Pros and Cons

Author's note: It's my story, so I make the rules, LOL! No brand extension, my choice of superstars and all other bets (including pre-existing personal relationships) are off if I deem them to be so! And since I spent quite a while in the no-wrestling wilderness, I may ignore past storylines and events - including the unmasking and shaving of Kane, which I consider to be an act that "reeks of heinousity", to quote the once-lovely Edge. I also reserve the right to ignore current storylines - because I can, so there! I will also at random use both wrestlers' real names and "stage" names - mostly where I don't know real names.

Actually, since sometimes it does seem that some rampant insanity is at work in the WWE, it's probably best to consider most of my work as alternative universe fic! Keeping the good stuff and chucking away the crap, making the wrestling fan fic world a nicer place to be!

This story started out as a one-shot deal, and I was writing it so my brain would cease writing it in my head when I was supposed to be doing other things! However, in that treacherous way my brain has, it would appear there is more to this story than first thought. Bugger! Guess who's got another work in progress, in progress?

Usual disclaimer - own nothing but my original characters, all the other people own themselves, WWE owns the trademark names, I'm doing this to exercise my creativity and for the sheer pleasure of writing. Ask my therapist!

####

Part the first - Pros?

"Do I look like a fucking people person, James?"

James sighed inwardly. He knew Rosie's reaction was likely to be along those lines.

"No, actually, you look like bitch on heels, but I'm stuck, Rosie."

Rosie stalked away from him, as far as she could in his cramped office, before turning back to him. "Send Marty - he's good at this shit."

"I can't - Marty's in the hospital with appendicitis."

"Fuck!"

"He'll be so touched by your concern, Rosie."

She dragged her hands through her short red hair, rumpling the messy spikes further. "I didn't mean that, James. It's just that I'm no good at these things. What about Shane?"

"You're kidding, right? We need Shane here doing the master check on the code before we go to production."

"Fuck," Rosie said again. She turned pleading eyes on him. "I'll do the code check!"

James snorted laughter. "Rosie, you hate code checks, and you suck worse at them than you do at dealing with people. The programming team would quit within the first day - we don't need that."

Rosie dropped back into the chair opposite James's desk with a pout. "I liked it better when it was you, me, Marty and Shane doing this."

'This' was Jagged Fang, a small computer game studio about to break into the big time. Their independent games had achieved a kind of cult status in the last five years, and they'd recently taken their first tentative step towards the mass market. They'd gotten venture capital from a group of investors to expand their team and develop their most ambitious game to date. "Last Man Standing' was a combination RPG first person shooter, and testing had shown that it was likely to blow away their sales estimates.

They were coming down to the wire with it - they'd done their last focus group testing, and had been re-coding to tweak the interface. Not usually how they worked, but this time they had a production deadline. When they were independent, they issued when they were ready, and not before. None of them particularly enjoyed the deadline part of this new way of doing things, but they were committed to bringing 'Last Man Standing' to fruition.

Another part of the new world order was marketing, and this was the subject currently causing such heated reactions in James's office. Jagged Fang had been booked for a major pop culture convention in Las Vegas as part of the marketing push, and with Marty in the hospital, Rosie was the only one who could go and represent them with their investors.

James shrugged. "Hey, I don't deny this hasn't exactly been a bed of roses, but if 'Last Man Standing' is a hit, we can pay off the investors and go back to doing things our way, with a good solid income stream to support us. And I don't need to tell you that the market exposure will help us with the other games we want to build."

Rosie screwed up her face like a tantrumy five year old. "I fucking know that, James - I do the books, remember?"

She was good at them too, even if her first love was game design and programming. And she was perfectly content locked away in her office, which was even more cramped than James's, happily creating code. She'd also paid the bills since they'd started out, creating her own accounting software when none of the ones she'd tried suited her. Only, with the venture capital, the book keeping became a much bigger job, taking her more away from the programming.

Shane headed the new programming team, because Rosie readily admitted she really wasn't much good as a manager. She'd prefer to do things herself than tell or teach someone to do it for her, and she didn't mind working under Shane's leadership. And Marty handled marketing and eventual product design, which was why he'd been slated to go to Vegas.

She gave James a speculative look. "Why don't you go? You're good at schmoozing people."

He laughed again, but there wasn't much humour in it. "And what, leave you here in charge? Leave you to make sure Shane keeps the code check and programming on track, and liaise with the production company, and chase down the proofs for the final cover designs? Maybe edit the manual as well?"

"Fuck." There was a note of resignation now though.

"Yeah, I know."

She sighed. "Fine, I'll go. But you better spring for a room in the hotel where this shindig is being held - if I have to walk the mean streets of Vegas, I will not be held responsible for my actions!"

James suppressed a shudder, imagining Rosie dealing with heat and crowds of tourists. It wasn't a pretty thought. "Already taken care of. Look, it's only a convention - try not to make into the martyrdom of Saint Rosie, okay?"

She was getting out of her chair, and at his remark, she shot him a deadly look and flipped him the bird. "You are going to owe me big time for this, James. Fucking big time."

He dropped his head into his hands as she left his office. He could only hope that she could hold her temper a little longer than that at the convention.

###

Las Vegas was hot. Hot and dry at least - if it had been humid, Rosie probably wouldn't have made it out of the airport without killing someone. And the place was unbelievably tacky - in the daytime, it looked like the absolute epitomy of bad taste, crawling with tourists. She couldn't even look out the window of the cab without seeing something else that offended her, so she sulked the entire ride, refusing to speak to the cab driver beyond telling him the hotel she was staying at.

Climbing out of the cab in front of the hotel, she propped her Ray Bans on top of her head as she looked at the facade with distaste, muttering under her breath, "Fuck."

She tipped the driver well - at least he'd shut up when she refused to respond to any of his conversational openers - and shouldered her bag, striding into the blessedly cool lobby of the hotel.

The desk clerk looked up, his eyes widening as he saw the woman heading for the check in desk. She wore an open black suede vest over a tight white t shirt that stretched over her breasts, a pair of well worn Levis belted around the waist with a studded leather belt, and a pair of spike heeled boots that clicked across the marble floor. Her red hair was rumpled into messy spikes, and each ear was pierced with multiple studs and a pair of lapis lazuli drops that swung in time with her footsteps.

She walked up to him, digging her wallet out of her hip pocket. "Rosie Templeton - you have a reservation for me?"

He blinked - he couldn't be sure, but he thought her tongue was pierced too. Shaking his head a little, he turned to the computer and searched the reservations. "Yes, we do. If I could just see some ID?"

She was way ahead of him. No sooner had the words left his mouth than she slapped her drivers licence down on the desk. He noted the details, and then handed her a key card and a large folder with the convention logo plastered across the front. She raised one eyebrow at him.

"Your check in instructions were that you were to be given the folder, Ms Templeton. Enjoy your stay."

Rosie just shrugged, pushing her wallet into her pocket again and heading for the elevators, shifting her bag across her shoulder so she could open the folder and check it out. It looked like her itinerary for the convention, plus some general stuff about the convention's overall program. She scanned through the list of special guests and exhibitors.

"Oh, joy!" she muttered sarcastically, seeing the names of several other gaming companies listed. That was going to test her company manners, for sure.

A lot of the other names meant little to her - authors, musicians, actors from various movies and TV shows, although the deathly words 'Star Trek' leaped off the page at her. Great, that meant nerdy guys dressed as Klingon warriors and pretending to be tough guys. There probably wasn't enough tequila on the planet to make this weekend bearable.

The elevator in front of her opened, and she was about to step into it when she realised there were people getting off first. A flicked glance and her eyebrows rose. Big people. At just over five feet tall, Rosie almost had to crane her neck up to look at the men who were stepping out. Hell's bells!

As she stepped into the elevator, a few of those male heads turned, and she heard a low wolf whistle as the doors closed behind her. She snorted and turned her attention back to the conference folder.

Mark Calaway looked around the lobby as they exited the elevator, turning back at the low wolf whistle from Randy Orton. He chuckled.

"Randy, you're a married man."

Randy just grinned. "No law against looking, Mark. Is Glenn here?"

Mark shook his head. "He can't be far behind us though - he said he was about to come down when I called him."

Rosie flicked a glance at the elevator display, then her eye was caught by something on her itinerary that made her blood boil. Snapping the folder shut, she hauled her cellphone from her belt and dialled James's number. She tapped one high heeled boot impatiently as she waited for him to answer.

"Jagged Fang, this is . . . "

"I know who the fuck this is!"

James sighed. "Hi Rosie. Arrived safely, did you?"

Glenn Jacobs waited on the twelfth floor for the elevator, praying he didn't run into any more fans in the hallways, or he'd never get out of the place. There was a low chime as the elevator stopped, and as the doors opened, he heard a woman's voice.

"Don't you fucking 'hi Rosie' me, you scum-sucking son of a bitch!"

He took an involuntary step backwards as the little redhead strode out of the elevator, a cellphone pressed to her ear, ignoring him completely.

"Let me guess - you don't like the hotel?" James said, his hand over his eyes.

"I haven't even gotten into my room yet and you're already fucking me, you misbegotten whoremonger!" Rosie was livid.

Glenn's eyebrows raised as he watched her march down the hallway, absolutely astonished at the language she was using, but not failing to notice the roll of a rather delectable behind in her jeans as she walked. The chime of the elevator as the doors started to close brought him back to reality, and he stuck out a hand to persuade the doors to open again and stepped in, chuckling to himself. Whoever the 'misbegotten whoremonger' was, he was kind of glad he wasn't in his shoes right now.

"What's wrong, Rosie?" James asked, although he was fairly certain she'd get around to telling him soon enough. As always, he admired the lyricism of her cussing while she chewed him out.

Rosie dropped the conference folder to the floor in front of her door to give her a hand free to use her keycard in the door, throwing the door open and kicking the folder through it as she entered. She slammed the door behind her and dropped her bag, bending to pick up the folder again as she stalked into the room.

"I'll tell you what's fucking wrong. A fucking cocktail party, James? You sent me here to go to a fucking cocktail party? And that's not the only thing that's wrong!"

"What?" James wasn't sure he'd heard right. He could have sworn she'd just said 'cocktail party'.

Rosie dropped the folder onto the table and opened it with a slap. "A fucking cocktail party! And that's not all - manning the fucking booth? A panel discussion? What the fuck is this shit, James?"

James felt sick to his stomach. "Tell me you're joking, Rosie."

"I am not fucking joking, James, I've got the itinerary right here in front of me."

James gulped. "Oh shit."

Rosie paused. "You didn't know about this?"

James shook his head. "You think I've have sent you up there if I had? Jesus, Rosie, I'm desperate, but I'm not insane!" His mind was racing - he wondered if there were a way he could grab a flight to Vegas, get there in time to make the cocktail party at least. But he knew there wasn't, and that even if there was, there was too much to do here.

Rosie dropped into a chair at the table. "It gets better, James - you'll never guess who else is here." Her voice dripped sarcasm.

"Fuck! Not Imperial? Tell me it's not Imperial!" he begged.

"Would if I could, James, but I can't. And you know what that means, don't you?"

