I have written stories for years, never expecting anything to come of it. Sure, I’ve won a writing prize or two, but that was years ago. Now I write in order to express my thoughts, frustrations, ideas, and emotions. Until recently, my literature was only seen by those whom I showed it to. But due to my recent fixation with web design, I was able to get my opinions and writings into the mass media. I often receive feedback concerning my religious or ethical views, but I rarely receive qualitative comments concerning my fiction or poetry. Until one day…

    It was about nine in the morning, and I was reading over my French assignment for the afternoon, when the phone rang. I was curious who would call me at this hour. My friends usually just stop by, since I have no roommate.
    “Hello?”
    “May I speak to Antoinette Drew, please?” The voice on the other end was low and authoritative, professional. I didn’t recognize it, and my curiosity was immediately piqued.
    “Speaking.”
    “Hello Antoinette. How are you this morning?”
    I chuckled softly to myself. Phone solicitor, I thought. “I’m fine, yourself?”
    “I’m doing quite well, actually. May I ask you a question?”
    “Certainly, but may I ask my own?”
    “Certainly.”
    “To whom am I speaking?”
    “My name is Mark. I was viewing your web site and would like to speak with you about one of your stories.” The deep voice intrigued me, especially since it expressed interest in my work.
    My mind raced for traces of a Mark I knew on campus. None came to mind, but I don’t know many students at school. But still… why would he call? I’m lucky if I can get someone to sign the guest book, much less make such a personal gesture. My heart began to race, wondering what would come of this call. Was he someone interested in my writing? Disgusted by it? I took a deep breath. “Okay… go on.”
    “This should be done in person. Are you free this afternoon?”
    Okay, he has to be someone from Marcus if he can be here by the afternoon… but who would want to meet with me? Unfortunately, I had rehearsal in the afternoon and he had plans for the evening. I glanced at my calendar. Tomorrow was Saturday. I take Saturdays off from schoolwork, so the entire day was more or less open. “How does Saturday sound, Mark?"
    There was a pause as the man on the other end contemplated the idea. “Is 11 too early?”
    He must have afternoon plans, I thought. Eleven in the morning wasn’t too bad. It just meant I had to be in bed before sunrise. I’m a creature of the night, and it wasn’t uncommon for me to be awake until the early morning hours and sleep into the afternoon. My curiosity had gotten the better of me, and I agreed to meet him at 11.
    “Excellent. I will be at your door at eleven then. Good-bye, Antoinette.”

    Later that evening, I ran over to my friend Leigh’s room, excited to tell her of the events that had passed earlier. My heart was pounding. I didn’t know what to expect from Mark, but his voice was dark, his words carefully chosen. And he wanted to talk about my work.
    The whiteboard on the door said that Leigh was in, so I knocked and let myself in. She was sitting on her bed, listening to Queen, and working on a word puzzle. I sat down on her roommate’s bed, barely able to contain my excitement.
    “Hey Leigh, guess what?” My voice echoed my emotions, and she looked up instantly.
    “What?” She laughed. “You look like you’ve had way too much chai, dear.”
    I smiled, allowing myself to enjoy the giddy feeling for just another moment before controlling my emotions. “This morning, I got a phone call from this guy named Mark.”
    “Mark… I don’t know anyone named Mark. What did he want?”
    “He wants to talk to me about my writing- he saw my website, and he called me out of nowhere.”
    A puzzled expression crossed Leigh’s face. “I wonder what he wants. Did he say what story he wanted to talk to you about?”
    Again, my curiosity piqued. “No. And I’ve got four works up right now.”
    “What are they about?”
    I paused a moment, attempting to remember. “There’s my original version of Love and War, my Alice Walker story, a story about me and Serena, and one about the Undertaker.”
    Leigh laughed. “You actually wrote a story about him?”
    “Hey. You have Queen. I have Ozzy and Mark.” A twinge of anticipation rang in my stomach… his name was Mark; he had the deep voice…. No way. Leigh saw the look in my eyes, and snickered.
    “Keep dreaming, Toni. It’s not him, as much as you would like it to be.”
    We discussed other things- the state of my former roommate, plans for the weekend, complaints about our professors- for a while, and soon Leigh began to feel sleep beckoning her.
    “Time for bed, Leigh.”
    She nodded. “Good night, Toni. Let me know how tomorrow goes.”
    I nodded and left my friend to her slumber.

