Stripped

A/N: I don't really think I say this enough, so just let me start by saying THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who takes the time to review this story. Especially to those of you who review after every chapter - you have no idea how much it makes me smile to open my inbox and read exactly what you think of these chapters, and these characters. I love you guys so much - you really are the best readers in the whole world! I know that probably sounds a little mushy comin' from me, but I was thinking today about how none of you really have to say anything - but you do, and I appreciate that more than a simple thanks can say.

With that being said, there are only three chapters left in this story, so I guess it's time for you start letting me know you want to see this thing end. I think I know where I'm going, but a good persuasive argument is hard to ignore. Remember that when you review this time. I don't own Stacy, Olivia is mine, and their experiences are all of ours to Enjoy!

She stared at the ceiling, a million thoughts racing through her head. Sliding out of the bed she was sharing with John, she draped herself in his discarded football jersey before gathering her hair into a fat ponytail. She only had three days to decide what she was going to do, and every day brought a new reason for choosing a new path. Nothing was clear, and she didn't know how in the world she was supposed to bring it into focus.

Gripping a key card in her left hand, she stepped into the hotel hallway and padded toward the vending machines. It wasn't like she was going to sleep any time soon - might as well enjoy a little caffeine and sugar.

With a candy bar in one hand, and a can of soda in the other, she turned back toward the hall. She didn't want to go back to her room – she would only have to assure John that she was fine if he woke up and realized she wasn't in the bed. But she couldn't really go wandering the hotel in nothing but his shirt, either.

A door opened nearby, and Olivia groaned inwardly as Stacy stepped into the hallway. Maybe she won't notice me, Olivia thought as she kept her head down and walked toward her room. Not that Stacy was quick to make conversation with her or anything, but the slightest eye contact could cause an explosive confrontation.

"You're still here," Stacy spoke flatly, as though the space between them needed to be filled with some kind of noise.

Olivia looked up and shrugged. For now, she thought. Forever, flittered through her mind next. But she really didn't feel the need to explain her indecision to Stacy, of all people. So she just said, "Uh huh."

"Great," Stacy mumbled under her breath.

And that was all it took. For nearly three months, Olivia had practiced the fine art of keeping her mouth shut and her mind open. She had listened to Stacy disrespect her, and she had let it roll off her like Teflon. But she'd had enough silence. She had taken enough shit. And she was tired of the woman standing just across the hall.

"What is your problem?" Olivia asked.

Stacy just shrugged and leaned against the wall. "How much time do you have?" she asked.

Rolling her eyes, Olivia pushed off the wall. "Not enough," she said, drinking from her soda and watching to see what the other woman would do.

Had they been fighters, one would worry that the women were about to throw down. But Stacy sucked in a breath and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "You know he's not gonna miss you when you're gone, right?"

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. It was a childish argument, one she wasn't really interested in having, but she would. She hadn't had a good squabble in awhile, and if Stacy thought she could keep up, Olivia would let her try. "Who says I'm goin' anywhere?"

"You don't fit here. You and I both know you don't belong here, Olivia," Stacy stated simply.

Olivia shook her head. "Look, I have tried my damnedest to just stay out of your way. Because, to be honest, I know we don't really have a lot in common. I mean, I'm a dirty whore," she stated sarcastically. "And you. . . "

The taller woman's cheeks flushed. She knew exactly what Olivia was getting at. "I never claimed to be a saint," was the only defense that the blonde offered.

"Oh please," Olivia rolled her eyes. "You prance around on your high horse, like the queen of morality. And anyone who doesn't bow to your every whim and opinion? Off with their heads!" Her shoulders relaxed as she began to let Stacy know exactly what she had been thinking for weeks now. "Look, Stacy, I don't really care about you one way or the other. But up until a few days ago, I at least respected you."

The look on Stacy's face said Olivia didn't need to tell her what had changed. But she held up her hand. "I don't want anything from you, Olivia. What does the respect of a stripper mean to me?" With a deep breath, she stood to her full height and squared her shoulders. "This job was practically thrown at you." Her voice climbed and cracked. "Everybody loves Olivia – she's so pretty, she's so funny, she's so sweet," she mocked.

Olivia watched as Stacy narrowed her eyes. "Cut the bull shit, Stacy. We both know this is about John." She was starting to feel like she was back in Atlanta, arguing with Brandon over why he hadn't done his homework. And she had a very low tolerance for childish debates.

Feeling there was no reason to hold back, Stacy nodded. "We were happy. He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to me. Yeah, we had our problems, but we could have worked through them." With a look that minced no words, Stacy leveled Olivia. "Until you came along."

For a long moment, neither woman said anything. Until Olivia raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "And?"

"What do you mean 'And"?" Stacy asked, taking a small step forward.