James groaned. He knew exactly what it meant - it meant Siimon Brown. Siimon with two 'i's, as he was known now, had once been in college with James and Rosie. Back then, he'd been plain old Simon, and he'd carried a major torch for Rosie. Only Rosie hadn't been interested. Simon took a while to get the message, hanging around them constantly, hoping for Rosie to change her mind.

She'd finally snapped and thrown a major fit in front of half the dorm, making it abundantly clear to everyone in the place that she wasn't interested. As he recalled, she'd told Simon that she'd rather die a virgin rather than sleep with him, that if they were the last two people on the planet, then she'd let the human race die out rather than procreate with him, plus other similarly caustic barbs.

Simon hadn't taken it well, and he'd seethed for years before finally coming up with a way to get even with her. Part of what they'd all discussed at those all night parties were the plans James and Rosie had for computer games, and Rosie's own particular dream child, 'Evil Overlords Inc.'. He could still remember how her eyes shone as she spoke of the game concept - a wicked little thing where you got more points for doing bad things than good ones, all with a heavy overlay of humour.

It was going to be the first game they made at Jagged Fang, but Simon, who now styled himself Siimon, had beaten them to the punch. He'd started Imperial with a "loan" from his wealthy father, and he'd trumped them to market with his own offering, 'Evil Overlord'. His version was just different enough to Rosie's concept that they had no grounds for a legal challenge, and so they'd had to shelve their own game, rather than be seen as imitating Imperial's game.

Siimon hadn't quite been able to follow up the minor success of 'Evil Overlord', though. He had no ideas of his own, so Imperial spent a lot of time developing games that were derivative of others and selling them cheaply. James and Rosie were hoping that, if 'Last Man Standing' was a success, they could take the chance on releasing 'Evil Overlords Inc.'. Enough time had passed that they wouldn't be compared to Imperial, and Rosie had already incorporated the newest gaming engine into the code.

"Yeah, I'm guessing Simon won't be able to resist the lure of a convention in Vegas."

"Fuck," sighed Rosie.

"No shit," James agreed.

Rosie ground the heel of her hand into her eye, and then sat up straighter. "You know what, James?"

"What, Rosie?" He waited for the axe to fall.

"Fuck him and his cheap ass studio! 'Last Man Standing' is a fucking revolutionary concept, and it's going to blow him out of the fucking water. And then I'm gonna release 'Evil Overlords Inc.' and really fucking bury him!"

James's eyes widened. "You mean it, Rosie?"

"Fuck yes, I mean it! I'm gonna do this convention the way Marty wanted . . . well, okay, perhaps not quite the way Marty wanted, but goddamn it, I'm gonna do it right! I'm gonna show Simon that . . . well, I'm gonna show him!"

James really hoped she could pull it off. For all their sakes.

Hanging up from the call with James, Rosie retrieved her bag from near the door and hefted it onto the bed. She had some serious planning to do here - and first things first, she had to see if she had the right clothes for this damn convention.

Working for a few minutes, referring to the itinerary, sorting her clothes into outfits, she soon realised that she was going to need to go shopping. But she needed to think strategically about this. She needed to use her every advantage this weekend, and take every opportunity she could to promote Jagged Fang. If she knew Marty, the booth was going to be populated with models in skimpy attire - because the usual demographic for computer games was male and 15 to 24.

And the panel discussion - that had the potential to be deadly boring, so it probably needed a bit of livening up. As for the cocktail party . . . she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

She made a quick call to the concierge desk, and a few minutes later she was heading out of the lobby to hail a cab. The convention started in a few hours - she just hoped she could find what she was looking for before then.

###

Rosie made it back to the hotel with barely enough time to change, but she counted the time well spent. Her credit card was unused to that kind of workout, but it wasn't like she had to pay for much else this trip. She checked her appearance in the mirror, and grinned.

She'd teamed a low slung pleated skirt that came to mid thigh with a new fishnet top over her favourite push up bra, and topped with another new purchase, a leather waist cincher with heavy silver buckles up the sides. It matched her studded leather belt which she wore around her hips. Her spike heeled boots and black fishnet stockings completed the ensemble. She leaned in to slick another coat of red lip gloss over her lips, and winked at her reflection.

"You bad, bad girl, Rosie. Now, go get 'em!"

She refused to think about what James's reaction might be - in some things, it was better to seek forgiveness than to ask permission, after all. She picked up the purse she'd bought to carry her keycard and phone - that was one thing wrong with dressing this way, she had no pockets for anything.

She waited for the elevator, tapping her toe a little impatiently. As the doors opened, she stepped back to let the occupants out and then stepped in, turning around to push the button for the convention centre floor. When the door opened again, she almost recoiled from the hubbub. Now she remembered why she hated conventions - the noise was the worst part. She could only hope that the vendors room was a little quieter, heading towards the closed door and showing her ID to the security guard, who let her in with a nod.

Consulting the map, Rosie made her way to the Jagged Fang booth, pleased to find it set up amongst comic book dealers. She checked the map again, and realised that she could just see the Imperial booth from where she stood. Siimon wasn't there yet - he would be, at some point, she was sure. He wouldn't want to be out of the limelight too long. She tucked her purse and folder away, and looked around the booth. The big posters for 'Last Man Standing' looked great. There were the free demo disks for the new game too - they had thousands of those to hand out. And there was a competition to win a pre-release copy of 'Last Man Standing' - Marty had outdone himself.

A voice sounded behind her. "Rosie?"

She turned and her eyebrows raised. Tania, one of the interns they'd had last summer, stood there with two other girls, looking rather shocked at her appearance. She clapped a hand over her face, grinning.

"Oh crap, sorry Marty, I misjudged you!"

Tania looked confused. "What? Why are you here?" She left unspoken the other part of that question - "and dressed like that". "Where's Marty?"

The girls all wore 'Last Man Standing' t-shirts and shorts and sneakers. Not quite the scantily clad models she'd expected, but they were pretty girls nonetheless. She guessed she'd have to be the hard core lure for the demographic here. "Marty's in hospital, I'm afraid. It's his appendix. James sent me to pinch hit. I assume Marty briefed you about what you'd be doing?

Rosie prayed quietly that detail-oriented Marty had been on top of that at least, and was relieved when Tania and her friends, Sandy and Jasmine, nodded. "Good, then perhaps you can brief me!"

Tania laughed and ran through what Marty had arranged - they were to hand out copies of the demo disk, and encourage people to enter the competition. Answer questions about the games, and point people to the dealer's room to purchase copies of their other games. Rosie nodded - she could handle that easily.

The girls moved into the booth and started setting out competition entry forms and promotional pens while Rosie took a few moments to check the rest of the information in the convention folder while she had a few moments. Once she was sure that the girls had the booth well in hand, she would have time to grab a late lunch and then run upstairs and change her clothes for the panel discussion. She wanted to be taken a bit more seriously there, especially given the topic of violence in popular culture. She didn't know anyone else on the panel, but since one of them was from World Wrestling Entertainment, with a trademarked name no less, she figured it was probably slated as a bit of a duck shoot.

She was thinking about that when a voice drawled from behind her. "Well if it isn't Rosie Templeton."

Rosie turned around, closing the folder with a snap as she regarded the speaker with distaste. "Simon. How wonderful. Today just can't get any better now."

Siimon Brown stood in front of the booth, wearing an expensive suit, teamed with a deep solarium tan and a lot of flashy gold jewelry. A sneer marred his handsome face, even as his eyes travelled over her lasciviously. "I had no idea you'd be here, Rosie."

She had no intention of telling him about Marty's illness. "What can I say, Simon? You always were pretty clueless - why change now?"

He bristled, and was about to retort when the chime sounded, signifying the opening of the vendors room to the public. Rosie leaned forward and spoke softly, "Run along now, Simon. So lovely to see you again, you son of a bitch."

Rosie stepped back, giving him a little finger wave and a smile, and then turned her back, dismissing him as she turned her attention to the people heading towards the booth. But she did take a moment to whisper to Tania, "Pass the word to your friends - I want to know if he, or anyone else from Imperial, comes near this booth."

###

After their autograph session, the guys from the WWE were keen to check out the convention, although a quick change of clothes into something less conspicuous was in order. Rob Van Dam was itching to check out the comic book vendors, and Glenn liked visiting the computer game booths. The vendors room was pretty packed, although there weren't many people at the Imperial booth.

Glenn could understand why - Imperial's games had never held much interest for him. They tended to be cheap knock offs of other ideas, and he'd prefer to play the original. But he did want to see Jagged Fang - he had a few of their games, and the new one coming out sounded like a real challenge. He could see the posters for it hanging in the booth, but the crowd was thick at the counter. He waited, leaning against the edge of the adjoining booth, wondering what the attraction was.

The crowd shifted and suddenly he had the answer to his question. A rather familiar looking little redhead was sitting on the front counter of the booth, a pair of very shapely legs in black fishnet stockings and spike heel boots crossed under a pleated skirt, a leather waist cincher and a fishnet top. She was handing out copies of the demo disk, and posing for photos with the delighted recipients.

Glenn chuckled. That was clever - a new spin on using models in bikinis.. As the next teenager stepped forward, he could hear the question.

"Did you really design this game?"

The redhead laughed. "Read the credits, dude."

The teenager flipped over the disc and read out the names. "James Waltham, Shane Thomas, Rosie Templeton."

"Bingo!" she laughed, raising her hands. "That's me!"

There was applause from the waiting crowd and she bent forward in a little bow, tipping the crowd a wink. They ate it up, but Glenn heard a voice behind him mutter.

"Bitch."

He turned to look, but whoever had spoken had moved away. He turned back to the booth as the redhead spoke again.

"Folks, I hate to disappoint, but I'm going to have to leave you in the very capable hands of Tania, Sandy and Jasmine." The three girls smiled and waved. "Enjoy the demo, and make sure that you enter the competition to win a pre-release copy of 'Last Man Standing', the newest offering from Jagged Fang!"

There were disappointed noises from the waiting crowd as the redhead slipped down off the booth, her skirt riding up as she did, showing a flash of thigh before it dropped back into place. She moved into the booth, having a whispered conversation with the girls, and he watched her leave, carrying her purse and a convention folder. Then one of the girls was standing in front of him, smiling.

"Did you want a copy of the demo?"

He nodded, smiling as she handed it to him. "I'm sure you'll love it!"

He checked his watch and started making his way out of the room. He was scheduled to be on a panel discussion in an hour - time enough to take the demo upstairs and check it out on his laptop, he thought with a grin.

As he made his way through the main convention room, towards the elevators, he heard a woman's voice.

"Take your fucking hands off me!"

He didn't like the sound of that, and he looked around curiously, spotting the little redhead from Jagged Fang standing with a man in a suit, who had her by one arm.

"Or you'll do what? Scream for help? Relax, Rosie, I just want to talk."

He edged a little closer. The redhead jerked her arm from the man's grip.

"Simon, you fucking cockmuncher, I have nothing to say to you, except to tell you to drop dead, you maggot."

The man's hand raised . . . and was caught in mid-air. Glenn towered over him, looking menacing.

"Tell me you weren't about to hit a woman."

"Take your hands off me!"

"Funny, I thought that was her line."

