by Naomi Penn
Robert let his hands continue to trace all over Sabrina’s naked body as they both got close to falling asleep. Soon they would both be dreaming about this night they had just had.
“I would like you to be mine forever,” Robert said as his hands moved around Sabrina’s body.
She didn’t answer right away as she pondered the idea of being with this man again. It was appealing to think of him. Sabrina liked every thought she had, even the ones that involved pain. Although she had just moved to Chicago, it was a far cry from her home range and it was a much better fit for Sabrina. There was no need for temper tantrums and that other non-sense. Sabrina felt like she had finally found the life that she wanted to live.
This was the life she had dreamed of.
“Yes,” Sabrina said as she rolled over and let her butt press up tightly against Roberts body.
“Yes, you will be mine?”
“I said yes, Did you not understand?” Sabrina said with a smile on her face.
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TEMPTATION TALES
Story 9
My chest pounded like a piston and my blood roared in my ears, almost drowning out the screams from the stands. “Red Bulls! Red Bulls!” The cries went up when I started pumping my legs, pummeling past another yard line, easily evading a linebacker on my tail.
The crowd went wild, but I could hardly hear them, I could hear my heartbeat. The end zone was just ahead; just another five second sprint and I'd be there! I'd drop hard like a wrecking ball and there would be yet another touchdown to my name!
The feeling invigorated me, and I rushed forward, ducking out of reach from another backer that loomed from nowhere, stealing my escape from just another one and three more steps were left. Three more and I'd go down flat in the field. A fallen hero!
I lunged like a javelin through air, ball till taut in my grip as I flew for touchdown, seeing nothing but victory!
...and then out of nowhere, something caught me midair, ramming hard into my side. The pain was quick and shocking, my insides turned to jelly. It felt like being hit with a cannon ball and I watched in horror as I skidded leftwards, away from my goal and plowed into dirt.
The next minutes that followed were queer. I could hear sounds, loud shouting but I couldn’t tell where they came from. An alarm screeched in my left ear and I couldn’t feel my limbs, my view was disoriented but I could hear some words, “How you like that, punk?”
**
I opened my eyes later and I was at the hospital. The light overhead stabbed my eyes and I squinted. It took a moment for me to become acquainted with where I was. I was in the hospital, someone was bent over in a chair beside my bed and I had tubes sticking out my wrist. What is this shit? My head throbbed, and I winced. I groaned, and my visitor stirred. He looked up at me. It was my brother Finn.
He smiled weakly. There were bags under his eyes like he had been up too long, and he had scarcely gotten any sleep.
“How you feeling, young Bud?” He asked.
“Queasy and a bit of pain,” I winced again. My right leg was raised and casted. I could see that, but I still tried to move. Pain shot up from my left leg. I stilled and gaped as it ran its course. What happened to my leg...
“Woah man, you shouldn’t be moving that much. Doctor saidyou fucked up your knee. They’ve administered analgesics, so the pain shouldn’t be much.” Finn sighed, drawing closer with his seat.
“Who was it man? Who did this shit to me?” My nose itched in irritation. Bits of memory were returning to me. I was playing an interschool match. I had three touch downs in a row. I had almost had a fourth and someone knocked me out clean. “Who the fuck was it, man?” I seethed.
“How you like it, punk?” The voice was familiar, but I still couldn’t place it.
“It was Jethro, man. He was real smug about it too.” Finn shook his head. I bit my lip. Jethro was a rival backer from Princeton high. I hated him. He hated me. Our schools hated each other, and my school was Alabama high. I was seething and tripping. The tryouts were in three weeks. I needed to be back up on my feet ASAP. I tried to move but the pain shut up my leg again, stunning me.
“Fuck, what did I break man?” I half sobbed, half cried to him. He was the only one to show up because my mom had died, and my father hated me chasing football as a career.
“Knee dislocation. Nothing serious. You'll be back up in a month and a week or so.” Finn shrugged.
