Book 1

Dancing used to be my first love. Can you believe that? Me, a dancing freak. `Impossible,' everyone had said. `You'll never make it. You've got the wrong body type.' Because of those comments, I worked harder and harder at becoming the best dancer I could be. I even became the best dancer from my school, which got me a full-paid grant to an academy of dance in New York City with my ballet/hip-hop routine, my absolute favorite. Growing up in the ghettos of Chicago, hip-hop had to be, and still is.

Now, as I sit in this very familiar gym in Chicago, stretching my limbs out, I think back over the last few years. I had met Kevin Nash at a WCW house show I attended with some friends in the Madison Square Garden near the middle of '98. We had the great luck of coming across some backstage passes, and went to the back after the show had concluded. Of course, a 6'11", over 350 pound man with long, light brown hair, and wearing a red and black tank tee and black pants with fringe wasn't easy to miss back then. Once my friends and I stopped Kevin for an autograph, Kevin and I hit it off real nicely. While my friends cruised the backstage for more autographs, we discussed various things, and when my friends came back, he invited us all out for a late dinner, the tab on him. That night, Kevin and I hooked up, and things grew from there.

I dropped out of the academy after learning that Kevin didn't really think of dancing as something that could possibly get anyone anywhere. I began to travel with him and the company, and Kevin had even gotten me started on a weightlifting regiment. Not to be useless while working out, I helped him practice his moves and such. After a few months of that, some of the other wrestlers began to ask me for help with their holds. When Kevin `jumped ship' to rejoin the WWF at the beginning of '99, I was hired on with him as a trainer of sorts to the wrestlers. Hell, the proposition was to get paid to let guys beat the crap outta me. Why not?

Back in the present, I stand up in front of the full wall-length mirror after putting on my dance shoes, turn on the stereo beside me with my music, and begin my steps. Despite the wrestling world replacing dancing as my favorite thing, I still practice my dance routines that I had thought would get me into a dance production company. `And I thought I was done when I left the academy,' I think as I continue my routine.

Without focusing on the people behind me that are working out, I know they are watching me. They always do. For some reason, I think they find it a good bit of change from the regular rushes of the wrestling world. At first, seeing someone do a dance routine at a gym while the talent was working out seemed a bit shocking. After a while, though, I guess it became commonplace. I continue with the routine, knowing the song would be ending soon, and wishing it wouldn't. I could dance for a long time, when given the chance.

I quickly turn off the stereo, and turn around, flustered at what to say. Kevin stands in front of me, dressed in a blue mesh sweat tank, black workout shorts, and black high-topped sneakers. His light brown hair sits in a tail at the nape of his neck and hangs down his back, even though he knows it drives me crazy when he does it; I hate when men confine their long hair. "I-I-I was just dancing," I quietly answered, becoming very aware at how incredibly shorter my 5'6" figure looks right now compared to him. I sit down to quickly change from my dance shoes to my sneakers.

Kevin scoffs, and begins to chuckle. "You can't dance, Kit!" he announces, a bit too loud for my liking. "Your body type is all wrong, anyway. You wouldn't be able to pull off any of the moves." He places his arm heavily around my shoulders as I stand back up, beginning to lead me toward the thick-padded, blue mat. "Come on, Kit. Get your head out of the clouds. Help me with a few moves, all right?" I nod, knowing that refusal would be met with something I don't want to deal with right now.

For the next fifteen minutes, I help Kevin get through his routine of wrestling maneuvers that he always has me practice with him. Once finished, I head back over to the stereo that I borrowed from the manager when I came in earlier this morning. I take the tape out of the player, place it in its case, and put it in my gym bag. As I stand upright again, I see Kevin standing behind me. I look at him through the mirror, and begin to wonder what I had seen in him to begin with.

He smiles somewhat connivingly, as if knowing what I'm thinking, as well as knowing what keeps me beside him. "You know, Kit, I don't see why you continue to think you can dance," he says loudly. "Everyone knows you can't, so when are you gonna learn that fact?" I watch as he kisses my temple somewhat harshly, and walks out of the gym.

Bringing my attention back to the mirror, I look over myself. There is nothing there that suggests I can't dance, but it seems that Kevin finds something wrong with me whenever I never can. My attention focuses behind me, and meets with a green-eyed gaze that I can immediately tell is somewhat angered. The first thought that pops into my mind is, `He knows.' Common sense enters my mind then, and I reason to myself that he couldn't possibly know anything about Kevin and me.

My suspicions rise as he stands up from his sitting position on a bench-press table, and walks toward me. I turn just as he steps beside me. "Hey, what's up, Mark?" I ask softly, trying to not look so intimidated. How could I not? Mark is just as tall as Kevin, just as built, and his full-arm tattoos brought all the physical traits to look that much more of a killing type. Not only that, but his green stare goes right through one's own eyes, bringing the deepest-kept secrets to the surface, and the long, auburn hair and matching-colored full goatee brings that quality out even more. I guess that's why I don't like looking into his eyes, despite how they seem to draw my attention so many times.

Mark shrugs nonchalantly, and replies, "Nothing much, angel." I can tell he's trying to curb his anger as hard as he possibly can. "Want to practice with me?" I nod, and follow him to the mat to begin.

As I help him with his moves, I think back to when Kevin first introduced me to Mark. It was just after he signed on with the WWF, and the `higher-ups' immediately wanted Kevin to work a storyline with Mark. First thing Kevin did after hearing this from Vince McMahon was find me, and take me to meet him. They had worked together during Kevin's first stint with the WWF, and he was positive Mark would like me. It didn't take long for Kevin to find Mark, either, after telling the hotel receptionist who he was.

I remember Kevin knocking on Mark's hotel room door. Within a few minutes, the door opened, and a 6'10" figure in black shorts stood in the doorway, his dyed-black hair in a mess; he looked like he had just woken up. As his eyes focused on Kevin, they widened in surprise. "Kev?" he said.

Since that day, the three of us traveled together while the storyline progressed. Mark became most likely the best friend I ever had, and we were there for one another. By September of that year, though, the injuries that he had collected for a while were now weighing him down, and Mark was granted time off to recover. Things went downhill between Kevin and me after that. Things that I couldn't understand how to fix. Every time Kevin and I had a fight, I wanted to call Mark, tell him my problems, but I knew that he needed to rest and relax, not worry about me. I also knew we were growing distant.