Both men looked around, but the redhead had vanished. Siimon wrenched his arm free and stalked off, while Glenn just shook his head. He had no time for a man who'd hit a woman. He chuckled to himself as he waited for the elevator. 'Fucking cockmuncher' - the little redhead had quite the mouth on her. Not to mention a sweet ass. And she was a game designer too - he really enjoyed her games. You learned something new every day.

###

Rosie opened the door to her room after lunch and slipped inside, closing it behind her. As she set down her purse, she thought about meeting Simon in the main hall. She should have known that he would pull some shit like that - asshole. She would have loved to see the look on his face when that big guy grabbed his hand, but she took the opportunity to scram while she could. It was nice of the guy to step in, all the same. Maybe she'd see him again - he was a big one, he'd be kind of hard to miss. He deserved a thank you.

But right now, she needed to shake her tail and change for this panel discussion. Her hands went to the zipper on her waist cincher, laying it aside with a grin. Worth every penny - let's face it, Simon had nothing to compete with a game designer who was smokin'!

She changed back into her jeans, and picked up another new purchase with a grin. She'd had the Hollywood style corset laced to fit at the store, and she carefully did up the hooks and eyes that were the front opening, smoothing the black self stripe satin down and then slipping on the sheer black blouse over it. The perfect combination of sexy and serious . . . well, close enough for convention work anyway. She touched up her makeup and fingerstyled her hair into its usual messy spikes before collecting her purse and convention folder.

She was about to leave the room when her cellphone rang, and she dug it out of her purse.

"Hello?"

"It's me, Rosie. Do you never look at the caller ID?" James chuckled.

She shrugged, dropping down onto the end of the bed. "Life's too fucking short for caller ID. What's up?"

"I just got a call from Simon. 'Frothing' doesn't even begin to describe his mood," James grinned.

Rosie laughed. "Gee, what a shame! He say anything else?"

"Something about you being my whore, which I figured was the usual stuff about you and I being involved."

Chuckling, Rosie shook her head. "Might not have been - I had a brainwave for the booth this afternoon that caused quite a bit of interest."

"Do I dare ask?"

"Hang on, I'll show you." Rosie called up a photo from her phone and emailed it to James.

James wondered what she meant, until his email program beeped with a new message.

"Hope that sent okay," Rosie said as he opened it.

There was a long silence.

"James?" She held her breath, waiting for the explosion. Instead, James howled with laughter.

"Jesus, Rosie, that's brilliant! Tell me you were billing yourself as the game's designer, please!"

"Of course I fucking was! I was not just playing the tits and ass card, thank you!"

"I dunno, Rosie, you're looking pretty damned hot there."

Rosie just laughed. "So long as you're not mad!"

James grinned. "Rosie, you've already got Simon ready to kill you, how could I be mad at you? Wait, you didn't have a screaming match in public with him, did you?"

"Well, it wasn't really in public . . . "

James put his hand over his eyes. "Shit, I knew it was too good to be true."

"Relax, James, there was only one guy there, and lucky he was too. Fucking Simon was about to hit me!"

"What!!?"

"Well, he had his hand up, but this big guy just caught it and stopped him."

"Shit, Rosie, that's not good! What happened next?"

"I dunno - I took off. But if I know Simon, he backed down and slunk off like the dog he is."

"Rosie, I think you need to be careful. Simon's never been violent before - I don't like it." James was worried.

Rosie shrugged. "I'm in a hotel surrounded by security people for this fucking convention, what could possibly happen? But I gotta go, or I'm gonna be late for this panel discussion on violence in pop culture." She rolled her eyes.

"Tell me you aren't dressed like a reform school girl still!"

"No school girl - but how do you feel about corsets, James?"

She laughed and hung up, then turned the phone off and tossed it in her purse, heading for the elevator. As it was, she ducked in to the room for the panel discussion with the audience, making her way up to the stage, feeling a little nervous as she took the vacant chair between a big guy with a beard and long wavy hair, wearing a black and red mask, and a middle aged guy with glasses.

The nameplates were fortunately printed on both sides. The guy in the mask was Kane, with the copyrighted name, from the wrestling company. The guy in the glasses was a professor of media studies from some cow college. The fourth panel member was a musician, and judging from his dress, he was part of the gangsta culture. Yep, this was definitely sounding like a duck shoot.

She hoped "Kane" had something more than monosyllabic grunts or tirades to contribute, or this might get ugly. She wasn't sure whose side the audience was going to be on, either - a panel like this was likely to attract the fringe element, rather than hard core gamers who didn't give a shit about violence and its effect on society. Mostly because they didn't spend a lot of time out in society. She couldn't really talk, her social life was non-existent as well.

As she looked out over the audience, her nails tapped on the table in front of her. She hated waiting for anything, and especially something she really didn't want to do.

Glenn had arrived at the panel discussion only a few minutes earlier. He'd been utterly engrossed in the demo of 'Last Man Standing' and had lost track of time. As he'd taken his seat at the table, he glanced at the nameplate for the empty chair beside his and grinned. Well, hell - looked like the little redhead was gettting around at this convention. Although he didn't see her, and for a moment he worried that the doofus in the suit had caught up with her after he'd left.

But then his eye was caught by someone making her way swiftly towards the front of the room as the audience began to enter the room. She'd changed her clothes, he noticed. Probably just as well - this panel was likely to be fraught. Which he guessed was why WWE management had sent him when they were approached for a participant. He'd immediately asked why they hadn't volunteered Mick Foley, and was told that Mick was busy this weekend. Great - the one guy who'd done the research to debunk the "research" about their business wasn't available. He hoped that reading Mick's book, and the one conversation they'd had on the subject, would suffice.

Then again, that was before he knew the little redhead - her name was Rosie, he reminded himself - was on the panel. He hid a grin as he imagined her turning to the professor beside her and calling him a "cockmuncher" - that'd let him off the hook, for sure!

She was tapping her nails on the table, and he reached out one hand to cover hers, giving her a smile.

"Relax - what's the worse that can happen?"

She looked at the guy in the mask, and then pointedly down at his big hand covering hers. "Well, I don't see any pitchforks and torches, but you never know. When was the last time they ran someone out of Vegas on a rail?"

He moved his hand away, chuckling. "Oh, I think we'll be okay."

"Who you calling 'we', kemosabe?" Rosie snorted.

He just shook his head, grinning. He was beginning to think that even if the doofus in the suit had laid a finger on her, he still might have been the one leaving limping. He was saved from saying anything else by the panel moderator, who welcomed the audience and introduced them. He contented himself with a wave, resisting the urge to grimace at being billed as "Kane" and having to wear the damn mask. At least they hadn't played his entrance theme music, he thought sourly.

The little redhead was having none of that - she rose from her chair like a Hollywood screen goddess of old, waving and blowing kisses. No one laughed, but it didn't seem to bother her as she perched back on her chair with a sunny smile still in place.

The professor nodded his head, and looked over the top of his glasses at Rosie after he had been introduced. She just stared back at him, and her grin widened when he dropped his eyes first. That was first blood to her. But the moderator invited the professor to speak first, and she bit her lips and reminded herself not to roll her eyes.

The professor droned on about various "studies" that showed that music, games and TV with violent comment had caused children and teenagers to behave more violently. Rosie clenched her hands into fists, and tried to hold her tongue. Which worked for about two minutes.

"Now hang on a minute. You're saying that these studies observed children while they watched these so-called violent videos, and then observed them afterwards?"

"I believe that's what I stated," the professor sniffed.

"Was this a double blind study?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's a simple question - did the researchers know that the children they were observing had viewed a violent video? And was there a control group of children which had observed a non-violent video?"

"I . . . I don't have that information."

"Well, if you're talking about the studies I think you are, I can tell you that there was no control group, and so the researchers were more than aware that the children had viewed a so-called violent video. And as a result, the researchers were biased in favour of characterising the actions of the children as violent, when a disinterested observer would perhaps have classed the behaviour as normal childhood rough and tumble. Sloppy research methodology never produces credible results." Rosie sat back in her chair with a grin.

Glenn wanted to applaud. Rosie, it appeared, knew her stuff. He felt a bit less nervous now.

"I beg to differ! The children clearly behaved in a more violent fashion after viewing the video in question!" The professor was indignant.

"Well of course they did! They were brought into a special new room, with a big mirrored wall, and shown a brand new video. Hawthorne, anyone?" Rosie retorted.

"I don't think that has any bearing on this case!"

The moderator spoke up. "What exactly is Hawthorne, Ms Templeton?"

Rosie gave the moderator a nod. "The Hawthorne effect says that simply by observing behaviour, we influence it. It's named after a series of efficiency studies conducted in the twenties and thirties in a company named Hawthorne Works. They were trying to find out what level of lighting produced optimum production in the workers. Only no matter what they did to the lighting for this particular experimental group of workers, their productivity increased. Eventually, they worked out that it wasn't the lighting that was improving their productivity, it was the fact that someone was taking an interest in them, paying attention to them. That's what motivated them. It's the same in these observational studies of children - you put a group of kids in a brand new room and show them a new video, of course their behaviour will be influenced. But you can't say definitively if it's the result of the video, or the testing environment itself."

"What kind of studies would you suggest then?" the professor demanded.

"I wouldn't suggest testing at all - I'd suggest parenting!" Rosie replied. "Tell me something - what do you classify as a 'violent' video?"

The professor puffed his chest up. "A video which depicts violent actions."

"How about one where two children push an old woman into an oven and burn her alive?"

"Most definitely!"

"Guess we should scratch Hansel and Gretel then, huh?" Rosie grinned. "How about poisoning, is that violent?"

"Of course!"

"Whups, there goes Sleeping Beauty and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. How about a small girl being eaten by bears?"

"You're being ridiculous!"

"No, I'm applying your definition of violence to the Disney catalogue - you want to ban all their movies?"

"Of course not!"

"Those stories have been around longer than any of us, I'll wager you were brought up hearing them. Were you predisposed to poisoning others as a result of your exposure to this violent children's literature?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question - are you a serial poisoner because you heard the stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty as a child?"

Glenn almost choked trying not to laugh out loud at that, and the professor stared at her. She shook her head and answered for him. "No, of course you aren't. Because you heard those stories from your parents, who could help you to understand that they were make believe. Now, had you simply heard that story from a disembodied voice, with no other frame of reference, would you have known they were make believe? Probably not. And yet every time we sit a child in front of the TV and stick a movie on to keep them quiet for an hour, that's exactly what we are doing. Don't then turn around and blame the video makers for your lack of parenting!"

The professor's face turned red. "Then what about your violent video games? There was a study done by the Indiana University School of Medicine that show a definite increase in emotional arousal, plus a marked decrease in activity in the brain involved in self-control, inhibition and attention. This was proven with brain scans!"

"I don't dispute that study. I would however point out that it's very problematic to point to the exact areas of the brain that control various things. There are innumerable studies and cases of patients with almost no brain function in certain areas due to acquired brain injury who re-develop things like self-control or attention. But be that as it may, not even the researchers in that study were prepared to state with any certainty that a teenager was definitely going to go out and mass murder people because they'd played a game. They pointed out, and rightly so, that it was up to parents to be aware of the content of the games their teenagers were playing, and to monitor the amount of time they spent playing them. I notice that part of the study is never so widely quoted," Rosie said.

