A/N: Why of course, Cara darling, I'd be ecstatic to write a story for you! Especially one with The Brian Kendrick...Yummy. He's like...the highlight of SmackDown for me since Edge is out.

Miranda's POV

"Oooh, yeah...Right there...That feels amazing, 'Randa."

Ugh. He's using that stupid nickname again. It makes me sound like my name is Randy or something. Ew.

"Harder...Ahh, shit..."

Now, I know I've been dreaming of hearing him say these things forever, but not like this. He's laying on my hotel room bed, which is a plus, with his shirt off...

But I'm giving him a back massage. I know he'd leave if I didn't do something that he would like. I need to keep him here. I need to degrade myself and turn myself into his slave so he'll be here. I need to keep his attention, otherwise he'll forget about me.

This is hopeless.

Brian's POV

Is she done yet? I have a match tonight against R-Truth, and I need to plan with Ezekiel about what we're going to do tonight. He does more than just take off my jacket, you know. I'm such a nice guy. I got that man a job, and it's the best job in the world. He gets to follow me around. Who wouldn't want to do that?

"Brian, my hands are getting tired," Miranda complained. Gosh, could she be any more annoying? It's a privilege to get to rub my back for me. She should revel in this experience, because at this rate, it's never going to happen for her again.

"Well, I'm not making you rub my back, you know," I snapped back, rolling over so she would move, and she did. She pretty much fell off the damn bed. Ha. Serves her right for complaining.

"Why are you like this, Brian? You used to be so cool, but now..."

"Now what?" I challenged her. I dare her to tell me what's wrong with me, because when I look in the mirror, I don't see anything wrong with me. I'm the epitome of perfection.


Good girl. She kept her mouth shut. I know she wouldn't say anything smart to me, or I'd kick her out, like I'm trying to do right now. I need to dial Ezekiel and get some beauty sleep before tonight's show. I don't look this good without working at it.

"Look, Brian, it's been fun, but I'm going to go."

"Are you walking out on me, Miranda? Because I'm pretty sure that I've been trying to kick you out for the past five minutes."

She shook her brown haired head and pouted, trying to give me the puppy dog face. Puh-lease. I invented the puppy dog face. No one can do the puppy dog face better than The Brian Kendrick.

"I know you're just itching to get more of me, but I'll see you tonight at the show. Then again, maybe not."

"Whatever, Brian," she mumbled. She gathered her things and headed out the door. Of course, I had to get one last snide comment in there.

"Hey, could I hire you as my wardrobe stylist instead? Your talents are much too good for the Divas that you service. Then again, I think you're job is to not make the Divas look horribly trashy...And you're not doing very well with that."

The door slammed. Good.

I reached over to the bedside table and grabbed my nice new iPhone that has come in very handy in handling my schedule that has gotten ever so busier since I became The Brian Kendrick.

I should've started being an asshole years ago.