“What? What? Shit. No!” I retched, gawking at my lifeless leg like it was something sinister.
“Jason? Woah Jason!” Finn raised his hands, gesticulating.
“Man, One month? One month's too much. I can’t sit around for a month.” I nearly screamed, imagining yet another year going to waste. All that time and sweat, gone to waste.
“Look, your agent was here earlier. He wasgrim about this. Said he might have to drop you—”,
“Shit! No, man. What? No!” I cried hysterically.
“Chill, man. He's going to have a doctor check you out and tell him for sure if you can play real soon. He didn’t trust the town's clinic, said he needed to have professional look.” Finn quipped, placing arm on my shoulder and pushing me back down into the bed.
“Where’s Dad? I blinked, only just realizing one of my relatives was here for me. Finn's face fell. He tried that weak smile again and sighed, “Oh you know. The old man is busy.”
“I got injured. He's too busy to come see me?” I muttered inaudibly but I wasn’t surprised. He cared less about me. Finn was in law school and he had hoped I would follow suit. I came from a long lineage of Lawyers, but I never cared much for the profession. I was barely able to keep an argument going. But football, now that was something I knew, something I honed.
The hospital door flew open and a tall stocky man walked in. He had his long sleeves folded up to his elbow and his hair was greasy. It had a sheen to it and was matted back on his scalp. His face was grim; his eyes were hooded under his protruding forehead and his nose was crooked. His lips were thin like they weren’t even there. He strutted in and stopped at the foot of the bed, staring at me.
“They say you fucked up your knee.” His tone lacked empathy. He stated it as a matter of fact.
“I’m sure I’ll be back up in a week or two.” I crooned, doubting my own words.
“We'll see. This is Dr. Pierce.” He gestured as another woman walked in.
She was taller than him by an inch or two. Her hair was lustrous waterfall that spilled over her shoulders and her face bore no expression. Ridiculing black eyes watched me fervently from awell-toned face. She gave a side smile and her cheeks arched red on her face. Her lips were heart shaped and nice, a dark shade of red. I wondered if it was natural or she used balm. It didn’t look like she was wearing any lipstick.
“Mr. Tolliver.”, My name was Jason Tolliver and she cut through every syllable in my surname succinctly like bread. “I’m Dr. Pierce. I’m with Mr. McCarthy here. I’ll be examining you and checking up on you over the next few days— “,
“How many?” I shot at her. She paused and quirked her lips.
“Excuse me?”
“How many days? Are you gonna determine if I get to be drafted this year?”
“Mr. Tolliver that depends on your injury. Mr. McCarthy here tells me you’re a brilliant player. I’m sure without this little hindrance, you would have gotten by.” She said in one breath.
“Yea well. Wouldn’t be too sure about that.” McCarthy snarled as his phone rang. “Jason, we've made arrangements. She’s gonna examine you in her office tomorrow. You can’t go anywhere the next few days till I say we're done. Well, not like you would make out of here without crutches.” He winced at my left leg. “I have things to attend to. Feel free to get familiar you two. You'll be seeing a lot of each other the next few days. Dr. Pierce will also be having physiotherapy sessions with you. You will be discharged on the third day, so she may further your physiotherapy sessio
ns at home.” He finally took out his phone, answered the call and stepped out.
I had been paying rapt attention to my agent and as he stepped out I brought my attention back to her only to realize she had been staring at me all this time. Finn cleared his throat and we both darted a glance in his direction. He eyed me and her suspiciously. I wondered if he had seen her watching me queerly.
“I’ve been here since they brought you in last night, Jason. I've gotta run okay but I’ll be back before night today. I also called Dad, so he knows. Who knows, maybe he'll drop by.” Finn sputtered as he rose.
