Note: This is a fanfiction that is based off of a story that I am working on at the moment and plan to put on Kindle. The names have been changed to fit the story. I don't own or have anything to do with the WWE, its partners, or with the character The Undertaker

Chapter Eight

Stepping out of a dressing room, Emily walked to a spot where there were several mirrors lined up to show how she would look from the front, left, and right sides of her body. Her eyes fell upon the sight of her reflection revealing the first dress she chose to wear: A hot pink and white checkered sleeveless dress that was close to being skin tight, and stopped at her mid-thigh.

Oh hell no!

The sight of what she had on sent her running back to the very room she had been in only moments prior to that second in time. There was no way that she would allow herself to wear something so short and tight that people in the town would call her a 'whore' or a 'prostitute' at her grandmother's party.

She wasted little time in closing the door behind her, and removing the hideous piece of clothing off of her body. Her hands made quick work of hanging it back up on its hanger that was nestled on a hook on the wall to the left side of her away from where the other options for her were nestled. Once the object was away from her, a soft groan of displeasure escaped from her soft pink lips.

I never…ever want to wear something like that again in all of my life. Just having that on for a few seconds…I feel close to becoming sick to my stomach with disgust.

Silently swearing herself off of the dress, Emily brought the next dress down while she stood in only a white strapless bra cupping her round, firm breasts and a pair of white low-rise panties. She slipped the soft, white cotton fabric over the top of her head, and her arms into the sleeves of it. Once the skirt was tugged down to fall at the calves of her legs, her body walked back out, and stood before the mirrors.

Instead of immediate repulsion like she had for the previous dress, Emily found herself simply smiling at the way she had the appearance of a young woman her age from the seventies. The sight caused a light chuckle to escape from the confines of her mouth.

Although this is not really the kind of thing to wear to a midsummer's dance…I definitely would wear something similar to this for a Halloween party.

She made her way back to the dressing room, and eased the door shut behind her with a little more relaxation in her movements a whole lot less stress. Her hands slipped the dress off, and placed it back onto its designated hanger before moving it onto the hook with the other gown. She moved her eyes to the last remaining dress with a heavy look in her eyes.

Well…It looks like this last one will have to be the one or it is back to the drawing board for me.

Emily eased the dress over her head and guided her arms through the quarter length sleeves that fell at her elbows. Once she had pulled the skirt to fall at her knees, and made sure the front was buttoned up, her body walked outside and back to the mirrors.

Looking back at her, the mirrors revealed her to be in a red and maroon colored plaid dress that was not too stuffy and didn't show too much either.

The visual brought a sweet smile to her face. There was no doubt about it. This was the perfect dress for her to wear for her grandmother's party. Emily turned to go back to the dressing room to change when Mark's sudden appearance in the store caught her full attention and brought her body to a complete and abrupt stop. She managed to at least draw in a breath of air while her eyes were fixated upon him approaching her where she stood.

"That dress looks great on you, Emily." Mark broke the momentary silence between the two of them with a compliment in his calm yet deep voice while his face had a friendly smile upon it.

"You think so, Mark?" Emily asked, curiously. She secretly wanted his opinion about what she had on since she was thinking about buying it, and wearing it for her grandmother's party. "Are you sure that this looks okay?"

He clearly saw how unsure she was, and how she needed to hear his opinion about what she had on. Deciding to ease her concerns and worries away from her mind, Mark walked right up to Emily's physique, and left very little to no space between him and her. He bent his head down, and pressed it against the top of hers as he spoke to her in a soft, deep whisper.

"Darling…Taylor Swift is nowhere near as beautiful as the way you are looking right now."

His eyes watched hers start to brighten up, and a bashful smile move across the fair complexion of her face. The sight caused a grin to form onto his face, and a warm sensation rushing throughout his entire body.

"Do you really think that I am prettier then Taylor Swift, Mark?" Emily asked. Her voice not only had a bashful sound to it, but also a child-like giggle trying to make its way out despite her doing her best to suppress it.

Instead of answering with words in response to her question, Mark lowered his head down to hers, and pressed his sensual, strong lips against her tender ones. He sealed off her mouth to prevent any other words from coming out of it by using his as a block. Mark only held the moment for a few, brief, lingering seconds, knowing very well what happened the last time they had kissed each other and that it could easily happen that very moment with more people around and no horses.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, moving his mouth back to hover over hers, "if it was just the two of us right now…I would really show you how attractive you look to me right now."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Callaway?"

"It's a promise, Miss Withers."

A chuckle escaped out of his mouth at the sound of Emily referring to him as 'Mr. Callaway' instead of just saying his first name like she had been during the past month she had been staying with her grandmother at the ranch.

"Well then…I believe that I have a dress to take off and pay for."

"I will be waiting for you right here…you sweet little southern tease."

His eyes watched her curvaceous frame move away from where he stood, and head in the direction of the very dressing room that she had come from originally. He caught a small glimpse of her looking over one of her shoulders in his direction with a grin stretching from ear to ear on the angelic and beautiful features of her face before she slipped out of his sight.

Oh how I just love watching that woman look as she walks away from me.

He couldn't get enough of Emily. Each time he thought of her…Every moment that was spent in the company of his boss' guest…He wanted more and more. There was no set amount for him. There was no limit to how much of her he could take before things went too far and he started to become sick of her. She had become to him like someone's favorite alcoholic beverage was to them.

Turning his attention away from the area she headed in, Mark noticed a man that wasn't from around the area looking into the store while trying to appear he wasn't gawking at the same time due to catching his reflection in the mirrors that Emily had just modeled and stood in front of him a few moments ago.

I don't know what it is about that guy…but something tells me that he is not here shopping for a dress…