    I wandered back to my room and glanced at the clock. It was nearly 2am. I turned on my computer, intending to wander around on the Internet for a while. I checked my email, responded to a letter from my mother, and checked the hit counter for my site. I was determined to find out as much about this Mark as I could before he arrived at my door. As I checked the servers that today’s traffic had used, I noticed that no one from the campus server had hit my site, nor had they in the last several days. I reloaded the page, hoping for some mistake in the data. The page reloaded, and the same data were shown: no one from Marcus University had been to The Realm in several days.
Is Mark a townie, then? How would he know how to contact me? Then again, the student directories aren’t hard to access, especially if a townie knew one of the students, and many of them did. My curiosity went up another notch. I mulled over the words we had exchanged that morning as I changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth. I set my alarm for 10am, full well knowing that I would hit the snooze button at least twice. I was excited, but it was still a Saturday.
    Morning came all too quickly, and soon I was hitting the snooze button, promising to get up in “just a couple more minutes.” How fast the time went by in my sleep. When I looked again at my clock, it was 10:45am. I bolted from bed and into the shower, neglecting to put in my contacts in my haste. I showered quickly and returned to the room within 10 minutes. I started to dress, combing my long strawberry ringlets back so I could put in my contacts. I pulled on underwear and jeans when I heard a knock at my door. Damn it! Here he is, and I don’t even have a shirt on. “Just a minute, please,” I called through the door. I quickly finished dressing and ran my fingers through my damp hair. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Not great, but not bad. Hmm… needs something. I grabbed my favorite pair of colored glasses: green, with black frames. That’s better. Deep breath, Toni. Here goes. Play it cool.
    “Come in,” I called through the door. I continued to put in some small earrings, and my back faced the one who entered. I heard the door close softly as someone moved across the room.
    “Antoinette, I presume?” The dark voice sounded lower in person than it had the night before on the phone.
    “Mark, right?” I clasped the last earring back into place.
    “Yes. I want to speak with you about your story.”
    “Right. Which one?” I turned around to face Mark, and surprise raced through my veins. This was no ordinary meeting, and that was Mark Callaway… or am I dreaming?
    He reached out a hand and placed it upon my shoulder, as if to steady my thoughts. “Yes. Let me introduce myself again. Mark Callaway, the Undertaker.”
    My voice faltered for just a second, then I forced myself to get in control. “Antoinette Drew. But you knew that.” At least I know what story he wants to talk about now….
    “You wrote a story about me, and posted it on your website, yes?” His hand fell from my shoulder and back to his side.
    I nodded, the gears in my head turning. “May I ask you a question?”
    “Certainly.”
    “How did you find me? There must be several Antoinette Drews in the United States. Wait.” I paused, remembering that my philosophy project is also on the site, and it gives the name of the University I attend. “You must have seen my project, then. But even then, how did you contact someone at Marcus and obtain my phone number?”
    A smirk spread across Mark’s face, and I became suddenly intimidated by his frame, which was nearly a foot and a half taller than my own. His green eyes flashed, and he chuckled softly. “Antoinette… you’re not that hard to find.”
    I nodded, realizing that perhaps he was right. “So… what did you want to talk about?”
    “When I read your story, I was surprised. Most Undertaker stories written by females are more about the man than the profession. Yours was a bit different. I hope you don’t mind, but I submitted your story to the creative team, and they want to use it.”
    My heart was pounding, my thoughts flying a million directions at once. Not only was Mark Callaway in my room, but the World Wrestling Federation liked my idea enough to use it? Breathe, Toni. One thing at a time.
    “Okay… so why did you come? They could have sent a middleman for that. I don’t get it.” As usual, when flustered, my cynicism came shining through.
    “That is true. However, I was curious as to who would write such a story. And if I am going to have a druidess, I would like to give you the first opportunity to be her.”
    I nodded, barely able to contain my thoughts. I wanted to shout from the rooftops. Not only had I met my favorite wrestler, the Federation wanted to use my idea and I got to be his druidess? It seemed surreal. I was all but floating.
    “What would being the Druidess entail?” As much as I would love to be a part of the Undertaker’s gimmick, I was going to be reasonable about this.  If he wanted me to quit school, then forget it. I’ll just take credit for the idea.
    “You would need to begin training immediately. You will train until you finish the school year, and then you will tour with the Federation as the Undertaker’s Druidess. You will be paid for your work, as well as given the royalties for your idea. But you must make your decision within the next three days, so that training can begin.”
    I smiled at the thought of following the Undertaker down the ramp and into the ring, actually being considered his escort. My practical side resumed control. “There would be a few things that I would have to discuss with the creative team…. Costume, for example.”
Mark nodded. “Of course you would help decide.”
    I began pacing a bit, thinking of questions to ask. I retrieved a Diet Coke from my fridge, and offered one to Mark. He declined, and I sipped my Coke while I thought. “Does the creative team want to use my entire idea? I mean, I realize that they want a druidess, but the sacrifice, too?”
    Mark’s emerald eyes glimmered, remembering the sacrifice I had described. It was mostly done in the ring, but a small portion was captured only on GTV, with the druidess-to-be screaming in fear as the Undertaker approached her with a large knife, saying, “there will be a sacrifice.”

    The woman enters the ring as one of the Godfather’s hos on SmackDown, and when the Undertaker enters the ring, the Godfather gives his standard offer: you could either fight him, and he’d kick your ass, or you could have your choice of his hos for the entire night. Curiously enough, the Undertaker chooses to take one of the hos, cackling as he spoke. The women in the ring all crowd behind the Godfather, save one. She stands bravely where she was, dressed in short-sleeves and floor-length black velvet. She is the chosen one, and she only falters for a second when she hears Jerry Lawler joke about sacrificing her. The two disappear, the Undertaker guiding the woman by the wrist, a twisted smile upon his face. Michael Cole comments on how he fears for her safety, and the show ends with the Undertaker’s music playing in the blackness.
    The next Monday on RAW, the GTV clip is played as the show kicks off. J.R. wonders aloud what poor soul the Undertaker is after, and Jerry Lawler informs him, with visible concern, that she is one of the Godfather’s hos from SmackDown. Both men fear for the poor lady’s life, and J.R. brings it up several times before the Undertaker’s scheduled match against Triple H.
    Triple H’s music plays first, and he walks out accompanied by his wife, Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley. Hunter Hearst Helmsley proceeds to verbally abuse the Undertaker, proclaiming that his actions on SmackDown were due to his sexual frustration. “It must be pretty lonely in your coffin at night, eh Undertaker?”
    The arena is enveloped in blackness as the Undertaker’s music plays. His symbol is lowered from the ceiling, with a figure draped in black chained to it. Stephanie recoils in fear and clings to her husband, the mere sight of the symbol invoking memories of her near sacrifice. The Undertaker’s symbol stops just below the top rope, and the Undertaker walks down the ramp towards the ring.
    “Triple H,” his deep voice growls, “I was wrong when I tried to sacrifice your pathetic excuse of a wife, Stephanie. She wouldn’t have made a good contribution to my cause. So I found myself a real woman, and tonight, there will be a sacrifice.”
    The arena fell to blackness once more, as the Undertaker stepped towards the symbol. He begins reciting unrecognizable words, unveiling the figure as the lights are restored, not in white, but in purple and blue. Jerry Lawler shouts, “It’s the ho! He’s gonna kill the ho!”
    The Undertaker produces a large knife, and J.R. exclaims, “Oh my God. He’s really going to go through with this. Somebody’s got to stop him.” But by now, Triple H and Stephanie have left the ring, and are standing in awe at the top of the ramp. The Undertaker has the knife poised high with both hands. He slices open his own wrist, allowing the blood to drip on the lips of the crucified woman. He then unchains her, and Triple H and Stephanie scurry away as the woman follows the Undertaker backstage.
    The following Thursday, Triple H calls out the Undertaker, seeing as he didn’t get his fight last time around. The music plays, and the Undertaker is escorted by a lady in a black robe, known only as the Druidess.

