Phil Brooks turned and winced, yawning before cursing out loud as the bright morning sun shined directly in his eyes. He sat up, bringing the covers over the lower part of his naked form. Looking around, he let his eyes take in the scenery before him. He was used to waking up in strange places…that was part of the daily grind of his job. Most of the hotels were nice but none were as personalized as this bedroom. It was black and red with marble dressers and a beautiful crimson canopy that matched the elegant drapes. The place was adorned with plants and art work. More importantly was that smell. That distinct feminine smell mixed with perfume. No, that didn't come with the average hotel room but a smile came across Phil's face when he remembered where he was. He was in Long Island. New York wasn't exactly a favorite place of his but it did happen to be where his girlfriend resided. After a long and grueling road trip, they often parted ways their two or three days off and went back to their spearate lives, hers being in the Northeast and his being the Midwest in the form of Chicago. He had invited her several times and she had accepted to stay with him in Illinois but never once had she brought up the notion that he come stay with her. It had bothered him but he had kept mum about it. Out of the blue one day, she had suggested it and he had readily accepted.

Memphis Kramer was intriguing. In that way, she reminded him of his ex, Diva Maria Kanellis. Pretty girls came a dime a dozen in the WWE and after five minutes, you knew their whole generic life story. Most of the wrestlers fell hard for them. Not Phil. It took more than a beautiful face and a nice rack to get his attention. He liked brains behind the beauty. He liked someone with a little mystery about them. And Memphis had lots of beauty, lots of brains, and plenty of mystery. He turned over and patted the empty space next to him. The room was quiet and the door to the master bathroom was open so he knew she was not in there. Reaching haphazardly for the jeans he had pulled off the night before, Phil slipped them on sans underwear and headed to explore throughout the small house searching for his girlfriend. The unmistakable sound of panting and heavy breating immediately garnered his attention. It was coming from the small island that separated the living room area and kitchen. Upon further investigation, Phil raised an eyebrow. She had taken a seat on the island before leaning back, securely hooking her legs over the side. With sweat glistening from her body and a look of fierce determination in her eye, she knocked out sit up after sit up, the muscles in her toned abdomen crunching with every movement. Hair pulled back, no makeup on, and dressed in workout pants and a sports bra, she looked as sexy as ever, though he found the scene quite amusing. He watched in silence as she finsihed at the count of 200.

"When do we leave for Russia?"

"Punk!" she put her hand over heart. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry," he shrugged.

She sat up and reached for her water bottle, taking a refreshing swig.

"And what's this business about Russia?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to know when you're fighting Drago and all."

It took her a minute to get his joke and when she did, she smiled and swatted at him with her towel.

"Ha ha, wise ass. Very funny."

He marched over and placed a kiss on her lips that she returned.

"I woke up and you weren't there."

"Aw, is that your way of telling me that you missed me?"

"What can I say? I kind of got used to waking up with my shoulder all numb and tingly and a huge imprint of your head…"

"My head is not huge," she giggled, kissing him again. "Sorry babe. I had to work out."

"I see."

"I was actually gonna go for a run. Want to join me?"

"Not really."

"Oh yeah. Your hip, I almost forgot."

"That too," he opened the refigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice that he proceeded to drink straight from. "But even if I wasn't a crip, I still wouldn't want to go."

Memphis pretended to pout.

"First of all, a big boo and a hiss to you for being lazy. And second of all, I cannot believe you just drank from my carton of juice, you savage. That is disgusting."

Phil shot her a bewildered look.

"I don't see what the big deal is. Last night my penis was in your mouth and your vagina was in mine, at the same time I might add…"

A wave of scarlet embarrassment washed over her face.

"Don't be vulgar."

"I'm not. I was just pointing out a true statement. It doesn't get any more intimate than that. So I hardly think that a little backwash in the OJ compares to that."

"Okay, okay, I get it," she cut him off.

He pulled her close again.

"And speaking of the whole penis and vagina thing," he playfully raised his eyebrows. "How's about we scrap the morning run around the block and do some cardio of our own in your bedroom? What do you think?"

"I think that sounds amazing and you've definitely got a date…after I work out."

Phil rolled his eyes.

"Memphis…"

"What?"

"The last couple of weeks you have been obsessed with working out. Running, weight lifting, push ups, sit ups, you name it."

"I am not obsessed. You're being dramatic."

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are."

"Fine, your six pack could use a little work on that side," he pointed out.

"Oh my God, where?" she began frantically looking. "Left or right?"

He smirked as she shook his head.

"See what I mean? I was just busting your balls to prove yet another point today. Gee, I'm on a roll."

"Punk!"

"What? I was just messing around. You look great…all of you."

"Okay, okay," she conceded with a sigh. "So I may be a little on edge and perhaps slightly OCD about getting in shape all of a sudden…"

"Slightly? Perhaps?"

She folded her arms and frowned.

"This is important to me and you know why."

