F*ck

Taylor took Johnny's hand and stood up, careful not to put to much weight on her bad knee. She was grim-faced while Johnny spoke, and she nodded along with him.

"Thanks, Tiger," she said, almost in a whisper with her shredded voice. She teared up, but she didn't cry. "You're perfect and I love you so much. And... We've gotta deal with these motherfuckers."

She stood there in front of him for a moment, dripping wet, with only her damp blonde hair and angel wing tattoo, and a narrow, trimmed strip of bright blue dyed hair peeking out between her legs. She looked him over, the body she knew so well, and nodded.

"I'm gonna heal up, and get back in the ring. And the second my face works again, I'm gonna want your dick so bad."

She walked past him and out of the room, leaving little wet spots on the floor with each pat of her wet feet, and leaving Johnny with a view of her perfect ass as she went to put on her bathrobe.