Title: Little Black Backpack
Author: Jami Lynn
Chapter: 1
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the wrestlers used in this story, 'cause if I
did, I'd be busy with them right now *grin*. The song belongs to Stroke 9. And
the address to the stories is at the bottom of this email. And don't bother
suing me...all you'd get is a half eaten ham sandwich and a bag of chips from 2
years ago.
Distribution: Ask me if you can use it, more than likely I will say yes.
Rating: So far, it's a PG-13
Content: Nothing bad as of yet, probably won't be anything to bad
either....maybe some cussing.
Spoilers: Um...anything can happen and I'm just writing as I go, so I don't know
yet *L*.
Summary: What's up with the backpack!
Feedback: I need feedback like I need air! So give it to me, babee! I have been
suffocating lately....so please, send in the feedback.
Email: [email protected]
Stacy strolled down the ramp in the arena, the school girl outfit she was
wearing drawing every guys attention to her. She had on a short plaid skirt,
with a white shirt tied at the midriff. Her hair was in two pigtails, and a
small black backpack was strapped to her back. She looked like the naughty
school girl that Vince wanted her to be.
Tonight she was accompanying Kurt Angle down to ringside. She wasn't sure why,
all she knew was that she had everything she needed in her backpack. She was
going to make his opponent Edge pay. He deserved it after voting for Torrie to
win that stupid gold thong award.
***
I know it
It's a shame
A shame I can't show it
And I see it
I can see it now
But I'm so far below it
Don't wanna
***
Stacy could feel Kurt's gaze roaming over her body and she had to stiffle her
gag reflex. Just because she was dressed like a naughty school girl, doesn't
mean she was going to do anything with some dork.
Stacy's hands clenched the straps of her black backpack tightly, until her
knuckles were completely white. She couldn't believe that Torrie had won the
Gold Thong Award, not after the way Edge had been looking at her. Stupid Maven
and stupid Torrie. Ah heck, they were all stupid!
Stacy felt her breath catch as Edge's enterance music hit the speakers and his
body began to take shape through the fog and smoke.
***
Don't wanna talk about it
I say why not?
Don't wanna think about it
I say there's got to be some good reason
For your little black backpack
Up, Smack, turn around he's on his back
and
Don't wanna tango with you
I'd rather tango with him
I think I'm gonna bash his head in
And this shouldn't concern you except that
Just don't expect to get your
Bloody black backpack back.
***
Edge slid into the ring, and Stacy stood in the middle, unmoving. Edge walked up
to her, his lips twisting in a sly smile. They stood there, with the lights
dimmed, music blaring, just looking at each other.
The sexual tension between the two was crackling, and they both had to fight
back an impulse to let their hormones take over. Stacy licked her lips,
struggling to regain any sense of composure left.
Edge let his tongue dart out between his lips, licking the top one as he slowly
moved around Stacy in a circle. She stood still, afraid to move. The crowd
watched in awe, but that was broken when the lights came back on. The moment
broken, Stacy slid out of the ring.
***
I feel you
Yes I can
What about that don't you understand?
I sense you
It's something sensual
But it's less than I planned
Don't wanna
***
The match was taking it's toll on both men. Stacy had yet to interfere, but she
wasn't sure if it was from lack of opprunity or from the fear of Edge's eyes
meeting her's again.
Edge was thrown out of the ring, practically onto Stacy's white tennis shoe-clad
feet. She looked up at Kurt and saw him signaling for her to use her bag. She
slid the straps off her shoulders as Kurt slid out to hold Edge for her.
Stacy hesitated a split second, the black backpack resting in her hands. Finally
she took a deep breath, and lunged for Edge. In the split second it took for her
to blink, he was gone and she connected with Kurt Angle. Kurt went down, fast
and hard.
Edge watched in stunned amusement. He leaned against the ring trying to catch
his breath. Stacy was on the ground next to Kurt, trying to wake him up, make
sure he was okay.
***
Don't wanna talk about it
I say why not?
Don't wanna think about it
I say there's got to be some good reason
For your little black backpack
Up, smack, turn around he's on his back
and
Dont' wanna tango with you
I'd rather tango with him
I think I'm going to bash his brains in
And this shouldn't concern you except that
Just don't expect to get your
bloody black backpack back.
***
Stacy turned to stand up, angry words ready to fly from her lips. But when she
stood, she found herself standing right in front of Edge. All the words
evaporated and instead a small whimper wrenched themselves from her lips.
"You feel it to, don't you?" Edge asked, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Wh-What?"
Stacy stuttered. "This" Edge said, gesturing between the little space between
their bodies. Stacy shook her head no, while her mind screamed yes.
"Oh Stop it. I feel it too. Listen to what I'm saying...stop making excuses. We
both feel it." Edge said. Stacy numbly backed away, her mind racing.
***
You're trying to find a reason
For the way you feel tonight
Your mind is lined with layers of lead
Have you heard one thing that I've said?
***
Edge grabbed the black backpack still laying on the floor and swung it hard at
Angle. The shot connected, throwing both men off balance. Edge caught himself,
and threw a glance at Stacy.
"What the fuck was in here?" he asked, a suprised experession filtering across
his features. Stacy shrugged and tried to reach out for the backpack. Edge held
it away from her. "Listen, right now my beef is with him, not you. I'd rather
deal with him, he's not so complicating. So I suggest that you get out of here!"
Edge growled.
Stacy quickly stumbled away and Edge yelled after her, "And don't expect to get
your black backpack back!"
***
Don't wanna talk about it
I say why not?
Don't wanna think about it
I say there's got to be some good reason
For your little black backpack
Up, Smack, turn around he's on his back
and
Don't wanna tango with you
I'd rather tango with him
I think I'm gonna bash his brains in
And this shouldn't concern you except that
Just don't expect to get your
bloody black backpack back.
***
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