beerbaron2
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Sep 2, 2013
- Messages
- 55
- Points
- 8
Another episode of Monday Night Raw had ended in its usual blobkbuster fashion. The echoes of the pyro still lingered in the arena as, backstage, Liv Morgan entered her locker room to find a velvet-covered bench.
Strange to find such a thing in a locker room. Liv had asked, earlier, only to have a stagehand tell her someone paid him 100 bucks to place it in the room for “aesthetic purposes.”
Liv groaned and stretched her feet out in front of her. “These boots are officially plotting against me,” she said, starting to work at undoing the laces and clasps.
She flexed her ankles as she did, until the door opened and a slow, theatrical clap echoed through the room.
“Dahling,” came a voice dipped in vintage glamour and exaggerated drama, “no true star should suffer in uncomfortable footwear.”
Leaning against the doorway in full "Timeless" persona and regalia was Toni Storm, from AEW.
Liv’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Why do I feel like this is about to become a scene?”
Toni placed a hand dramatically to her chest. “A scene? My dear Liv, this is not merely a scene, but a production.”
Before Liv could scoot away, Toni swept forward with exaggerated grace. Her high heeled shoes went flying in different directions as she knelt in front of Liv like a silver-screen heroine tending to a fallen soldier.
“Let us liberate you from these dreadful contraptions,” Toni declared, undoing the boots with fervor.
“Wait—Toni—what are you—”
Unheeding and with slow, deliberate flair, Toni worked at the boots. Each tug of the laces was accompanied by a theatrical sigh, each more pronounced than the last.
“These boots,” Toni lamented, “are robbing the world of your tragic vulnerability.”
“I don’t think that’s how boots work,” Liv said.
One boot came off with a firm pull. Then the other, after a couple more minutes of feverish lace-tugging and theatrical sighs.
Liv wiggled her sock-covered feet cautiously. “Okay. Boots off. That’s enough drama for one night.”
Toni looked up slowly, eyes sparkling mischievously.
“Darling,” she whispered, “the performance has only just begun.”
With exaggerated delicacy, Toni hooked a finger under the edge of one sock and peeled it down in a slow, sweeping motion, as if unveiling a priceless artifact from underneath a covering or behind a curtain. Then the other sock followed.
Liv gasped. “Toni!”
“There,” Toni breathed dramatically. “Unveiled.”
Liv immediately tried to pull her bare feet back -- she went shoeless often, but always, always remained in socks unless she was headed to bed, the shower, or a pool or beach. Before Liv could retreat, Toni gently caught her ankles.
“You’ve wrestled through tables, ladders, and unspeakable betrayal,” Toni proclaimed to the imaginary audience she was performing for. “But can you survive… suspense?”
And then Toni's fingers fluttered, making light, teasing strokes that traced the contours of Liv’s arch.
The reaction was instant.
Liv burst into bright, uncontrollable laughter, her head falling back as she tried to twist free. “No—no—Toni! Don’t you dare—!”
Toni gasped theatrically. “Such a reaction! Magnificent!”
She wiggled her fingers slowly across the center of Liv’s sole, then lightly scratched near her heel.
Liv shrieked, laughter spilling out in breathless waves. “This is not fair! You’re supposed to be a heroine, not the villain!”
“My dear,” Toni replied, widening her eyes in mock offense, “Let me assure you, I am both.”
Her fingers danced up toward Liv’s toes, scribbling lightly underneath them. Liv’s toes curled instantly, and she dissolved into giggles so intense she could barely speak.
“I can’t— I can’t handle this!” Liv squealed, trying to sit up, only for Toni to switch to gentle fluttering motions along both arches at once.
“Behold!” Toni announced to no one in particular. “The fearless warrior undone by the softest touch!”
Liv was practically sliding off the bench now, clutching at her ribs and struggling to remain on the cushion as laughter echoed through the otherwise empty locker room.
“Toni! I surrender! I retire! No more! I give! I quit wrestling forever! Just STAHAHAAP”
“Ah,” Toni mused thoughtfully, easing the tickling for a brief, suspenseful pause. “A convincing monologue… but not quite award-winning.”
Her fingers resumed with playful determination, skittering lightly across Liv’s soles.
Liv’s laughter reached another pitch, pure and helpless. She twisted free of Toni's grasp, yanking her feet well and clear and rolling off the couch to the floor. “Okay! Okay! Encore over! Curtain down! Roll credits!”
Liv collapsed on her back against the floor, cheeks flushed, breathing hard and giggling uncontrollably.
Toni rose to her feet, smoothing imaginary dust from her attire and collecting her errant shoes.
“And thus concludes tonight’s masterpiece,” she said grandly, accentuating her remark with a curtsy.
Liv pointed weakly at her. “You are banned. Forever. From my locker room. And my footwear.”
Toni gave her a vintage starlet wink.
“Darling,” she purred, “the spotlight always finds its way back.”
