Time passed quickly and before I knew it two hours had flown by. After the inital shock of seeing Randy again, and filling him in on the ins and outs of the contract he'd be signing, we'd rehashed on people we knew in the business and what they were doing now. Randy leaned back in his chair and eyed my suit.
"So... I never expected YOU to become a pencil-pusher. What made you decide to go into business anyway?" I shrugged, picking at the hem of the dress that, after a month of wearing them day in and day out, I STILL wasn't used to. I hadn't told anyone the real reason behind my taking the job that Vince had offered. And the fact of the matter was that I sure as hell wasn't about to tell Randy Orton.
"What made you decide to become a wrestler?" I asked, turning the tables. Randy arched an eyebrow in my direction, perfectly aware of what I was trying to do, but answering the question none the less. He sent me that cocky grin and leaned his chair back, balancing on two legs.
"Family business, sweetheart. I'm carrying on the tradition of there being an Orton in the WWE." He shrugged and for the first time since we were kids, he seemed a little hesitant. "At least I know it's something I can do." I eyed him curiously. There was more to this story than he was letting on, but far be it from me to interfer in Randy Orton's life. Nevermind that he'd interferred in mine everyday for the last seven years. He didn't know that, and I sure wasn't going to tell him, either. He looked up at me then and gave me the first genuine smile of the meeting. "So now that the business is out of the way...how about a little pleasure?"
I almost wet myself. Good Christ, but that man had a way of saying things that would make a nun blush. I cleared my throat repeatedly and moved to stand up. Walking around the desk, I made my way over to the door and the relative safety of the hallway on the other side. "I'm sure that Mr. McMahon will have an escort waiting..." Randy reached out and snatched me around the waist as I passed. He stood abruptly, knocking over the chair he'd been in. Pulling me against him roughly, I instinctively braced myself by putting my hands against his chest...his very HARD chest. I gulped.
"I wasn't referring to that and you know it Molly." His eyes held a flame that I wasn't sure was real. It had been five years for God's sake and I was no one's play toy. Still...being in his arms again made it seem as though all those years had melted away and we were back to being teenagers. His lips descended, and already I could almost taste the sweet warmth of them. My eyes fluttered closed of their own accord and much to my chagrin my body seemed to melt within his arms. I felt his lips brush softly across the tip of my nose, my cheeks, my eyes, my chin...I was desperate to taste him by the time he finally started for my mouth.
"Molls! Molly? You in here sweetheart?" The sound of my father's voice made me jump as though I were 13 again and had been caught necking in the broom closet with Dwayne Johnson. I moved away and instinctively smoothed down the front of my dress and checked to make sure that my hair was in place. Randy stared at me as though he weren't quite sure what had just happened. Dad opened the door and poked his head through, mere nanoseconds after we stepped apart. "There you are! I've been looking all over fo--" He stopped and a wide smile spread across his face. "Randy Orton! How the hell have you been, son?" He stepped inside and clapped Randy on the shoulder, shaking his hand firmly. "How's you're old man? Haven't seen him for a while. Is he still working at the OVW recruiting center?"
While they talked and caught up with one another, I took the time to compose myself as best I could. What in the hell had I been about to do? I wasn't some seventeen year old kid anymore, with hormones raging like the Mississippi river, for god's sake! Dad turned and grinned at me, one arm still around Randy. "Good news pumpkin! Randy's agreed to have dinner with us tonight!" I smiled weakly at my father.
"That's, uh, great, dad." I looked at Randy. "Unfortunately I won't be able to join you. I've got three reports to finish before I can even THINK about leaving..." My father's grin widend and he chuckled.
"No problem, sweetheart. I talked to Vince earlier and he told me to let you know that he wouldn't be needing those until the end of next week." He winked at me. "That's what I was coming to find you about." My gaze shifted over to Randy and I knew by the smirk on his face that he knew I wasn't looking forward to this dinner. Unable to come up with another good excuse to bail out of the dinner date, I plastered a confident smile across my face.