    “Yes, Antoinette. The creative team wants to use the sacrifice that you described, as well.” Mark’s words snapped me out of the recollection after a few moments. I noticed that he had been studying my figure while I was off in La-la Land. I caught his glance, and he looked away.
    I took another deep breath and nodded. “I would be honored to be the Undertaker’s Druidess.” I spoke my words deliberately, enunciating each syllable.
    Mark nodded, and I took a second to look over what I knew was an amazing and powerful body. My silver eyes flashed with lust for an instant, but an instant was all he needed to see. He extended his hand, as if to shake on our agreement. When I gave him my hand, he kissed it, on one knee.  Mark stood, his eyes full of lust, his voice dark and husky. “You are going to be my sacrifice, both as the Undertaker and as Mark Callaway.” With that, he kissed me full on the lips. His touch was gentle at first, then impassioned as I responded to his advances. Within moments, our hands were exploring each other, our passions rising to a pitch. Our bodies joined, the tangible hunger between us evident, and we became thoroughly engrossed in our sinuous pleasures.
    Afterwards, I found myself curled up against his solid chest, as he smiled and said he was anticipating working with me in the future. He kissed me again softly, and we lay motionless for a few moments before I arose and began dressing.
    “You have somewhere to be?” His husky voice sent shivers down my spine as my body reminded my brain of what it was leaving.
    “I’m anticipating an invitation to brunch, actually.” I grimaced at the thought of leaving this sensual man for low-quality food at the cafeteria.
    Mark stood, his body even more impressive upright. “Go get your friends. I’ll take you to a nice restaurant.” He winked at me, and I smiled. “My treat.”

    I spent the next several months in class, the library, or the gym, always faithful to my training. On days I didn’t want to go, I only needed to look at the newly framed photos of Mark and me to remember that I was being presented with a great honor and opportunity. Not only was my idea going to be used by the World Wrestling Federation, but I was being given the privilege of working with the Undertaker, something that so many creatures of the night wished for.
    In addition to the physical training, Mark occasionally called me to talk about what would be expected of me mentally. As an ally of the Phenom, obvious problems would result between us and other superstars. I was also periodically reminded that this was all one big soap opera, and that these men and women were in character while at work- and that I must be too.
    The Druidess was expected to speak little, and associate only with the Undertaker and his allies. I would accompany him to the ring and assist him when necessary. My costume would typically be a simple black hooded robe, but occasionally I would appear in free-flowing black velvet, not unlike my original appearance as a ho of the Godfather’s. My backstage demeanor was to be dark, speaking harsh words in low tones. I was to please no one but the Undertaker.
    I smiled as I finished running my laps and walked back to my room, thinking about how my hard work was finally going to pay off. It was late May, and in another few days my parents, accompanied by Mark, would come pick up my packed belongings and take me home. Then I’d be on my way to do my first shows in Nevada and California.

    When I told my parents about my decision to work for the WWF this summer, they were less than pleased. I was only 18, and pro wrestling, no matter how carefully planned, was a dangerous profession.
    “Toni, you could get killed! You’re not going. It’s too dangerous.” My mother, as always, immediately rejected what she didn’t take the time to understand.
    “Mother. These people are trained professionals. Besides, they aren’t hiring me to be a wrestler, even in the women’s league. The contract is to be a personal valet.”
    “A valet? Why didn’t you tell me that you were going to park their cars? You scared me. But you can get a valet job in the city. You don’t need to be traveling like that all summer.”
    I was beginning to lose patience with my mother, and her lack of understanding. “Dad,” I pleaded, “you understand, right?” My father watched wrestling with me sometimes, so he at least knew what a personal valet was.
    He nodded. “You mean an ‘assistant,’ like Debra used to be for Jeff Jarrett, right?”
    My mother was still very skeptical. “What does this… ‘valet,’” she exaggerated the word, “do?”
    I shrugged. “Not much. I’m just a look-good. I walk around backstage, I follow him out to the ring and cheer him on, and distract the referee once and a while. I’m just a pawn, really.”
    My mother nodded, then sighed. She could tell that her headstrong daughter had made up her mind to take the job, and there was little she could do to convince her otherwise. “When would you start?”
    I felt a jolt of excitement rip through my veins. They are going to let me go! “I’d have to be in Reno for the first show taping on June 12th. I’d go on the road with the Federation until school started, and then I’d only fly out, tape the show, and fly back so that I wouldn’t miss any school. I’ll even do my homework on the plane. I’m not dropping out for this job, not matter how enticing an offer this is.”
    A sigh of relief escaped my father’s lips as he opened them to speak. “But don’t you have to wear those skimpy outfits like the other women?”
    My mother went back up in arms. “No way. No daughter of mine is dressing like a slut on national television.”
    “Relax, mother. I am not wearing anything revealing. In fact, I get to help choose my costume. Then again, the whole thing was my idea….”
    “Your idea? How does that work? Is that how you got the offer?”
    “Yes. I posted a story on my web site and, to make a long story short, someone submitted it to the WWF creative team, and they decided to run it.”
    My father cast a puzzled glance in my direction. “Exactly whose valet are you?”
    A large grin spread across my face. “Mark Callaway.”
    The information meant nothing; his expression had not changed. “Who?”
    “The Undertaker.”