I remember how excited I was to hear that Mark would be coming back last year, and couldn't wait to see him again. My excitement, however, was quickly dashed when Kevin noticed how anxious I was to see Mark, and he made sure I wouldn't think about it again. Because of Kevin and my growing fears of him, I wouldn't let myself go talk to Mark, nor even think of him. Hell, this is the first time I've said a word to Mark that didn't consist of strained greetings.

We finish his routine within ten minutes, and again, I head to the wall mirror to retrieve my things. Mark walks up to me with his bag over his shoulder, putting his auburn hair into a tail. "I think it's time we talked, angel," he states.

I nod, putting my own below-shoulder-length, brown hair into a small tail at the nape of my neck, and reply, "I suppose we should, but not right now. I'm meeting Kevin and a few of the others at Soldier Field to play a little football before we head on to the next town." An idea forms in my head just then. "Wanna join us?"

A smile creeps up to his lips. "Sure, I'm up for a little tackling anytime," he replies as we head to the doors of the gym, and he holds the door as I step outside. "You should know that."

Within half an hour, we arrive on the football field of Soldier Field to find Kevin with Brian Armstrong (Road Dogg), Dwayne Johnson (The Rock), Ron Simmons (Farooq), John Layfield (Bradshaw), Joanie Laurer (Chyna), Paul Levesque (Triple H), and Glenn Jacobs (Kane). "Hey all!" I call out as we walk toward them. "Look who I managed to rope into the game."

Kevin turns, and sternly glares at me before joining the others in greeting us. "All right," Kevin announces, "it's time to play some football!" Loud shouts come from everyone, and the team picking begins. I end up on Kevin's team with Brian, Ron, and Glenn. Once it's determined that we will be on offense first, Kevin groups us into a huddle. "This should be pretty easy," he states, and starts going into strategy.

For a whole hour, we play a game of football. Football has been the only sport in which I can actually play. Growing up with five older foster brothers, I grew to be a tough cookie when it came to being on defense, and these boys know it as well. After an hour of play, it finally reaches time for the last few minutes of play, and the opposing team has the ball. "Kit, you cover Mark," Kevin instructs.

Dwayne snaps the ball to John, and the offense starts to move. Mark manages to get around me, but I follow as best I can. Mark stops to turn, and the ball seems to magically appear in his arms. Prepared, I spear-tackle him hard, and, unexpectedly, we end up falling to the ground. Mark breaks my fall, of course, but it isn't the fall that knocks the breath out of my lungs. It's the concern that surfaces in his eyes, which make them glow differently. This sets off a strange reaction to my body, making my stomach do flips.

Mark smirks back as he replies, "It's kinda hard to go easy on ya when you're making this game so much more complicated." Seeing the double meaning, even if he didn't mean to use one, I start to chew on my bottom lip.

It has been two weeks since that afternoon. Things have almost gotten back to normal between Mark and myself. Almost, meaning that I haven't told him about my situation with Kevin yet. I fear that telling him will destroy our friendship, his friendship with Kevin, and most importantly, possibly his career, should things get really out of hand.

Our plane lands in Phoenix at ten in the morning. It is Sunday, and most of the wrestlers are supposed to be at the arena by five. Kevin and I retrieve our luggage at the baggage claim area. As we start toward the exit, Kevin swears out, "Shit! I've got an autograph session today."

"So," Kevin returns angrily, "I have to go straight there, and then I have to go straight to the arena after that, which means I'm toting my suitcase with me." He turns around, and spots Mark walking toward us. "Hey, Mark, can you do me a favor?"

Mark looks toward the exit of the airport, then down at me. He smiles, then responds, "I've got a cycle waiting for me, and I'm having Brian take my stuff. If you want, I can drop your suitcases off with him, then take her with me on the bike."

Kevin nods as he sets his luggage down, trying to keep from letting his angry thoughts get the better of him, and says, "Sure, whatever. I'll see you two later then." He walks out of the doors without a look back.

Mark shakes his head. "I've got it, angel," he says, picking it up with his free hand. Brian walks up beside us, and we three leave the building together. We follow Brian to his rental car, helping him put the suitcases into the trunk. "We'll follow you out."

Mark chuckles in response as Brian gets into the car. "Come on, angel," he says, directing me toward a rented bike. "We better get going if we want to get to the hotel in time to stop Brian from looting our stuff." I laugh as I hop on behind Mark, and tighten my hold around his midsection at the sudden roar of the engine. "Angel, relax. It's not gonna bite. I won't let it."

For fifteen minutes, we cruise around the highway, swerving around cars to get to our destination quicker. With each swerve, my grip somewhat tightens around his waist, the fear of falling off while moving taking me by surprise. `Jeeze, what's wrong with me?' I think as I watch us change lanes yet again. `I never used to be afraid of riding with Mark.' The sudden slowing down to get on the off-ramp causes my body to slide against his tightly, which brings a low chuckle from him. "What's so funny?" I ask aloud, turning my head toward his so he can hear me over the roar of the engine and the wind.

"You!" I respond. "You're a big teddy bear, and you know it." He chuckles again. "Besides, it's just that it's been a while since I've been on a bike with you, and..." I trail off as we enter the hotel parking lot.

We park close to the entrance of the hotel, and I hop off. Mark follows after me as I head to where Brian leans against the trunk of his rental, grinning at us. "You have a nice ride, Kit?" he asks with a laugh.

I roll my eyes as I pick up my suitcase, then try to grab for Kevin's. Mark swats my hand away, and picks it up instead. Shrugging, I lead the way into the hotel lobby. We check in, and head to the elevators. Once there, I press the button for the fifth floor. My eyes shift toward Mark, noticing him leaning in a bored state against the wall of the elevator. "I could've taken his luggage, you know," I comment to break the silence.

His lips turn up into a smirk. "No offense, angel, but you're a bit too small to manage two full-sized suitcases," he replies, then kicks at Kevin's case. "By the weight of this, I wonder what Kevin puts in this thing."

I laugh a bit as the elevator doors open, and step out, Mark following me. We walk down the hall for a few paces before we come upon my room. After the click of the door, I open it, and lug my suitcase inside. Mark sets Kevin's down by the bed. "Thanks, Mark," I tell him.

