Post by scofield on Dec 27, 2013 0:43:37 GMT -5
“Abandon All Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here”
Promo #1 from Team PWU (Stefan Lajoie)
Approaching the door, there’s a moment of hesitation.
It’s not you, you know what lies beyond. It’s just the text on the door. Even after seeing it so many times, you have to wonder if they are serious.
But hey, it’s a cliché of the business, so you can’t deprive them of this.
What’s it say? Oh, well, for those of you who don’t know… abandon all hope all ye who enter here.
So, what do you do?
Knock, knock, knock.
“What’s the password?”
“…Kurt sent me.”
A hush falls on the scene for a moment.
After a few seconds, a large, burly man swings the door open. He looks at you with an intense glare, but allows you to pass.
“Nice monkey suit.”
“Wiseass.”
Entering into the building, you realize it’s not very large.
You now stand in the center room, and there are four smaller rooms where you can go to. A young woman approaches you, and amazingly, she’s someone you know.
Well, by association. Blame Kayley for knowing her, and then thank her for the dance at the party.
“Hey, Jillian.”
"Well Hi there Steffs!"
She says all bubbly and reaches for a hug. Yeah, she's totally a "Hale" judging by her tone. She looks up as she's hugging you, but reaches for your hand pulling you aside to a room away from where you walked in. A couple chairs are set out and she sits down, looking at you as you sit as well.
"Sorry, the big man doesn't really like people just talking in the large room."
She laughs.
"This doesn't look like your type of scene.. What are you doing here, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I figured if I'm going to a new company, I need to study a new sort of competition. This... is, in a way, like a competition, right? The girls all compete for the biggest tip, right?"
He really has no idea what goes on in the mind of a stripper.
She giggled, twirling her hair around her index finger.
"When my sister told me you were dedicated to your work I didn't think you were this dedicated. You poor thing, you look absolutely clueless in here! But if your going to stay, your going to help me not lose my side job here so smile and look up."
She says before standing up, walking over to in front of you, dancing. Is it ironic that Warrant's "Cherry Pie" is on?
"I don't feel like getting in trouble for just talking on the job, so I hope you don't mind a free dance! But to answer your question, yes, it is a competition to get the most tips... But with any competition it isn't easy. There are obstacles and short cuts…"
He watches her curves dance. It’s hard not to look away, after all, she’s a gorgeous, gorgeous woman.
"Of course. There's always obstacles and short cuts. I have to deal with a few obstacles this week, as you may've heard from your sister."
How did she do… that?
"I heard, and I must say you certainly are a trooper. You know honestly, this business is a lot like the wrestling world.."
Did she really just say that? Never mind, she's dancing...
"I mean, in wrestling they want you to be a certain type. They want you to follow this picture in their head to make it to the top. Here? It's the same. Do you think the girl bringing in most bank here is one pound over a hundred and twelve pounds? No, because that's not the image that this company has in their mind that girls look like, much like the wrestling world has a vision of how they want their champion to be...it's all the same."
She kept dancing getting closer and closer, but then back up twirling around giving a little hair flip.
“Exactly. In wrestling, you need a specific look, a specific vibe, a specific story that you can sell to the audience. Just like each girl in here could probably get an assload of customers on any given night, they couldn’t do it without the proper story, the proper makeup, the proper look, the proper dance, the proper talent. It’s marketing at its finest.”
She dances real purdy.
I mean, uh, stop staring.
"Right. I mean, look at me. Do you honestly think I could make myself known here if I was like that girl?"
She runs her hands through her hair, twirling around facing you, moving closer. She is nearly on your lap right now, but her eyes focus on a girl sitting at the bar counting money.
"She didn't have the look, she isn't known here. But I have to ask, I can see the connection between the wrestling world and this and I can talk to you all night about it, but don't you have a match to prepare for?"
She asked, tracing her hand on his chest as she danced more.
“Of course I do. It’s why I came down here. Being the best in this kind of business, you always have to keep your opponents guessing. So, when they see that I came to a strip club, they are going to know that I do things a little differently than their best. In wrestling, you have to know when to start a fight, and you have to know when to finish a fight. And tonight, it’s not about the fight, not at all. It’s about making a statement.”