"Well then. Just let me get my purse and I'll meet you gentleman out front in just a few minutes."
"I'll come with you, Molly", Randy said quickly, stepping over to my side. He took me by the elbow and led me out the door. "We'll meet you out front in five minutes, alright Ric?" I grimaced at Randy's familiar use of my father's name. Dad nodded and we separated in the hallway, him heading toward his office, Randy and I heading toward the elevator.
"Since when do you call my dad 'Ric', Orton?" I asked peevishly as he steered me into the elevator. We stepped inside, Randy pressing the button for my floor. He pressed me back against the rail and I could feel his breath ruffle the hair at my temple. I looked up into laughing blue eyes.
"Since he asked me to just now, Flair" he retorted, obviously happy with my current state of discomfort. I wiggled against him, but stopped at the sharp intake of breath I heard above me. "Molly", he groaned, leaning down to lay his forehead against mine. "Stop wiggling, damnit!" he said gruffly as I immediately stopped moving. I had a pretty good idea of why he wanted me to stop moving --- the evidence was currently pressing insistently against my stomach. A little of my former mischeif returning, I stretched my arms above my head and forced a loud yawn.
"Sorry, Randy" I said impishly, grinning at his obvious discomfort. I blinked innocently at him as he gave another groan as my body pressed even closer to his. "It's just that I've been sitting still ALL day and I needed to streeeeeeeeetch." I dragged the word out as I arched my back, thrusting my breasts forward and into his awaiting hands. Okay, now THAT I hadn't expected! My eyes widened and I looked down as Randy started to gently massage my aching breasts, teasing the nipples into tight little points. Before I could help it a gasp of pleasure had escaped my lips and Randy took the opportunity to finally, FINALLY kiss me.Without the first sign of softness, he slammed his lips down against mine, thrusting his tongue forward into my awaiting mouth. Was it possible that after five years he tasted even BETTER than before? Of course he'd probably kissed a lot of women in those last five years...
Those were the last coherent thoughts I remember as he ravaged my mouth with his tongue, teeth, and lips. His hands had found their way up to my neck and were now softly massaging my neck, his thumbs digging into my aching muscles.My body became lax and I felt as though my knees would go at any moment...
The loud ping of the elevator reaching our floor interrupted our little tryst. Randy stepped back slowly, raking one hand through his ruffled hair --- hair I vaguely remembered running my fingers through just seconds before. He reached for my hand and pulled me out into the corridor. "Which office is yours?" he asked tersely. I was confused as hell. He sounded pissed. I then wondered if he regretted kissing me in the first place. That was the only logical explanation in my mind. So it was going to be just like that, was it? He was going to kiss me and then leave me, just like he'd done five years ago. Well, I wasn't about to go through another five years of comparing every man I went out with to him. I jerked my hand from his grip and lifted my chin defiantly.
"I'm quite capable of finding my way to my own office, thank you Mr. Orton. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to call and tell my father I won't be accompanying you two gentleman to dinner, as I've come down with a most horrendous headache..." I didn't even get to finish my little improptu speech as we came upon my office and Randy shoved the door open, not bothering to turn on the light. It had grown late during our interviewing session and everyone else it seemed had left for the night. I glanced at the clock on the wall that was lit up from the streetlights below. After 6? Already? I didn't have but a moment to ponder this before Randy whirled around, pressing me back against the door.
"We're going to finish what we started, Molly. I don't leave anything half-done." Oh that did it...that REALLY did it. I shoved him away and rared back, putting all my weight into the punch I threw at him. I knew I'd never be able to reach up to hit his face and have enough force behind the punch to do anything, so I aimed for where it would hurt the most...his nuts. All of the air left his lungs in a loud WHOOSH and he doubled over, clutching himself and turning red in the face. He dropped to the floor, curling into a fetal position and I stood above him, my hands on my hips.