That he did. It had all started the night Michelle Wilson had decided to pay a visit and offer Memphis the chance of a lifetime with the FHM interview and pictorial. Memphis had relayed the entire conversation to him once they were in the car onto the next city. Over and over she had repeated how she wasn't sure she was going to accept but based on the excitement in her voice and the twinkle in her eye, he knew her mind had long been made up before Michelle had even exited the arena. But her conversation nevertheless had been careful and guarded, waiting for his reactions, testing the waters to see if he would protest. He had not. Instead he had been oddly quiet and thoughtful, letting her make her own decisions. It was her life and her body. She could do what she wished with both. He had his own opinions but he had kept them to himself.

"I know why, Dollface," he simply stated. "Anyway, after your run and after the cool down sex, what's on the agenda for the rest of the day?"

She studied his face.

"Is that all you have to say?"

Phil frowned.

"Dinner. Maybe a movie. I don't know. This is your town. I am yours for the entertaining."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what are you talking about? Sorry, kid but I don't follow."

"It's just that you haven't said anything about the big pink elephant in the room."

"You mean Big Show is here?" Phil began looking around.

"I'm being serious. We haven't talked about the FHM shoot and it's coming up very soon. Don't you think we should?"

"What is there to talk about?"

"A lot."

"You're doing it, aren't you?"

"Well…yeah."

"And you're excited about it? Happy?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Then there is nothing else to say really."

Memphis cleared her throat.

"We've established how I feel about it but now I'd really like to know what your thoughts are."

"I think that you should do what makes you happy."

She rolled her eyes.

"I get that and I am very greatful for the support but we're talking about you here. I mean, does it bother you at all, you know, that men will be looking at me like that?"

"Does it bother you?"

"Punk! Dammitt, I can't stand it when you answer a question with a question. So annoying. I am trying my best to have a meaningful, serious conversation with you, my boyfriend, about an important decision that I have made that can impact our relationship and all you're doing is talking in circles."

"FHM ain't exactly Good Housekeeping. And we both know that you won't be discussing your love of horticulture during the interview. It is what it is. You're a hot chick and you're gonna be half naked and half the male population is gonna be ogling you. I can dig it."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I just…I, I know that Maria did Playboy and…"

"What does Maria have to do with any of this?"

"Nothing. It's just that, I don't know. You never told me how you felt about that and if that had any negative effects on your relationship?"

"You mean, is that why we broke up?"

"Well…yeah."

"It just didn't work out. Playboy was her decision and I respected that. She had her complaints that I treated her more like one of the boys than a lady. I had my complaints that I like someone who can actually hold an intellectual conversation. We had our differences but the Playboy thing had nothing to do with it, even though I think Playmates are way overrated."

"What about FHM models?" she asked softly.

He turned to her and smiled.

"I think FHM models are pretty okay, especially ones with big hazel eyes and cute dimples who pay way too much money for oversized purses and bitch about their men drinking straight out the carton."

Memphis relaxed a little bit.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. What's the problem?"

"There's no problem, it's just…"

"Just what? Talk to me, Dollface."

"I, I don't know. I just didn't expect you to be so cool with this whole photo shoot thing. I expcted you to say that say that I've worked so hard to be taken seriously for my skills and talent and now I'm putting myself out there to be judged on looks. And I expected you to say that I sold out for 75 grand and that I am feeding into the gimmick and the novelty and the sexuality, which is precisely what I wanted to avoid in the first place."

Phil gave her a serious look.

"Is that what you expected me to really say?"

"Well…yeah."

He gave a half shrug.

"I'm not gonna. Even though you may be on to something, that sounds more like your own conscience, babe, that little voice of reason in your head that's making you second guess your choices. To be honest, I respect you as a woman and a WWE performer. I want you to be judged on merit, not by how good you look spread eagle in skimpy lingerie with a staple in your belly button. But what you're doing is not a bad thing and I support you if that's what you want."

"But Punk…"

"Sex sells, babe. There is a lot of competition on that roster to be noticed. Everyone is always trying to outdo each other. Vince is always trying to form a connection with the WWE and mainstream media. In our business, it's all about who can get the most attention. FHM is definitely going to get people's attention, the question is, is it the kind of attention you want?"

His question was sobering and her response was only silence draped in deep thought.

"Are you disappointed in me?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Never."

Memphis ran her fingers through her hair.

"I, um, I'm gonna go for that run now. I, I guess I'll see you when I get back."

"Sounds good."

He gave her a quick kiss before disappearing back into the bedroom. The interaction had only left Memphis with an uneasy feeling. She was conflicted. She wanted to the do the FHM shoot but maybe Punk was right, maybe what she expected him to say was what she was feeling all along. Maybe his doubt, trepidation, and disappointment was really hers. Sighing, Memphis slipped out the back door and stretched her long legs for a warm up. She hoped the cool morning New England air would clear her head. Her heart and mind were conflicted and she needed answers. If she was doing the right thing, why did it feel so wrong?