Another shoutout to Morrowsong for the review.
"You are not wearing that shirt, and if you do, I don't know you," Reves wrinkled her nose at her sister who was wearing a "Big Evil" shirt with the red devil logo on it.
Frowning, Heather glanced down at her shirt. Her large eyes glossed over, wounded. "What is the issue?" she muttered in bewilderment.
"Only marks actually wear wrestling tees outside of TV. That's the issue," Reves chided.
Heather's eyes bore the expression of a wounded rabbit and Reves felt remorse spreading through her chest, although her sour visage remained unwavering.
"Yeah, but it's Wrestle…I just thought…" she trailed off, twisting the hem of her shirt around her forefinger.
Reves let out a pity filled sigh. "At least don't wear it like such a dweeb." Standing behind Heather, she grabbed a hair tie, bunching up the excess fabric and secured it with band. She tucked the tail of the fabric under the younger girl's shirt and rolled up the sleeves. "That's better," Reves declared.
Heather looked in the mirror and a small gasp escaped her lips. "My stomach is exposed!" she cried as her arms shielded her bare skin.
Reves rolled her eyes. "A little mid-rift never killed anybody."
"Not unless your father is an undertaker," Heather muttered sarcastically.
"Whatever," Reves groused, walking away.
The girls walked into the common area of the family's suite. Upon seeing Heather's shirt, Steven burst out laughing. "Get a loada this!" he howled, whacking Marcus in the arm.
Marcus began cackling like a mad man, "You better line up outside with your sign!"
"What's going on in here?" Sara asked, entering the room. She noticed her youngest daughter frowning as she reached behind her, pulling the shirt loose from the hair tie and straighten the hem, folding her arms over her chest. "There's nothing wrong with your shirt, honey." Sara cut her eyes to the three older teens. "Leave your sister alone."
Heather was still feeling the sting from her siblings. She knew they would only resume their torture later. She turned back towards the girls' room.
"Where you going, girl? It's time to be heading out," Mark's gruff voice asked as he appeared suddenly.
Eyes to the ground, Heather incoherently mumbled out her response.
"Girl, look at me when you talk," Mark commanded with firm patience.
Heather's eyes raised to me her father's gaze. "I would like to change my shirt, quickly," she squeaked.
"Ain't a damn thing wrong with that one. Now c'mon. Everybody load up," he said grabbing his gear off the floor and ushering everyone out.
When they entered the arena, Mark told Sara, "You and the kids can head to catering. I'm going to drop off my gear and I have to check in with Vince."
"Ok," Sara said, a little bewildered.
"See you in a little while," he said, leaving a quick peck on her lips. "Guys, try not to act like a bunch of animals," he warned the kids before turning away.
"I'm starving," Marcus announced.
"Me too, dude," Steven agreed.
"Lord, I hope they have enough food for you two bottomless pits," Reves chimed sarcastically as they began walking towards the cafeteria for catering.
After the family had gotten their food and were seated, Glen waved at them from across the room. He approached them with a smile. "I see you got the whole clan here. Where's Mark?"
"Tying up business with Vince, Sara told him with a shrug.
"Ah," Glen said with a nod. He took a seat at the table with them, chatting up Sara and the boys.
Heather sat silently, hands folded in her lap, smiling apprehensively when she though it was appropriate.
Reves pushed her salad around on the plate. Her elbow was propped on the table supporting her head. She was bored already. She found it funny, her mom was so busy gabbing with Glen, she didn't even scold her for having her elbows on the table. As amusing as that prospect was, she knew she had much more exciting things she could be getting to. "Mom, I'm going to the bathroom," she declared as she stood, not waiting for her mother's permission.
"Come right back," Sara instructed her.
She gave a muffled "Mmhmm," as she departed. She prayed Heather wasn't going to follow her.