It was all Olivia could do not to roll her eyes again. "And what do you want me to say?" She sighed. "I'm not gonna tell you I'm sorry that John and I are together," she never turned her eyes from the woman before her. "Stacy, you and I are not friends. Even if you and John had still been together when we hooked up, I wouldn't owe you anything. As far as I'm concerned, my relationship with John is between myself and John. It has nothing to do with you." With a slight smirk, she added, "Maybe you should just worry about your new boyfriend."

Though she didn't appreciate the comment, Stacy refused to crack before Olivia did. The calm, even, unwavering tone in Olivia's voice was ten times worse than the accusations she was flinging around. "Adam is a nice guy."

"Never said he wasn't. I adore Adam, quite frankly. But didn't you break up with John because he went to a couple strip clubs? And that is against your beliefs?" Olivia reached her breaking point in that moment, not caring if Stacy was hurt by her words or not. All she was interested in was being heard. "Because, sweetheart, Adam's a good man, but he is the antithesis of everything you claim to believe."

Stacy was seething now, the crimson in her cheeks climbing with each word Olivia spoke. "All guys are not as driven by sex as you seem to think, Olivia. I mean, yeah, Adam puts on a show for his friends, but he's a deep guy. He's poetic."

She hadn't meant to laugh, but Olivia couldn't contain the giggle that poured over her lips. "I'm sorry," she shook her head. Clearing her throat, she put on her serious face again. "Stacy, I know you don't actually believe that Adam Copeland is with you because he respects your ethics." Stacy's look said she thought just that. "He didn't accidentally stumble into the backseat of your car. If there was a handbook on how to get laid on a first date, poetry would be the first chapter.

"Don't get me wrong. Adam's a hell of a lot of fun. Honestly, I couldn't imagine my time here without him making me laugh until my stomach hurts. But he'll be the first one to tell you that he's far more interested in what's between your legs than what's between your ears," she stated as though explaining the concept to a child.

Taking another step forward, Stacy put her hands on her thin hips. "You arrogant bitch," she whispered angrily. "You really think you're the shit, don't you? You can't even fathom the concept of a man wanting someone real. You really believe that all men would take collagen and silicone over a natural woman."

Olivia chuckled again. "Stacy, you can call me fake all you want, but you're the fraud."

Feeling as though she had made her argument, Olivia felt a sudden urge to return to her room. She was moving that direction when she heard Stacy's venomous voice behind her. "No wonder your son's so fucked up."

Without a moment's hesitation, Olivia responded. "I don't really say much, Stacy. I tend to mind my own business most of the time." She swept her eyes over the woman in front of her, from her smug grin, to her little skirt and top, to the boots that only made her legs look that much taller. All traces of laughter and smiles drained from Olivia's face. "But if you EVER so much as breathe another word about my son, you will be shitting those stilettos for a month." She took satisfaction in the fear on Stacy's face.

And, as if Stacy had unleashed the hounds of hell, Olivia decided to twist the dagger in the heart of her opponent. There wasn't much of a purpose for going on, but Olivia didn't care anymore. This woman had caused her enough grief, and she was ready to nail the coffin shut.

With a sly smile, she nodded. "I mean it. I will chew you up and spit you out, and I won't feel the slightest twinge of guilt because of it. You think I'm a bitch, Stacy, but inside? It's killin' you that I'm gonna go in there and fuck the man who used to fuck you. And then I'm gonna get up in the morning, and I'm gonna ride to the next city with the people you used to call friends. Tomorrow night, I'll bask in the glow of television lights that used to shine on you.

"Don't think for a second that I don't realize how jealous you are of that." Her lip turned up in a sadistic grin and she gave Stacy an undeniable look. Without words, she told her opponent that she wouldn't hesitate to exploit that jealousy, to make Stacy the bad guy. "Are we clear?"

With a nod, Stacy started to back away slightly. "Crystal," she groaned through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing again. "Let's talk again sometime, Olivia," she smirked slightly, as if trying to regain the upper hand. "It's been a pleasure."

Olivia walked back to her room, shook her head, and turned to see Stacy unlocking her own door. "Stacy?" The blonde looked up, her eyes hard and angry. "Try to remember that the size of my brain is not inversely proportionate to the size of my bra," she grinned to herself as the other woman's expression went from seething hatred to utter confusion. "If you ever wanna step to me again? Come prepared, that's all I'm sayin'. Cause me cuttin' you down and you having no real defense for that?" She rolled her eyes, "It was kinda boring."

She slid back into John's bed and felt his arm wrap around her subconsciously. It had been a long time since someone had challenged the real Olivia, the one who had once wanted to be a trial lawyer, or a Supreme Court justice. And though the words would never come out of her mouth, Olivia slipped into a peaceful sleep thanking Stacy for bringing that woman back to life.