“Yea. I get you.” I nodded, knowing he probably had books and assignments to get back to. “Don’t worry about me. Look, they've got a Tv? Maybe I can watch the highlights of how I got screwed on National Tv yesterday.” I smirked sourly. He gave me that weak smile.
“Look, your stuffs in this bag.” He picked up a black backpack that had been on a vacant chair next to him. “Got your laptop, your phone and magazines. The nurse is gonna bring in some food later so don’t worry. I handled everything.” He patted my shoulder and I felt grateful he supported me and not judge me like our Dad.
“Thanks, man.” I smiled. He nodded, turned to Dr. Pierce, nodded again before leaving.
Now, I was alone with this woman. She casually set the case she had been holding on a small serving table by my bed and took out a chart.
“So, Jason Tolliver.” she walked over to the chair Finn had been occupying. “Let’s run some stuff, over shall we?”
“Okay, whatever.” I grumbled. This injury was nothing. I could be back up in a week. She better tell McCarthy that.
“You’ve been playing football since you were 15. Yes?”,
“Right.”
“Had any similar injuries before?”,
“Nope. They never catch me or get close enough. They called me the wind back then in highschool.” I grinned, reminiscing a few knees I had bashed in myself. Jethro’s was the first.
“Okay? Have any allergies? Or medical complications I should know about?” she quirked a brow. I wondered why she would ask me that. What did that have to do with anything?
“Did McCarthy send you here to dig up dirt on me?” I growled.
“This is pretty standard stuff, Jason.” she sighed like she was bored.
“No. I have never had a complication in my life.” I grated. She jotted something down, brows creased, andI wondered what remark she had given. She looked up again and caught me staring wide eyed.
“Do you get enough sleep?”
“Eight hours a day.”
“How many times a week do you work out?”
“Three hours a day and I’m on the field at least five times a week. I deserve a shot this year.” I groaned, gaping down at my leg.
“You know what I deserve? A week in Hawaii, inhaling the tropics and lying out in the sun. But I can never really get that shot.” She said absent mindedly like she wasn’t referring to me.
“Is that why you're pale?” I snapped and almost regretted it. I had been edgy ever since I woke up.
“Excuse me?” Her furrowed brows deepened.
“You look like you’re not getting enough sun.” I chuckled.
“Well, you look like you won’t make the Tryouts this year.” She flourished a torturing smile and I squirmed uncomfortably.
“Is that what you’re gonna write down there? You gonna write me off?” I glared.
“Maybe you would.”
“You have no right to! I stated the fucking obvious. You’re pale! I didn’t mean no offense by it.” I was breathing heavy.
“I stated the obvious too.” She cocked her head to the side, obviously enjoying my frustration. “Look I’ve seen a lot of guys your age with your attitude, thinking they some big shot that'll make it to the top teams. Do me a favor, answer my questions precisely and shove all that attitude up somewhere.” She began writing something down, not for once looking at me while she scolded.
I bit back a clapback and let myself boil silently. My chances didn’t look good with this leg and insulting this woman would only make it worse.
The next moment followed in awkward silence and she kept writing down.
“Look, you don’t have to remark on my attitude kay? I’m sorry.” I whined, defeated.
She looked up at me and smiled. “Oh? No, was just writing down a list of stuff I needed to get from Walmart later. I remember things in bits sometimes.” I wanted to smile back and maybe talk about something casual and cool. Something that would convince her that I was a nice person after all.
“You were staring at me weird when you walked in earlier. It creeped me out.” I said absently, hoping to take the conversation in a different direction.
“Maybe I was just looking past you, thinking of some other stuff.” She sighed.
“Not you weren’t. You were looking at me” I grinned at her. “And I’m damn well sure it wasn’t my leg you were looking at.”
“So, what do you think I was thinking?” She reciprocated a faint smile, leaning on her knees with her pen in one hand, ignoring her chart.
“I think you found me attractive. I saw the glint in your eyes. But no worries ma'am, I’m used to it.” I chuckled. She didn’t laugh but that faint smile remained on her face as she watched me intently.