    I toweled off my hair and pulled on some clean jeans when there was a knock at my door. I grinned, remembering what happened the last time I was in this situation.
    “One moment please.” I pulled on a t-shirt and a hooded sweatshirt and unlocked the door, pulling it open. “Hey Leigh. What’s up?”
    My friend waltzed into my room and collapsed into the recliner “You just get back?”
    I finished my makeup and shut the armoire door. “Yep. Running like a good little hamster. How’s your day been?”
    “Good. I had a really good lesson today.”
    “That’s cool.” I noticed that she was looking at what had become a large collection of things pertaining to my new “job.” I had both costumes hanging in front of the second armoire door, and pictures of pro wrestlers scattered about. My two favorites were framed in the center of the wall. Both were signed 8” by 10” photos of Mark and I standing side by side. One was us in plain clothes, with matching colored glasses, and signed Mark Callaway and Antoinette S. Drew. The other was us in costume, with him in a sleeveless black shirt with his symbol and black pants, and me in the velvet dress. That one was signed The Undertaker and The Druidess. Mark had a set just like it.
    Leigh’s words snapped me back to reality. “You’ve amassed quite a collection.”
    I nodded, turning away to pick up some papers off my bed and shuffled through them. “I know… I can’t wait to go to Reno and Anaheim. You know, we need to have ourselves a grand ole end-of-the-year slash good-bye party this weekend. Besides, I need to socialize with you all while I still have time. It won’t be long and I’ll be on the road for a few months, and then right back to school.” I finished aligning the papers, and turned around to face the figure in the chair. “Hey Leigh? Will you help me color the rest of these signs?”
    “What signs?” She stood and glanced at the papers over my shoulder.
    “I made up a handful of poster signs to advertise my debut…. I’m going to hang one outside my door, one on short wing, and give them to people if they want one. This one is signed even.” I chuckled softly. “Well, sort of.” I held up a color copy of the Undertaker/Druidess picture from my wall.
    “Cool. Is that one going on your door?”
    “Yep.” I walked out into the hallway and taped the poster next to the doorjamb, accompanied by the times and channels of WWF programming, and an announcement of my debut.
    “I’d love to help you, Toni, but I’ve got Spanish homework to do yet tonight. I’ll take a sign to put by my door, though.”
    I handed my friend on the photocopies I had finished designing. “Thanks anyway, Leigh. Have fun with your Spanish….” I closed the door as she left, and picked up my telephone to check my messages. I was expecting a message about my needed appointment to finish my paperwork for the job. The phone rang in my hand, and I damn near threw it across the room. I took a deep breath and answered it instead.
    “Hello?”
    “Good evening, Antoinette. How are you?” Mark’s now familiar voice soothed my mildly frazzled nerves.
    “Hi, Mark. I’m okay. What’s up?”
    “Do you have time tomorrow to finish the paperwork?”
    I nodded, suddenly realizing that he couldn’t see the gesture. “Yes. When?”
    “Is 11 too early?” His voice was tantalizing, teasing me with our shared memories.
    I felt my lips spreading into a broad smile. “I’ll see you then. Take care of yourself, Mark. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
    “Take care. Good night, Antoinette.”

    This time, when 11am came, I was awake, dressed, and packing my things into boxes and a duffle bag. The knock upon my door was met by my simple “Yeah?”
    Mark strode into the room, followed by a sort of official looking lawyer-type. He was dwarfed by Mark, being even shorter than I, and he had horrendous taste. His navy slacks clashed with his brown suede wingtips, and the light yellow check pattern on his tie made me wonder if he dressed in the dark.
    The three of us discussed work-related things: hours, salary, tour calendar, royalties, transportation, legal forms, etc. I signed all the appropriate lines, and the world was a better looking place when the lawyer left about 45 minutes later.
    Mark turned to look into my eyes, his soft voice filled with finality. “It’s official. You are the Druidess.” He extended his hand to help me off the floor.
    I smiled, giving him my hand. In one fluid motion, I was off the floor and over his shoulder. I could only imagine the wicked look in his emerald eyes at having tricked me so easily. “Hey! Just what do you think you’re doing?” My shoulders nearly scraped the ceiling as I tried to squirm free. “Put me down,” I demanded.
    A loud, low, echoing cackle flowed from his lips as he complied with my request. Shivers tingled through my spine, responding instantly to his alluring voice. I turned away quickly, before he could see the lust in my eyes and the smile on my face. “You’re very funny, Mark. Just for that, you owe me lunch.” I struggled to present a stern visage as I turned to him, my hands on my hips.
    A smile teased the corners of his lips, and I could tell that he was trying to contain his amusement. I reached out and set my palm flat against his thick chest. “Please?” The word was virtually dripping with sugar.
    His self-control betrayed him, and he laughed once again. “Do I have a choice?”