"So you're saying it's alright for you to produce these violent games then?"

The question came from the floor, and the moderator looked out to see who had asked it. A man at the back of the room stood up and repeated the question.

Rosie took a deep breath. "I don't set out to produce a game that is violent only for the sake of it being violent. No responsible game studio would. I produce games that create a total playing experience, and yes, sometimes that includes violence. However, I welcome our games being independently assessed to ensure that they match the rating we ourselves assign them, and I expect parents to be mindful of that when purchasing games for their teenagers."

"And what if the teens buy the games themselves?"

"Then I expect that the retailer will look at the fourteen year old in front of him, and the rating on the game that says it's suitable for players fifteen and over, and refuse to sell it to him."

"Wouldn't it be better if you didn't make the games at all?"

Rosie sighed. There was always one. "Sure, and the world would be a much nicer place if there weren't guns available so people didn't get shot, and no alcohol so drunk drivers don't kill people in car accidents. However, while the law places reasonable limits on what can be produced, and how it can be distributed, then I will continue to make games as long as there is a market for them."

There was a smattering of applause at that, including, Rosie noted with a little smile, from "Kane".

The professor had noticed it as well. "Well sir, what about your violent form of entertainment? Can you deny that it provokes violence in its viewers?"

Glenn chuckled, rising from his chair, and flexing his biceps. "Who, me? Violent?"

There was laughter, and Rosie looked up at him in astonishment. Dear God, he was huge!

Glenn sat back down, and turned to the professor. "Our shows are entertainment, and we are trained professionals. We make that very clear to our viewers. To think that I've ever encouraged someone to bury their brother with a bulldozer by my actions is laughable."

Rosie goggled at him - he did what? Some of the audience apparently got the joke though.

"Then why do you broadcast a warning at the beginning of your shows, imploring people not to try your actions at home?" the professor demanded.

He was so damned sick of that question.

"For the same reason that there's a tag on your hairdryer that tells you not to use it in the bath, or while you're sleeping. Because there are some people out there who don't have a lick of commonsense! And because there are parents out there who see our more adult oriented programming as suitable for children."

Rosie applauded, grinning. "Amen!"

"But the shows are so violent!" protested a woman from the audience.

Glenn smiled at her. "Then I suggest you don't watch them. No one's made them mandatory . . . yet."

Rosie couldn't suppress a chuckle at that.

"What if my children see them?" the woman wanted to know.

"Our shows are all shown on cable - you can apply the parental lockout on those channels to make sure they don't. That's more of that commonsense."

"What about X ratings for video games, Rosie?" a young man in the front row wanted to know. "Would you ever make an X rated game?"

Rosie shrugged. "I can't say for certain. For the moment, I definitely have no games planned that would entail an X rating. Like I said, I don't make games violent just for the sake of violence."

"But your new game is violent!"

The moderator couldn't see who'd spoken, but Glenn thought he'd picked who it was. He'd recognise that suit anywhere.

"I'd like to answer that one, if you don't mind," he smiled at Rosie.

She shrugged and nodded, curious.

"I've not had the pleasure of meeting Ms Templeton before today, so I'm unbiased. Well, relatively unbiased - I do own some of her earlier games." He winked at the audience. "But I got a copy of the demo of 'Last Man Standing' this afternoon, about the same time some of you did. And I was almost late to this panel because I was playing it up in my room." There was laughter at that. "I wouldn't characterise it as 'violent' - I think you could play it out without ever using a weapon, from what I saw on the demo."

Rosie nodded. "That's correct - there is a mode that allows you to play the scenarios without using weapons at all."

"But you can use them, so wouldn't that make it violent?"

Glenn had had just about enough of the doofus in the suit. "I have fists, which I could use - say on a woman. That would definitely make me violent," he said pointedly. "But if I've never actually raised my hand to a woman, does that still make me violent?"

"An excellent point! And probably a good point to draw this panel to a close with - thank you to all our panel participants." The moderator ran down the panel again. The musician, who hadn't had a chance to get a word in, looked bored. Glenn waved again, and Rosie rose to bow and blow kisses, which this time did rate applause and laughter. The professor nodded again, and the audience applauded and then began leaving the room.

The professor turned to Rosie with a surprisingly warm smile.

"Thank you, my dear."

Rosie looked surprised. "I'm sorry?"

The professor grinned. "It's been a while since I enjoyed that kind of debate with anyone, so thank you."

She chuckled. "Any time."

The man rose and extended a hand to Glenn, who shook it with a smile. "And you, sir, are a credit to your profession. It was nice to spar with you too."

Glenn nodded with a grin. "I'm just glad I didn't have to slam you through a table to win the argument. It's been known to happen."

The professor laughed, and turned to speak to Rosie, looking surprised when he didn't see her. "Now where on earth did that young woman go?"

It was Glenn's turn to look surprised. She was a slippery one - that was twice she'd ducked out on him. But he didn't have leisure to think about that, as the professor continued to converse with him as they left the room.

###

Rosie took advantage of the professor's thanks to "Kane" to grab her purse and make her exit. She wasn't sure her company manners were going to hold out much longer. This whole convention was beginning to get on her nerves. And whoever set up that damned panel was on her shit list for sure! She didn't mind an academic debate, but goddamn it, that was just a fucking ambush!

For a moment, she was glad that Marty had been taken ill, because he would not have handled that well. Oh, he might have had a bit of a chance to bone up on the research, but she knew Marty - no matter what he said, he would have come off as apologetic. And not for the industry as a whole either - Marty had this way of making things all about Jagged Fang. Great when it came to selling, lousy if it meant defending them against spurious charges.

Thank God for that wrestler though - he wasn't going to be intimidated by anyone. And he'd actually played the 'Last Man Standing' demo - she couldn't have set that up better if she'd tried!

As she leaned against the wall of the elevator, she wondered how in hell Marty had ended up on that particular panel anyway. It wasn't something he'd ever have chosen. Then again, knowing Marty, if they'd asked, he probably wouldn't have had the stones to tell them to go fuck themselves. She wondered how much pull Simon had with the conference organizers. This was just the sort of shitty stunt he'd pull - drop Marty into the deep end, and hope he pulled Jagged Fang in with him.

She mused on this as she opened her room and went in, kicking the door shut behind her. She stripped out of her clothes as she went, and crawled up onto the bed and lay back with a sigh. She could rest for a bit, then she had the worst trial of all to face - the cocktail party.

Reaching for her purse, she turned her cellphone on and called James.

"Hi Rosie," he answered on the first ring.

"Fuck James, you know I hate it when you do that!" she complained.

"Caller ID, Rosie, you really should try it. How did the panel go? Please tell me you didn't flash anyone!"

"Relax, James. I was respectable . . . well, pretty respectable. But you really ought to be glad I was here and not Marty."

James could think of few situations where this would be the case. "You had to fight someone to make a point?"

Rosie snorted. "Not quite - James, I have the nasty suspicion that panel was a setup for Marty."

"How do you mean?"

"How do you think I mean? There was some professor of media studies there, ready with all the 'studies' about kids and violent behaviour after watching violent videos."

"Shit!"

"Exactly. Can you imagine Marty's response to that?"

"He didn't bring up that study from Indiana, did he?"

"The brain scan one? Fuck James, does a bear shit in the woods?"

James dropped his head into his hand, covering his eyes. "Did you lose your temper?"

"No, I did not. Worst that happened was that maybe I got snippy. And sarcastic."

Shit. "Did you use the Disney catalogue?"

"I may have."

Shit. "Did you ask him if he was a serial poisoner?" He'd seen Rosie in action with the Disney catalogue before.

"He denied it," Rosie snorted.

"Oh that's just great."

"Hey, relax. It worked out great. The guy thanked me afterwards, said he enjoyed the debate."

That was the first time he'd ever heard anyone who'd been on the rough edge of Rosie's tongue refer to it as a 'debate'. Maybe it hadn't gone that badly after all. "Who else was on the panel?"

"Now that's something pretty cool - there was this wrestler dude, wearing a mask and everything."

"And this is cool?" That didn't sound like Rosie at all.

"Nah, what's cool is that he'd gotten his hands on the 'Last Man Standing' demo and had already played it! He told them it wasn't violent!"

James had to admit, that was definitely cool. "Did you offer him a pre-release copy as a thank you?"

"Err . . . "

"Rosie!"

"Well, it kinda got awkward, with the professor being nice and stuff. I figured I was overdue to say something mean and I booked."

Jesus. "Terrific. That bodes well for the cocktail party then."

"I kinda figure I'll be okay there - they're supposed to like me."

They hadn't really met her before though, James thought. "True. Well, just remember, the game's tested great, and we've got good pre-orders. And the production's on schedule." Just don't ask me about the code check, please.

"Uh huh. Well, I gotta go - I need to dress for this shindig."

He was afraid to ask. "Schoolgirl? Corset?"

Rosie laughed. "I went out and brought a nice conservative cocktail dress, James - relax."

Relax? Hardly likely. "Okay Rosie, just do your best."

"Shit James, show a little faith in me!"

Rosie snapped the phone shut. James showed all the faith he could muster in praying fervently for things not to fuck up tonight, either with the code check or the cocktail party.

###

At 7.00pm, Rosie left her room and headed for the elevator. She wore a black strapless cocktail dress over her new corset. She'd added the removable garters to the corset and put on a fresh pair of sheer black stockings, and a pair of black high heeled pumps. She wasn't exactly thrilled about this cocktail party, but she figured that she could wing it for an hour and then split.

The function room was up on one of the top floors, and she stepped into the elevator, watching the display change. At least this place didn't have those superfast elevators that always made her feel as if her stomach was in her mouth or her shoes. She left the elevator and headed for the double doors that stood open at the end of the hall in front of her. She raised an eyebrow at the name tag they wanted her to wear, but figured it would at least help her out - she was terrible with names.

She resisted the urge to take a glass of anything alcoholic. Company manners were best practiced when sober. Now, how the hell was she supposed to find her investors? She looked around the room at the assembled guests, hoping to see a face that looked a little familiar. Two men on the far side of the room looked over at her, and one of them seemed to know her. She tried a smile, and they beckoned her over. Okay, let's see how this went, she thought to herself as she crossed the room.

Randy Orton had spotted the redhead as soon as she'd come in to the room, and elbowed Chris Jericho.

"That's her - the one I saw earlier today."

Chris chuckled. She was tiny, even on those high heels. But pretty in an unconventional way. "Hardly more than a mouthful, Randy!"

Mark overheard the conversation and glanced over, shaking his head. He wasn't much of a girl watcher any more, but he had to admit, Randy did usually have an eye for the pretty ones. Chris was right though - she was a half pint.

Rosie smiled with barely concealed relief to find that the men she'd approached were in fact the investors she was here to meet. She shook hands all around, nodding at the introductions, all of which went in one ear and out the other. She could read nametags just fine though.

The conversation wasn't exactly stimulating - she trotted out the lines James had fed her about production being on track, and pre-sales being strong. She mentioned the good focus group results, and even slipped in the wrap that wrestler had given the demo in the panel that afternoon. She was deliberately vague about what they might have in the pipeline, but reassured them the priority for the whole team right now was the final release of 'Last Man Standing'.

