Linda stood across the table from Kirk with her handcuffed wrists extended toward him. “Now that you’ve made your grand entrance, can you help a girl out?”
He found the key in a keeper on Platt’s belt and released her from the cuffs, all with his left hand, since he seemed unable to lift his right arm. Then he rolled Joe onto his stomach and let Linda have the honor of cuffing him. That seemed to signal the real end for her, and her relief came out in silent tears on Kirk’s shoulder.
“That was quite a fourth date,” Kirk said.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed him. “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”
*****
By that evening, it was clear that Officer Joe Platt would survive his injuries, but would not survive the security footage of him shoving his ex-wife into the trunk of a police car. Kirk would survive as well, but a broken right clavicle and a broken bone in his left hand were going to keep him off of the traveling team for a while. Apart from some soreness, Linda was fine, and she didn’t mind at all that her big, tough SEAL needed some help in the shower.
She propped him up in bed that night sans clothing and then left to change into a sheer black babydoll she had fetched from her apartment. When she walked back into the bedroom his eyes widened and he gave a low whistle.
“Come to Papa, little lady,” he said, his fingers curling in a ‘come-hither’ motion.
She walked slowly up the side of the bed, letting her fingers trail up the inside of his leg and bump over his abs. “Remember: Some things are meant to be savored, taken in small bites.”
She bent to kiss him and let her hand drift to his navel and then slowly back up to his chest. Then she moved her lips to his ear and whispered, “Slow is smooth; smooth is fast, right?”
She stepped back, stripped the babydoll up over her head and tossed it onto his shins with an “Oops.” Then she pinched a corner of the garment in her fingers and dragged it up his legs and around his swollen penis where it climbed like a snake on a branch until it crawled off onto his torso and she flipped it up onto the pillow beside his head.
“Was that slow and smooth, Kirk?”
“You’re killing me,” he said, “and I just broke two bones for you.”
“Well, it seems I’ve helped you grow another one.” She touched over the glans with her index finger and drew a slick trail of his anticipatory emissions down the shaft. He twitched and moaned, and his hips rose ever so slightly. “I really need to be de-thonged again before I deal with that. It’s too bad that I’m the only one capable of a proper de-thonging at the moment.”
She turned her back to him and slowly bent at the waist as she stroked her hands down her hips and legs, drawing the lacy black fabric along as she went. She tried not to think too much about the show she was putting on for him, and felt some relief when she finally straightened and kicked free of her panties.
She turned back toward him and climbed onto the bed between his legs. She took him in her hand and kissed her way along the path her lingerie had taken and then continued upward. She felt his hot need press between her breasts and down her abdomen before it met with her own. She kissed him and slid back, taking him in millimeter by millimeter until he was fully sheathed.
“Was that smooth enough for you, sailor?”
“So smooth that I’m afraid it’s going to be really fast.”
“That’s okay. We’ve got all night.”
It wasn’t too fast. It was just perfect.
And they had all night and then some.
THE END
Bonus Story 8 of 40
Love off the Court
Tiffany
I had just left the arena after the press conference ended and all the interviews involving the team had concluded. It was pushing 2:00am, and I was exhausted. I rode down the garage elevators to staff and team parking and the elevator attendant wished me goodnight as I stepped out. My heels clicked on the echoing concrete floor and I passed by row after row of expensive, luxury cars until I came to my beloved white Audi R8. I’d worked hard for her, and wasn’t too ashamed to say I loved my car.
I got into the car and quickly peeled out of the parking garage to head to my apartment at the Marlow on Lexington. I was driving on about two ounces of energy and just wanted my bed. I parked in the garage and rode the elevator up to my place. As soon as I stepped into the foyer I headed for the stairs and went right into my bedroom. Just as I sat down on my bed to remove my boots my cell phone went off. I sighed heavily before I grabbed it out of my bag and slid the screen to answer.
“This is Tiffany Lincoln, how can I help you?” I answered briskly. It was two in the morning after all.
“It’s Jerry, Miss Lincoln,” said the voice. Jerry was my assistant. “I’m sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but we have an issue with one of the players who just made a spectacle of himself at a local club. He said some things that could affect the team’s image.”
I sighed deeply.
“Okay explained what happened in detail Jerry,” I said as I unzipped my boots and pulled them off.
“Well it was Jeremy Rogers. He got drunk and started airing the team’s dirty laundry. He said, quote, ‘The New York Reds are a bunch of bigots and racists, I am one of the best basketball players on the team and get paid the least in the entire association. If the Reds don’t renegotiate I’m going to break contract right now.’”
Jerry paused and I sighed deeply.
“For the love of—okay Jerry get his agent on the phone and see if there is any basis to his drunken slander and if so set up a meeting with the general manager and coach as a front for now. Then release a statement saying that the Reds are not in any way discriminating against any African-American players and are working with Rogers to make sure he knows just how valuable he is to the team,” I said and I heard Jerry’s fingers furiously tapping away as he took note of everything I said.
“Yes ma’am. I’ll get right on it,” Jerry said and I nodded, even though I knew he couldn’t see me.