"Anytime," he replies, then looks around the room for a bit. "You're gonna be awfully lonely here by yourself. Why don't you spend some time with me? We could play a bit of `catch-up' on things."

For the next few hours, Mark and I talk over what he had done while he had taken time off. "So, what about you?" he asks, sitting beside me on the bed. "We've already spent about two hours talking about me, and although I'm flattered that you're obsessed with me, I-"

Mark shrugs. "Maybe because you are one of my best friends," he answers, "and I do want to know whether I'll be attending a wedding in the near future." Involuntarily, I laugh when he says `wedding'; just thinking about such an event makes me want to vomit. "What?"

I shake my head, still laughing somewhat. When I finally catch my breath, I respond, "I'm sorry, Mark, but what you just said made me laugh." As I gaze at him, I can see the confusion set in, and I immediately know I made a mistake in saying that; his curiosity is peaking. "It's just me, don't worry. I-I-I guess I'm having a difficulty thinking of a strong commitment like marriage with all the traveling and working and such. With Kevin's schedule picking up again, we just don't seem to spend enough time together anymore, hence our little get-together right now."

Mark nods slowly, as if in thought. I lay down onto the bed to lie on my back, propping my head up on the headboard, not wanting to continue with this discussion. Seeing this, Mark gently lays across my stomach, picking up the TV remote from the bedside table. "I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asks, turning to look at me. "'Cause if I am-"

"No, you're fine," I interrupt, smiling at him. I point down at the remote in his hand. "So, is there anything on or what?" Mark smiles back, and flips through the channels until he finds one we both agree on.

During the next hour, we watch TV together, Mark laying across my stomach, and my hand running through his tail of long hair rhythmically. As the show on the tube ends, Mark flips off the TV. He sets the remote up on the nightstand, and turns his head to look up at me just as I cover a yawn with the back of my hand. "Tired, are you?" he asks, sitting up. I nod, and he smiles mischievously. "We're gonna have to remedy that, aren't we?"

He continues to tickle me. "Are you kidding, angel?" he states with a laugh. "You couldn't hurt me even if you really had the body to." After a few more moments of the tickling torture, he relents, and stops. He sits back on his heels, smiling down at me. I gaze back up at him, noticing the smile in his beautiful, green eyes, the way his hair stays tightly in a tail to aggravate me to no end, the way the blue bandana wrapped around his forehead adds to his perfect appearance, and how his upper lip contrasts with his fuller bottom one, wondering what it would feel like to have those lips over my own. I can already feel the blush crawling up my face as I think the thought. "Why, I do believe you're blushing, angel."

I laugh again, uneasily, and reply, "Because big dolts like yourself can't seem to keep their hands off of me." I take a breath to calm the unsteady beating of my heart, and I start to sit up until I feel Mark's hands sneak under my shoulders as he leans down toward me, freezing me in place. Slowly, almost torturously, his head lowers toward mine, and his lips place themselves at the very most corner of my mouth. The warmth of his breath on my cheek causes me to close my eyes, wanting to know if he isn't just 'caught up' in the moment and just as lost in it as I am. The answer, though hazy, comes when he places those sensuous lips over mine, softly at first, then the kiss becomes more urgent with each passing second.

Finally regaining myself, I manage to push his body off of mine, and stand up, rounding toward the foot of the bed. "Mark, I don't know what's going on between us, or even why, but it's got to stop right now," I tell him, wanting to sound steady and unwavering, but it comes out totally unsure.

Mark comes to stand in front of me to block my exit, looking down at me. "Because you always have to run back to Kevin like the loyal bitch he's turned you into," he states softly, taking my body into his embrace. His forefinger tilts my chin upward, and again, his mouth finds mine.

Mark's eyes take on an angry flicker. "Why, because you're afraid of being caught by Kevin?" he asks sarcastically, crossing his arms. "You said so yourself that you two don't spend nearly as much time together anymore."

Mark sighs softly, and shakes his head at the question. "What I see, angel, is a woman who really needs a great deal of attention from a man she feels greatly for," he responds, then uncrosses his arms to put them out on both sides of his body. "I don't know what else to do about you. You're distant, you barely talk to me anymore, and when you do, you're holding back all emotions. I'm willing to give you the attention you deserve, no strings attached. It just depends on whether you'll accept it or not. It's all up to you now, darlin'."

I stare at him, wanting to find a fault in his argument, but I can't. He was speaking the truth, whether I liked it or not. What really gets to me is how I really don't want to find faults, but rather, I want to act on it all. It doesn't help much as I see the way he stands in the halfway-buttoned black leather sleeveless shirt and light-blue denim jeans. "Do me a favor, Mark," I speak aloud finally; I see the interest in his eyes as the words come out of my mouth. "Let your hair loose."

His lips curve up into a smile as his hands go to his tail, and he replies, "If you do the same with your hair." Nodding in agreement, I take the scrunchie out of my hair, and place it on the dresser top as Mark places the his hair band down, as well as his bandana. I take a step closer to him, my heart starting to race ahead already with anticipation. "Now, are you completely certain about-"

I cut him off by quickly grabbing his shirt with both of my hands, and bringing his lips to mine hungrily. I hear him chuckle lowly as I release his shirt so he can stand upright again. "I think I got my answer," he simply says.

Mark is right in front of me within a single stride, his mouth clamping over mine with a soft moan. Without breaking the contact, I manage to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, and push it off of his broad shoulders. Escaping momentarily, I sit myself down on bed, and scoot myself up toward the head as Mark crawls predatorily after me. Once I can lay down fully, his lips capture mine again as our hands tangle tightly in each other's hair. His tongue traces the outline of my lips, coaxing them to open on their own, and places his tongue within the recesses of my mouth. My own tongue dances with his in a well-known ritual of human pleasure.

His mouth leaves mine in a search that takes them down my cheek and neck. He only pauses long enough to take my tank top off of my body, discarding it on the carpet, and his lips continue their downward path to my bare chest. One of his hands gently kneads at one breast while his mouth takes in the other as much as he can. His tongue swirls around the pink flesh before flicking rapidly over the nipple, bringing it to attention with an almost painful strain, bringing moans from deep within my throat, arching my back up to his touch. He releases the breast to switch to the other, giving it the same treatment as the other, causing louder moans to escape.

