Author's Note: So I decided to start a series of short stories of various wrestlers…I am open to suggestions of plot and what wrestler you would like to read but the theme will still be the same SMUT (lol because I like to write it) and AFRICAN AMERICAN FEMALE LEADS (read my profile if you want to know how I feel about my black leads. Ok here we go…READ & REVIEW!


Behind Closed Doors

Randy Orton/ Original Character

I didn't bother to turn around. I knew exactly what was happening. Randy had just gotten out of the shower. I could smell the light citrus scent of my Dove soap. I could hear the metal of Randy's belt buckle clicking together as he picked up his fitted jeans and slipped them on.

I was still naked on the bed. Under the disheveled sheets; my skin was sticking from my sweat, Randy's sweat. My juices and Randy's cum were coated inside my inner thighs. I closed my eyes to stop the hot tears that threatened to slip if I left them open. I couldn't believe I was here, again. No wait. Yes I can. Because this is what always happens. No matter what I say, no matter what I do, Randy always gets me to lie on my back and spread my legs for him.

"Gen, I will call you later ok?" Randy said from behind me once he was all dressed.

I didn't bother to say anything. What could I say when I felt so guilty?

"Gen, did you hear me baby?" Randy said

This time I felt a dip in the bed and a hand on my shoulder, lightly massaging the soft skin. I bite my lip to fight off the shiver that wanted to work its way through my body at having Randy touch me again.

"Gen," I heard him whisper as he brought his head closer to mine. I felt his cool breath on my cheek as his lips ghost over the area. I wanted to reach up and grab the back of his neck and kiss him deeply. Kiss him like I always kissed him. With all the love and passion I have inside.

And I was just about to, until I smelled the minty toothpaste on his breath. Just another reminder that while I lay here still covered in his scent and his taste is still on my lips. He has washed whatever evidence from our carnal act off his skin before he went back to HER.

"Ok Randy," I whisper as I tried to hide the sadness in my voice.

I didn't want Randy to know how much agony I was in right now. But as always Randy could read me like a book. He sighed heavily before giving me a soft yet tender kiss on my cheek and climbed off the bed. I kept my eyes closed as I heard Randy's heavy footsteps head towards the hotel room door. I hear the door click open and then there was a pause,

"I love you Genevieve, always remember that," Randy said before I heard some more walking and then it was followed by a soft click of the door closing.

Once Randy was gone I let out a strangled sob and couldn't stop crying. This was getting more and more painful as the weeks go by.

Randy and I have been dating each other for the past eight months and we both love each other very much. Now to every woman on the planet that has got to be a dream. Randy Orton is a God; a walking wet dream for every woman on this planet.

I should be on cloud nine, singing to the heavens. Only I'm not. My relationship with Randy is much more complicated. Much, much more complicated.

After the tears stop I finally heave myself out of the bed and walk to the bathroom. There is still condensation on the mirrors from Randy's shower. I walk over to the walk-in shower and turn the knobs hard so I could make the water as hot as possible. Once I waited for a few seconds, I stepped into the shower. I groaned as the scolding hot water hit my mocha colored skin. But I didn't turn it down. I needed to scrub Randy's scent from my skin.

How could I get to this place? How could I let myself feel so low?

I lathered up my loofa sponge with my Dove Orange soap and began to vigorously scrub my body with it. Trying desperately to rid myself of all the remains of Randy, but no matter how hard I scrubbed, no matter how hard I cleaned, I could still feel Randy's skin against mine. Still feel his breath against my cheek, still feel his dick inside me, still hear him call out my name while he cums deep inside me.

I slam my fist against the wet tile walls before finally shutting the water off. I step out of the shower and I am not even surprised when I wipe the condensation from the mirror over the sink and see the red bruises on my body. I look up and see the almost purplish bruises on my neck courtesy of Randy.

Great. I will have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow so people won't ask how I got the hickeys.

I looked at my face in the mirror. I almost broke down at the sight. I have never seen my eyes look so sad and lost before.

Where is the fiery, takes no shit from anyone Genevieve I once knew?

She started fucking with Randy Orton. That's the problem.

I walked out of the bathroom and walked over to the disheveled bed. I fell face first into the mattress and crawled up towards the pillows. All I wanted right now was a good night sleep. Only one problem; this bed smelled like Randy. That intoxicating scent of the sandalwood and exotic spices in his cologne and the overall manly musk that was unique Randy.

How can sleep in this bed?

That's just it. I couldn't. So after taking one long whiff from the bed and shivering from the thoughts of Randy; I got out of the bed and walked to the closet in the room and pulled down one of the extra comforter and blankets they keep in the room in case you would like to bundle up more and placed them on the floor. I made a little makeshift bed in front of the nightstand and pulled down an extra pillow to prepare for my night's sleep.

Just then my cell phone beeped. I reached up towards the night stand and pulled down my iPhone 4 to see who texted me.

I sighed heavy when I saw Rachel; my best friend's name in my inbox. I opened the message and read:

"Hey Gen! Listen girl you are having breakfast tomorrow with me and Randy. And I wouldn't take no for an answer. It feels like I haven't seen you in ages. I miss you ."

I sighed as the tears returned. I missed Rachel too. She is my best friend and closest confident. But for the past eight months I have been avoiding her more and more and talking to her less and less. Why you may ask? Isn't it obvious?

My name is Genevieve Hervell Baxter. I am 26 years old. And I have been having an affair with my best friend's boyfriend who she happens to be six months pregnant by.