#tittymasterjon

Interning for National Geographic Traveler was something special. She was going to be a correspondent for ‘places to go in so-and-so city’ section. The first place that they sent her was Las Vegas, Nevada. Stevie made sure to pack everything she would need, including her camera. Upon arrival in Las Vegas, Stevie headed to the Hardrock Cafe for her hotel room. She made a few phone calls to see where her inspiration for a well thought out article might come from. One of the bell boys in the hotel informed her that the Burlesque Hall of Fame was hosting their 25th Annual Miss Exotic World Tournament of Tease to crown Miss Exotic World Queen. While Stevie wasn’t a huge burlesque follower, she always admired the art of the striptease and the elements that were brought into the numbers for burlesque were positively invigorating for her.

Cold feet.

She knew that Jon had them. Their wedding was less than a month away now and it was only a matter of time before he showed all the signs, if not just a couple. One would be normal and she would be happy with that. However, but August 29th, four days less than a month from their wedding, Saraya knew he was in deep; he crept around like she didn’t know with the alcohol. He snuck out at night on the road to go to strip clubs and bars. It was fine, but now, now it was getting to be a bit much for her to handle.

Saraya sat alone in their bedroom in the Las Vegas, Nevada home they shared. Dusty, Jovi, and Mishy laid with her as she yawned, tired and bored of I Love Lucy at 3 am. Jon still wasn’t home. This was normal, but usually she slept it off. Not tonight. A loud slam of car doors outside prompted Saraya to grab her robe and wrap it around her half-naked body before she headed downstairs to greet her fiance.

Red. All she saw was red.

Hitting the bottom stair, Saraya saw her fiance entering their home, but a boiling rage filled her when she saw a tall, leggy blonde walking in the front door on his arm, hanging all over him. She was attached to his neck at the lips. “JONATHAN GOOD!” she screamed, running down the next couple of stairs. Her chest heaved up and down as she made her way to the front door. The blonde looked confused as ever, “Wh—Who the fuck is this broad?” Saraya wanted to grab her by her fake platinum weave and throw her to the ground to pummel her face in, but she didn’t.

Tears began to fill her eyes.

“Jon...” she whispered with a cracked voice, her hands shaking. “What’s going on?” Her entire body shook as a matter of fact; a combination of rage and sudden sadness.

Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...

The phone rang continuously anymore. Since the podcast with Stone Cold, Saraya’s phone was ringing off the hook. She accidentally let it slip that she and ‘Dean Ambrose’ were getting married. Big mistake. Her friends were upset that she didn’t disclose this information with any of them. Saraya simply dismissed it in the nicest way possible by saying that Jon wanted to keep things private until they decided on a date. It was only partly true— Jon didn’t want it to be public. However, he never wanted it to be public. Not just right then and there. Sighing softly, Saraya sat her phone down on the night stand in the bedroom that she shared with Jon. “What did you get yourself into now...” she spoke softly.

The phone rang again.

“Fucking christ!” she shouted, grabbing the phone with a bit of anger. Looking down at the screen, it was a number that she didn’t recognize at all. She quirked a brow, but was still fueled with anger over this whole situation. “Hello?” she asked as calm as she possibly could in this situation. “You know, Raya... That really should be me who you’re tying the knot with... Not the lunatic.” The voice was all too familiar. She thought for a moment before it hit her like a freight train.

Evan.

“How did you get this number?” she hissed. There was a small laugh on the other end of the line. “We’re not exchanging hellos or I missed yous?” his voice was filled with sarcasm to the brim. “Raya, baby... You really outta figure out that getting rid of me for good is just a wee bit harder than you think...” Her heart raced, her palms became sweaty, and her blood boiled. She thought she rid herself of Evan a long time ago. Before she found out she was pregnant, at least. Shaking her head, the raven haired Brit moistened her lips, snapping in a hushed tone, “Lose my number. Lose it. I don’t have time for this. I don’t want to talk to you. You’re nothing but trouble. If you continue to call me, I’m going to have to look into harassment charges. Do you understand me?” The door crept open, Jon entering with a confused look on his face.