Mark continues the downward trek as his lips move to my ribs and my stomach. He stops a second as he reaches my navel, then slowly lets the tip of his tongue enter the cavity, causing a tickling sensation to erupt in my body. "Don't stop," I moan out.

He goes on down to the waistband of my jeans, and quickly unclasps the belt, unbuttons, and unzips the garment. I help him to remove my jeans by arching my back up to allow them to be moved down my body. Easing off my lacy panties as well, he drops both to the carpet as his fingers softly run through the dark curls surrounding my womanhood. Another soft moan escapes from my lips as, without hesitation, he inserts a finger within the warm folds, and then another. With a slow rhythm, he begins to move his fingers in gentle strokes, and he picks up pace as my hips move to meet them. I feel a climax begin to build, anticipating the release, but his fingers suddenly pull back out. I look down at him, and see the apologetic smile upon his lips.

As the climax fades, he places my legs over his shoulders, spreading the outer lips with his thumbs as he slowly, torturously, gently blows on the exposed inner folds. My hands clench tightly onto the bed sheets as he lets his tongue enter me, and I let my head fall onto the pillow underneath me as he leisurely licks within the folds. "Please, Mark!" I softly growl out, my hips beginning to move against his tongue. The pace continues to quicken as another climax hits, a release soon following. He laps up the juices of my release gradually, then brings my legs back down the bed.

He comes up my body again, placing his mouth over mine once more, the juices still on his lips. With a pleasuring groan, he rolls me over with him until he is on his back. Taking the cue, I let my lips travel down over his bearded chin, his throat, and to his pectoral muscles. Placing my lips over one of his nipples, I gently nip at the standing peaks, bringing a sharp intake of breath and a moan from him, and quickly lick at the tiny sore I had inflicted. I transfer over to the other nipple, causing the same sensation to occur. I continue on down toward his stomach, running my fingers through the small sprinkling of light reddish-brown hairs that lead downward still.

With an experienced hand, I quickly undo his jeans, and help him out of them, pulling his boxers off with the garment, then drop the articles of clothing to the floor. My fingers run through the larger collection of curly hairs that surround his member, barely brushing over the hard erection. Instead, my hand travels further to take his scrotum into its grasp, causing a gasp to come from his lips. While still fingering the sac, I place my mouth over his member, swirling my tongue over the tip before taking as much as him as possible in. He begins to let his hips move, moving himself almost completely out of my mouth before coming back in. The thrusts begin to come quicker, and with the sudden quivering of his member, I suck hard on the tip, bringing him to spill within my mouth. I swallow the seed, enjoying the feel of it going down my throat, and release him. I sit back on my heels, smiling down at Mark.

He sits up quickly, pulling me down under him as his mouth locks with mine yet again as he urges my legs to spread, my hand stroking his member gently. Slowly, he enters himself into my well, and stays still for a few moments to allow my body to adjust to his rather large size, my legs wrapping around his waist tightly. After that amount of time, he pulls out almost completely, then thrusts back in, soon quickening the tempo. My hips move in time to his, meeting him for every thrust. The tempo rises greatly, his body slamming into mine with such force that the bed itself begins to knock on the wall behind it. Within a few more strokes, I can feel my muscles contract as the climax hits, my teeth grabbing onto the flesh of his shoulder as I release. The act of my release brings him to growl loudly, flipping his hair back, and to explode within me, spending himself completely before exhaustedly collapsing onto his arms.

Slowly, he removes his member from me, and rolls onto his side to face me. As my body begins to calm itself and my heart begins to slow to a normal beat, I gaze at Mark as he stares back at me, noticing how the sweat on his body glistens just right. His forefinger traces my cheek softly as he says, "You really are an angel, you know that?"

I smile back at him. "Well, you're not such a 'bad ass' either," I return, and I receive a mouth-watering kiss for a long, leisurely minute. I can feel him harden again against my body. "Uh, Mark, I think we'd better stop now," I tell him as he lets go of my mouth. "We need to get ready for tonight's show."

About half an hour later, Mark emerges from the bathroom. "Could you do me a teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy favor, and go to my room to bring me some shower stuff?" I ask him, handing him my room card, turning on the puppy eyes. "Pretty please, Mark?"

Mark's face brightens as a smile crosses his mouth. "You know I can't refuse a favor from you," he replies, and kisses my lips softly. "I'll be right back then." He heads toward the door as I enter the bathroom, turning on the hot water for my shower.

Not too long after I stepped into the shower, the bathroom door opens again. I stick my head out from behind the curtain, and reach out to take the things offered to me from Mark. As he hands me the last item, he gently grabs my wrist to keep me from disappearing behind the curtain again. "Do I get my reward now?" he asks with a playful grin.

I think it over, and nod, saying, "I suppose you've earned it." Our lips come together once again for a few seconds before I duck back behind the shower curtain. When I notice that the door hasn't closed again, I look through the somewhat clear material to see that Mark is still standing there, leaning against the doorjamb, gazing in my direction. "Mark, you can leave now."

I laugh, and reply, "Yes." I hear him grumble as he steps back out into the bedroom, closing the door. As the shower streams continue to pelt my skin in a massaging state, all I can think is what would happen should Kevin find out. "What am I gonna do if he does?" I ask while washing. The knowledge of what he'd do surfaces into my mind. "If he does, it's 'bye bye Kit, hello mangled piece of roadkill.'"

After finishing my shower, I step out to dry off and change into clothes, wrapping my hair in the towel. Once I finish applying a bit of make-up to my face, I take down the towel to brush out my tangled hair. I walk out into the bedroom still brushing, saying, "Mark, I'm curious as to what-"

My sentence is cut off as I see Mark standing at the open door, and Glenn standing in the hallway, my eyes widening in fear as they see him. Glenn begins to chuckle. "Oh, I see now," he states. "That's why there was a banging on my wall...from the bed moving." He smiles toward me, and then Mark. "Don't worry, my lips are sealed."

"Someone, as long as it isn't Kevin, right?" Mark replies. When I don't answer, he squats down in front of me. "I can see the torment he puts you through, angel. You don't deserve to be frightened all the time because of him." With a sigh, he stands back up, and goes to retrieve my hair scrunchie. "I'm not sure what is going on between you two, but I know it's not good." He hands the hairpiece to me, and starts to put his own hair up. "If you want to, tell me everything, and maybe we can do something."

