Stripped

A/N: Alright, so I got way more reviews than I was expecting! Wow, and thanks. You guys are the greatest readers in the whole fuckin' world! And I would say that even if you weren't bein' so damn nice. But I'm glad that you're enjoying the story, and I hope I can continue to deliver something that lives up to your expectations. Of course, I don't own any of these people, or any other people for that matter. Enjoy!

If there was one thing Olivia wasn't used to, it was being the new girl. Sometimes she felt like she had been at Pandora's her entire life, and she liked that people knew her there. She loved the feeling of power that came with walking into a room of new recruits, watching their faces as they realized the headliner in their midst. She loved when the whispers started and she would hear her name passing over their lips with awe and reverence.

What she didn't love was sitting in the make-up chair on her first night of RAW, knowing that the whispers and glance she got were anything but respectful. She assumed that it came with the territory, but it didn't make her life anymore comfortable at the moment.

"You're all ready for wardrobe, Miss Stewart," the make-up girl finally announced, pulling the bib off of the newbie as she stood from the chair.

Fighting the urge to rub her eyes, Olivia thanked the girl and walked off toward the divas' dressing room. It wasn't that the people at RAW weren't nice. It's just that they weren't her family. And she had yet to meet anyone that made her feel like she was at home. Of course, not having Arykah at her side, or knowing that she had Brandon to go home to, wasn't helping.

Pushing the door of the dressing room open, she stepped inside and tried to protect herself against the chaotic onslaught of pre-show activity. There were four other woman running around, stepping into mini skirts and dresses, before bitching about how fat they looked and ripping them off again. And for the first time, she almost felt like she was back at the club again.

With a slight smile, Olivia made her way to a quiet corner and tried to stay out of the path of rabid chicks in spandex. She was only going to be on camera for about ninety seconds, so if she had to wear their leftovers, she didn't really care. Sitting on the bench in front of her locker, she dug into her bag and retrieved her cell phone. She had plenty of time to send Brandon a short text message, letting him know that she missed him already, even though she'd only left him at his dad's that morning.

"I'm not saying I don't think you did the right thing, Stace," Trish Stratus's soft voice interrupted Olivia's train of thought as the two most recognizable divas made their way toward her. "I'm just saying I don't think it'll last."

Stacy Keibler dropped onto the bench beside the newest team member, but kept her insistent gaze on her friend. "I just can't put up with it anymore, Trish."

Olivia fought to keep her eyes forward, fully focused on what she was doing, as the women continued to argue over whether or not Stacy was strong enough to stand her ground.

"It's a big deal to me," the taller of the two blondes finally huffed, raising her voice a bit over the commotion. "If he loves me like he says he does, then he has to respect that I don't want him in those skank holes."

Trish bit her lip and tried to keep from giggling. "You've never even been in one, Stace," Trish reminded, smiling when Olivia returned her phone to her bag. "Some of them are pretty nice," she added, watching with amusement as Stacy's face contorted angrily.

"Do they all have naked woman in them? Writhing around, just trying to get some man turned on for cash?" Stacy stood and put her hands on her hips as Trish nodded, biting her lip. "Stop fucking laughing, Trish. I'm serious. There is something wrong with this country when we pay women to get some stranger off. Meanwhile his wife or girlfriend is sitting at home wondering why the fuck her all-natural beauty isn't enough for the man who is supposed to love her!"

Olivia felt the bile rising in her throat. She couldn't disagree with Stacy's side of the argument. There was a problem in their society. A problem that kept a roof over her son's head and food in his stomach. But it was also the same problem that gave everyone in this locker room a job. If she hadn't been the new girl, Olivia probably would have told Stacy so. But instead, she just lowered her head and tried to make herself invisible.

Finally, Trish held up a hand and sighed in resignation. "Alright, fine. You win," she rolled her eyes. The woman beside them had been sitting so silently, Trish had nearly forgotten she was there. And it wasn't like her to ignore a new face. "I'm Trish, by the way," she introduced herself by sticking her hand in Olivia's line of vision.

Trying her best not to be a dorky fan, Olivia returned the smile and shook the older woman's hand. "I'm Olivia," she answered.

Trish's eyes grew wide and her lips formed a tiny "oh" for a second. "Um, Olivia," she nodded, shooting a look at Stacy, who seemed oblivious. "You have a scene with Randy tonight, don't you? Orton?"

Olivia looked at the script beside her and nodded curiously. What the hell was wrong with the Women's Champion? "Yeah," she finally said.

"Well then," Trish said quickly, bending down to grab Olivia by the arm. "Let's go find him, shall we?" The brunette struggled to stand as Trish waved to Stacy and then dragged her into the hall, slamming the locker room door shut behind her. "I am so fuckin' sorry about that."

Laughing, Olivia looked around the hallway and then back to Trish with a questioning glance. "About what?" she asked.

