Gigi McMahon’s Secret Encounter Behind the Steam

One towel slipped. One secret started.

The backstage spa room was empty.

Or so Gigi McMahon thought.

Steam clung to every surface. The mirrors were fogged, the overhead lights dimmed to a glow. Towels lay in neat stacks. The room pulsed with warmth.

Gigi stepped inside wearing only a towel, damp from a quick rinse. Her blonde hair was twisted into a loose bun, and her skin glistened from the humidity. She let out a long breath and stepped barefoot toward the wooden bench.

She hadn't expected silence to feel this comforting.

Until a whisper broke it.

"You’re late."

She turned fast, clutching the edge of her towel instinctively.

Someone else was already there. Seated in the far corner, half-shadowed by steam. A familiar face, but not one she expected to see alone.

"You followed me?" Gigi asked, her voice low but sharp.

"No. I was waiting."

The response didn’t help her pulse slow down.

---

She moved cautiously, picking up another towel and draping it across her lap as she sat on the bench across from her unexpected visitor.

"You could’ve just texted."

"Would you have come?"

Gigi didn’t answer.

The silence thickened.

The steam made it worse. Softer. Heavier.

"You looked different tonight," they added.

Gigi tilted her head. "In the ring? Or backstage?"

"Both. But especially when you looked at me."

She felt the heat creep up her neck, and it wasn’t just from the spa.

---

"We can't be seen like this," Gigi said.

"We won't be."

Their voice was closer now. She hadn’t seen them move.

She exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the towel on her lap.

"This room has no cameras. No echoes. Just steam."

They were right in front of her now, the heat between them almost unbearable.

"So what do you want?" she asked.

The reply was whispered near her ear.

"Permission."

Her eyes fluttered shut.

For a moment.

Then she opened them, standing with calm control.

"Lock the door."

And the steam kept rising.

But this time, it wasn’t from the spa.