After putting my hair up, I go into the bathroom to collect my shower items, then return to the main room. "Mark, you're right," I tell him, putting my socks and shoes back on. "You don't know what is going on between Kevin and me, and I'd like it to stay that way, all right?"

The sudden sharp tone to my words surprises him, and myself as well; I didn't mean for it to come out that way. Mark stands up, grabs his wrestling bag, and gently directs me to the door. "Whatever you say, angel," he replies, a mixture of hurt and anger in his words. We make a quick stop at my room to drop off my stuff, then head out to the parking lot.

The ride to the arena seems dreadfully slow as the silence grows drastically. I lay my cheek on his shoulder blade, wishing that I hadn't said what I had. 'He's right, you know,' I argue with myself. 'He has a right to know.' With a sad sigh, I let the images blur past me without really focusing, waiting for the ride to end.

Not too long afterward, we pull into the wrestler's garage, and Mark kills the engine. Quickly, I get myself off the vehicle, moving toward the entrance door. Before I reach the door, a hand gently takes my elbow, making me turn to its huge body. I look up into Mark's face, seeing the concern in his eyes. "You know you can always come to me if you need anything, right?" he asks, and I nod. His lips turn up into a smile. "And no matter what that bastard says, you can dance like no other person I've seen." I laugh at the suddenness of the statement. He lowers his head to mine, taking my lips tightly with his. "Here," he says after he pulls back, handing me my room card. "You may want this, unless you want to spend the night in my room."

"You!" I return, softly punching him in the chest. Mark kisses me once more before opening the door for me. As we step into the hallway, I spot Kevin down at the other end of the hall, and cast a somewhat unsure glance toward Mark. "Thank you for carting me around."

Kevin takes me back to the hotel after the show, ordering dinner via room service. He hadn't spoken much to me during the evening, and I expect it to continue on. That is, until he hangs up the phone and says, "So, what did you and Mark do all afternoon?"

We eat in complete silence. Once we finish, I place the dirty dishes onto the cart, and wheel the cart to the hall to be picked up by the busboy. I return to the room to see Kevin laying on the bed, flipping through channels. I sit across the room in one of the armchairs, waiting until Kevin stops at an HBO channel to watch some movie that I can barely understand the plot of it; we could never agree on things like what to watch.

Within two hours, Kevin falls asleep on the bed, and I get up to turn off the TV. Changing quickly into a nightgown, I slip in-between the bedcovers, easing in as silently as possible. I don't want to wake him for fear of him asking more about my afternoon. Once completely lying down, I softly settle my head onto the pillow, breathing a silent sigh of relief.

I sigh too soon, though. Kevin throws his arm tightly around my waist, pulling me roughly against his body, and harshly grinds himself against me. "Kevin, don't," I say, trying to squirm out of his grip to no avail. "Please, let me go."

His fist slams itself into my stomach, bringing me to groan in pain. "Shut up, bitch," he demands, tossing back the covers. He grabs my body roughly, forcing me to stand on my hands and knees. "I bet you didn't tell him to let you go, did you?"

Kevin moves the skirt of the nightgown above my waist, and rips my panties off of my body. "You know what I mean, you little slut!" he roars back, then takes his clothing off. "I know you fucked him. What have I told you about disobeying me?!" With a quick, hard jerk, he pulls my legs further apart.

The suddenness of the jerk causes a pain to start at the joints where my legs connect with my body, and tears begin to fall down my face. "Please, Kevin!" I beg of him. "Please don't hurt me...let me go!"

Kevin laughs menacingly, and returns, "Oh, I'll let go of you all right." He grabs onto my hips tightly. "I'll let you go when I'm through with you!" With angered force, he plunges himself into my body, and without stopping, starts to pump in and out, his hold on my hips growing tighter to keep them from moving; it is all about him getting the pleasure. I scream out in pain as he quickens his harmful pace, ramming into my body harder and harder with each stroke. "Yeah, that's right! Cry, you little bitch, cry!" With a few more thrusts, he releases his liquid, his fingers digging deeply into my skin. Without mercy, he removes himself from me, causing more pain to overcome my body. He lays onto his side as I put my tear-filled face into my pillow. "You're a sniveling coward, Kit. Don't dare go near that bastard again, you got me?" I manage a nod. "Good." He turns his back to me, covering himself with the bedcovers.

I silently cry into my pillow for the next few minutes. When I stop, I can hear the steady breathing pattern of Kevin's sleeping form. I turn onto my side, wincing as more pain comes from my center, scoot as far to the edge of the bed as possible, and cover up with the sheets. His brutal punishment always leaves me in pain and a need for my own release. 'Damn him,' I think as I close my eyes to my pain.

The next morning isn't any better. As soon as I open my eyes and sit up, a hard fist slams into my back. "You think I'm finished with you?!" Kevin shouts as I try to duck his fist again, and race away from the bed. He grabs me before I can get too far, and throws me onto the bed again. His hands settle themselves on my breasts, squeezing them with an angry strength. "Did you like it when he did this?! Huh, did ya?!"

Kevin's hands release my breasts, but only to ball up into fists, and continue an assault upon my body. Over and over, his fists connect with my flesh, and I know that before the day is out, bruises will be seen. Finally, Kevin straddles my abdomen, taking my neck tightly into his grasp.

"You will never again disobey me!" he tells me threateningly, his grasp choking me. "Is that understood?!" With a slight nod, he finally releases me, and stands up. I start coughing hard and numerously. "Good. I'm taking a shower now, and if you're not here when I come out, you're gonna wish you were dead." He gathers a few things, and enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Waiting endlessly for what seems like hours, I sit on that bed, silently letting the tears escape my eyes. Things never used to be like this. At first, our relationship was full of love, pleasure, undying romance between us. Somewhere along the line, things went very badly. Now that I think of it, I'm sure the problems began around the time Mark began to teach me to ride a motorcycle. Those were the good times.

After half an hour, Kevin emerges from the bathroom, and immediately, I jump up to collect my clothes, shower items, and close the door behind me, making sure to lock it. Quickly, I undress, and step into the shower, turning on the water to the hottest degree. Ice-cold streams begin to pelt at my body; Kevin used all the hot water again. "Bastard," I mumble to myself as I begin my shower ritual.

