Title: Stratusfied Addiction
Disclaimer: I don't own any superstars or divas, they are all property of Vince McMahon and the WWE.
AN: Thank you to all of my readers and reviews. I'm not sure where exactly this story is going, but we'll have to wait and see.
-Warmth & Heat-
Rumors were flying around the locker room. 'He' was coming back to the WWE. It had only been a short two months of suspension, but the management had decided to reinstate him. Only this time he was returning to RAW. Trish Stratus could barely believe her own ears when the announcement arrived.
RAW was in Pittsburgh for the night, but she and a couple of other divas had decided to go shopping for the afternoon. She, Maria, and Candice had spent the afternoon browsing shops and finally stopped for lunch.
"This has to be the best prime rib I've ever tasted." Maria giggled as she dug into her meal. Trish still found herself surprised at how much the tiny young woman could eat. Maria called it a high metabolism, but Trish guessed something else. But in the WWE, personal problems were meant to be personal. McMahon rule number one.
"No way. The best prime rib is WWE made." Candice remarked as she ate her salad. When both women stared at her in confusion she laughed. "Hello! Have anyone of you ever tried JR's cooking?" All three divas giggled. JR was a well known cook in the WWE and as of late had his own cook book.
"No you have to try his baby back ribs. The ones he made for McMahon's Fourth of July bash last year were delicious." Trish commented. But she also remembered JR's ribs weren't the only thing popular that night. But it was too late.
"I heard JR's cooking wasn't the only thing that took the show last year." Candice gleamed. She hadn't been in the WWE long, but rumors were everything. Maria leaned in closer begging to know the scoop.
"Candice it's just a rumor." Trish interrupted her, trying to stop from hearing the story.
"If you say so. But according to the story, Randy and a mysterious diva were caught wasted in the McMahon hot tub. And...they weren't just talking!" Maria broke out into a fit of giggles, while Trish chose to stay silent. She knew exactly the incident Candice was referring to, because she had been a part of it. Thank god Paul and Stephanie could keep a damn secret. It hadn't been meant to happen, but that night had been the beginning.
The McMahon Fourth of July party was always a highlight in the WWE. It was one of the few nights a year that the business was put on hold. The McMahon mansion in Connecticut was open to any wrestler and families. The party was about having fun and relaxing. Trish hadn't really planned on going, but Lillian had talked her into it. It would have been easier to spend the holiday with family, but most of her own were in France. So with reluctance she'd gone to the party. Probably ate a little too much barbeque and drank even more. She'd tried to make herself happy, but the blonde had been depressed for a long while. Her career was spectacular and her fans were amazing. There had been a few bumps and bruises along the way, but for the better as she saw it. She was at the top of the world, but she was alone. Sure she had a million friends and admirers. She was the beautiful blonde diva, perfection at it's best. Her entire night she spent watching all of her co-workers enjoy themselves. She just continued to pound one Corona after another. It was slowly giving her the numbness of mind she craved. The fireworks display had started sometime around ten, and she'd taken off in a drunken stagger.
All the guests had crowded towards the pool area for the fireworks display as Trish headed towards the east side of the estate. It was mostly just lawn furniture and landscape, but at last she found what she was looking for. The hot tub was off in a man made grove looking secluded and comforting. Never in her life could Trish picture herself doing what she did, but the alcohol and loneliness were leading her. Without care she stripped herself nude and quickly slid into the hot tub. Sighing, she relaxed into the water and closed her eyes. The warm water soothing her, and the alcohol making her brain fuzzy. She didn't even notice anyone else until the water splashed with a companion. The motion of the water caused the Canadian diva to open her eyes. And from that moment on, she would regret it. Her companion was the worst person she could have ever run into.
"Go away." She gritted her teeth and moved further away. The young man just smiled. He was just so pompous!
"How could I walk away from this?" His eyes staring at her nude body. There were only two options. She could either sit here and suffer the company of this arrogant ass or lose her dignity. Stepping out of the tub wouldn't have been the best option, but the look in his eyes wasn't helping.
"Don't you have someone else to be terrorizing? Possibly one of the diva search girls?" Trish tried to sound uncaring, but she'd heard the rumors. He was the one superstar meant to be avoided. Instead of answering, the young man leaned in closer. She pushed herself further back, but froze when she felt his hand on her bare thigh.
"Why would I want to be with a girl, when I could be with a woman?" His growl sent shivers up her spine, but common sense took control. She tried to move over to the side, but he kept moving closer.
"Randy, no." Were her only words, but he quickly silenced her with his lips. He was rough and harsh, but she fought to push him off. His hands were roaming naked flesh causing little bits of electricity in his palms wake. Every place he touched came to life, but common sense knew it had to stop. Biting his tongue finally got him to pull away. He wiped the blood from his mouth, but the look in his eyes was pure lust.
"Oh so rough is how you want to play." He grinned ear to ear like the cat who ate the canary and lunged. He quickly pinned her to side of the hot tub with his body weight. Water splashed over the sides as she tried to fight it. Tried to fight the way it felt. The way his fingers digging into her arms and the sensation of his tongue on her neck. It was a huge mistake. She kicked and punched at him, and he fell back. Temporarily stunned, Trish took the opportunity to try to flee, but he caught her from behind. She didn't scream. He caught her waist and flung her around. Her front slammed into the side of the tub, as she continued to fight. She knew if she fought hard enough she could have gotten away. But something deep inside stopped her. Somewhere in the depths of her mind she knew what she was about to do was probably the biggest mistake of her life, but the alcohol and depression were softening her up. She'd wanted to feel something for so long. To feel alive, and that was the way she felt in that moment. She stopped fighting.