He almost wishes she would just climb on his lap and get the fire started.
But fire starting is what needs to happen in the MPW, not on his lap.
"Right, right. Understandable. But aren't you nervous? Here you are in a new company with new people..."
She says, tracing her hand some more.
"You've accomplished so much in your career Steffs, but here? This is an entirely new place..."
She says twirling some more.
"Are you nervous?"
The only nerve in his body that’s aching is the multitude in his pants.
But he can’t say that.
So glad he can think it.
“No, I’m not nervous. Sure, yes, it’s a new place, it’s a new company, and it’s a whole new bunch of people. But you know what? They don’t look impressive, they don’t feel impressive. When Kurt Newman got me on the phone, he told me this place needed some spark, it needed some fire, and it needed some pizzazz. He said, sure, there may be one or two talents around that “have what it takes” to be real talent, but they are in dire straits here. This company has a large heading of talent that isn’t ready, talent that doesn’t even have a clue. Look at someone like Maxwell A. Nickelson, and tell me that kind of kid is “ready” to be in this business. Have you seen this chump yet, Jillian?”
"It needed some pizza?"
She asked in her silly voice, before spinning again, walking closer to you and this time sitting on your lap. She put her hands on his shoulders and spoke once again.
"Well he made good choices bringing in you and Hawk and Kayley, all former world champions. And well, Kayley well she's currently a world champion. And yes... I've heard about him."
She said, rubbing his shoulders a bit.
"I heard he asked my sister to lunch...and that he interrupted your little party..."
“Honestly, who does that? Sure, Kurt vouched for him, but let me be clear here: just because Kurt Newman speaks highly of you, doesn’t mean you get a free pass. Look at someone like Impaler or Hellbender. Yes, I know they existed over here; they existed in the “other place” too. And you know what? They weren’t any good there; they probably weren’t any good here. So, up until Hawk, Kayley, and I actually joined the cause, Kurt Newman’s word didn’t mean much. Now, when he puts his money where his mouth is, it will mean something… It’ll mean a full one percent.”
You look at her, and sure enough she looks slightly confused.
“Long story…. But you know what, just because Kurt vouches for someone doesn’t mean I have to like them. After all, you can’t like someone who interrupts what you believe to be a private party, and furthermore, you can’t like someone you don’t know. And this chump doesn’t realize that he ain’t a friend to the kids from the other side of the lawn. Know what I mean?”
He slips a bill into his teeth, and he holds it out for her, waiting.
She eyes the bill and smirks.
“This one is on the house.”
She smirks before dancing some more, looking into his eyes.
“I think its good you have your own brain going into this operation. I mean as much as I love Mr. Newman, not a single one of you guys should listen to each other’s words and forget who you really are. If you don’t like someone that one of you do, then don’t pretend to like them and just let it affect the group as a whole. You all have the same motives, but going about it differently is good.”
She then stops dancing and drops her hands, placing them on her thighs. She looks at him, tilting her head, still looking at the bill.
“You want to pay me; you make sure my little sister stays safe. She looks up to you and to Kurt and to Hawk like you all are some hero’s or something. I understand you all have targets on your back, but look out for each other as well…I may not know much, but if your competition is anything like the competition here, you need people to have your back.”
He pulls the bill out, and slyly places it into her bra-strap as he caresses her neck.
“She’ll be safe, Jillian. You know that.”
“I know…I trust you…I just wanted to make my point clear.”
He rises from the chair, looking around the room.
“Boss can see into this one, or are they all “private”? Odds are he can see, but I wanna know…”
She smirks before sliding around sitting on the chair, looking up at him.
“Not this one. This one is private. The others? Yeah, he can. If he isn’t looking in directly, he has his people keep a look out. I mean, I guess it’s like security in a way?”
She shrugged, twirling her fiery red hair.
“Then you don’t mind if I do some talking of my own, do you? It’s time for a …what’s the phrase… villain monologue for my opponents to wonder and worry about…”
He looks at her with a grin, ear to ear all sly and smiles.