    My last final had just been turned in, and in a couple minutes my parents and Mark would be here to pack up the van. I’m sure they’re giving him the nth degree, but I had warned him of that, and he was prepared.
    As I sealed the last box, I looked around the now empty room and sighed. A chapter of my life, like so many others, had opened and closed within these walls. Memories flooded over me, of serious and lighthearted conversations, of the friendships made and broken, of the hatred and the love than had been created in this very room. And now it was ending. I wiped away a single tear as the door to the hall opened and three familiar figures approached.
    “You ready to go, Toni?”
    A sigh created in my soul escaped from my lips and I nodded slowly. Time to move on.

    Seven hours later, boxes were stacked about my bedroom, and the four of us got back in the car, heading towards the airport. My stuff would just have to stay packed until I got back from Reno and Anaheim. My hands began to shake as we checked my bag and we said our farewells. My mother was in tears and my father made Mark promise four separate times to take care of me.
    Our flight was announced, and Mark set his heavy hand on my shoulder.
    “You ready to go, Toni?” he whispered.
    I smiled, and we walked onto the plane together. I gave one look back over my shoulder at my parents, who waved and watched through the glass as the airplane taxied and flew away. Their little girl was gone.

    Mark slept for most of the short ride to Nevada, so I was left alone with my thoughts. I tried to calm myself, glancing over at the sleeping man beside me. Will I do okay? I had met several of the wrestlers and staff already- I didn’t hate Dwayne Johnson nearly as much off camera- and everyone seemed quite friendly. But I was still nervous. I was just a kid, and this was a dream come true for me. I thought about the shows ahead and sipped my ginger ale, trying my best to convince myself that I would be fine.
    We hit a pocket of turbulence, and Mark awoke with a start. He looked around briefly, reorienting himself with the surroundings. The plane steadied out again, but my cup of ginger ale was still shaking.
    “Toni,” he said, steadying my hand with his own, “are you sure you’re okay?” His green eyes expressed care and concern.
    “I’ll be fine. I want to do this. I’m just nervous.” My hand began to relax beneath his confidence and strength, then it collapsed as I looked directly into Mark’s eyes. I saw precisely what I had hoped for: he really did care about me. But he’d been living single on the road for a while now, and it was time I admitted something to the both of us. “Mark?”
    “Yes, Antoinette?”
    I sighed deeply. “I know my father made you promise at least a dozen times to take care of me….” My voice trailed off as the words choked up in my throat. I had allowed myself to become attached to him. Damn, this was going to hurt.
    “Yes. Yes he did. And I gave him my word.” Concern was visible in his eyes as he took back his hand. “Why do you bring this up?”
    “I just want you to know that you don’t have to…. I’ll be fine by myself, I’m sure. I know you want to hang out with people more like you.”
    Mark turned away from me, remaining silent while the captain announced that our plane was making its final descent into the Reno airport.
    I reached out and touched his cheek, turning him back to me. “Besides, I know I’m not the only woman that desires you.” I let my hand trail down his jaw line and down his torso before placing it and my eyes in my lap.
The plane jerked hard as it came to a stop. While we waited for the other passengers to leave, Mark set a hand on my thigh, quickening my pulse. “C’mon. We’ll talk about this after the show.”

    I sat backstage, lacing up my boots and listening to the talk of some of Reno’s “finest hos.” They were comparing skimpy outfits, and one of them wanted to know why I was wearing so much material.
    “Because.” I offered no real answer. However, as a ho, I could be a little less dark. These were real women from Reno, not WWF staff. “I like this dress. Besides, they told you all what was happening tonight.”
    A shocked look crossed the woman’s face as she stepped back. “You’re the one he’s taking? But you’re just a kid!”
    I smiled, chuckling softly to myself. The Godfather knocked on the door and told us it was time to go. All of us ladies took a collective deep breath and followed him down the hallway and onto the ramp, ignoring Jerry Lawler’s cries about puppies and kitties and his whining about my not showing skin.
    We followed the Godfather into the center of the ring, where he spoke with the Undertaker, who was still backstage.
    “You know the deal, man. Either we can fight, and you know I’ll kick yo ass, or you can have your choice of these lovely hos for the entire night- and we both know you could use a lady to put some spark in your life, dead man.”
    The arena fell to darkness as the Undertaker’s TitonTron video started. A lightning bolt hit the stage, sparks flying everywhere. When they cleared, the Phenom was standing at the top of the ramp.
    “You know, Godfather, perhaps you’re right. I could use some company….” He cackled as he reached for the sky, his eyes rolled back. The Undertaker threw down his hands and sparks erupted from the four ring posts. All of the other hos crowded behind the Godfather screaming and begging him to not let this monster take one of them. Only I stood in front, shaking just a bit as the man on the ramp extended a long finger towards me and cackled again. He sauntered into the ring and stood directly over me, his frame towering not quite a foot and a half over mine.
    The Godfather quickly reiterated his offer. “You want her, she’s yours.”
    Michael Cole was at a loss. “The Undertaker is doing something we’ve never seen from him before. Not only is he not out here to destroy the Godfather, he seems to be showing some interest in the young lady before him!”
    The Phenom took me by the wrist, lifted my head, and looked deeply into my eyes. “You will come with me tonight,” he growled.
    I was supposed to stand there defiantly until he led me away, but he decided to change the plan. He bent down and kissed me, right there in the ring!  I was shocked, and initially pulled away from it. His hands pulled on my wrists, forcibly drawing me back to him. I quickly felt myself becoming involved in his kiss and he forced its end. I would see later that the cameras caught my surprised look as one of horror when the Undertaker led me away by one wrist, a twisted smile upon his face- he was proud of himself, both in and out of character, for that kiss.
    Michael Cole was worried about my safety. “I just hope she’s okay tomorrow.”
    “Yeah… maybe he’ll sacrifice her!” Jerry Lawler chimed in, laughing.
    I flinched slightly at the thought of the sacrifice, and the Undertaker’s theme music played as he led me backstage to close the show.

