Dirty Little Girl

Based on the song "Dirty Little Girl" by Burn Halo

Watching her walk into the London Brawling locker room was like a scene from a movie. It all happened in slow motion. His eyes started from her five-inch stiletto-clad feet, up her seemingly endless legs. That short black skirt didn't leave very much to the imagination, and that barely buttoned white blouse revealed a generous helping of her abundant cleavage. His eyes finally landed on that flawless face. Of course, Steven Haworth wasn't exactly viewing this picture as a mainstream movie. He was hoping for more of an adult film type scenario. The stirring in his black dress pants seconded that notion. He elbowed Nick Aldis, who was sitting next to him. He looked up, and the younger man's eyes widened.

A smirk formed on Steven's face. "Hi. Can I help you?" he spoke, standing up and walking over to the woman.

She raised an eyebrow at the man. He was clearly giving her the fuck-me eyes. "Actually, I'm here for you gentlemen," she answered. Judging from her lack of a British accent, he decided that she wasn't the valet London Brawling had been promised, only making him curious as to why this woman had appeared in his locker room…not that he was complaining or anything. "I'm Emma…Emma Blackington," she introduced herself, her voice oozing nothing but confidence and self-assurance.

"Wait…y-you're London Brawling's American valet?" Nick asked, standing up from the couch and walking over.

"Well, I'll be using an English accent while we're out there, but to answer your question…essentially, yes."

A smirk crossed Steven's face. "Well, then, come on in," he invited her. "Nick, get Douglas. He'll probably want to meet Ms. Blackington," he instructed.

"Okay," the wrestler known to the world as Brutus Magnus agreed, before leaving the room.

Steven's eyes were glued to this Emma chick. "So, you'll be working with us?" his voice questioned.

"Yup," she replied.

"Well, then, make yourself at home, sweetheart," he spoke. "Please, take a seat and relax."

She smirked, as she sauntered over to the couch, passing him on her way. His hand reached out, clasping over her wrist. She stopped walking and turned to face him. "Do you need something?" Her voice was almost seductive.

"I think I may…" he replied.

Emma pressed her body against his. "Oh yeah? And what's that?" she asked, her chin tilted upwards. She still stood six inches shorter than him, even with the Jimmy Choos giving her a boost.

Steven snaked a hand onto her lower back, holding her against his body. "You know you're a very beautiful woman," he breathed.

"You think?" she questioned looking up at him lustfully.

"I do." She felt his erection pressing against her lower abdomen.

"I guess I can assume what it is poking into my stomach, then," she spoke, pressing her hand against his waist.

"Well, assume away," he growled, his lips grazing her ear. She dragged her hand across the surface of his waist, to his hip, gently scratching him with her red nails, through his black button down shirt. Emma gave a throaty laugh, loving the reaction she was getting from him. "I've known you for barely two minutes, and you're already driving me crazy," he told her.

Emma hooked her finger underneath his belt but over his pants and pulled on it gently, causing him to press his lower half against her. He groaned. "What do you want to do?" she asked, biting her lower lip, her eyes locked on his.

Steven leaned down, but before his lips could make contact with hers, Emma pulled away and sat on the couch. She crossed her legs, causing her already too short skirt to ride up even higher on her thighs.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"What was what about?" she innocently asked, following her chaste act up with a smirk.

"Oh dear Lord," he groaned, knowing that this woman was about to take him for quite a ride.