She looks up at him, shifting her position to lying on her stomach on the couch, laying her head down on a pillow watching him.
“As long as you let me stay and listen. I like to listen and watch these monologues. And something tells me you don’t mind me lying here on this couch watching you speak about your opponents…”
“Of course not…”
She giggles.
"Now, I'm gonna try not to offend your fellow strippers, because I promise you, they are amazing. So, you ready for this? I don’t do this for just anyone you know…"
“Yes, yes, yes!”
He chuckles, and looks around.
“I’m going to assume that in the…three other rooms, there are of course three strippers. Those strippers do well in this occupation, but for the purposes of this discussion, one we shall rank as “new”, one we shall rank as “experienced” and one we shall rank as “retiring.” Now, understand, they can all be classified from any legal minimum age to, well, any age they stop being attractive. So, for those of you counting along at home, these three could be anywhere between 18 and 60. So, with those parameters set, lets talk about the new girl, in booth number one.”
He looks in the direction of booth #1 as Jillian looks on, cocking her head to the side with interest.
“The new girl is obviously up for the job, but she’s very green to the business. She breaks the rules, she comes in late, she probably gives a few happy endings, too. But, as cute as she is, as fun as she might be, she’s hanging by a thread. She’s too reckless about the job, and doesn’t take it seriously. In about a week, give or take, the boss will approach her and have a very indepth conversation with her: she can either respect the job or she can get out. She’ll leave, because she thinks she’s being disrespected, and because lets face it, the sluts on camera giving away happy endings. Are all new hires like this? No. But this one is. And why is she like that? Because she’s the atypical new hire, the girl who thinks the world is her oyster, the girl who thinks that everything will bow to her will. This, for the purposes of our discussion, is my comparison to Nathan James. Hell, Nathan James is still so new… he probably doesn’t even realize he’s going to be on the fuckin’ pay per view, now does he?”
Jillian nods, a smile on her face as Stefan talks.
“And then, behind curtain number two, we have the retiring talent, the girl who may be the oldest of the three, the girl who probably wishes she made better life choices. She showed up every day, on time, and did the job. She was good for a few years, but after a while, you noticed a distinct lack of interest in her job. She may’ve only been there for the money, she may’ve had a few kids along the way, but she stuck with it. She did what she believed she needed to do. Was it a reflection to her dad, saying “how proud of me are you now?” Or was it a reflection of society, and how our society mocks gorgeous, talented women, and doesn’t offer them competitive jobs? This girl, the retiree nearing forty, is closest linked to Adam Steele. Go ahead, find all the information you can on Adam Steele, and tell me what you find.”
Jillian pulls out her smartphone and Google's the name.
Wondering where that smartphone came from? She’s a stripper. Use your imagination.
“Who is he? He’s not coming up on Google…”
She asks with such wonder and confusion.
“Adam Steele is supposed to be the third man on the opposing team, Jillian. He’s supposed to be the rock that this team forms around. From what I understand, Adam Steele has been in this kind of business for a long time now. So long, everyone is supposed to know who he is, supposed to know what he’s done, supposed to know all his good graces and abilities. But you check out MPW.com---“
He smiles bright with a thumbs up to the camera.
“---And you won’t find a lick of information on the guy. So, I’m going by the context clues, and believing that this is the kind of guy that doesn’t get a lot of play time anymore. Not an active wrestler, Adam Steele is here to make sure everything happens right, everything happens fairly, and everything happens like it’s supposed to. With his team falling victim to the greener grasses that Kayley, Hawk, and myself bring to the table. New is always better.”
He looks at Jillian, who has managed to put the smartphone back where it was hiding.
No, we didn’t catch where it was hiding.
Perverts.
“And finally, we come to the “experienced” girl. Number three. The person who, for some reason or another, is the main attraction tonight. Strangely, no, it’s not Jillian Hale, it’s this girl. She isn’t exactly new, she’s not as old as the retiree, but there’s something about her that draws crowds tonight. Maybe it is her spark, her desire to be something more than just a “stripper.” Maybe it’s her heart, maybe she shows these clients of her compassion, and that gets them off more than any dance could. Or maybe, just maybe, she just wants to dance, and knows that any old dance will do. This, as strange as it sounds, is the closest girl we can associate to Maxwell A. Nickelson, and boy, are the talents completely different.”