I roll my eyes, and turn off the water. "All right, all right!" I yell back. "I'm getting out!" As fast as I can, I dry my body, dress, and brush my hair and teeth. I'm barely able to step out of the bathroom before Kevin roughly hands me my suitcase, and begins to drag me out of the room. Kevin quickly checks out of the hotel, then continues to drag me to his rental car.

For the entire two and a half hour drive to Tucson, we don't breath a word to each other. The only time either of us says anything, it's Kevin, singing along with a few songs on the radio. When we reach our destination, Kevin has us checked in quickly. As soon as we drop off our luggage in the room, he directs me to the gym just down the street. We barely step inside the facility before Kevin lowly growls, "Don't you dare talk to him, or you'll wish you had never met me." He walks further into the gym, greeting some of his friends like nothing is wrong.

The rest of the morning and half the afternoon is spent at the gym, watching most of the roster come in to work out, then leave to go out to eat, catch up on rest, or other things. Various people come up to talk to me during the time we are there. I try my hardest to hide the bruises that I know are beginning to deepen in color by keeping the neck of the turtleneck, long-sleeved sweater up.

"Oh, you!" I return, trying to punch him. He manages to block the punch by pulling me into his arms, tightly pinning my arms to my sides, my back against his front. Surrendering, I sigh, and lean back against him. "I just don't feel like working out today."

I smile up at him, shaking my head. "No, just tired," I respond. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kevin staring at us, and I can already hear the seething words spilling out of his mouth as soon as we're alone.

Kevin grabs his stuff, and leads me dangerously gently to the rental car. The drive to the arena is too quiet, with a great deal of unexpressed anger coming from Kevin. 'Yeah, and the eruption is yet to take place,' I think to myself, knowing it's gonna come sooner than I want it to. We arrive at the arena not even ten minutes later, and Kevin hurries us through the security guards, and into the locker room he's assigned.

Before I can even see Kevin move, his hands are gripped tightly around my neck again; pain comes from the bruises already there. "STOP FUCKIN' WITH ME!" he booms, slowly lifting my body up, my feet leaving the floor. "I told you to not talk to him, didn't I?!" I try to moan out an answer, but his hands constrict around my throat even more. "DON'T TALK! You're in for it now, bitch!" Using his arm strength, he tosses me violently across the room, making me hit the wall hard. He stands above me in an instant after the impact, and starts kicking my stomach with his huge, heavy boots. "You don't EVER disobey me!" His kicking torture continues for another minute before he stops, and turns to head toward the shower. "Get outta my sight, whore. I don't want to see you until we leave tonight."

Without another thought, I quickly get myself up, and race out of the room, noting the pain coming from my stomach. As I run away from that door, the pain grows to unbearable heights, bringing tears to stream silently down my cheeks. Without really thinking, I run to a different locker room, and begin pounding on the door. Not able to get words to form at the moment, I just continue the loud banging.

The door opens quickly, and Mark stands in its place. Quickly, I wrap myself tightly around him, resting my face in his body to continue my cry. "What's wrong, angel?" Mark asks, backing slowing into his locker room with me still clinging onto him. He manages to gently peal my body off of his, reaching out to close the door. "What happened?"

I look up into his green eyes, seeing that he wouldn't stop his questioning until he gets an answer from me. Slowing so that the pain wouldn't produce a wince, I move my hands to wipe my face of my tears, saying, "Kevin and I had a fight."

Mark nods as he sits down in a steel folding chair, and replies, "So I can tell. He must really get to you to send you cryin'." I don't answer him; instead, I look down at the tiles on the floor. "Did he hit you?"

The concern in his eyes grows as he takes my hands gently, repeating softly, "Take off your sweater, angel." His eyes drill themselves into mine, and I can only think, 'Why does he have this affect on me?'

With a silent sigh, I remove my sweater, feeling the pain creep up from my abdomen and neck. Dropping the article on the floor, I slowly look at Mark, wondering if he'll make me take off all my clothes. 'No, that's not his way,' I scold myself. Mark tentively reaches his hands out, and starts to unbutton the white, short-sleeved, button-down shirt from the top. When the shirt is fully opened, he looks back up at me, the shock and horror in his eyes becoming unbearable, and paining my heart so much that it overcomes all the other pains in my body. Tenderly, his fingers trace the bruises around my neck, chest, and stomach. "You shouldn't defend that bastard," he states softly, gently placing his hands on my hips.

Nodding, I carefully unbutton my jeans, pull the zipper down, and pull the two flaps open. Mark pulls the denim outward from one hip with one hand, and pulls the material of my panties down over the bruise with his other. After a thorough examination, he gently puts the materials back into place, and leans back in his chair again with a deep sigh. "I don't know what to do with you, angel," he says, rubbing his forehead with his hand. I stand in silence as he sighs again, looking up at me with those soul-searching eyes. "You said that you had more respect for yourself than to let me suck you into some trap that I wasn't even considering, but it's obviously not enough to get yourself out of this horrible mess with Kevin, is it?"

I don't answer, and even if I wanted to, I couldn't, because the door of the locker room opens. Steve Austin steps in, and smirks as he sees Mark and me. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything," he says smugly, passing us to put his things in an open locker. "Mark should know better than to bring a lady to the locker room, especially with the rest of the guys showing up within the next ten minutes." He grabs a few things from his bag, and heads into the shower area.

I roll my eyes, zip and button my jeans, and rebutton my shirt. "It's complicated," I answer, slowly bending down to retrieve my sweater. I stand upright just as slowly, then look down at him to see that he wouldn't let this drop. I sigh heavily, tying the sweater loosely around my waist. "Everything was good until we got here, when Kevin 'jumped ship'. I don't know what happened, but thing's just starting getting out of hand. Before, it was like everything he said to me was romantic and... and so sweet. Now, he'll find anything I say or do wrong. If I even try to fight back, he'll hurt me more and more. Mark, if I try to leave, I swear, he'll kill me."

"Please, tell me," Mark responds more urgently, yet again taking my hands, a bit more pressure than before. "I want to know, angel. The bastard's been hurting you for a while, and I want him to get the exact same treatment back. You don't deserve to have to run scared because you said some word that he didn't agree with, did an exercise that didn't go to his liking. Tell me, so I can hurt him just as badly. Please, angel, please."

