by Grey, S. R.
Her eyes light up. “Hmm, I think that might work.”
“Then consider it done, sweetheart.”
Bouncing on her toes, she says, “Yes! I’m finally going to get to go to a game!”
What a Game!
I get to see, live and in person, the man I love play football.
I can’t freaking wait!
Later that day, after Zane leaves for the stadium, I’m humming with anticipation as I prepare to depart.
Since it’s a nice warm fall evening and I’ll be up in a luxury box, I opt for thin skinny jeans (the only pair I own) and a light pastel striped sweater. I pair it all with neutral beige flats.
“I think I’m ready,” I declare.
Out in the Range Rover, it takes me a minute to acclimate myself. There are a lot of buttons and a big touchscreen to learn.
Help!
This is the first time I’ve been behind the wheel of anything in a long time, especially something so high tech. I have to fumble for a few minutes to finally get the GPS navigation up and going.
I’m then off to the stadium to watch the Comets take on those pesky Dover Sharks.
Yay!
A short while later, I’m in a super nice luxury box, seated three rows back from the front.
This is good.
Better still, Zane just caught a beautiful pass thrown by quarterback Graham Tettersaw.
I can’t help it.
I have to stand.
Chanting, “Go, go, go,” like I do when I’m home alone, just me and the TV, I watch Zane run down the field, evading defensive players left and right.
Wow, my man is shifty and fast.
He’s at the thirty-yard line…twenty…ten…
I yell out, “Touchdown!” as he heads into the end zone.
The people around me are standing and cheering too, so it’s all good.
Turning to my right, I high-five a young girl of about fifteen. She has a high ponytail and has been seated next to me the entire game.
This is the first we’ve interacted, and I like the camaraderie. I see why people enjoy going to games.
Before we sit back down, she says, “That Tinsbury guy is amazing, huh?”
“More than you could even imagine,” I cryptically reply.
She’s so excited about the touchdown, and also may not have fully heard me since it’s loud in the box, that she just nods and smiles.
Everyone sits back down, and we watch the rest of the game.
By late in the third quarter, the Comets are up 30-14.
Victory is in sight.
And then we win the game—woohoo!
There’s more cheering and high-fiving.
Damn, this has been a fun time.
After I leave the stadium, I’m in the best mood driving back to the house. I feel like my life is finally turning around in so many ways. I’m in love and I’m living a real life, for once.
And it’s a good one.
Now I just can’t wait to see Zane.
I have a few ideas on how to creatively reward him for his contribution to the Comets victory.
“Yeah, I’m going to get right on that,” I murmur as I park in the driveway.
Once I’m inside the house, I head upstairs, quickly ditching my jeans and sweater. I change into the sexy little pink silk sleep shorts and thin cream camisole I know Zane loves. It’s what I was wearing the night we were first together.
I snicker, thinking about how I planned that outcome by wearing this back little get-up then.
In my sexy attire, I brush out my hair, then bounce back down the stairs to wait for Zane in the living room.
When I hear him coming in, I call out, “Hey, I’m in here.”
He strides in a few seconds later, his eyes widening when he sees me lounging in what I hope is a sexy pose on the sofa.
“Babe” is all he gets out.
Dropping his duffel bag onto the hardwood floor, he comes over to me.
I sit up to make room for him.
“Great game tonight,” I murmur.
“Thanks.” He takes a seat next to me. “Was it better being there as opposed to watching it on TV?”
I run my hand up his jean-clad thigh. “When it involves you, Zane, ‘being there’ is always better.”
I tug at the button on his jeans.
Knowing what’s coming—in more ways than one—Zane gets right to work with helping me undo and lower his jeans and boxers.
When his pants are down around his ankles, I scoot off the sofa and lower to my knees in front of him.
“Morgan…”
“Shh,” I say.
Swiftly, I take his shoes off so he can kick the damn jeans and boxers aside. Socks go next. All in record speed.
“Now the fun begins,” I murmur as I lean forward and run my tongue up along his inner thigh.
“Fuck,” he rasps as I continue up, up, up.
When I take him into my mouth, he leans his head back and closes his eyes.
I then give Zane Tinsbury my top effort, hoping it’s the best blow job he’s ever received.
Before he’s too far gone, he stops and urges me to come up and straddle him.
Gruffly, he demands, “Lose those sexy shorts first.”
I am all too happy to oblige.
I can never get enough of Zane inside of me, filling me fully. Since our first time together, we’ve had the “talk” regarding safety and precautions. I’m now on birth control, and we’re both clean. So no more condoms for us, which I love since feeling Zane bare is exquisite.
That’s why I’m up and on his cock so fast it’s not even funny.
“Shit, woman, you’re so fucking wet,” he groans.
I slide up along his shaft, then back down again.
“You make me this way,” I mumble. “Watching you play in person made me so freaking hot.”
Zane chuckles and lets me set the slow pace for a while. I thoroughly enjoy that, but there comes a point where we both need it hard and fast.
