Ch7

Randy

As the cameras begin filming, I sense that Honor is having a little trouble adjusting. She's a terrified, ball of nerves. Our scene is a tiny one; we're just conversing with each other. Mostly higher ups want to gradually introduce the rookies. To do that I guess they're going to film them interacting with the others backstage.

"Calm down, I'm positive this isn't your first rodeo," her jittery disposition is actually grating on my nerves. I know it's selfish but when I'm backstage I'm in my zone. For over ten years I've been doing this so long that I don't feel nervous anymore. If I'm nervous then it's because something is wrong or I'm working a live pay-per-view event.

"Gosh..."

"Seriously, you need to learn how to relax back here." I scold her.

"Sorry. Sometimes they just sneak up on me." Honor is wearing her gear, after the main show she'll be wrestling in her first dark match just to track her progression. Purple is her color of choice out lined with silver accents on both her shorts and top. A delicate body chain decorates her round hips, mostly I've seen her use it for her dancing.

"Even when you're uhh...dancing?"

Her cheeks stain a deep pink and she grins, "Yeah. I guess I'm still a bit self-conscious some-times."

"So you're right at home on your knees..." arrogantly the words leave my mouth so, I snicker. The camera guy signals that we're done and walks onto a couple of the other guys, I think Kofi and Miz.

There is no hint of acknowledgement to my quip on her face but, it doesn't necessarily mean she didn't hear me. "You think I forgot about that all you want... I don't think I've ever been surprised like that before."

A venomous smile creeps over her mouth and she moves closer, purposely claiming a handful of my package, "And you think I forgot how much you want to fuck me... these curves are too dangerous, Old Man."

Embarrassment replaces the amusement and my temper flares, "Make no mistake I react to every pretty girl like that. It's not my fault you just happen to be the sluttiest." I give her a once over, letting her feel the frostbite from my words.

Honor's eyes narrow to slits and her smile hardens laced with more poison. "What would your wife think? Answer that question carefully." She applies more pressure to her grip, making the experience shift from pleasant over into pain. "You want to play-"

"Then Randal I'll show you how to play," she cuts me off flicking her tongue across my jaw-line ending it with a small kiss. She then removes her hand from my crotch and wriggles free of my hold.

"Don't think that I'll play fair." I glance around for confirmation that no one was paying us any attention.

Sarcasm tinges the air as I hear a snicker from behind me. He's stretching near one of the giant cases that carry stage pieces. That obnoxious smirk adorned with that stupid lip ring, on his face.

"Fraternizing with the kids I see. Orton, I always knew you liked them young and stupid. If you ask me Orton, you might have met your match with this one. Honor has more brains than the ones you deal with."

CM Punk with his holier-than-thou attitude rubs my nerves raw; he always has and probably always will.

"This is none of your concern so, what the hell do you want?" I feel my gaze harden. Honor peeks out from my side, realizing who I'd been speaking to; instinctively I pull her back to my side.

"Hi Punk!" Honor bounces, breaking my grip on her arm. She throws her arms around Punk's waist; I don't know why it shocks me that he's hugging her back. Despite the fact that he looks like the type of guy who'll steal your car, the chicks love him.

"Hey, kiddo," his fingers entangle themselves in the ends of her long hair, I bare my teeth in disgust, "Did Orton ban you from associating with me? I understand he's keeping you all to himself. I thought you were happily married…"

If that grin gets any wider I swear I'll knock it right off his face.

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