I close my eyes slowly; I hate seeing him beg like this. No matter how much I can lie to myself, it is as much his concern as it is mine. Sighing, I answer, "Over a year now. Ever since you took leave. I guess Kevin got extremely jealous about how close you and I had been, his best friend and his girlfriend seeming to get along too well, and he just snapped." I shrug slightly, trying to keep from letting him see me wince. "Mark, he's bigger than I am. What did you expect me to do?"

Mark stands up. "I don't know about what you could have done, but I'm gonna go kick his ass right now to start the making-up process for everything he's done," he states, heading toward the door.

Mark stops to look down at me. "Not doing anything doesn't seem to be doing anything either, angel," he tells me. He looks past me as Steve walks out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. "Hey, Steve, do me a favor, and don't let anyone talk to her without my permission, all right?"

I roll my eyes as Mark smiles, and returns, "I'm sure she won't." He gently folds me into an embrace, seemingly scared to touch me. "I'll be right back, angel." He softly kisses my lips, then exits the locker room before I can utter another word.

An hour goes by, nothing happening; RAW has already started considering the earlier slot the show had been given for today. Steve is telling everyone as they walk in not to talk to me, per Mark's orders. Of course, the guys then tend to nearly ignore my presence, not wanting to get Mark angry. Seeing this, I can only sigh, and wait for Mark to return. My nerves grow raw from the lengthy wait. 'What could be taking him so long?' I ask myself. 'It doesn't take that long to kick someone's ass.'

The locker room door opens again, and I smile slightly with hope. The smile falls when I see that it is Kevin stepping through the door. He spots me, and walks in my direction. Steve looks up in time to step in front of him, saying, "Whoa, whoa, whoa there. You can't talk to her."

Kevin looks down at Steve with an amused smile. "I can't talk to my own girlfriend now?" he states, then chuckles. "It's all right, man. Mark said I could come and get her." Steve seems unsure, but nods anyway, and sits back down, keeping his ice-blue eyes on him. Kevin looks at me, and motions me to stand up. "C'mon, Kit. Let's go." Without any other choice, I do as he instructs.

Once we're out of the locker room, Kevin grabs my upper arm harshly. "You think sending your pimp is gonna get you out of this?!" he says, pulling me along with him toward the curtain. "We'll see what you've gotten yourself and him into now, won't we?"

He doesn't reply, but continues to pull me with him out to the ramp. He pulls me behind him as we walk down the ramp to the ring, and I realize that for Kevin to do this beating in front of thousands in attendance, he has to be pretty pissed off. Roughly, he shoves me into the ring under the bottom rope, gets himself into the ring, and acquires a mic.

While he gets himself in the ring, I scoot myself up into the corner, wanting to just disappear, wake up from this horrible nightmare. There is no such luck for me, though. Once Kevin gets a mic, he walks back over to the corner, grabs me by the hair, and pulls me to the center of the ring, keeping me down on my knees. As he brings the mic to his mouth, I can see the burning hatred in his eyes. "Now you're thinking twice about screwing me over, aren't ya?!" he says into the instrument. He jerks my head hard. "Aren't ya?!"

He jerks my head again. "Shut up, bitch," he returns, then looks up toward the entrance. "Hey, Mark...I know this little whore pulls on your heartstrings. There's just one thing you gotta understand: she's mine! I don't want to catch you near her, or I will dismantle you!"

Limp Bizkit's "Rollin'" hits the sound system, and the crowd roars to their feet as Mark walks out with a mic in his own hand; he doesn't look too pleased. "Kevin, I don't know what you've been smokin' lately, but it obviously ain't doing you any good," he says into the mic. "Let the woman go. She doesn't need to get involved in this."

Kevin pulls harder on my hair, pulling me upward a bit. "She's been involved in this ever since I introduced you two," he replied angrily. "Man, you're supposed to be my best friend. The last time I checked, my best friend didn't go around, fucking my woman behind my back." A collective 'Ooo' comes from the crowd.

Kevin's lips turn up into a smirk, and he removes his hand from my head. "Get up," he tells me. I stand upright slowly and carefully, straightening my hair out while trying to see what his next move would be; it's masked so well. "Be grateful this is all you're getting." Quickly, he buries his huge fist into my stomach. The shock of the punch brings a painful scream to rip from my throat, and I fall forward to the canvas of the ring. I look up slightly in time to see Mark slide into the ring, then get up, and start beating the hell out of Kevin. He backs Kevin into the ropes, then punches him hard on the jaw to send him falling backwards to the floor.

Kevin stomps around to the other side of the ring, going up the rampway while shouting obscenities at Mark. Mark stands by the ropes, shouting a few of his own words back at him. Within seconds, the ring is a place of hysteria as some officials from the back and refs come out to come check on me and keep the two men separated. Finally, Kevin goes to the back, being escorted by a few officials. I manage to get to my feet with the help of a ref, although in vain attempt to not kill myself doing it; the pain nearly makes me fall again. A soft hold on my elbow allows me to steady myself, and I look up to see Mark looking back at me.

Slowly, the rather large group makes its way to the back, with Mark guiding me gently with his hand on my elbow. Kevin happens to be standing in the little clearing inside the curtain. "I swear, I'm gonna kill you, Mark!" he shouts. "Kill you and her for what you've done to me!"

Kevin launches himself at Mark, and another brawl ensues as the two roll around, beating the shit out of each other. "Stop!" I shout at the two, but neither heed the plea; that much of a shout brings pain to my head.

In the doctor's 'office', the doctor checks me over as I sit on the table, having me unbutton my shirt to let him check out the stomach area. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but there are multiple bruises over your body," he says, gently poking my stomach.

Not five minutes later, the door opens again, and Mark walks in. His hair is a tangled mess, blood trickles down from a cut by his eyebrow, and he appears to be limping a bit. "Hey, hey, hey!" the doctor yells at him. "Wait your turn, Mark."

Mark smiles slightly as he comes toward me. "Yeah, have to be, or I couldn't tell you something you'd be interested in," he replies. He leans down, and kisses my lips gently. "You are probably the one person who I'd defend without pay."

Mark laughs, and shakes his head, replying, "No, but Kevin has been. You should have seen Vince storm up as the personnel separated us again." He smiles as he pulls a chair up in front of me, turns it around, and sits down, resting his arms in front of him on the back of it. "He was just shooting steam from the ears, asking Kevin just what the hell was the meaning of what went on out there, demanding answers."

