielding of her mouth as he pressed his lips against hers again, told him that he could not stop. It let him know that she didn't want him to.

Dave ran his tongue softly and slowly across the inner edge of her upper lip and he could taste the sweet warmth of the rum that had been in the drink he'd bought her. He coaxed her mouth open wider with the gentle cajoling of his lips and when a small moan escaped from her lips he clenched his fists against the door, nearly bending the key card.

Nancy was testing the waters, matching the caress of his tongue with her own, though she clenched her shoes in one hand, her other hand was wound nervously into the fabric of her skirt. She was so afraid that if she touched him, if she let her arms snake around his neck the way she wanted to, that she wouldn't let go, she knew she would let him do whatever he wanted and so she bade her hands to stay put.

Her breathing was becoming erratic and she felt a rush of moisture and a pleasurable throbbing at the center of her femininity. His lips were exploring her neck and yet he hadn't touched her with his hands. She tilted her head back and clawed mercilessly at her skirt as he ran his tongue from the base of her throat to her chin where he stopped and nibbled and then captured her mouth again.

'You have the key! Open the door! Push her inside and take her!' He was fighting the animal for all he was worth, battling the suggestions of depravity, he would not taint this opportunity by giving in to the beast. He increased the intensity of his kiss beginning a foray on her, imprisoning her lips with his own, tasting her heat and determining to lose himself in the feel of her tongue gently teasing his. He wanted to wind her hair around his hands and steal her breath, he wanted to sink himself inside of her and not come out again, he wanted to take everything that she was for himself, so that no one else could have it. But he couldn't do it here, he couldn't do to her what he had with all the others. She was worth more even if she didn't think she was.

Dave pulled away, reluctantly breaking the kiss. He pressed his lips against the spot just in front of her ear and with a pained expression, he spoke against her skin.

"You'd better go to bed before I do something we both regret." His voice held the raspy tone she loved, but it was thick with sensation and she knew he was practicing amazing restraint. All she was capable of doing was nodding, if she had been able to speak she was afraid she would have confessed that she was willing to take the risk of regretting.

His hands were still planted against the door on either side of her head and his heart was beating a path in his chest, threatening to dent his ribcage. Dave palmed the keycard, and with his free hand wound it around her lower back and pulled her forward away from the door, pressing her against himself so that he could unlock the door. Her hand was suddenly on his chest and the feel of it almost broke his resolve, but he held her there, shaking as he slid the keycard into the lock and turned the lever. She stepped up on her toes and kissed him again, taking his bottom lip in between hers for a split second. He tightened his hold on her and pulled her against him even harder. He didn't know how much longer he could stand firm.

"Goodnight." She whispered against the fullness of his lips and she felt his breath catch.

He let her go, looking down on her as he handed her the key. She retreated through the open door as he whispered that he'd see her in the morning. He watched grudgingly as the door closed, knowing that if he were any less a gentleman, he would smash the door in with his foot and do whatever he wanted. Instead, he pressed his hands against the doorframe and let his forehead fall against the door with a 'thunk'.

"It's gonna be a long night, Dave." He said to himself as he turned and leaned backward against her door. "Oh, God" He could still taste her on his lips and he wanted more. Since when had he become addicted to her?

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Nancy shut the door behind her and let her shoes fall to the floor. She dropped her hand bag on top of them and pressed her back against the door. She heard a gentle thump from the other side of the door and closing her eyes, she could still feel his lips on her throat.

"Could you guys just go fuck and get it over with, already?" Max snapped on the bedside lamp.

Nancy jumped and then scowled at him. "You were spying."

"Damn right I was…you guys move way too slow." He shoved the covers back and walked across the room to the mini fridge taking out a soda can and popping the top.

"Well…that's my business." Nancy said, still trembling, especially in places she'd thought had long ago stopped working. "What are you doing back so soon anyway?"

"It's one a.m., Nancy." Max said with an air of petulance.

She shrugged digging through her suitcase for her pajamas. "I just assumed that you'd be out till all hours with Vicki." Nancy was concerned by his apparent lack of enthusiasm.

"Well, I did too, but…" He drank from his soda and then shrugged clicking on the television with the remote.

"Oh, no you don't." Nancy tapped the button on the television turning it off in an attempt to force him to share the details.

"She got super inebriated and I ended up having to carry her out of the bar…and put her in the cab…and carry her to her room…and knock till her friends came and took her off my hands." He explained in morbid monotone and then he sighed, hitching up his sweatpants. "I did have a good time up to that point, though. I just never really got into those kinds of gals who have to be drunk to have a good time."

"I know what you mean." Nancy said hinting at an underlying truth.

"But you had fun, yeah?" Max asked raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah." Nancy turned to hide the smile and knowing that those simple words couldn't possibly describe any aspect of tonight she tucked her pajamas under her arm and ducked into the bathroom as she responded. "I had a lot of fun."