Good thing he’s a pro at that.
Flipping me onto my back, he settles his firm body between my legs.
When he thrusts into me hard and deep, I can’t help but moan.
“Is it too much?” he rasps, stilling and peering down at me concernedly.
I laugh. “Are you kidding? I’m ready for more.”
“Ah, that’s my girl.”
Zane then gives me exactly what I want—a hard and fast fuck that leaves us both feeling blissful and more in love than ever.
Off to Shop
The day after the Sharks-Comets game, and after the even better homecoming I received, Morgan and I find ourselves in the kitchen, eating breakfast and talking about her job prospects.
She just told me she doesn’t plan to go back to the diner. “I think it’s too risky to waitress there,” she says. “Neil knows I worked there in the past.”
“I agree,” I reply, nodding as I lift a piece of wheat toast from my plate. “So what else is out there?”
Morgan takes a quick sip of orange juice, contemplating.
“Well,” she begins as she sets her glass down. “I’m not really sure. Maybe I could get a job as a cashier or something.”
“Yeah, that is a possibility, or…”
Her head perks up. “Yes?”
It’s the perfect time for me to make a suggestion of something I’ve been thinking about.
“You could come down to the stadium and apply to work in the front office.”
Her eyes go wide. “Do you mean work for the Comets?”
“Yeah, sure.” I shrug. “Why not?”
“But what would I do there?” She frowns. “I don’t have a degree, and I don’t know a ton about football.”
“There’s no need for either of those things,” I assure her. “There are lots of administrative positions that don’t require college. Are you okay with filing and computer work?”
Nodding excitedly, she says, “Sure. I can
do those things.”
Since she’s on board with my idea, I head to the stadium after breakfast to hopefully make this idea come to fruition.
There’s no practice today since we had a late game last night, but there are still people working, of course.
I know the office manager, Barbara. She’s a nice older lady who wears her gray-streaked hair up in a tight bun.
When I walk in, I’m happy to see she’s in the front office, filing something in a cabinet.
Good, this means I don’t have to search her out.
She also appears to not be too busy at the moment.
“Hi, Mr. Tinsbury,” she says when she turns around and sees me standing there. “What can we do for you today?”
I ask if I can speak with her alone about something, and she says, “Sure. Come on back to my office.”
She beckons, and I follow her down a long hall to a room on the right. “Step right in,” Barbara says as she opens the door.
I head in and take a seat.
When she sits down opposite me, she asks, “So what can I do for you?”
Since I don’t expect her to create a position out of thin air, I ask, “Are there any open positions in the office? Maybe something that doesn’t require a lot of qualifications?”
“As a matter of fact,” Barbara says, “our entry-level administrative assistant left just the other day.” She waves her hand. “Greener pastures and all that.”
“What would that job entail?” I inquire.
Leaning back in her chair, she says, “Primarily there’d be a lot of answering phones, directing calls, filing some paperwork, and working on a few projects on the computer. One of the duties the last person in that position had was to review Comets fans’ social media posts and obtain permission to use pics and posts if anything looked like a good fit for our website. We already have a few accounts of people who attend the games regularly that have given blanket permission to use whatever they put up.”
“Where do those pictures go?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Oh, forgive me.” Barbara swishes her hand in the air. “I’m getting way ahead of myself. We have a section on our website devoted to game day fan-taken photos. It’s very popular and generates a good deal of traffic.”
“Wow,” I marvel. “I didn’t even know about that.”
Barbara smiles. “Most of the players aren’t aware. It’s a very cool feature, though. One we added just this season. You should check it out sometime, Mr. Tinsbury.”
“I will,” I reply. And then I ask, “So about that job…”
She crosses her arms and eyes me with interest. “Do you, by chance, know someone who may be interested?”
I think she’s onto me and knows that I do.
Sheepishly, I say, “Uh, maybe my girlfriend?”
Barbara chuckles. “Tell you what. Why don’t you have her come in for an interview? She can fill out an application while she’s here.”
Since I don’t want to pressure her, I ask, “You sure this isn’t like nepotism or something?”
Uncrossing her arms, she laughs. “Definitely not. We need to fill the position, and applicants with a solid recommendation”—she peers at me meaningfully—“receive high consideration. Still, your girlfriend will have to earn the job on her own merits.”
“That’s fair,” I agree. “Neither of us would want it any other way.”
“Great.” Barbara picks up a pen. “So what is your girlfriend’s name?”
“Morgan Delano.”
She jots that down and then writes something on a business card.
Handing me the card, she says, “My cell number is on the back. I’ve scheduled an interview with Morgan for tomorrow at two. If for some reason that doesn’t work for her, have her call me directly to reschedule.”
Since I know Morgan is free, I say, “Tomorrow will be fine. I’m sure of it.”
“Great.” We both stand. “I look forward to meeting Morgan.” Barbara smiles kindly. “I’m sure she’s a very nice person.”