Pointing a manicured nail to the door behind them, Trish rolled her eyes. "Stacy's whole diatribe on the virtues of faithfulness and the moral ineptitude of strippers?" She nodded toward Olivia, who still looked confused. "You were a stripper, right? Before you came here?"

"Still am," Olivia admitted. Sure, she wasn't working a pole for the next three months, but she would always be a dancer, at least in her own mind. And she was nothing better than a well-paid home wrecker, according to Stacy. "But I don't mind that shit, Trish," she said, with a nod of concession. "She's not the only one that feels that way."

Trish shrugged. "Well, if it's any consolation, I don't feel that way," she assured, a hand on Olivia's arm. "Especially about you." Turning, she led Olivia down the hall, shoving her hands deeply into the pockets of the pin-striped pants she was wearing. "You're Randy's favorite, ya know?" When Olivia gave her a blank stare, Trish rolled her eyes. "Randy Orton?"

Olivia knew him, though not what she would call "well." Any time the WWE rolled through Atlanta, he came into the club, and tipped her well for private dances. He always requested her, and he was always well-behaved and appreciative of her talents. But she wouldn't consider them friends or anything. "I've worked for him a few times," she answered.

"Speak of the devil," Trish groaned as she turned a corner and found Randy outside his dressing room with Adam and John. "The thing is," she stopped walking and put a hand on Olivia's arm again. "Every time you dance for him? He comes home so worked up that we have, like, the most mind-blowing sex EVER." Olivia shifted uncomfortably, but Trish just licked her lips and laughed. "So now that you're here, you're either gonna have to teach me all your tricks," she winked. "Or you have to give him lap dances every night before you send him home to me."

When she had entered the arena, Olivia hadn't known what to expect. She knew that some of the guys would recognize her, and she had expected a lot of the women to dislike her. It wasn't because she was so beautiful or such a promising talent. But women, by nature, were territorial, and she knew they didn't like having their turf invaded. What she had not expected was to find someone who amused her as much as Trish was at that moment.

"Hey, baby," Randy smiled as the two women approached and Trish wrapped her arms around his waist. From her vantage point, Olivia could see their tongues dancing together when they kissed. Judging from the groaning men beside her, she wasn't the only one with said view. "What?" Randy asked, pulling away and holding Trish close to his side.

"Dude, we all wanna know what it's like to fuck her," Adam nodded toward Trish and then turned his nose up. "But we don't wanna see how you do it, okay?" Turning, he held a hand out to Olivia. "Good to see you again, Miss Olivia Dawn," he winked.

She turned his hand-shake into a hug and remembered the last time she had danced for Adam Copeland. He had been so funny, and made her laugh so hard, that she had nearly given up on finishing her seductive dance. She was sure that the shaking of her shoulders and the incessant giggling were not at all alluring. But he had tipped generously and promised her that it was the best show he'd ever seen. "It's just nice to see a familiar face," she admitted.

Randy pouted and pushed Trish away. "Hey, what about me? I'm familiar," he held his arms out and Olivia stepped into his embrace. "Ah," he sighed, running his hands down her back. "See?" He turned to Adam as he let Olivia go. "Told you she was probably soft."

Adam nodded in agreement and ran his finger down Olivia's bare arm. She shuddered slightly and turned a disturbed look to Trish. "What the fuck are you doing?" Trish barked.

Withdrawing his hand, Adam winked and shrugged. "We never get to touch her when she dances for us. She's got this whole "hands off" policy. Now we can hug her and touch her whenever we want."

"Maybe you should ask her if she wants your grubby hands all over her before you just start feelin' her up, ya pervert." John finally made his presence known, pushing off the wall to extend a hand to the new woman in their midst.

Olivia wrapped her fingers around his and smiled into his blue eyes. She knew who he was from television, but the intensity of his stare she recognized from the other night. It wasn't often that a pair of eyes were burned into her memory after she left the club. There weren't many nights when a patron visited her in her dreams, especially when she hadn't even seen him one-on-one. "John Cena," she smiled knowingly.

He nodded and licked his lips. He had been afraid that, up close, she would have some horrible flaw or defect that the dim lighting and constant movement had hidden. But she didn't. She was perfectly beautiful. "Olivia Dawn," he answered with the same smile.

They were still shaking hands when Randy cleared his throat and bent down to whisper in Trish's ear. "You seein' what I'm seein'?"

Trish rolled her eyes. Randy's enthusiasm for playing matchmaker far exuded his ability for it. "I don't know, baby," she whispered back. "Are you seein' Stacy's head explode?" Randy wiggled his eyebrows. "Because when she finds out that you set her ex up with a stripper?" She let out a low whistle and shook her head.

His chest rumbled with laughter as he watched his friend continue to chat up the new girl. "I just thought they might be cool together," he admitted. "But the Stacy thing is a total bonus."