"Said something along the lines of, 'He fucked my bitch; I'm just teachin' them a lesson they won't soon forget'," Mark answers, and smirks. "Vince thought he'd been smokin' on the job, and sent him packing his gear up, telling him he was suspended until further notice."

Mark takes a hold of my hand, and kisses the palm. "I will gladly take my leave if it's due to fighting for you, angel," he returns, then sighs. "I'm sorry that I was gone so long. If I hadn't stopped by here to get some healing ointment, I bet I would've been able to stop Kevin from getting you."

Mark nods slightly, and answers, "It took me half an hour to hunt the bastard down. When I finally found him, he was in the women's locker room, 'visiting' with Trish." His eyes lock with mine. "The kind of visiting you wouldn't accept from a real and true love, angel." I manage to pull my gaze away from his, and turn it to the floor. "Anyway, we said a few choice words, got in a bit of a fight, and when I thought I was done, I came here to grab some ointment for you. I should have known better than to think he'd stay away for a while."

Rolling his eyes, Vince looks down at Mark. "Your male comments don't need to be part of this, Mark," he says. "Isn't that what got you all into this mess?" Mark cast his eyes downward, the scolding taking its affect. Sighing, Vince returns his gaze to me. "All right, if you say you're okay, then good. Mark, take her back with you. Get her stuff from Kevin, and make sure to not get in a fight this time, all right?" After a nod from me, Vince walks back through the door.

I slide down from the table, noticing Mark still gazing down. "Hey," I gently call out, getting him to bring his head up, and I can't help but stroke his cheek in attempt to rid his face of the apologetic look that he didn't need to adorn, "it's not your fault, all right?"

"No, a navel ring," he states. I roll my eyes at the thought. "I'm serious. Your stomach was made for one." He gently touches my navel with his smooth fingertip. "It'd just add to an already perfect body."

Mark smirks, and replies, "I've been given that lovely task, angel. I don't want you getting in the mix between Kevin and me again, and getting hurt because of it." He motions toward the bathroom with one hand while stroking my cheek tenderly with the other. "You just go take a bath, and I'll bring your stuff." Without another word, he turns on his heel, and walks out of the room.

Not really wanting another confrontation anyway, I go into the bathroom, draw a hot tub of water while adding some bubble bath mixture, strip off my clothing, and settle myself in the rather large tub. After leaning back on the porcelain once I finish cleaning myself as much as possible without killing myself with pain, I let the scents of the lavender/lilac/lily-scented bubble bath encompass my nose, letting my muscles relax. I close my eyes slowly, savoring the peace and serenity.

A few minutes later, the door to the bathroom opens as Mark steps in with some clothes and a few other items. He smiles down at me as he sets those things on the countertop. "Feeling better yet?" he asks as he kneels beside the tub.

Mark is silent a few moments before answering, "No thanks. As much as I want to, I don't think both of us would fit in there. Besides, I don't want to hurt you anymore than you have been tonight."

I nod slowly, and motion toward the towel rack, where two large towels sit, folded neatly. "Can you get me a towel, please Mark?" I ask, sitting up slowly to pull the drain. When I look back up, Mark is standing beside the tub, holding the towel in one of his hands. I reach out to take it, but he pulls it back. "Are you gonna give me the damn towel, or do I sit here for the night?"

With a laugh, I slowly stand up, and let Mark wrap the towel around my body gingerly. When he allows me to step out of the tub, he helps me dry off and change into my pajamas. I smile up at him. "I didn't know I was completely helpless," I tell him. I'm actually surprised that he could hold back any urges, and in addition, I'm kind of disappointed, too.

Mark gently scoops me up into his arms, my legs hanging over one as his other comes around my back to support my body, and he replies, "Just for tonight. Tonight, you get the treatment of a queen." He carries me out to the bed, and sets me down just as gently as he had picked me up. He goes back into the bathroom for a moment, and returns with my hairbrush. Sitting down beside me, he begins to brush out the tangles of my hair as softly as he can.

Mark returns the laugh, saying, "I know that. I just didn't know it was there to begin with." He traces the cut with his own fingertip. "So, are you gonna play nurse, or do I have to look elsewhere?"

I get up slowly, and go to my bag, pulling out a tube of Neosporin and a band-aid. I go back to sit beside Mark, and immediately place a bit of the healing gel on the cut, spreading it softly with my finger, not liking the sharp intakes of breath he does. "I'm not sure this will be enough to help," I tell him, putting a large band-aid over the cut, smoothing down the edges.

Mark takes my hand as it comes down from his forehead, and kisses the palm. "It'll be just fine," he replies. With a deep breath, he traces the jawline on my face. "I can't stand seeing you wince every time you move, angel. I swear, Kevin will get his badly."

I shrug with a sigh, and answer, "I'm not really sure." For a few minutes, we sit in silence as I think over the question seriously, a question I've always avoided answering...until now. "Being raised with five older foster brothers, you'd think I'd have enough sense to know when to get myself out of the situation before it became a major problem. I wonder as to what made me think I could cope with the abuse, but I can't figure it out. I honestly believe he'll kill me eventually, and more so now with everything that's been happening." I look into Mark's green eyes, tears stinging against my own before falling down, and add, "I'm so scared of him, Mark, and I want to get away, but he's so much bigger than I am, and he's liable to kill without a care as to who, when, where, with what, or if there would be witnesses."

Mark brushes a few of the tears away with his thumb, and quietly commands, "Lay down, angel, and get some sleep. You look like hell right now, and I'll tell ya, it won't look good for either of us if you stay up, cryin' and carrying on when you don't need to be. I promise you that nothing of the sort will happen; I won't let him."

I nod, and scoot up toward the head of the bed as Mark pulls down the covers for me to slip underneath. As I settle my head on the pillow, I reach out to take his arm as he begins to turn away. "Mark, will you hold me until I fall asleep?" I ask timidly.

Mark smiles faintly as I scoot to the other side of the bed, and he lays down on top of the covers, his arms coming around my body to hold me close. I lay my head on his chest, sighing contently while closing my eyes. "You know, I think it's time you take a vacation," he softly remarks. "Two weeks to yourself at home, away from the tension of things here."

"No," he responds, gently rubbing my back. "Your health and happiness comes before anything else, angel. The perfect body you have is just an added bonus." His lips press against the top of my head. "Good night, darlin'."