    I changed back into my street clothes as the hos around me buzzed about plans to hang out with superstars and how they loved the attention they had drawn tonight. I calmly packed up my things and started to leave when the woman who had spoken with me earlier tapped me on the shoulder.
    “Yeah?”
    “Hey… good job tonight. You must be really brave. Good luck, kid.”
    I smiled. “Thanks. You ladies take care of each other.” I walked out the door with a smile on my face.
    The limousine was waiting for me right outside the building, and Mark was already in it when the driver opened the door for me. I thanked him and climbed inside.
    Mark tapped the seat beside him, asking me to sit next to him. I did, and he looked directly into my silver eyes, his emerald ones sparkling. “Now do you understand why I don’t mind ‘taking care’ of you?”
    I smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Is that why you kissed me in the ring? Just to let me know you cared? That can’t be right.”
    He laughed. “It had a good effect. You were genuinely affected by it, and to the cameras it looked like you were horrified.” He set a heavy hand on my thigh, his eyes filled with lust. “But I know better than that.”
    My pulse began to race as Mark leaned in to kiss me. His lips were filled with a sweet mixture of care and carnal desire. I responded instantly, my hands exploring his chest and shoulders. I freed his shirt from his black jeans, and just as the limousine pulled up to the hotel, I raked my fingernails down his muscular back. A moan escaped his lips before the chauffer opened the door to let us out.
    He put his arm around my waist as we entered the hotel lobby. People stared at us as we made our way to the elevator. I only was half-listening to their remarks, hearing phrases:
    “He could be her father.”
    “She’s at least a foot shorter.”
    “That’s disgusting.”
    I ignored them all, caught up in the heat of the moment. We entered the elevator, and Mark pressed the button for the top floor. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, I reached my hand along the inside of his thigh, roughly massaging his flesh. I heard him moan again, then turn to face me.    From that sinful gleam in his eyes, I knew I was in for quite a night.

    I awoke the next morning in Mark’s arms, exhausted. I yawned and watched him sleep for a few minutes before climbing out of bed and into the shower. I had left the door to the large bathroom open a crack so that he would know where I was, and I began my shower, humming to myself.
    “You sound cheerful this morning.”
    I nearly jumped out of my skin hearing his voice out of nowhere. He must have walked in while I was humming. I blinked a few times to clear my contacts, and saw him standing a foot or so from the clear shower door. I will never know how long he stood there in silence, watching me shower, before he spoke.
    “You trying to give me a heart attack?”
    Mark chuckled. “No. If I really wanted to scare you I would have walked in on you.”
    “How long have you been standing there?”
    “Long enough to admire the view.”
    I felt myself blushing at his compliment. I finished my shower and turned off the water. “Would you hand me my towel, Mark?”
    With my hair in my eyes, I just grabbed the material that he held over the door for me. It wasn’t until I dried my face with it that I realized that he had not handed me my hotel towel, but his shirt. I laughed. Did he really expect me to dry myself off with his t-shirt?
    A wicked thought struck me. He probably didn’t expect me to, no. I proceeded to dry off my frame with the shirt, and walked out of the shower stark naked and handed his shirt back to him. “Thank you.” The look on his face was worth the effort to suppress my smile.

    We spent the next day in Nevada, driving to Las Vegas to lose some money and catch a show. We stopped at a small tattoo parlor afterwards. Mark had convinced me to get my first tattoo.
    The parlor was small, owned by the only woman who worked there. I explained to her that I wanted a drawing I had done, an ancient symbol for cosmic justice, and she said that it would be easy. I walked back to the table as she prepared her needle and some black ink. I wanted the symbol on the back of my right shoulder blade, so I would need to remove my shirt and lay on the table.
    Desire flickered in Mark’s eyes as I casually removed my t-shirt and handed it to him. “Here, hold this, would you?”
    I laid on my stomach on the table, and the woman began her work. Time passed slowly as she carefully designed the rune on my shoulder and filled it in with black ink. I only flinched a few times before she finished her work and I paid her for the service.
    I’m sure my parents will be thrilled, I noted sarcastically. I glanced over at the “Dreams In Ink” sign over the door, laughing heartily at my parents’ dismay as I climbed into the passenger’s side of the car Mark was waiting in.

    Mark drove the rental car back to the hotel, and once there we talked about tomorrow’s Anaheim show.
    “You know that I’m actually going to cut my wrist for the sacrifice- it will be my blood.”
    I nodded. “I don’t mind the taste of blood, so long as it hasn’t been heated.” I walked over to the small bar and poured myself a glass of Peach Schnapps.
    Mark drew back in surprise. “You’ve had blood that’s been heated first?”
    I inhaled slowly, instantly regretting my off-the-cuff remark. “Yes. I… I didn’t want to do it. But he made me.”
    “Who made you?”
    “Eric. Then again, Eric made me do a lot of things I didn’t want to do.” My voice was barely audible. I sat down on the edge of the bed as a tear spilled down my cheek.
    Mark wiped it away with his finger. “Antoinette,” he said, “what happened to you?”
    I drank the liquor in one shot, knowing I would need it. “He… he hurt me. He could be so sweet, and then so mean. He used to chain me to the ceiling and leave me there for hours. He would take advantage of me whenever he felt like it. There was little I could do to stop him. And if I tried, he would hit me. But he could be such a sweetheart….”
    Mark growled, and slammed his fist upon the bedside table. I instantly drew up into fetal position on the bed, crying, afraid that he would hurt me, too.
    Mark retrieved the glass I had dropped in my actions, setting it on the table. His voice softened as he curled me up in his arms. “It’s okay, Toni. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay.”
    “But you… the table…” My voice was quivering, my body shaking.
    “I just get so angry when I hear that such bad things happen to the people I care about. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay.”
    I uncurled a bit and looked deep into his emerald eyes. They were soft, filled with concern.
    “Do you want to talk about it, Toni?”
    I spent the next several hours crying my heart out, explaining for the first time how much pain I had seen and felt at the hands and words of one man.   The whole time, Mark was nothing short of a perfect gentleman. And later, he held me close as I cried myself to sleep.