He shakes his head as Jillian rises. Jillian comes behind him, rubbing his shoulders and his back.
“Maxwell A. Nickelson is the very personification of “foot-in-mouth disease.” He interrupts a private party, cashes in his voucher for a Newman guarantee, and then has the audacity to try and start something with me on Twitter. He’s a bright and wide eyed new kid on the block, but out of these three, yes, he’s what I’m forced to label as “experienced.” And why? Because he’s had the most matches of these three lately, and win or lose, at least he goes out there and does something. Maybe it’s to prove to himself that he’s not boring, even though he’s only 23 years old. Maybe it’s to prove to his friends that he can be something they didn’t expect. Or maybe it’s to prove to his momma that the boyhood dream can come true? Beats me, but I’m sure he’ll try and tell me with his little response. Maxwell is still a student of the sport, and even at 23, he still has a whole world of things to learn before he can tap into his potential.”
Jillian peeks over Stefan’s shoulders.
“Aren’t you only 21?”
“Yes. But in two years, I learned a lot about professional wrestling. From the in ring atmosphere, to the diehard fans, to the back stage antics and hijinks, to the asskissing atrocities you have to perform. It’s an arduous, tedious task, but it all follows the same needs, Jillian. Maxwell is going to learn Sunday, just like his partners are going to learn: when Hawk, Kayley, and I are in your presence, are in your company, are facing you, you step up your game.”
Jillian stops massaging Stefan’s shoulders, and as she does, he spins around and her right leg mysteriously finds itself wrapped around his waist.
“Or what?”
“Or they all will fall. Watch us on Sunday, sweetheart.”
She escorts him out, and he slips another bill into her hands as he leaves the palace of wisdom.
“Sunday, bring me competition.”
Fade to black.
Promo #1 from Team PWU (Stefan Lajoie)
OOC Note: The character of Jillian Hale is borrowed from Kayley Hale, and written by Kayley Hale. That character is used in this promo, by way of her permission and her blessing.
Approaching the door, there’s a moment of hesitation.
It’s not you, you know what lies beyond. It’s just the text on the door. Even after seeing it so many times, you have to wonder if they are serious.
But hey, it’s a cliché of the business, so you can’t deprive them of this.
What’s it say? Oh, well, for those of you who don’t know… abandon all hope all ye who enter here.
So, what do you do?
Knock, knock, knock.
“What’s the password?”
“…Kurt sent me.”
A hush falls on the scene for a moment.
After a few seconds, a large, burly man swings the door open. He looks at you with an intense glare, but allows you to pass.
“Nice monkey suit.”
“Wiseass.”
Entering into the building, you realize it’s not very large.
You now stand in the center room, and there are four smaller rooms where you can go to. A young woman approaches you, and amazingly, she’s someone you know.
Well, by association. Blame Kayley for knowing her, and then thank her for the dance at the party.
“Hey, Jillian.”
"Well Hi there Steffs!"
She says all bubbly and reaches for a hug. Yeah, she's totally a "Hale" judging by her tone. She looks up as she's hugging you, but reaches for your hand pulling you aside to a room away from where you walked in. A couple chairs are set out and she sits down, looking at you as you sit as well.
"Sorry, the big man doesn't really like people just talking in the large room."
She laughs.
"This doesn't look like your type of scene.. What are you doing here, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I figured if I'm going to a new company, I need to study a new sort of competition. This... is, in a way, like a competition, right? The girls all compete for the biggest tip, right?"
He really has no idea what goes on in the mind of a stripper.
She giggled, twirling her hair around her index finger.
"When my sister told me you were dedicated to your work I didn't think you were this dedicated. You poor thing, you look absolutely clueless in here! But if your going to stay, your going to help me not lose my side job here so smile and look up."
She says before standing up, walking over to in front of you, dancing. Is it ironic that Warrant's "Cherry Pie" is on?