"What in the hell is going on here?" Stephanie McMahon's angry voice had brought Trish to her senses that night, but not for that long.
Make up. Check. Tights. Check. Condoms... Trish felt her train of thought stop immediately. RAW had just ended, and finding herself packing up things for the hotel. For the past two months the rubbers hadn't even been thought of. Sex was just not an option. She wasn't sure if intelligence or the suspension had ended her reason. He'd made a triumphant return a couple of months ago, and she'd done her best to avoid him. Avoidance was the best way to fight. She'd seen him with the different divas and ring rats. But the funny thing is she isn't jealous.
"Hey chicka...hurry up! The vans are leaving!" Trish hears Melina shout through the locker room before exiting. Of course...all she'd need is to get stuck at the arena. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, the blonde diva hurried off. Reaching the arena garage, she leapt into the last available van. The driver didn't seem happy with her last minute arrival, but he stowed her bag in the back obediently. It wasn't until The van was on it's way to the hotel that she took notice of her companions. With a quick peak over her shoulder, fluorescent colors gave away to the man's identity. It shouldn't have surprised her. Luck just wasn't her gift. A look to the front seat made her stomach churn. Black t-shirt. Tan skin. Tattoos.
"Oh...shit." She whispered under her breath. But couldn't seem to focus as the southern soft voice came from behind.
"Now darlin...is that anyway to greet an old friend?" With words so soft Trish felt the goose bumps. She was trapped. Temptation in the front, and warmth in the back.
"She always has that dirty mouth." The cocky voice from the front, accompanied by the man twisting in his seat. Blue eyes weighing her. Any other woman may have been thrilled to be seated in this van at the moment, but not for the blonde. She was trapped in a insignificant minivan with the two men she'd thought were gone from her life for good.
"Ah...the infamous Jeff Hardy. Mr. High Flyer as I hear it. Or is it just high these days?" Trish winced at the comment, but was too afraid to turn around. She tried to imagine herself outside the situation, but life had a funny way of biting her in the ass.
"Nah...it's easier to fly for real. You should try it sometime superstar." Jeff chuckled and leaned back in the seat. Randy just smiled in the way that men do in their bonding ritual. Trish just chose to stay silent. There was too much to handle. Too much that had led her to the state she was in now. Too much history...too much temptation. She'd tried to recover the former woman she'd been before last summer, but it was all about to be blown away.
"Here we are folks." The drivers un-naturally cheerful voice greeted them to the hotel. As soon as the van was to a stop, Trish was the first to leap out. The driver took longer than expected, and soon she the blonde diva found herself entering the Grande lobby accompanied by two very different men. Both shared only one thing and at one time or another it had been her.
"Randy! Randy! Oh my god there he is!"
"Orton!" A pack of young women flew at them as they entered the hotel. All young, skinny, and beautiful. Ring Rats. As the official title they'd been given years ago. They all flocked Randy at once, pushing both Trish and Jeff off to the side. The legend killer just smiled at his admirers and ate up the attention for all it was worth. Trish just sighed with disregard and headed toward the main desk. After receiving her room key she quickly fled the scene.
A long steaming shower and bag of Doritos seemed to help calm Trish's nerves as she climbed underneath the hotel bed spread. She was slowly getting used to spending nights alone over the past couple of months, but the thought of temptation made it a little hard. The lines had become so blurry between the decisions she'd made. When she'd started in this company so many odd years ago she'd dreamed of becoming famous a role model. She'd wanted to prove that women could be strong and beautiful. She had done just that, and had gone on to become a record holding women's champ. She had been on the rise when the depression had set in. The Canadian diva was at the top of her game, but she'd learned fast it was really lonely at the top.
A knock at her hotel door brought her from her own musings. A look at the clock showed it was well after 2AM.
"What the hell?" Trish grumbled as she rose from the bed. Padding across the carpet deep down she hoped. A little piece of her wanted it to be "him". It hadn't happened in a long time, but loneliness tended to do this. With a quick look through the peep hole all the air left her lungs. Rainbow colors and southern charm.
Reluctantly, she pulled open the door. The same man stood in front of her now clad in a identical wife beater and baggy pants as three years ago. Oh god...
Addiction had become a very strong thing in their lives a few years ago, and still remained in hers. They'd made that connection and fatal mistake. Now there he stood.
"Hello Trisha..." The nickname he'd given her long ago. The same man she'd been addicted to. "May I come in?"
"I don't think that's such a good idea." She tried to put up the wall. The wall she'd been building for a long time.
"Alright have it your way. But before I go, I want you to know something." Trish tried to breath.
"Not now..." She begged.
"It wasn't just an addiction. Drugs were just our way to hide." With that he walked away. She was tempted to call him back. Tempted to open the door a chase after him, but she couldn't. So instead she'd done the one thing she'd vowed never to do again. It only took two minutes to change into the slinky silk and find the room. With one knock, it flung open to reveal a bare tanned chest and a cocky smile.
"I knew you'd come back." Of course she could. He was her addiction now and nothing could change that.
Ok folks I know it's been a while, but after watching RAW the idea to continue popped into my head. I don't know where it's going still, but I love drama so you're in for a treat.