"You don't leave anything 'half-done'? That's some line of bullshit Randy Orton. What about seven years ago, hmmm? Those last three days I spent with you before I left for school? What was that then?" For good measure and to make a point I kicked him in the shin. "And what makes you think you can just man handle me and expect me to comply with your demands? You are out of your fucking mind if you think I'm going to be doing ANYTHING with you ANYTIME in the near future, Orton!" I stormed over to the window, looking out at the street below and seeing my dad walk out, chatting with the limo driver. I heard Randy get up off the floor, his breathing heavy. Turning, I saw him grip the chair in front of my desk for support as he rose.
"You better be damn glad that I don't hit women, Flair." he said. Hhhmmm...if I wasn't mistaken his voiced sounded just a bit higher than usual. "And what in the hell are you talking about, saying I left you seven years ago..." I wave his words away as I turned to grab my coat.
"Don't feed me that line of bullshit, Orton. You know what I'm talking about." Shrugging into my coat I turned back around to see that he was now standing gingerly behind the chair that had assisted him in rising. His face was slowly returning to a normal color and his breathing was evening out. His baby blues stared at me in bewilderment.
"What ARE you talking about Molly? If ANYone left it was you! You were the one who sent me that letter, telling me that you couldn't stand to say 'good-bye' in person." He slowly walked over to where I stood, my palms growing damp as he got closer and I could see the hurt in his eyes. "Do you have ANY idea what that did to me?" I smoothed out the front of my skirt, wiping away at imaginary wrinkles. I chuckled coldly.
"You were all of 15 Randy. Fifteen year olds go from one girl to the next without thinking twice." I walked around to my desk and unlocked the desk drawer where I kept my purse. I busied myself with unlocking it, to avoid eye contact with him. "Besides, it wasn't as if we were dating or anything, was it?" I retrieved my purse and shut the drawer, straightening to see that he had walked around to where I was and stood only a hair's breathe away from me. "I mean, you were right on Stephanie's heels before my plane ever landed."
A confused expression crossed his handsome features and for a split second I thought that maybe I'd been mistaken about some things. I should've known that wasn't the case! "Who told you that?" I laughed dryly as I turned, stepping around the opposite side of my desk. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on this argument when all I wanted to do was go home and have a good cry.
"See? Even you can't deny it." I paused by the door and turned to watch him stare at me beneath heavily lidded eyes. "Do us BOTH a favor, Randy, and forget you ever knew me." I flung open the door and marched quickly to the stairwell. I wasn't about to take the chance of him catching up while I waited for the elevator. The echo of my heels tapping on the concrete stairs seemed to chant , "Stupid, stupid, stupid" the faster I went. Finally reaching the bottom I shoved open the exit door that led to the alleyway next to Titan Towers. I knew my dad was probably getting impatient and would be pissed if I didn't at least call and give a relatively good excuse as to why I had to skip out on dinner. It took a couple of seconds for me to find my cell, buried at the bottom of my bag. Flipping it open quickly, I hit speed dial.
"Flair."
"Hi, daddy. Listen, I've got a splitting headache...I'm just gonna go on home and go to bed." It wasn't a stretch to make my voice sound weary over the phone. I'd been running on empty for the past couple of weeks and I knew that it was catching up to me quick. "Take a raincheck on dinner?"
"Sure, baby. Are you going to be alright? You need anything?" Despite everything that had happened in the last few hours, I couldn't help but smile. My father was a living legend in the wrestling ring, aptly dubbed "The Dirtiest Player in the Game". But tell him his child is sick and he turns into a worried pile of mush.
"I'll be fine, pop, don't worry. You and," I almost choked on the name, "Randy go and have a good time." He urged me to get some rest, scolded me briefly for working too hard and finally hung up, with the strict instructions to call him if I needed anything. I leaned back against the brick wall and took a deep breath. I knew that if I didn't get home soon, the events of the day would catch up with me and I'd start bawling my eyes out. Gritting my teeth with determination, I made my way to the employee parking lot, turning off the alarm on my 1964 Mustang and climbing in quickly. "I need a beer." I muttered to myself as I started the classic car and the engine purred to life. It was gonna be a long night.