"I don't feel like getting in trouble for just talking on the job, so I hope you don't mind a free dance! But to answer your question, yes, it is a competition to get the most tips... But with any competition it isn't easy. There are obstacles and short cuts…"
He watches her curves dance. It’s hard not to look away, after all, she’s a gorgeous, gorgeous woman.
"Of course. There's always obstacles and short cuts. I have to deal with a few obstacles this week, as you may've heard from your sister."
How did she do… that?
"I heard, and I must say you certainly are a trooper. You know honestly, this business is a lot like the wrestling world.."
Did she really just say that? Never mind, she's dancing...
"I mean, in wrestling they want you to be a certain type. They want you to follow this picture in their head to make it to the top. Here? It's the same. Do you think the girl bringing in most bank here is one pound over a hundred and twelve pounds? No, because that's not the image that this company has in their mind that girls look like, much like the wrestling world has a vision of how they want their champion to be...it's all the same."
She kept dancing getting closer and closer, but then back up twirling around giving a little hair flip.
“Exactly. In wrestling, you need a specific look, a specific vibe, a specific story that you can sell to the audience. Just like each girl in here could probably get an assload of customers on any given night, they couldn’t do it without the proper story, the proper makeup, the proper look, the proper dance, the proper talent. It’s marketing at its finest.”
She dances real purdy.
I mean, uh, stop staring.
"Right. I mean, look at me. Do you honestly think I could make myself known here if I was like that girl?"
She runs her hands through her hair, twirling around facing you, moving closer. She is nearly on your lap right now, but her eyes focus on a girl sitting at the bar counting money.
"She didn't have the look, she isn't known here. But I have to ask, I can see the connection between the wrestling world and this and I can talk to you all night about it, but don't you have a match to prepare for?"
She asked, tracing her hand on his chest as she danced more.
“Of course I do. It’s why I came down here. Being the best in this kind of business, you always have to keep your opponents guessing. So, when they see that I came to a strip club, they are going to know that I do things a little differently than their best. In wrestling, you have to know when to start a fight, and you have to know when to finish a fight. And tonight, it’s not about the fight, not at all. It’s about making a statement.”
He almost wishes she would just climb on his lap and get the fire started.
But fire starting is what needs to happen in the MPW, not on his lap.
"Right, right. Understandable. But aren't you nervous? Here you are in a new company with new people..."
She says, tracing her hand some more.
"You've accomplished so much in your career Steffs, but here? This is an entirely new place..."
She says twirling some more.
"Are you nervous?"
The only nerve in his body that’s aching is the multitude in his pants.
But he can’t say that.
So glad he can think it.
“No, I’m not nervous. Sure, yes, it’s a new place, it’s a new company, and it’s a whole new bunch of people. But you know what? They don’t look impressive, they don’t feel impressive. When Kurt Newman got me on the phone, he told me this place needed some spark, it needed some fire, and it needed some pizzazz. He said, sure, there may be one or two talents around that “have what it takes” to be real talent, but they are in dire straits here. This company has a large heading of talent that isn’t ready, talent that doesn’t even have a clue. Look at someone like Maxwell A. Nickelson, and tell me that kind of kid is “ready” to be in this business. Have you seen this chump yet, Jillian?”
"It needed some pizza?"
She asked in her silly voice, before spinning again, walking closer to you and this time sitting on your lap. She put her hands on his shoulders and spoke once again.
"Well he made good choices bringing in you and Hawk and Kayley, all former world champions. And well, Kayley well she's currently a world champion. And yes... I've heard about him."
She said, rubbing his shoulders a bit.
"I heard he asked my sister to lunch...and that he interrupted your little party..."
“Honestly, who does that? Sure, Kurt vouched for him, but let me be clear here: just because Kurt Newman speaks highly of you, doesn’t mean you get a free pass. Look at someone like Impaler or Hellbender. Yes, I know they existed over here; they existed in the “other place” too. And you know what? They weren’t any good there; they probably weren’t any good here. So, up until Hawk, Kayley, and I actually joined the cause, Kurt Newman’s word didn’t mean much. Now, when he puts his money where his mouth is, it will mean something… It’ll mean a full one percent.”