She accepted their well wishes for Marty in the hospital, and posed for a photograph with the group by the convention photographer. And she sipped one club soda the whole time, even though she desperately wanted a shot of tequila. Two or three of them, even.

Finally, the investors were ready to move on to dinner. They invited her to join them, but she demurred, saying she wanted a chance to catch up with some of the other game companies here for the convention. One of them joked about corporate espionage and she winked at him and placed a finger to her lips, making them all laugh. She wished them a polite goodnight, and kept the smile plastered on her face as she waved goodbye and they left.

She blew out the breath she felt like she'd been holding all evening, and headed for the bar. Enough with the damn club soda - she wanted a drink! And then she'd blow this pop stand for the night.

Glenn arrived at the cocktail party a bit late, having been caught up with the demo disc again. The game was brilliant, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on the full version. He grabbed a beer from a passing waiter and headed for the corner where the rest of the guys were hanging out. At least tonight he didn't have to wear the damn mask.

He had to laugh - as he approached the group, Randy was pointing out another pretty girl. The man was an incorrigible girl watcher. He'd even gotten Mark involved in the conversation, to Glenn's astonishment.

"No Randy, she's not a patch on the little half pint."

Randy grinned. "You're biased, Mark - the half pint is a redhead, and we know you all stick together."

Redheaded half pint? That could only be one person, Glenn thought as he scanned the room. He spotted her instantly, standing alone and waving to a group of men who were leaving. Good Lord, she changed outfits more often than some of the Divas! This one was pretty sexy though, that fifties style strapless dress with the full skirt, and it showed off those lovely legs. He watched her head for the bar, as he could bet any number of men did, because she had a real sway to her hips on those high heels.

Right, she wasn't ducking out on him a third time. He set down his almost untouched beer and followed her to the bar, standing beside her.

"Hello again."

Rosie turned and looked up. And up. Hell's bells, another one of those giants. And a familiar one. This was the one who'd intervened with Simon.

"Hello. I think I owe you a thank you." Best get this out of the way while she was still sober.

"You do?" He got the feeling she hadn't really recognised him.

"For stepping in when a certain jerk was crossing the line from stupid into . . . well, crossing the line, anyway. Thanks for that."

Well, at least she remembered him from then. He'd just bet all she could remember from the panel this afternoon was the mask. "You're welcome. I'd say you should be more picky about your friends, but from the way you were speaking to him, I don't think he's on your Christmas card list."

Rosie laughed, nodding. "Yeah, you'd be right about that." He seemed nice, she thought. She stuck out her hand. "I'm Rosie Templeton."

Laughing, he took her small hand in his. "I know."

She looked at him, puzzled, then glanced down at her name tag. "Oh, of course you do!" She peered up at him, but his name tag was well above her eye level.

"Oh no, I didn't need the name tag."

Uh oh. She'd dealt with his type before. No way she was hanging around some damn gamer groupie. She went to take a step back from him, but he still held her hand. She looked up at him again, trying to pull her hand free.

Glenn was a bit puzzled by her behaviour. "I meant we met this afternoon, sort of."

Shit, he was a groupie! He'd heard Simon say her name, that must be it. Rosie started to feel panicky.

Suddenly it dawned on him, she couldn't see his name tag, she was too short! Chuckling, he bent down, bringing the tag closer to her eye level. "Read the name tag, Rosie."

Okay, that wasn't usual groupie behaviour. She glanced at the name tag, which read, "Glenn Jacobs, World Wrestling Entertainment".

"I'm not following," she admitted.

"Would it help if I told you my professional name was Kane?"

Comprehension dawned, and Rosie smacked her hand to her forehead. "The panel! You were the guy who liked 'Last Man Standing'!"

Laughing, he stood upright again, releasing her hand. "Yeah, that's me."

She cocked her head as she looked at him. "So, I gotta ask - why were you wearing the mask?"

It was kind of a novelty to meet someone who had no clue who he was. "It's a character gimmick - if I'm appearing somewhere as the character, then I wear the mask."

"Why was that important on the panel?"

He'd wondered that himself. "I guess it's because I'm probably a bigger drawcard as 'Kane' than I am as Glenn Jacobs."

She considered that, and then remembered something James had said. "Hey listen, I didn't get to say so this afternoon, but I really appreciated what you said about the demo of 'Last Man Standing'. I'd like to offer you a pre-release copy to say thanks." Wow, that felt really weird. But just right, like Marty was so good at doing.

Glenn grinned. "I'd normally say that it's not necessary, but I have to admit that I'm loving the demo. So I'd jump at the chance to get my hands on the full version early."

Rosie grinned - now he was talking her language! "Man, that's the best thing to hear!" She opened her purse and dug around in it to find a business card. "Email me your shipping address, and I'll see you get one as soon as we have them available."

He took the card, nodding as he tucked it into his shirt pocket. "I'll do that. So, can I buy you a drink?"

Ohhh no, that was most definitely not cool - she wasn't about to fuck up this perfectly civilised conversation by letting her company manners slip. "That would be nice, but really, I've got to be going. Meeting some folks for dinner." She hid her hand in the folds of her skirt, so he couldn't see her crossed fingers.

He didn't bother to hide his disappointment. "I'm sorry to hear that - I was hoping to talk more to you."

Shit, bad idea. You don't know how bad, buddy. "Another time, perhaps. It was nice meeting you, Glenn." She held out her hand, remembering at the last moment to uncross her fingers.

He took her hand, gently stroking the pad of his thumb across the back of it as he smiled at her. "Likewise, Rosie. Enjoy your evening."

He released her hand, and Rosie watched him walk across the room towards a group of likewise huge guys. She shook her head a little and headed for the door. She'd just have her drink in one of the hotel bars, that was safer.

Randy grinned at him, shaking his head. "Well now that was pretty smooth, big man! Must have been taking some tips from Chris on picking up girls!"

Chris laughed. "Man, I was never that smooth, even at my best!"

Glenn shrugged, grinning. "What can I tell you? I just got me a way with the ladies."

Mark watched him through narrowed eyes, and cornered him a few minutes later. "There's smooth, and then there's Glenn Jacobs, buddy. What's really the deal?"

Chuckling, Glenn shook his head. Mark knew him far too well. "She's one of the game designers at Jagged Fang, we were on that panel discussion together this afternoon."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "And all that hand holding and laughing came from being on a panel together?"

"Well, I ran into her before that, with some jerk giving her a hard time. She remembered me from then, but of course had no clue I was the same guy as the one in the mask on the panel."

"Still doesn't explain getting her phone number so easy," Mark wasn't letting this go.

"I told her I liked the demo of her game. Said so at the panel too. She offered me a pre-release version - the card is so I can email her the address to ship it to."

"You know, up to this point, I'd never seen much use for computer games."

Glenn laughed. "It's probably not going to become widespread, trust me! Rosie's a rare breed - female game designers."

Mark drawled. "You left out the part about good looking."

There was nothing Glenn could say to that.

###

Siimon had been at the cocktail party, still seething over Rosie's performance in the vendor's room, and over the way the panel discussion had ended up. He'd gone to a lot of trouble to set that up, so that Marty could flail around and look stupid, and who should turn up but Rosie? Rosie, who knew all about research methodology, and about everything that people tried to prove about video games.

And he got the funniest feeling that wrestler had known he asked about the violence of 'Last Man Standing'. A little fortuitous that he'd played the demo so early, he thought. Perhaps Rosie had gotten wind of the panel before the convention? That sneaky bitch could have found out who else was on the panel and slipped them an advance copy of the game so they'd be primed to pimp it for her.

He watched her talking to her investors - he'd never thought of her and James getting venture capital for this new game. He didn't like it much - he liked having Jagged Fang working on a shoestring, unable to break into the big markets. If he thought he could get a knock off of this new game out before they did, his own guys would be working on it right now. As it was, they'd reported that the damn demo was built on a state of the art engine they weren't really familiar with. Back engineering it would take months. There had to be some way to get back at them.

He sipped his drink as he watched her head for the bar, and that wrestler immediately followed her. Fuck! He knew it, she'd known that wrestler before! They were plenty chummy too. And what was that she slipped him - her keycard maybe?

Siimon saw red. Bitch had made it very clear she didn't want him, and now she was fucking around on James. That had to be useful information. As she left the cocktail party, Siimon followed her. He figured she'd hit a bar before she went back to her room to take on that wrestler.

Rosie sank onto a bar stool with a sigh of pleasure, and crossed her legs. As good as being alone - no one who knew her here, and she coulld enjoy a few drinks without worrying about saying the wrong thing. The first tequila didn't even touch the sides. The second she just sipped. Dear God, she'd actually gotten through it! She hadn't fucked up, hadn't offended anyone mortally, and tomorrow morning she could go home and back to the normal world.

She was lifting her glass to her lips when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Got to hit the hard stuff, hey Rosie?"

She didn't bother to turn around. "Fuck the hell off, Simon."

He sat on the stool next to hers. "Why, Rosie? Don't want me to know what you're up to?"

"And just exactly what the fuck do you think I'm 'up to'?"

"You're about to go upstairs and fuck that wrestler, aren't you? Getting some Dutch courage up before you whore yourself out to him?"

Rosie finally turned to look at him. "You've lost your fucking mind."

"Come on Rosie, you mean to tell me you aren't going to pay him in tail for services rendered? There has to be some quid pro quo for him pimping out your new game."

She snorted. "Only you would think of something that crass."

Siimon leaned in close to her. "Does James know his little fuckbuddy is about to go upstairs and bang another man? Is that part of the deal now? You fuck them to 'help out'?"

Rosie closed her eyes against the fury that was rising up in her. "Simon, you miserable worm, get the fuck out of my face now!"

"Oh you don't like being reminded of James when you're about to fuck someone else? That bother you, Rosie?"

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at him with cold contempt. "Listen to me, you pathetic prick. I was never sleeping with James. That was a lie you told yourself, because it was easier for you to think that I was sleeping with someone else than that I would prefer my bed to be empty rather than sleep with you. Well you were wrong - I couldn't stand the thought of being near you, let alone sleeping with you. You disgusted me then, and you disgust me now."

His hand came up, quicker than she thought possible, and he back-handed her across the face, the ring he wore drawing blood along her cheekbone. She reared back in surprise, and almost toppled off her stool, her hand coming up to her cheek as she grabbed at the bar to steady herself.

The bartender was at her side in a moment, and when Siimon moved to get off his stool, the bartender spoke.

"I don't think so, sir - you'll stay right there until Security arrives."

Two Security guards arrived a minute later, one of them taking Siimon's arm firmly while the other came to Rosie's side. They were both escorted from the bar, and Rosie's cheeks flamed. This was just fucking perfect! But her embarrassment was short-lived - the Security guards escorted her to their office, and took a look at the mark on her cheek in the better lighting, and then snapped a Polaroid of it before offering her an ice pack.