“Good, I will talk to you in the morning then,” I said.
Jerry wished me goodnight, then I hung up. Honestly, you give a kid a break right out of high school, give him some money and all he wants is more. Jeremy Rogers was a rookie for goodness’ sake and now his position was going to be in jeopardy for spewing those allegations. I hoped the general manager wouldn’t terminate his contract altogether. One thing was for sure, if Jerry and the other two PR managers for the team didn’t get a handle on things there would be a definite shit storm come morning.
I finished undressing and went to hang up my stuff in one of my walk-in closets. The perks of living alone in a master suite was that I got both huge closets to myself. As I pulled out a camisole from a drawer in the closet I caught the reflection of myself in the mirror. I looked really tired. I needed to take a nice vacation or break or something pretty soon or I was going to crash hard. I rubbed my face with my hands and poked at the bags under my eyes. It’s not like I was some overworked skeleton though.
I made sure I took care of myself, I went to the gym, I kept up my figure and ate healthy with a few cheat days. I was average in height, five foot seven with light brown skin and dark brown eyes. I had high cheekbones and full lips and my hair was naturally thick and long; thankfully it behaved when moisturized and straightened. I had to keep up a good appearance as the head of marketing and public relations for the New York Reds, but it would be nice to take a break and wear jeans and a baseball cap for a day.
With all the work I was constantly doing for the team I had never actually been to a game. I always just showed up afterwards for when my job started. Maybe after I dealt with the Jeremy Rogers situation I would go to a game and kick back a little. After all the team’s owner as well as the GM sometimes wore jeans and sneakers to work. I made the decision to decompress a bit and pulled on my camisole I even turned off my alarms and silenced my phone so I could catch up on sleep.
<
br /> Jerry and the other PR people were very adept at their jobs; I hired them because of it. I climbed into bed and grabbed the TV remote. I pressed the power button and the flat screen rose out of the footboard of my bed. I turned on the Christmas movie channel, as it was the only way I could mute out my mind and fall asleep. The original Home Alone was playing and just as the spilled milk scene passed I was falling into a deep, much needed sleep.
*****
Anthony
“Mr. Rhodes, Mr. Rhodes!”
I was standing in a sea of people off to the side of the Chicago Boars home court with a camera shoved into my face and a bright ass light blinding my left eye. A reporter came running up from out of nowhere and I stopped to give her an interview. My manager and agent chewed me out for dodging interviews after games. Also I was taking too many fines which was starting to put a hit on my bank account.
I gritted my teeth and then forced a polite smile. “That is me, how can I help you?” I said with my signature charm. Some haters saw it as cockiness, but whatever.
“You did great in the second half and really clinched the game for the team’s win, what was going through your mind at the beginning of the third?” I could barely see the lady who was interviewing me because she was angled towards the camera and I had the damn light in my eye. I shoved down my annoyance and usual snap remark and focused on her question.
“Well I just knew that it didn’t look good for us at the end of the second, nearly fifteen points down and we just weren’t moving the ball like we should. So I took control and showed the team a little bit of direction on the court. Increased our pacing a little bit and that’s what pretty much steered us towards the win,”
“Alright, great job out there Anthony, thank you.” The reporter thankfully kept it short and I was able to walk back to the locker room to change and get ready for the press conference. The closer to the locker room I got, the slower my steps became. Winding down after a game was always exhausting. I pretty much just wanted to soak in the ice bath and then roll over into bed.
My PT, Brian, called to me, “Yo Rhodes! Come stretch out man before you lock up.” He hurried me into the locker room and I walked over to the mats to let him stretch me out. I had one of the water boys grab my headphones and a bottle of Aid so I could rehydrate. I zoned out while Brian stretched my legs, then he instructed me how to stretch my upper body and afterwards it was into the ice bath I went. The PR people kept going in and out of the locker room to let us know how much time we had until the press conference, and they escorted some reporters in to talk to a few guys. I managed to dodge them and take a shower instead.
Afterward I went to my locker. I changed into my light blue button down shirt and pulled the grey, crew neck cashmere sweater over it. I pulled on my jeans and stepped into my white and grey Armani high tops. I pulled a comb through my hair until I was satisfied with the slicked back look. The locker room barber came around and I waved him away. I only trusted one person with my hair and he was back in New York in the old-fashioned barber shop in Brooklyn. He got my undercut right every time.
One of the PR people, Jerry, called to me. “Anthony, you gotta wrap it up man, the press is ready for you in two minutes!”
I fixed my collar really quick before I followed after him into the press conference room. Cameras flashed when Dawson, Rogers and I walked onto the stage to sit in the hot seats. Dawson was the forward, and Rogers was a rookie who was in a bit of trouble for some remarks he’d made a few nights before. The mics were adjusted as were the bright camera lights, but thankfully they weren’t shining directly in my face that time.
The reporters all raised their hands to be called on for questions and I let Dawson do the picking. It was no secret that I didn’t like the press or having to answer their stupid ass questions.