Since I can’t help myself, I gush, “She’s more than nice. Morgan is utterly amazing.”
Chuckling, Barbara says, “I’m sure she is, Mr. Tinsbury.”
We shake hands, and I leave the office.
As I walk out to my SUV, I’m feeling confident Morgan will soon be the office’s newest administrative assistant.
Once I arrive home, I give Morgan the business card and the good news.
She’s smiling and happy, but suddenly looks sad.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It’s just…” She sighs. “I have nothing for wear to this interview. I only own one dress, and it’s a sundress, totally inappropriate for business.”
“Hmm, that does sound like a problem,” I agree. ”But we can fix it by going shopping.”
Damn, I can’t believe I’m suggesting clothes shopping with Morgan.
I must love this woman.
Biting her lip, she says, “Okay, but only if, once I start making money, I can pay you back for whatever we buy.”
Internally, I roll my eyes. There is absolutely no need for her to repay me, but I nonetheless nod in agreement because I know it’ll make her feel better.
“All right,” I say.
That seems to placate her.
After she grabs her purse, we’re off to a women’s apparel store in town. We figure even if Neil would happen to be around, which we pretty much doubt he is at this point, he’d never come into this type of retailer.
At the shop, a nice matronly lady helps Morgan pick out and try on several business-appropriate outfits, most of which are pantsuits and a couple of demure dresses. I wait in a chair by the fitting room, scrolling on my phone while they do their thing.
When Morgan asks for my opinion on several different outfits, I tell her the truth—I love them all.
“Zane.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s no help.”
Shrugging, I say, “What can I say, babe? You look great in everything.”
Giving up on me, she laughs, as does the saleslady.
Finally, after about an hour or so, Morgan has chosen what she wants—three dresses, two pantsuits, some shirts to go under the jackets, and a pair of black pumps.
“Are you sure this is enough?” I ask as I pull out my credit card.
“Yes, Zane, this is more than enough.” Softly, she adds, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” I reply. “By the way, you do know you’re going to be the best-looking employee in the whole office, right?”
Laughing, she says, “I think you may be a bit biased.”
“There are no ‘maybes’ about it, babe. I am your number one fan.”
I am.
I fucking love this girl.
Time to Shine
Eek, I have an interview. And it’s for a professional job.
I’m always watching Zane do his best out on the football field. Now it’s my time to shine.
The fact he was kind enough to buy me a slew of pretty business outfits helps with step number one—I’m able to dress professionally.
I choose the black pantsuit, pale blue blouse, and the black pumps to wear for the interview that will occur in exactly one hour.
Oh my God, I’m so nervous.
“Calm down,” I tell myself as I brush out my long auburn hair in front of the mirror on the wall in the bedroom.
Should I wear my hair up or down?
I opt for down but add a pretty hair clip to neaten my look.
Ugh, I’m so stressed.
I wish Zane were here to soothe my frazzled nerves. He always calms me. Unfortunately, he has a team meeting today after practice. He’ll be running late, so I’m on my own.
“You can do it,” I murmur to my reflection.
And I can.
I got this.
Rolling my shoulders back, I take a deep breath.
I’m ready to go.
Here goes nothing…and maybe everything.
> A short while later, I’m in Barbara’s office answering her questions. I’ve already filled out the application, and it feels like the interview is winding down.
I think I’ve done well.
But I know for sure I did great when she offers me the job.
Peering over at me from across her desk, she says, “I think you’d be a great fit for this position, Miss Delano. So it’s yours if you want it.”
I’m so excited, I blurt out, “Are you kidding? Absolutely, I want this job. Yes.”
Barbara chuckles, leaning back in her chair. “Excellent. So how do you feel about starting tomorrow?”
“That’s perfect.” I smile. “What time should I come in?”
She tells me, “We usually start around eight and finish up by four. If you can come in a few minutes early, though, I can show you around and introduce you to your coworkers.”
“Excellent.” I nod. “I can do that.”
I can barely keep my feet still. I can’t wait till tomorrow. I can finally feel like I’m contributing and not just hanging around the house all of the time.
Later that afternoon, once I return home, I give Zane the good news.
“Congratulations, sweetheart.” He picks me up and spins me around. Setting me back down, he says, “The Comets are lucky to have you.”
I sigh. “I want that to be the case, Zane. So I sure am going to do my very best.”
I am too.
The next morning I arrive bright and early to the office. As promised, Barbara shows me around and introduces me to the few people who are in early. She then gets me set up in my own cubicle and gives me my first assignment.
“I’m going to have you review our most recent fan pic pages on the Comets’ website. You decide what stays and what goes. We like to keep that section fresh, so we change out the images every couple of days or so. After you choose which images to ditch, go ahead and browse our approved Instagram and Twitter accounts. They’re from fans who have already given us permission to use their photos. That’ll keep it simple for now. We’ll worry about you finding pics on your own later.”
I nod as I tap the mouse to bring the desktop computer to life. “Okay, I can do that.”