They seemed ready to have to convince her to press charges, but she cut them off, insisting that she wanted to do just that. She didn't have to wait long for someone from the Las Vegas Police Department to arrive to take her statement, and to take possession of the Polaroid of her cheek. They even snapped another one, as the bruise was starting to show. The bartender was a willing witness to the assault in the bar, and Rosie hesitated to mention the altercations she'd had with Simon earlier in the day. Tania could certainly provide a statement about how Simon had come to the booth, but she wasn't sure about the wrestler guy. She explained the situation with him, and promised that once he got in touch with her, she would ask him if he would give a statement. But she thought it unlikely - the poor guy was just here to do the cconvention, it hardly seemed fair to drag him into this mess.

Finally, she was free to go, and to her immense satisfaction, as she crossed the lobby, she could see Simon in handcuffs being loaded into the back of a police cruiser. She should call James and let him know. But first, she wanted a drink to get the taste of Simon out of her mouth.

###

Glenn left the elevator and headed for the quietest of the bars in the hotel after dinner. He didn't feel like going back to his room just yet, and a few quiet drinks sounded like a good idea. He gave his order and his room number to the cocktail waitress who was circulating through the bar, and headed for the sectional sofa seating in the far corner. As he sat down, a wry chuckle sounded from beside him.

"Hello again."

Turning, he peered into the darkness, and smiled when he recognised Rosie, who was leaning back against the sofa in the corner, deep in the shadows.

"Hello yourself."

He went to move closer to her and she shook her head. "Probably not a good idea."

"Why?" he asked.

"I bite," came the curt answer.

He laughed, moving closer anyway. "I'm a big boy, I'll cope."

"Your funeral."

The waitress came towards them, setting down his beer. He smiled at Rosie. "Can I buy you that drink now?"

"Sure, why not? Tequila, straight up."

He nodded at the waitress and took a mouthful of his beer. "Did you enjoy your dinner date?"

"Not especially."

This wasn't exactly how he expected a conversation with her to be going. "Rosie, is something wrong?"

She snorted. "Nothing. Everything. I'm not wearing my company manners, so you never know."

He leaned in closer. "Are you drunk?"

She turned her face from him. "No."

Okay, this maybe wasn't such a good idea. "Would you prefer it if I left?"

There was no answer, and he shook his head and started to rise, but a small hand clutched for his, and she whispered, "Please." It was as close as she would get to an admission of need.

He sat back down, thoroughly confused. He could hear the rustle of her dress as she sat up more, bringing her face into the circle of soft light that illuminated the table in front of the sofa. His eyes widened as he saw the bruise and the deep scratch on her cheek. "Rosie . . . "

"This time, you weren't there to grab his hand." There was no accusation in the words, just a statement of fact.

His own hand moved then, fingers gentle on her chin as he turned her head to see her cheek more clearly. "I'll bet that hurts."

She leaned back again, removing her face from his grip. "Not as much as you might think."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did he hit you?"

"Because he's an asshole whose never gotten over the fact that I wouldn't sleep with him in college."

Glenn shook his head and drank some more of his beer. "And why doesn't it hurt as much as I might think?"

There was a snort of laughter at that. "Because righteous fury trumps pain, every fucking time."

He leaned back himself, resting his arm along the back of the sofa. "I don't get it."

Rosie turned to him, drawing one foot up under her. "He thought I was going upstairs to fuck you - that's what started it all."

"He . . . what?!"

"He thought I was in the bar getting up some Dutch courage before I went upstairs to fuck you."

"Okay, I'm still not getting this - why would you be fucking me?"

She chuckled, reaching out to pat his cheek. "Don't you think you're fuckable, Glenn?" Hey, look at that, she'd even remembered his name.

He had to laugh. "Well, okay, but I get the feeling there's more to the story than that!"

Rosie nodded. "Oh yeah. You see, in his world, the only reason you'd say one of my games was any good is because I promised to fuck you after you did."

"Some kind of lay for play deal?"

She snorted. " 'Lay for play' - that's a good one. Yeah, that's the idea. But of course, I'd need to be drunk before I fucked you." She reached out for the shot of tequila and tossed it back with a shiver of pleasure.

"But I'm fuckable - so why do you need to be drunk to fuck me?" He drained his beer and signalled to the waitress for a fresh round.

"Guilt."

"Guilt?"

"Yep."

"What are you guilty about?"

"Because I'm fucking you instead of my business partner and best friend."

"I can see where that would be a problem."

"It's no problem."

"It's not?"

"Nope."

"Okay, I'm lost again."

Rosie chuckled. "The asshole that walks like a man has always figured that I was James's fuckbuddy. Only I'm not. Never have been. James and I are best friends, hell we love one another, as much as anyone can love me anyway, but never ever sex."

He started to see the picture now, and it wasn't pretty. "I'm happy for you, to have that with James."

"Yeah, me too. But Simon, he had to believe I was sleeping with James. Because the alternative was that I'd rather sleep alone than sleep with him. And his ego couldn't cope with that."

Glenn shook his head again, and picked up the fresh beer. "And so he hates you for sleeping with James, so he thinks, and he hates James for sleeping with you, so he thinks, and I'll bet he hates me because you're about to sleep with me, so he thinks."

"He's just fulla hate," Rosie sipped her tequila.

He drank deeply. "He's fulla something, that's for sure. What an asshole."

"Damn right he is!"

"I'd like to hit him across the face, see how he likes it."

"You can't."

"Why not? I hit people for a living - I'm good at it!" he grinned.

Rosie snorted. "You can't because he's been arrested."

"No shit?"

"No shit. I pressed charges on his sorry ass."

"That's good news!"

"I know."

He drank again. "I have to say, I'm kind of intrigued by this whole notion of you coming upstairs to fuck me." Whoa, had he said that out loud?

"Yeah, me too. Dunno where he got that from."

"Hey, I thought you said I was fuckable!"

Rosey grinned and tossed off the rest of her tequila. "You are."

"Then why is it suddenly an idea out of left field?"

She snorted. "As if a minor plug for a demo is worth a fuck."

He laughed. "I'm not familiar with the exchange rate for that sort of thing, myself." He took a deep draught of his beer. "What do you think it's worth?"

She signalled the waitress for another round. "Well, I dunno. I don't think it's worth me getting naked."

Glenn swept his eyes over her and grinned. "Fine by me. But I think I deserve something for the effort."

"No disputing that. I'm assuming that I couldn't skate with a back rub or some such shit?"

He chuckled. "Hey, this is a serious negotiation here. Don't you flake out on me, now!"

Rosie sipped her fresh drink. "Okay. Maybe a hand job?"

He finished his beer and set the empty down. "No dice. Why would I want something I can get as self service?" He was so not having this conversation.

"You have a point. Although I do give a great hand job. Blowjob?"

"Now we're in the ballpark," he drawled, reaching for his fresh beer. Okay, maybe he was.

"And you're no doubt going to want this to happen upstairs in your room. No quickie here in the bar?"

What the hell - was she serious? "Absolutely not! If a job is worth doing, it's worth doing well. Besides, it's too dark in here - I like to watch."

Rosey grinned again. So much for company manners. Shit, who cared? They were just having a little fun. "I told you, I'm not getting naked."

"You don't need to. There's something very hot about looking down at a woman kneeling between my legs with her lips around m . . . me." Jesus, he couldn't believe he was admitting these things to her.

"Oh, you want to be sitting down for it?"

"Well I figured that if you weren't getting naked, then I don't need to. So yeah, I got a nice comfortable armchair upstairs - that'll do nicely."

"I see. Are we going to quibble about duration?"

Glenn laughed. "I think that's a bit mean spirited. I do reserve the right to request specifics though."

"Oh you won't insist on timing, but you do want to dictate technique? Interesting." Damned interesting. Her eyes flicked over his body.

"Well, there are some things I love. If you're not doing them, I'd like to be able to suggest them to you."

"I see. Well, I think my technique's pretty good, but hey, you're never too old to learn something new. I can agree to that."

"So you're good at this, huh?" Holy shit, he really needed to stop drinking.

Rosie grinned, raising her glass to her lips. There was a distinctive clink as she drank. "Secret weapon."

He gave a slow grin. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

She flicked her tongue out at him, revealing the silver stud through it, and winked. "Don't say you haven't been warned."

"Fuck!"

"I told you, not for just a minor plug on a demo."

Now he was starting to get seriously interested, well beyond academic curiousity. "Alright, I'll bite. What would warrant a fuck?"

She tapped a finger on her chin. "Well, now, I'm not really sure. It's a sliding scale, you see. I need to think my way through it like that."

"Okay, we can do that. Let's slide that scale up a notch - what's the next payment level, and what do I need to do to get it?"

Rosie leaned forward a little, a gleam in her eyes. "I think that might involve me getting naked for your blowjob."

He licked his lips, his eyes roving over her. "I'd buy that - what's it going to cost me?"

"Let's say it's a major plug for the demo - maybe saying you can't wait for the full version, urging gamers to pre-order."

"Hmmmm. Well, so long as I get to watch you undress, I think I could manage that."

Seriously? "Okay."

"What's the next step after that?"

"Oh, the next step has to have something in it for me, I think."

"That sounds fair. What would you suggest?"

"Well, if I'm getting naked, I think you should too."

"Wait - what's in this for me?"

She clicked her tongue stud gently against the back of her teeth and smiled. "I was thinking that if you got naked, we could do the blowjob with you stretched out on the bed."

He couldn't help the shiver that ran through him, imagining both of them naked on his bed. And she had a tongue stud, for fuck's sake. "And what would that cost me?"

"Perhaps a picture to go with that major plug?"

"That's . . . reasonable." More than reasonable!

"I thought so."

"I'm imagining that there's a fairly hefty jump to the next level though."

"I'm afraid so - we could fool around with some other stuff, combinations and the like, but I think the next step would involve penetration, and that's gonna cost you."

He held up his hand. "Whoa, hang on a minute. Let's not to be too hasty here. Not that I'm not all for fucking, but these combinations you mention - that sounds interesting."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

She shrugged and gestured for another round. "Well, maybe it's two blowjobs, or a blowjob and a handjob. Or, with a little preparation, we could try a body slide."

"A what?"

She stared at him. "You've never had a body slide?"

"I don't think so."

Rosie chuckled. "I think you'd remember if you had. We'd need some towels and baby oil."

"You have my attention." Glenn shifted a little on the sofa.

"How it works is that I kneel on the bed and pour the baby oil over my body, and rub it in slowly. While you lay there naked and watch me."

His pants felt very snug suddenly. "I can see the attraction in that."

"But that's only the start - then I lay down on top of you and rub my body all over yours."

His eyes almost rolled back in his head, imagining that, and it took him a moment to find his voice again. "You're right, I think I'd remember that. What's the price for something like that?"

"Well, there's time and effort, and then the actual body slide. I think I'd have to ask for publicity for the full version of the game."

"Not that it's not a fair price, but I have to ask, given that - what on earth would I have to give for a fuck?"

She carefully aligned her shot glass on the table in front of her, turning it slowly. "That would be a magazine review of the full game, complete with pictures."

He took a long swallow of his fresh beer.

"There is another level beyond a fuck."

He stared at her. "What's better than a fuck?"

She leaned forward very slowly, her hands behind her back, and wrapped her lips around the shot glass. In a swift move, she lifted her head, the glass trapped in her mouth, tossing her head back to drink the shot. As her head came forward, he could see her tongue licking delicately inside the glass, capturing every drop of the tequila, a muted click every time her tongue stud touched the surface. She parted her lips, and the empty glass tumbled into her outstretched hand. She licked her lips as she set the glass down.