    The next day was spent traveling to Anaheim, California. For such a short trip, he had decided to drive instead of fly. Mark wanted to give me more time to talk, if I needed to, and this trip would be an excellent opportunity to do so.
    I sat beside him in the car while he drove to Anaheim, silent. After about an hour, he turned to me, wondering if I was okay, if I needed to talk some more.
    “I’ll be fine. I just had a rough night. It happens.”
    “Toni… a rough night is losing a hundred bucks at the tables, not finally telling someone that you’ve been abused.” He reached his hand out to meet mine, trying to find a balance between attending to me and to the road before him.
    “I don’t know what else to call it… I mean, what’s done is done, right? You can’t erase the past. He hurt me. It happened.”
    “You can heal. There will come a time that you will be stronger than the memories. And until then, I have given my word to protect you, and I will.”
    “Mark… we talked about this.”
    “Yes, we did.”
    “I want you to know that last night was not an attempt to keep you away from your friends. I’m glad you care about me, but if you want to spend time with more important people, I understand. I’m just a kid.”
    “Antoinette, I care about you a great deal. I am honored to take care of you. I want to take care of you.” His emerald eyes were soft, watery.     Suddenly they shone bright with anger, his voice sharp. “I don’t want anyone to ever hurt you like that again. There is nothing you could have done to deserve such pain. I will see to it that you never have to experience that horror again.”
    I looked at the man beside me, drawing strength from his words. “Thank you. I don’t think you know what you are getting yourself into, but thank you.”

    The rest of the drive to the arena was silent except for the radio playing the hard rock station. We checked into the same hotel as many of the other wrestlers, some of whom noticed the stern, silent mood both Mark and I were in. We set our bags in the room, then turned to leave. As we were getting in the elevator to go back to the lobby, Mick Foley stepped in as well, questioning our silence.
    “You guys are awfully quiet today. What’s up?”
    I sighed, glancing over at Mark. “I had a rough night.”
    Mick put a hand on my shoulder, obviously concerned. “You gonna be okay?”
    I looked from Mark, who was staring at the elevator buttons, to Mick. “Mick, it was horrible….” Mark immediately looked over at me, hoping I wasn’t about to break down again….
    “What? It’s okay, you can tell me, Toni.”
    “But Mick... he… he told me there really wasn’t a Santa Claus!” I pointed a finger at Mark.
    Mark whipped his head back, roaring with laughter. I couldn’t help but do the same. We both needed that laugh desperately. Mick, on the other hand, was still concerned.
    “Hey! Santa Claus does too exist!” he said, laughing along with us.
    The elevator door opened, and Mark, Mick, and I walked out, smiling.

    I laced up my boots, looking around the small dressing room I had been given. I studied my own reflection. I could feel my mixed emotions churning. But at least if I had to taste blood again, it would be the blood of someone I actually cared about.
    I closed the door to my dressing room, walking towards the stairs to the catwalk. From there, I would be strapped to the cross and wait until it was lowered. The GTV clip had been taped earlier, and was played when the show had started, nearly an hour and a half ago. Mick saw me walking, and called out my name.
    “Hey Toni!”
    I spun around, my robe billowing, wondering what he wanted. “Yeah?” I stopped and waited as he approached.
    “You sure you’re okay? I know we weren’t talking about Santa Claus earlier today. You two didn’t have a fight or anything, did you?”
    I smiled, my heart warming at his concern for my welfare. “No, Mick. We’re fine. I just have some bad memories to deal with.”
    Mick nodded, his eyes closed. “We all do. Good luck tonight, hon.” He reached out his arms, and I accepted his hug.
    “I need get going, or I’ll be late. Thanks, Mick.”
    “Anytime, darlin’.”
    I walked up the stairs and across to the center of the catwalk, where they were waiting, joking about me being late for my own crucifying. All the preparations were made, the fasteners checked one last time, as Triple H’s music started to play.