You look at her, and sure enough she looks slightly confused.
“Long story…. But you know what, just because Kurt vouches for someone doesn’t mean I have to like them. After all, you can’t like someone who interrupts what you believe to be a private party, and furthermore, you can’t like someone you don’t know. And this chump doesn’t realize that he ain’t a friend to the kids from the other side of the lawn. Know what I mean?”
He slips a bill into his teeth, and he holds it out for her, waiting.
She eyes the bill and smirks.
“This one is on the house.”
She smirks before dancing some more, looking into his eyes.
“I think its good you have your own brain going into this operation. I mean as much as I love Mr. Newman, not a single one of you guys should listen to each other’s words and forget who you really are. If you don’t like someone that one of you do, then don’t pretend to like them and just let it affect the group as a whole. You all have the same motives, but going about it differently is good.”
She then stops dancing and drops her hands, placing them on her thighs. She looks at him, tilting her head, still looking at the bill.
“You want to pay me; you make sure my little sister stays safe. She looks up to you and to Kurt and to Hawk like you all are some hero’s or something. I understand you all have targets on your back, but look out for each other as well…I may not know much, but if your competition is anything like the competition here, you need people to have your back.”
He pulls the bill out, and slyly places it into her bra-strap as he caresses her neck.
“She’ll be safe, Jillian. You know that.”
“I know…I trust you…I just wanted to make my point clear.”
He rises from the chair, looking around the room.
“Boss can see into this one, or are they all “private”? Odds are he can see, but I wanna know…”
She smirks before sliding around sitting on the chair, looking up at him.
“Not this one. This one is private. The others? Yeah, he can. If he isn’t looking in directly, he has his people keep a look out. I mean, I guess it’s like security in a way?”
She shrugged, twirling her fiery red hair.
“Then you don’t mind if I do some talking of my own, do you? It’s time for a …what’s the phrase… villain monologue for my opponents to wonder and worry about…”
He looks at her with a grin, ear to ear all sly and smiles.
She looks up at him, shifting her position to lying on her stomach on the couch, laying her head down on a pillow watching him.
“As long as you let me stay and listen. I like to listen and watch these monologues. And something tells me you don’t mind me lying here on this couch watching you speak about your opponents…”
“Of course not…”
She giggles.
"Now, I'm gonna try not to offend your fellow strippers, because I promise you, they are amazing. So, you ready for this? I don’t do this for just anyone you know…"
“Yes, yes, yes!”
He chuckles, and looks around.
“I’m going to assume that in the…three other rooms, there are of course three strippers. Those strippers do well in this occupation, but for the purposes of this discussion, one we shall rank as “new”, one we shall rank as “experienced” and one we shall rank as “retiring.” Now, understand, they can all be classified from any legal minimum age to, well, any age they stop being attractive. So, for those of you counting along at home, these three could be anywhere between 18 and 60. So, with those parameters set, lets talk about the new girl, in booth number one.”
He looks in the direction of booth #1 as Jillian looks on, cocking her head to the side with interest.
“The new girl is obviously up for the job, but she’s very green to the business. She breaks the rules, she comes in late, she probably gives a few happy endings, too. But, as cute as she is, as fun as she might be, she’s hanging by a thread. She’s too reckless about the job, and doesn’t take it seriously. In about a week, give or take, the boss will approach her and have a very indepth conversation with her: she can either respect the job or she can get out. She’ll leave, because she thinks she’s being disrespected, and because lets face it, the sluts on camera giving away happy endings. Are all new hires like this? No. But this one is. And why is she like that? Because she’s the atypical new hire, the girl who thinks the world is her oyster, the girl who thinks that everything will bow to her will. This, for the purposes of our discussion, is my comparison to Nathan James. Hell, Nathan James is still so new… he probably doesn’t even realize he’s going to be on the fuckin’ pay per view, now does he?”
Jillian nods, a smile on her face as Stefan talks.