As Toni walked to the door, Liv sat up and instinctively curled into a ball, keeping her feet out of potential reach.
After all, many sequels turned out to be worse than their predecessors.
Strange to find such a thing in a locker room. Liv had asked, earlier, only to have a stagehand tell her someone paid him 100 bucks to place it in the room for “aesthetic purposes.”
Liv groaned and stretched her feet out in front of her. “These boots are officially plotting against me,” she said, starting to work at undoing the laces and clasps.
She flexed her ankles as she did, until the door opened and a slow, theatrical clap echoed through the room.
“Dahling,” came a voice dipped in vintage glamour and exaggerated drama, “no true star should suffer in uncomfortable footwear.”
Leaning against the doorway in full "Timeless" persona and regalia was Toni Storm, from AEW.
Liv’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Why do I feel like this is about to become a scene?”
Toni placed a hand dramatically to her chest. “A scene? My dear Liv, this is not merely a scene, but a production.”
Before Liv could scoot away, Toni swept forward with exaggerated grace. Her high heeled shoes went flying in different directions as she knelt in front of Liv like a silver-screen heroine tending to a fallen soldier.
“Let us liberate you from these dreadful contraptions,” Toni declared, undoing the boots with fervor.
“Wait—Toni—what are you—”
Unheeding and with slow, deliberate flair, Toni worked at the boots. Each tug of the laces was accompanied by a theatrical sigh, each more pronounced than the last.
“These boots,” Toni lamented, “are robbing the world of your tragic vulnerability.”
“I don’t think that’s how boots work,” Liv said.
One boot came off with a firm pull. Then the other, after a couple more minutes of feverish lace-tugging and theatrical sighs.
Liv wiggled her sock-covered feet cautiously. “Okay. Boots off. That’s enough drama for one night.”
Toni looked up slowly, eyes sparkling mischievously.
“Darling,” she whispered, “the performance has only just begun.”
With exaggerated delicacy, Toni hooked a finger under the edge of one sock and peeled it down in a slow, sweeping motion, as if unveiling a priceless artifact from underneath a covering or behind a curtain. Then the other sock followed.
Liv gasped. “Toni!”
“There,” Toni breathed dramatically. “Unveiled.”
Liv immediately tried to pull her bare feet back -- she went shoeless often, but always, always remained in socks unless she was headed to bed, the shower, or a pool or beach. Before Liv could retreat, Toni gently caught her ankles.
“You’ve wrestled through tables, ladders, and unspeakable betrayal,” Toni proclaimed to the imaginary audience she was performing for. “But can you survive… suspense?”
And then Toni's fingers fluttered, making light, teasing strokes that traced the contours of Liv’s arch.
The reaction was instant.
Liv burst into bright, uncontrollable laughter, her head falling back as she tried to twist free. “No—no—Toni! Don’t you dare—!”
Toni gasped theatrically. “Such a reaction! Magnificent!”
She wiggled her fingers slowly across the center of Liv’s sole, then lightly scratched near her heel.
Liv shrieked, laughter spilling out in breathless waves. “This is not fair! You’re supposed to be a heroine, not the villain!”
“My dear,” Toni replied, widening her eyes in mock offense, “Let me assure you, I am both.”
Her fingers danced up toward Liv’s toes, scribbling lightly underneath them. Liv’s toes curled instantly, and she dissolved into giggles so intense she could barely speak.
“I can’t— I can’t handle this!” Liv squealed, trying to sit up, only for Toni to switch to gentle fluttering motions along both arches at once.
“Behold!” Toni announced to no one in particular. “The fearless warrior undone by the softest touch!”
Liv was practically sliding off the bench now, clutching at her ribs and struggling to remain on the cushion as laughter echoed through the otherwise empty locker room.
“Toni! I surrender! I retire! No more! I give! I quit wrestling forever! Just STAHAHAAP”
“Ah,” Toni mused thoughtfully, easing the tickling for a brief, suspenseful pause. “A convincing monologue… but not quite award-winning.”
Her fingers resumed with playful determination, skittering lightly across Liv’s soles.
Liv’s laughter reached another pitch, pure and helpless. She twisted free of Toni's grasp, yanking her feet well and clear and rolling off the couch to the floor. “Okay! Okay! Encore over! Curtain down! Roll credits!”
Liv collapsed on her back against the floor, cheeks flushed, breathing hard and giggling uncontrollably.
Toni rose to her feet, smoothing imaginary dust from her attire and collecting her errant shoes.
“And thus concludes tonight’s masterpiece,” she said grandly, accentuating her remark with a curtsy.
Liv pointed weakly at her. “You are banned. Forever. From my locker room. And my footwear.”
Toni gave her a vintage starlet wink.
“Darling,” she purred, “the spotlight always finds its way back.”
As Toni walked to the door, Liv sat up and instinctively curled into a ball, keeping her feet out of potential reach.
After all, many sequels turned out to be worse than their predecessors.
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