"That would be the no holds barred buffet - everything on the menu, as often as you like."

Jesus wept - he could feel his cock twitching after that little show, and now she was offering him carte blanche. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

She gave him a slow sensual smile. "I'd own you. All the publicity I want, however I want."

"Tempting."

She raised an eyebrow. "No qualms at all about that?"

He chuckled. "I rather think that by the time I'd got my fill, you'd be the one questioning the wisdom of the deal."

"Is that a fact?"

"Yes ma'am." Hell yes, in fact. The way he was feeling right now, he might just tear her in half when, not if, he got her into bed.

"Interesting. But I've just remembered something that makes all of these negotiations null and void."

"And what is that?"

"Well I've already offered you payment for your kind words on the demo, in the form of a pre-release copy, and you accepted."

He laughed to cover his disappointment. "Damn! You're right. Just as well, I really wasn't comfortable with you pimping yourself out for the game anyway." But he also hadn't figured her for a cocktease.

Rosie grinned. "I wouldn't have made you pay for it either."

Really, Glenn thought. That was more like it! He grinned back. "So if I suggest we go upstairs and do it all for fun, what might the answer be?"

Fuck! She really hadn't thought he'd swing at that pitch. Still, he was fuckable . . .

"It might be yes - it all depends."

Was he serious about this? His eyes travelled over that rather delectable body and his groin responded strongly in the affirmative. "Depends on what?"

She licked her lips, inching a little closer to him. "Well, if we're doing it for fun, there needs to be some good old animal attraction, wouldn't you say?"

He grinned, tracing one finger over her bare shoulder. "I'm with you there. Got any ideas about how we could test for that?"

His finger felt warm against her skin. "Ever hear of pheremones?"

Glenn raised an eyebrow. "Pheremones?"

"Fancy way of saying that we pick partners who smell good to us," Rosie said, her eyes travelling over him.

"Of course. Ladies first, please." He leaned back against the sofa, his powerful arms stretched out across the back of it.

She caught her breath - damn, there was something so fucking sexy about how he moved! She rose to her knees on the sofa and leaned in close to him, her face close to his neck, inhaling deeply.

And grabbed for the sofa back as she swayed, biting down on a moan. Fuck, fuck, fuck but he smelled good! A mix of the fresh scent of his cologne and the warmer smell that was just . . . pure fucking male animal. Oh yeah, Rosie want!

She took a deep breath as she sat back on her heels, and then another. That was better. Now she didn't feel surrounded by that intoxicating smell of him. "Your turn."

He grinned at her. "I don't get the verdict first?"

Chuckling, she shook her head. "And have that influence your own test? I think not - no sloppy research methods here."

Glenn winked. "In the name of science then."

He sat up, his eyes closing as he leaned in to her. He breathed her in - her fragrance was a mix of deep tones of musk and sandalwood, absolutely primal scents, and he couldn't tell what was perfume and what was just her. She smelled like a million good things, and it was an effort to straighten up and take himself away from her. Finally he opened his eyes and looked at her.

She felt a quiver deep inside her. "Shall we have the verdicts?"

"Please."

"Very well - I can report a positive reaction."

"Positive?"

"Strongly positive." she nodded.

"I see. I can report the same."

Rosie looked at him levelly. "Then perhaps we should move on to the next step."

"Which is?"

"Physical compatibility."

It was his turn to look at her, considering her. Time to make it clear that he thought they should step up for real. He moved quickly for a big man, shifting closer to her and taking her hand, placing it on his crotch, where she could feel how hard he was getting.

His voice was low as he leaned into her. "I've got a cock to fuck you with - how's that for compatibility?"

Her eyes widened. Fuck! Her fingers could feel the size of him through his pants, and there was no mistaking his erection, though she had an idea he wasn't all the way hard yet. She swung one leg over his lap and straddled him, the full skirt of her cocktail dress settling over them, and lightly ground her hips against that big bulge, looking up into his eyes as her hands slid up over his broad chest.

"That will most defintely help." She leaned in to nuzzle at the base of his throat. "But I was thinking more about how we felt about touching each other."

His hands came up to stroke from her shoulders down her back, gently cupping her ass as he pulled her closer to him. "I feel very inclined to touch you."

She darted out her tongue to lick up his neck as her arms wound up around his neck. "Likewise. I'm wondering - how do you feel about kissing?"

Glenn's eyes closed for a moment, savouring the feel of her body against his, and then he opened them, smiling at her. "I'm all for it." He leaned down as his hand came up to tip her chin up gently, and brushed his lips softly against hers.

Rosie resisted the urge to whimper - no fair! She wanted more than that, even it did feel tender and pretty damned special. Her hand cupped the back of his neck as she kissed him back, more firmly, grinding herself against him as she did. His lips were soft, which made the slight roughness of his beard against her skin rather delicious by comparison.

He caught his breath as their lips parted, looking into her face. Two could play at that game. One big hand came up, tangling in her short red hair as he tilted his head and kissed her hard, his tongue stroking firmly over her lips. Her body shuddered lightly against him as her lips parted under his, and her tongue darted out to touch his. He growled softly into the kiss, pulling her closer to him as he felt her tongue stud, the hard little bump of metal a shocking surprise compared to the softness of her tongue. He could taste the tequila she'd been drinking, and his head swam a little with wanting her.

Ohhhhh fuck, thought Rosie wildly as the kiss ended, although she did not pull away from him. She could almost feel the warmth of those lips on hers, so close they were as she whispered, "I think we should go upstairs . . . now."

Glenn shook his head, giving her another of those slow grins. "Not yet." He claimed her lips again, another hard kiss, this time his tongue deep in her mouth as one hand moved up to cup her breast.

She couldn't help but moan into his lips as she sucked on his tongue, grinding against him, feeling that big warm hand on her breast. Fuck but he could kiss!

They were both panting a little when their lips parted, and Glenn leaned to whisper in her ear, "Now we need to go upstairs."

She could only nod, feeling a little dazed as she rose to her feet, looking around for her purse. She was conscious of Glenn standing beside her, his arm going around her shoulders. Funny, he didn't seem the cuddly type but then her sideways glance showed the tent he was pitching in the front of his pants. Far from making her laugh, it made her mouth go dry, and she moved a little closer to him, hoping to hide it from curious glances. He caught her movement and whispered a thank you before leading her to the elevators.

Once inside, he moved with that scary quickness again, turning to face her and lifting her easily in his arms so that he could kiss her. Her arms went around his neck in a reflex action as her lips parted for his kiss, and her legs seemed to lock around his waist of their own accord. His hands cupped her ass, and some part of her mind marvelled at how strong he was, but mostly she was only interested in his kisses.

The elevator door opened and closed twice on the twelfth floor before either of them noticed, and Glenn punched at the door open button to keep them that way as he carried Rosie out into the hallway and down to his room, fishing in his pocket for his keycard while she teased at his earlobe with her tongue stud, making him clutch her closer to him with his other hand, growling deep in his throat with desire.

Pushing open the door, he carried her inside, kicking it closed behind him and tossing the keycard down onto the table, now able to hold her close with both arms. Rosie nuzzled at his neck with a moan, filling her nostrils with the scent of him, only just aware of him kneeling on the bed and lowering them both to it. When his arms withdrew from around her, she clutched at him and he chuckled softly, bending his head to kiss her softly.

"Relax, Rosie, I'm not going anywhere. Just want to look at you, and perhaps do some more of that touching," he winked at her, his hand moving over the fabric of her dress to once again cup her breast as he lay beside her. Not to mention giving himself a chance to cool down a little - he could feel his cock throbbing already and he didn't want to blow it with her, so to speak.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as her back arched, running her hand slowly up his arm. Jesus, he had muscles on his muscles, it felt like, and that chest - she brushed the backs of her fingers across it. He was so big, so solid, so fucking male. She ran her finger down the neckline of his shirt and undid the first button, leaning in to nuzzle at his throat, and bringing her breast more firmly to his hand, just by chance of course.

He closed his eyes, savouring the feel of her close to him, and his hand moved from her breast, travelling over her dress, fingers seeking out the zipper in the back and drawing it slowly down. As the dress parted, his hand slipped inside and he gave a soft groan as he encountered not her skin but satin, and with a little more exploration, laces. He whispered, "A corset?"

Rosie nodded slightly, her tongue darting out to lick at his neck as she undid another button on his shirt. His skin was unbelievably smooth, which she found incredibly erotic.

He groaned again, giving a little shiver. His hands came up to her shoulders, gently pushing her back from him to look into her eyes as he whispered, "Take off your dress for me, Rosie - let me see you."

Holding her dress to her breasts with one arm, she moved off the bed, holding out her hand to him. He took it, sitting up as she tugged gently. She smiled at him. "You take off your shirt first, please?"

He could see their reflections in the mirror that stretched across the wall facing the bed, and his breath caught as he looked at her back, her dress unzipped, the laces of her corset visible. And then his eyes travelled over her front - was there anything sexier than a woman holding her clothes on with one hand? He unbuttoned his shirt slowly and stripped it off, tossing it aside.

Rosie's eyes closed and she swayed minutely, for a moment overwhelmed. His chest was so sculpted, and those abs - fuck, just like a washboard with that definition. Only he didn't look musclebound, just . . . natural. Opening her eyes again, she reached around behind her and drew the zipper of her dress all the way down, and then took her arm from her breasts, allowing the dress to fall to the floor.

Glenn's eyes widened, looking at her. Black satin against her fair skin - christ, it was like an electric shock to his groin. He reached out to her, his hands gentle on her hips as he drew her closer to stand between his legs, his eyes devouring her. His fingers stroked up her sides, over the boning of the corset, and then down her back, following the curve of her hips. He loved corsets, and the garters and stockings were the icing on the cake.

Her hands stroked over his broad shoulders and she licked her lips, bringing one knee up onto the bed, moving closer to him. Her body pressed close to his as she slid down to straddle his lap, one hand on the back of his head as she kissed him slowly, teasing at his lips with her tongue until he parted them for her. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss.

She moaned softly against his lips, her fingers stroking through his hair, feeling its silky texture, while the other explored his back, feeling the play of his muscles under that smooth skin. She ground her hips to his, giving a little gasp of surprise at how hard he was, that thought alone making her shudder. Hot on the heels of that came another thought, and she broke the kiss to whisper hoarsely, "I want to taste you, Glenn."

It was his turn to moan, his hands again tracing a path over her back, feeling the corset, looking into her eyes. She lifted herself from his lap, looking around at the armchair and then back at him with a sinful little smile, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "That chair does look comfortable, and I know how much you like to watch. But I think you should be naked."

He hadn't thought he could get any harder, but his cock twitched at her words and he shuddered. She sank down to her knees in front of him, her fingers busy undoing his belt before he could even move. She drew the zip of his fly down slowly and he almost sighed with relief as his cock was relieved of the pressure on it. Her hands moved down his legs, and he watched as she removed his shoes, setting them and his socks neatly aside. He hadn't picked her for the submissive type, and he was relieved when she looked up at him with a hungry expression.

"Now, strip."