“And then, behind curtain number two, we have the retiring talent, the girl who may be the oldest of the three, the girl who probably wishes she made better life choices. She showed up every day, on time, and did the job. She was good for a few years, but after a while, you noticed a distinct lack of interest in her job. She may’ve only been there for the money, she may’ve had a few kids along the way, but she stuck with it. She did what she believed she needed to do. Was it a reflection to her dad, saying “how proud of me are you now?” Or was it a reflection of society, and how our society mocks gorgeous, talented women, and doesn’t offer them competitive jobs? This girl, the retiree nearing forty, is closest linked to Adam Steele. Go ahead, find all the information you can on Adam Steele, and tell me what you find.”
Jillian pulls out her smartphone and Google's the name.
Wondering where that smartphone came from? She’s a stripper. Use your imagination.
“Who is he? He’s not coming up on Google…”
She asks with such wonder and confusion.
“Adam Steele is supposed to be the third man on the opposing team, Jillian. He’s supposed to be the rock that this team forms around. From what I understand, Adam Steele has been in this kind of business for a long time now. So long, everyone is supposed to know who he is, supposed to know what he’s done, supposed to know all his good graces and abilities. But you check out MPW.com---“
He smiles bright with a thumbs up to the camera.
“---And you won’t find a lick of information on the guy. So, I’m going by the context clues, and believing that this is the kind of guy that doesn’t get a lot of play time anymore. Not an active wrestler, Adam Steele is here to make sure everything happens right, everything happens fairly, and everything happens like it’s supposed to. With his team falling victim to the greener grasses that Kayley, Hawk, and myself bring to the table. New is always better.”
He looks at Jillian, who has managed to put the smartphone back where it was hiding.
No, we didn’t catch where it was hiding.
Perverts.
“And finally, we come to the “experienced” girl. Number three. The person who, for some reason or another, is the main attraction tonight. Strangely, no, it’s not Jillian Hale, it’s this girl. She isn’t exactly new, she’s not as old as the retiree, but there’s something about her that draws crowds tonight. Maybe it is her spark, her desire to be something more than just a “stripper.” Maybe it’s her heart, maybe she shows these clients of her compassion, and that gets them off more than any dance could. Or maybe, just maybe, she just wants to dance, and knows that any old dance will do. This, as strange as it sounds, is the closest girl we can associate to Maxwell A. Nickelson, and boy, are the talents completely different.”
He shakes his head as Jillian rises. Jillian comes behind him, rubbing his shoulders and his back.
“Maxwell A. Nickelson is the very personification of “foot-in-mouth disease.” He interrupts a private party, cashes in his voucher for a Newman guarantee, and then has the audacity to try and start something with me on Twitter. He’s a bright and wide eyed new kid on the block, but out of these three, yes, he’s what I’m forced to label as “experienced.” And why? Because he’s had the most matches of these three lately, and win or lose, at least he goes out there and does something. Maybe it’s to prove to himself that he’s not boring, even though he’s only 23 years old. Maybe it’s to prove to his friends that he can be something they didn’t expect. Or maybe it’s to prove to his momma that the boyhood dream can come true? Beats me, but I’m sure he’ll try and tell me with his little response. Maxwell is still a student of the sport, and even at 23, he still has a whole world of things to learn before he can tap into his potential.”
Jillian peeks over Stefan’s shoulders.
“Aren’t you only 21?”
“Yes. But in two years, I learned a lot about professional wrestling. From the in ring atmosphere, to the diehard fans, to the back stage antics and hijinks, to the asskissing atrocities you have to perform. It’s an arduous, tedious task, but it all follows the same needs, Jillian. Maxwell is going to learn Sunday, just like his partners are going to learn: when Hawk, Kayley, and I are in your presence, are in your company, are facing you, you step up your game.”
Jillian stops massaging Stefan’s shoulders, and as she does, he spins around and her right leg mysteriously finds itself wrapped around his waist.
“Or what?”
“Or they all will fall. Watch us on Sunday, sweetheart.”
She escorts him out, and he slips another bill into her hands as he leaves the palace of wisdom.
“Sunday, bring me competition.”
Fade to black.