Left alone, Heather shifted anxiously in her seat. She wished to tag along with Rev, but she hadn't wanted to say anything. She sufficed to pull out a book. She reached into her bag, instantly turning scarlet when she realized she had accidently pulled out Lolita. She was still using it as reference for her thesis. She had grabbed it by mistake. She swiftly concealed it underneath the table. Her eyes darted around for anyone who may have caught a glimpse of the devious read. It had been disastrous enough that one, Kevin Nash had knowledge of the lecherous tale. He likely thought she was some sort of sicko.
Stuffing the tome of the diabolical Humbert Humbert back into her bag, she retrieved a Christopher Pike novel for a bit of recreational reading. It didn't challenge her too much at all, but it offered some delight never the less.
Reves was traveling down the hall with a nonchalant swagger until she came to face the room she was searching for. She wasn't sure how she would be received, but it was worth a shot. She was not sure who was on the other side of the door, if anyone. She gave a knock as her heart beat in her rib cage, in sync with her knuckles.
"It's open," she heard a smooth timbre call from the other side.
Reves hesitated a moment. She then expelled a deep breath and cautiously turned the door knob. She peeked her head in. Her eyes scanned the room, but she could only see Scott sitting back on the plush leather couch. She stepped inside, not sure of what to say, so she hid behind the façade of her coy smirk for a few moments. He looked damn sexy lounged there on the couch. She could feel the moisture beginning between her legs as she thought of their last encounter.
Scott's deep brown eyes met her orbs that were like twin pools, rimmed in black. He could see the desire painted in them, no matter the façade she tried to plaster on. Her body looked banging in her tight jeans and well fitted shirt. She was certainly hard to resist when she was standing there like an open invitation, but with all that had happened earlier, he just wasn't in the mood. He just wanted to sit there, finish his beer and forget about the deception from yet another company whom pretended to have his best interest at heart.
"Beat it, kid," he groused, tossing he second empty can in the trash. He wasn't necessarily feeling the buzz, but his nerves were a lot more relaxed than when he first walked into the arena.
The pain flashed in Reves's eyes momentarily. She didn't take kindly to being rejected, though her mask never faltered. Her full lips curled into a devilish grin. "I don't know what your problem is," she voiced coolly, "I kind of don't care, really. But hey, I can give you a hand."
As she spoke, Scott plucked his third can from the plastic holder. He let out a "Ha!" low in his throat.
Reves pursed her lips and her hand clenched into a fist for a moment. She could feel the blood rushing threw her veins. Anger was welling up inside her. She stood, still and silent, talking herself down from slapping him across the face.
She looked down at the beer can in his hand. She plopped down beside him, so close her side was pressed against his. The smile came back to her face as she took the beer can from him.
He surrendered the can in his befuddled state. She just held onto it for a moment. Then she rotated the can a little bit and popped the top, the proverbial crack echoing throughout the room. She lifted it up, giving a solitary cheers motion and brought the can to her lips. The amber liquid hit her tongue with a dull burn. She nearly choked on the bitter, yeasty flavor, but she swallowed it down in a huge gulp that made her eyes water. She begrudgingly took a few more menial sips, fighting the urge to gag before handing the can back to Scott. She also met him with a grin and lightly bit her bottom lip.
Scott stared at her for a long second. He knew he should be reprimanding her for underage drinking, but truth be told, he was doing a lot worse at her age.
He looked down at the tee shirt stretched across her ample breasts. (Of course, what else was meant by well fitted?) He felt his cock come to life when her hand came to rest on his knee. "You don't take no for an answer, do you?" he asked, appraising her body again.
"Never," she replied with a Cheshire grin, running her hand up to the bulge between his legs.
Scott released a groan as he felt himself harden more. He wasn't sure what brought her back for more (of course, he was an outstanding lover) but he was glad it did.
He had to admit, he felt rather lame, like a jabroni virgin. His dick strained against his jeans and they hadn't even kissed.
Bold as she may, she reached for his belt buckle. "We have to be quick about it. I have to get back to the overlords."
That was perfectly fine with him. He felt like he was about to explode all of a sudden as he was thinking about everything they had done during their last interaction. He placed the beer, which he had been holding, on the coffee table and reached for Reves's shirt, pulling it over her head.