Fuck yes, he thought - he liked a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to ask for it! He stood up and pushed off his pants and shorts, while she licked her lips, watching him. He stepped away from her and headed for the armchair, sitting down and leaning back, his legs apart, and crooked a finger at her with a grin. "Come get it, Rosie."

Kneeling at his feet when he stood up, Rosie's head swam - he seemed almost frighteningly big from this perspective, but fuck, how sexy was that? He moved with such damn grace, that was sexy as fuck too, and the way he sat in the armchair . . . she swore, if she sat here and looked at him like that for much longer, she was gonna start the party without him, and that would be a damn shame.

His grin sent a shiver through her, as did that crooked finger - so he wanted to play, did he? Well, then, she'd play. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled towards him slowly, her hips swaying, looking up at him from under her spiky bangs.

His cock bobbed with a life of its own as he groaned, watching her. Jesus christ, she was sexy! She nuzzled her cheek to his leg as she reached him, and her hands came up to run slowly over his thighs. He gasped when she suddenly pushed them wider and bent her head to sweep her tongue over his balls. His hips bucked up as he moaned helplessly, feeling the stud in her tongue like an exclamation point in that incredible sensation.

Rosie gave him another of those smiles and kneeled up, licking her lips. She took his cock in her hand and ran the tip of her tongue along its underside with agonising slowness, while he squirmed in the chair, moaning. Then she did it again, this time with the flat of her tongue, and he whimpered, feeling the stud drag over every pulsing vein. Droplets of pre-cum formed at the head of his cock, and she slowly swirled the tip of her tongue around him, collecting them, giving a shudder of pleasure at the taste of him. He clutched at the arms of the chair, feeling lightheaded.

She looked up at him and began to slowly stroke his shaft, then curled her tongue around the head again, letting the stud trace the flare, and his hips bucked hard as he groaned. She slowly stretched her lips over the head, her tongue swirling wetly over him, and his hips bucked again, giving her more of his pre-cum. Her eyes were dark with lust as she looked up at him, rubbing the flat of her tongue against the underside of his cock, right near the head, the stud dragging over that spot where it met the head. Her other hand slipped between his legs as she did, and the feel of her hand cupping his balls while her tongue rubbed that stud right there was the end of his control.

He cried out hoarsely, his hips pistoning up as he came. His body arched hard and then he collapsed back into the chair, breathing hard, only barely aware of her hands gently stroking his thighs and her tongue now soft as she released his cock with a gentle kiss, which caused another buck of his hips and a low groan. She smiled, licking her lips, and gently rested her head against his thigh as she looked up at him. It took a few moments for him to catch his breath, but when he had, he immediately reached for her, pulling her into his lap and kissing her hard.

Her arms went around his neck as she returned his kiss, straddling his hips as she pressed close to him. His hands roamed over her body, still marvelling at the corset she wore. Beautiful as it was, it had to go - he wanted to see all of her. He leaned her back, supporting her easily with one hand as he kissed down her neck and across her chest, losing himself in the scent of her. She clutched at his hair, moaning softly at the warmth of his breath on her skin, and then she felt his chuckle as his fingers discovered the line of hooks and eyes that held her corset closed.

"This is going to need two hands, I think. Hold on, Rosie," he warned, rising from the chair, holding her up easily.

She gasped, her arms tightening around his neck. Dear god, those muscles! He took the few steps to the bed and seemed about to lay her down on it . Instead, he climbed onto it and leaned back against the headboard with her still held in his arms. As he kissed her, he gently removed her arms from around his neck, ignoring the soft sounds of protest she made, kissing down over her jaw to her neck, as she leaned back. Nuzzling up to her ear, his hands caressing her, he whispered, "Turn around, Rosie."

Shifting on his lap, Rosie looked up at him, and his big hands lifted her as he turned her, settling her with her back to his chest. His hands stroked firmly down over her breasts as he whispered, "I want to be able to see you."

See her? Rosie was confused, until she saw the mirror opposite the bed, giving a soft indrawn breath as she saw them reflected there. She seemed so small compared to him, but that was the last even semi-rational thought she had, as his caressing hands roamed over her body. Knowing he was looking at her, at them, as he touched her, seemed the most erotic thing imaginable, and the way his breathing came faster in her ear said he was getting off on it too.

She placed her hands over his, guiding them over her body, showing him how she liked to be touched, giving herself to him. He gave a low growl in her ear as his hands learned her, and after she let her hands fall away, her gasps and moans let him know he was still on the right track. He made short work of her garters as he caressed her, and then slowly, he undid the line of hooks and eyes, caressing her as he did, kissing her neck as her head leaned back against his chest. He moaned deep in his throat as the corset finally parted, revealing her body.

His big hands lightly skimmed down over her breasts to the indentation of her waist and then over her hips before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him, whispering, "Beautiful."

That one word sent shivers through her, although it may have been the hoarseness of his voice as he said it. He released her long enough to tug her corset free and deposit it on the floor before his hands were back on her body. His fingertips teased at her nipples, loving the breathy little cries she made at that touch, how she writhed against him. His lips sought her shoulder, kissing along to her neck, as one hand slowly moved down her body to rub over her black satin panties.

Her hips bucked to his fingers and he growled, biting gently at the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Rosie whimpered helplessly, her body shuddering against his. He worked his fingers under her panties, curling them slowly through her folds, delighted when that made her buck even more. He was torn between wanting to stretch her out on the bed and bury his face between her thighs, and the thrill he was getting from looking at her in the mirror as he touched her. He skated a finger over her clit and watched the expression on her face, feeling his cock stirring. She was staying right where she was.

Glenn slowly eased her panties off, giving a low groan as her bare ass settled back on his lap. She wriggled against his hardening cock and he pulled her closer to him as his hand once more dipped between her thighs. He teased at her nipple as he gently stroked his fingers over her clit, delighted when she rocked her hips up to his touch. He gently pushed one finger inside her, moaning when she clenched herself around it. His palm rubbed against her clit as he slid his finger in and out of her, and he was transfixed by the look on her face as she moaned and rocked her hips harder to his hand.

He whispered hoarsely, "That's it Rosie, I want you to come for me."

Fuck, as if she needed any encouragement! His hands and fingers were touching her exactly how she loved it, and she could feel his hard cock under her ass as he held her against his big body. And she was surrounded by the scent of him, that warm male scent that was driving her twelve different kinds of crazy. She threw her head back with a breathless moan as her hips thrust up to his hand harder.

With a shudder of delight, he responded to her movement, adding a second finger, thrusting harder as he ground the heel of his hand against her clit. Which was exactly what she needed, and she gasped, "Fuck, yes!"

Her body tensed against his, and then she arched up with a howl of pleasure as she came. Her inner walls spasmed around his fingers as her hips bucked hard and her body shuddered. He was transfixed by the look on her face, that mix of surprise and satisfaction, nuzzling at her neck as she panted softly, holding her close to him. He withdrew his fingers gently, and brought them to his lips, groaning at the taste of her.

Rosie watched with a little moan as he licked his fingers, feeling a renewed surge of heat at his actions. She wriggled against his cock and was rewarded with a moan from him. She knew what she wanted now and she turned her head to nuzzle against his chest, whispering, "Glenn, let's fuck."

Jesus, could this night get any better, he wondered, as his hands caressed her. Except for one small thing - well, actually, she was the small thing. He didn't want to hurt her and he had an idea he could that very easily. He nuzzled behind her ear. "I'd love to, Rosie. How do you think we should fuck, hmmm?"

He had a point, she thought, seeing their reflection again in the mirror, and how he absolutely dwarfed her. Well, there was one way she knew - she moved off his lap and then straddled him again, her arms going around his neck as she faced him. "I like this position, personally. Very good for fucking, and for kissing." She leaned in to kiss him, her breasts brushing against his chest.

His hands came up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples as he kissed her, his tongue sliding over hers slowly. "An excellent point, and position." It did mean she'd be doing most of the work, but he'd just have to make that up to her later.

Moaning, she rose up on her knees, reaching down between them to hold his cock as she guided it into her. She shuddered, feeling the warmth of the head pressing against her - fuck, he was big! She eased down on him very slowly, gasping softly. His hands went to her waist to steady her, even as he moaned helplessly at the tight warm feel of her. It took all his self control not to thrust up into her, especially when she began rocking her hips to ease his size into her more.

She whimpered helplessly, her hands on his shoulders, beginning to make slow thrusts against him, shuddering at the feel of him inside her, such delicious friction. His hands slid up to her breasts, cupping them, his thumbs brushing over the nipples, sending a bolt of heat through her. When he bent his head to lick at them, she clutched at his hair and cried out, her hips bucking to his. Her inner walls clenched around him, increasing the slippery friction, and she began to make slightly harder thrusts.

His hands went back to her waist, holding her steady as his lips fastened around one nipple, suckling on it as she thrust against his cock. He couldn't believe how tight and wet she was, and how good she felt.

The feel of his mouth on her nipple had her moaning, and she rotated her hips in a slow move as she thrust harder to him, shuddering at the feel of him. His response was to clutch her more tightly to him and to suckle harder on her nipple. She moaned louder, shuddering with delight, and her hips drove faster to his as she tangled her hands in his hair.

His hands dropped away from her waist to brace himself on the bed as he thrust his hips up to hers, not able to resist the urge any longer. She clutched his shoulders to steady herself, meeting his thrusts, moaning as she ground her hips to his with each stroke. He looked into her face, barely holding himself back, every thrust prolonging the exquisite tight hot feel of her. She began to keen breathlessly, her thrusts becoming harder, and he could feel himself swelling inside her, and he groaned.

Her nails dug painfully into his shoulders as she came, her hips bucking hard to his, her inner walls spasming along his throbbing length. The feel of that was all it took to trigger his own release, and he clutched her close to him as he came, moaning her name. She slumped against his chest, panting, her body shuddering with pleasure.

Moving carefully, he eased them both down on the bed, still holding her in his arms, his breathing gradually returning to normal. She gave a little whimper as his cock slipped out of her, but she did not move from his chest. He flailed for the lightswitch, and she gave a breathless little chuckle and stilled his hand, reaching out to get the switch herself.

His lips found hers in the dark, and he kissed her deeply. "Glad you came upstairs with me?"

She chuckled against his lips. "Oh yeah, Glenn. 'Specially since I came twice."

He ran his hand down her back. "Hey, night's not over yet, Rosie. Who knows, you might get lucky again."

Fuck! What was he, the Energizer Bunny? Still, definitely fuckable - supremely so, in fact. "If you can go again, tiger, I'll take you on."

His answer was a sleepy little chuckle. "You might have to wait a bit, I think. Those beers are catching up with me."

Now that he mentioned it, she was feeling a bit swimmy herself. Nothing like tequila for sneaking up on a girl. "Yeah, I think I could use a little nap time too."

His hand stroked down her back and over the curve of her ass. "Don' go nowhere, Rosie."

"Wouldn't dream of it, tiger," she murmured, as she fumbled her way off his big body and cuddled into his side. He did smell good, after all.

The only response she got was a sleepy snore. She tucked her head against him, willing the room not to start spinning as she closed her eyes. Her last waking thought was that it appeared there were some pros to going to conventions after all.

Continue to Part the Second - Cons

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