    Triple H and Stephanie walked out onto the ramp and into the ring. The crowd was both cheering and jeering, waiting for the words of this love-‘em-or-hate-‘em duo.
    Tonight, Hunter Hearst Helmsley would speak, his wife glaring at the backstage curtain. “Undertaker, I suppose you thought you were pretty funny last Thursday night on SmackDown. Hell, I was amused. For a man that seems to have the sole purpose of destroying the WWF, you seem to have a soft spot for women.”
    Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley curled her arms around her husband’s bicep, that know-it-all smirk upon her face, as her husband continued. “But then again, it must be pretty lonely in your coffin at night, eh Undertaker?” Both Triple H and Stephanie laughed.
    The arena fell to blackness, and the Undertaker’s TitonTron video began to play. The crew started the pulleys, and slowly I was lowered from the ceiling, my heart pounding. I wonder if my father is watching this? I smiled as the thought struck me, then I turned my thoughts to more immediate matters… like Stephanie’s shrieking voice.
    “No… not again!” she cried, hiding behind Triple H.
    My eyes were closed as the pulleys stopped, and I rested just below the top rope of the ring. I could hear heavy steps on the steel ramp, and I turned my head slightly to see the others.
    “Triple H,” the Undertaker growled, “I was wrong when I tried to sacrifice your pathetic excuse of a wife, Stephanie. She wouldn’t have made a good contribution to my cause. So I found myself a real woman, and tonight, there will be a sacrifice.”
    The lights went out again, and my heart was in my throat. I closed my eyes again, and waited until I heard footsteps approaching. The lights came back up in purple and blue, a blue spotlight on me, chained helpless to the cross. The Undertaker began reciting the words for the sacrifice, and I heard Jerry Lawler cry out, “It’s the ho! I’d remember that gorgeous hair anywhere! He’s gonna kill the ho!”
    I opened my eyes, and I caught the gleam of a large knife as the Undertaker raised it high in the air. J.R. voiced his concern: “Oh my God. He’s really going to go through with this. Somebody’s got to stop him.”
    I glanced towards the ramp, and there stood Triple H and Stephanie. I looked directly ahead and waited for the inevitable. His hands held high, the    Undertaker sliced his wrist, and his blood dripped onto my lips. At first, I just let it sit there, my mind spinning. I looked into the Undertaker’s eyes, and saw nothing. I licked my lips, tasting human blood for the first time in years. I drew upon my inner strength as I did so, remembering not only the bad memories, but the happiness and support I found in the man whose blood I tasted. He leaned directly over me, staring deep into my eyes as he unbound my wrists.
    “You okay?” he whispered.
    I smiled, nodding ever so slightly. He took me by the wrist, holding down the bottom rope near the stairs for me, and we walked out together, Triple H and Stephanie scurrying away.

    After the show, I climbed into the rental car, and I smiled at Mark as he leaned over to kiss me. “How’s your wrist doing?”
    His wrist was taped up over some gauze. He held it up for me to see. “What, this? It’s just a scratch. But I’m more concerned about you.” He brought his hand up to my face, and I closed my eyes. His hand touched my cheek, and I smiled.
    “I’m fine.”
    “Toni… you took a big step tonight. Your strength amazes even me.” He gently leaned in, his lips gracing mine for just a second.
    I looked into his emerald eyes, and the concern there touched my heart. I felt tears forming in my eyes… no one had cared so much. “That’s what you get for telling me that Santa Claus doesn’t exist, you know.”
    “Yeah,” he said with a smile, “I never should have told you that. I’m starving. How about I treat you to dinner to make up for it?”

    After dinner, Mark drove a couple hours to a clearing, and parked the car. While I walked around, taking in the gorgeous night air, he pulled a blanket from the trunk and spread it on the ground. He also retrieved a bottle of wine and two glasses, setting them down on the blanket.
    “You can’t see stars like this at home… too many streetlights.” I turned to see if Mark was behind me, and felt his large hands covering my eyes.    “Hey! I tell you I can’t see stars like this at home, and now I can’t see them here either!” He chuckled, gently guiding me towards the blanket.    “Where are we going?”
    His voice was soft, yet insistent. “You’ll see.”
    I walked slowly, trying to figure out what he might be leading me to. I hadn’t the slightest idea.
    “Sit. Relax.”
    “Mark… I can’t see to sit down.” With that, he scooped me into his arms and set me down on the blanket. “Well, that’s one way to do it.” I smiled, knowing how easy that was for him.
    “Keep your eyes closed…. Okay.”
    I opened my eyes, and he handed me a glass. Mark easily opened the bottle of wine, and poured both glasses. “White wine… how did you know?”
    “You mentioned it once.”
    I recalled the night in the hotel, and the incident I described to him about the wine. Eric liked red wine, and when I mentioned one night that I preferred white wine, an argument ensued that nearly cost me my life. And from that he remembered that I like white wine. Wow. “You never cease to amaze me, Mark Callaway.”
    He lifted his glass in a toast. “To a new chapter in life.”
    The wine glasses clinked together, and we drank. Before I was aware of what was happening, tears fell from my eyes and into my wine. Even in the darkness, Mark noticed immediately.
    “Toni… why are you crying? What has upset you?”
    I curled up next to the big man on the blanket, crying softly onto his chest. After a moment, I looked up into his eyes. “No one has ever been this nice to me before.”
    Had there been more light, I could have known for sure, but I thought I saw Mark blush for just a second before he spoke. “You deserve nothing less.”
    Our lips met in a kiss of friendship and love. I wanted nothing more than to stay with him like that forever. We talked, we drank, we laughed. I was happy. If only it could have lasted.

    I remember those days fondly; days when I would have laid down my life for this man. He was more than a man, he was a Phenom.
    As it was, Mark and I spent many wonderful months together, on and off camera. As time progressed, his injuries began to bother him increasingly.    He needed some time off, desperately. We had talked at length about it, because his departure and eventual return meant my release. He would return when he was healthy, but he would return alone.
    “I’m sorry, Toni, but that’s how it has to be.”
    “I understand. Hell, how many people can say that they loved the Undertaker?” I could feel the tears beginning to flow from my eyes. With the tenderness I knew well, he wiped them away.
    “Few.” He paused. “Fewer can say he loved them back.”
    We embraced, silent tears flowing from our eyes.

    I still watch, still go to the shows. If you look hard enough, you’ll see me holding a sign emblazoned with both of our symbols. And we still talk, when he has time. Brings a smile to my face to see that he’s emailed, even if he is “just saying hello.”
    I recall this story with a smile on my face and one in my heart. Best wishes, Mark.