Their lips connected for a few moments before they broke away to shed the rest of their clothing. Scott grabbed a condom and rolled it on. Reves laid back on the couch, legs spread, eagerly awaiting him. He could see moisture glistening between her legs, so he positioned himself and sunk deep inside her, releasing a simultaneous groan from both of them.
Nash and Hogan had finally made it to the arena. Kevin hadn't heard from Scott since they had left Vince's hotel. He hoped Scott had already made it, if not he would be along soon. They were already going to get it from old Vinnie for being late.
Hurrying to McMahon's office, Kevin practically broke down the door as he burst through it, garnering a searing glare from Vince.
"Ah, nice of you to join us, Kevin. Terry," Vince said in a relatively calm voice that still dripped a venomous sarcasm.
Kevin ignored Vince's disposition. "Is Scott here yet?" He demanded, leaning on Vince's desk.
"Yes. He actually made it to work on time. In fact, he's been here a little while, unlike his buddies," the gruff Mr. McMahon voice was coming through now.
Kevin let out a sigh, not bothering to hide his relief. He had been anxious over Scott all afternoon. Despite everything that was going to change tonight, this was one of the best opportunities he and his friends could ask for. The last thing he wanted to hear walking in the door was that Hall had gone AWOL.
Vince wore an agitated expression as he leaned back in his huge office chair. He knew Nash was all about the welfare of his pals, but he was still pissed at both he and Terry for being late. Vince didn't want to be pissed – not this early on in the day. "Alright, go on now." He inclined forward, pointing a threatening finger at them, "But come late the next time, I'll have your asses! Understood?" Vince barked.
Nash resisted the urge to roll his eyes and straightened back to his gargantuan stance. "You got it, Vince," he said in a compliant tone.
"Sure thing, brother," Terry agreed, though Vince's words didn't do anything for his ego.
Reves combed her fingers though her tousled hair in an attempt to smooth her disheveled tresses. She regarded her reflection in the full-length mirror that was attached to the concrete wall. She wiped away traces of smeared eye-liner with the side of her thumb. The blonde's legs still felt like jelly as a result of the two powerful orgasms she had recently endured.
She turned back towards Scott, who was now fully dressed was well and had returned to consuming beer number three. She didn't have the slightest clue as to what to say, but her offhanded expression never wavered. After another moment, she veered towards the door. "Well, see ya," she shrugged nonchalantly.
As she reached the door, Scott had suddenly appeared beside her, his arm outstretched in front of her body. "Do you plan on making a habit out of this?" he inquired to her. His lips were mere inches from her ear and the warmth of his breath caused her to shudder involuntarily.
Her heart beat quickened as his body brushed her side. "That depends."
"On what?" His gaze bore into her.
She offered a devious grin. "If you remain so easily seduced." Her eyes flashed with an intense lust.
The expression painted on her face caused Scott to go wild all over. Who taught her to carry such a sensual demeanor? She seemed to come by it so naturally and he questioned how she was born with such a disposition. No wonder Mark wanted to suppress that wild streak within her. Maybe the alcohol was finally getting to him, but he couldn't lie, he had the desire to see how far her limits would go. If he pushed her to the edge, would she push back? "Come to my hotel after the show." His timbre was like velvet whiskey shooting down her spine, smooth and fiery all at once. "Or is Daddy Calaway going to lock you back in the dungeon?"
Reves shifted her eyes, staring back at him challengingly. "Are you kidding? Mania after party! He'll be smashed," She snorted. "So, where will you be?"
Scott gave her his hotel name and room number and she went on her way.
He knew it would look odd that he would go straight to the hotel after the show, but what was there to truly celebrate? He bent over backwards for Vince and the rest of the company. He had walked the straight and narrow and all he got was a big "fuck you" in return. He didn't have a problem putting Steve over, but where was their push for once? So, if the Kliq had as much pull as these jabronis claimed, why were they being screwed like this?
No matter, he thought as he depleted the third can. He was going to get hammered and fuck that hot little number until she was begging him to stop.