“Hmm. Maybe. Maybe not, Jason Tolliver. I believe I have spent enough time with you. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.” She rose from her seat. “Then I can take a look at your knee.”
“Okay, See you, Doc.”
**
Sandy Williams thought he reminded her of Henry, her husband, her soon to be Ex. Jason looked like a younger version of Henry, with buff arms and toned thighs, set abs and crisp cut jet-black hair. It had hurt to see Henry again in another form, after all these years. The man that had whisked her away when she was 16 and plucked her at 18. Then she ran away and almost flunked school for him and followed him round the country in his pickup truck for a year.
She later got married to him and now they were at the brink of divorce. She pulled her mustang into the driveway of a brick and glass duplex in a secluded part of their neighborhood. She had bought this house under their name and now he was fighting her for it. She sat there in the car and simmered for a moment. How had she been so stupid? Falling in love with a wannabe rock star and thinking he would hit big.
She reached to the backseat and grabbed a bag of groceries she had bought before hopping out. Three months before the violent fights, Henry stopped touching her. She suspected something right away. Henry was a sexual creature and could barely do a week without sex. But here he way, sneaking off every night to the guest room to be alone. She had been worried and every time she asked what was wrong, he would say he just needed the space.
Until one night. She had waited up for him to sneak off and then she crept to the room and slid the door open. There he was, jerking off to another woman on FaceTime. It was so disgusting. The screams tore her throat and the primal anger that followed caused their first fight. He never told her who the other woman was…not until two weeks later…
Now she was standing in front of the door, fumbling through her hand bag for the keys. She found them in her pockets and got in. The house walls were plain, painted a drab grey. It used to be a cheery yellow. Henry’s favorite color but two months after their first fight, after enduring knowing a full month that Henry had been running around spending her money on that same woman, she decided she wanted a divorce and then she decided she wanted the house repainted and all their memories buried away.
Wouldn’t be long till he got this house. Might as well leave her touches on it before he gets it. She carried her load across the hallway to the kitchen and dumped it on the slab. She was tired, but she should put the groceries in their place. She had always done that and everything else in the house while Henry went out on Gigs. She would get mad and wait for him to come home so they could talk but he always had a way of making her shut up, making he
r respect him.
It had been two months since she had seen him now and their divorce was in two weeks. She flopped down in one of the kitchen chairs and her phone vibrated. She took it out and read the notification. It was a message from her sister. She had other unread messages from friends, co-workers, uncles, aunts and her mother. They all wanted her to work it out. They all wanted her to go back and suck Henry’s dick, overlook his life of leisure and the skank he had been sleeping with. She grimaced as she skimmed through a ton of messages. She wondered how she had ended up being related to all this people that obviously didn’t mean well for her. She selected all the messages and pressed DELETE. Watched gratefully as the A.I complied. She was about to drop it when another message got in. Her breath hitched when she saw his name. Henry.
She instinctively flicked to delete it but paused, curious. What would he have to say after all these months? She opened his message. It read:
“Today was my birthday and I didn’t get shit from you. You must be thinking you've moved on, think you’ll find happiness after me? After all we've been through? You won’t! I’m only still waiting because I love you and I know you won’t forgive yourself if you go through with this. Better call me, Sally pierce. You better call me! I still care about you. Just call me okay? You know you don’t belong with anyone else but me and only me!”
She cringed as she absorbed each word, hearing his nonchalant bass echo in her head as she read. She wanted to gag. He still thought he had a hold on her. He still thought he could give her commands and she would scramble to obey. Just like eight years ago when she first met him out on the pitch, taking a break from training. He still had the football under an arm and that fire in his eyes. He had stood there under the hot sun with his signature smile. He had been toned and ripped in all the right places…Kind of like Jason…Jason, her mind switched films and now she was staring at that hot rod, splayed in the hospital bed.