“I have a question for Anthony Rhodes. First, I’d like to say great game out there. What did you think changed for the team when you stepped into the game in the second half?” The reporter was wearing one of those old-fashioned brown wool jackets over a white button down shirt and khaki slacks. He had his recorder pointed at me and his wire rimmed eyes were looking at me expectantly. I thought I saw a smirk on his face and new how he wanted me to trip up on the question.
“Everything changes come the second half of the game. We realized we needed to pull things together and we went out there and picked up the pace. We handled business,” I said and added a smile. The reporter looked vaguely disappointed as he most likely wanted me to say something stupid like I got the team in gear and clutched the win all on my own. A year ago, when I was a real cocky asshole I would have said that. But I’ve since then learned the rules of good marketing. I put a filter on my remarks, and I took seriously how the public saw me.
“Mister Rhodes, when you stepped onto the court the team seemed instantly to switch into gear. What would you say allowed for that to happen?” Another dumb ass reporter of the same type posed the question to me in a more direct manner. I simply shrugged and glanced over at Dawson who was laughing at me, he knew they were trying to back me into a corner.
“I can’t speak for my other teammates. But all I can say is that we realized we still had a shot and picked up the pace a little bit. Everything gets real when you’re in the second half,” I said evasively. Thankfully a female reporter called Rogers’s attention.
“Mr. Rogers, you made some eyebrow-raising remarks about the franchise last night, any insight into why you said what you did?” Both Dawson and I turned our heads to Rogers and he sat back in his seat. He looked like he didn’t want to say anything for fear of losing his job. If I’d been in his shoes I would have simply said, ‘no comment.’
“I didn’t mean any of what I said Miss. I was drunk and stupid quite frankly. I’m honored and blessed to be pulled right out of high school to play for the greatest basketball association on the planet and the best franchise in the league. I will say this though, I am ambitious and I do get impatient at times. That comment was a product of that and should have never been said.”
Both Dawson and I clapped for Rogers, it took guts to come out and say all that. From then on the reporters mainly asked him the questions, and that was fine by me. As long as I was on the next flight back to New York, where I could get myself a decent slice of thin crust pizza, and sleep in my own bed.
*****
Tiffany
The fallout from the Rogers comment wasn’t so bad because he readily apologized and I was glad he owned up to his mistake. Otherwise his contract with the team could have been on the line. It was Christmas Day and no one was really off of work since the team played against their rivals, Miami, but there was a relaxed air to everything that I appreciated.
I had just bought a glass of champagne and returned to my seat right behind the Reds’ bench and I sat my purse down on the floor in front of me. When I glanced up at the court I saw Anthony Rhodes jogging to his seat. His blue eyes were trained on me and he wore that cocky half-grin that everyone either loved or hated about him. I’d never worked with Anthony directly, but everyone talked about how he was such a narcissist at times.
I supposed that I couldn’t blame him. There he was, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat under his uniform. His golden blond hair was styled in an undercut and tied in a short ponytail on his head. He had an intense brow, slightly pouting lips, and a square jaw. Not to mention he was six-seven and beautifully muscled to go along with it.
“Hi, I’m Anthony,” he said when he reached the bench. He gave me a full blown charming smile that time and held out his hand for me to shake. I smiled politely and shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you Anthony,” I said. He tilted his head at me slightly.
“You’re not gonna give me your name?” he asked with his smile still in place. He seemed almost too confident that I would give into his charm and for that reason exactly I decided to give him a run for his money.
“I can’t just give you my name you know, you
kind of have to earn it,” I said and he laughed while one of the towel boys passed him his track suit. Anthony kept facing me as he dressed and people were starting to glance over, possibly wondering who the hell could have gotten Anthony Rhodes’s attention during a game.
“Okay I’ll earn it then, what’ll it take? Actually don’t answer that. I bet I know,” Anthony said and flashed me that cocky grin before he finally turned and sat down. I took the time to roll my eyes and shake my head. I sent my attention back to the game and enjoyed my champagne.
“So are you having a good Christmas?” I tried to act like I didn’t hear him. But it was damn near impossible as his seat was literally right in front of mine. I looked at him and saw he was turned around in his chair looking at me.
“Yes I guess I am thanks,” I said and Anthony nodded his head for a moment.
“So did you see how many points I made in the last quarter?” Anthony asked with that cocky smile. I did roll my eyes then.
“Not really, I was just enjoying the game overall. It seems like Miami is making a comeback though,” I observed and Anthony snorted.
“Whatever, as soon as coach puts me back on the court Miami will be blown out the water,” Anthony said with unconcerned disregard. I muffled a sigh and then flipped my eyes back to the court.
“So you from New York, you live here or just visiting?” I found it a little annoying that Anthony didn’t know who the head of his basketball team’s public relations department was.
“All of the above. I never usually watch the games here,” I said and Anthony just nodded his head, but I knew if he was really listening to me he’d ask questions about what I just said in response to his question.
“Yo! Anthony you’re back in!” The coach called his attention back to the game and it was like a switch had been turned. Anthony was all business. Though he flashed me a smile before he took off his track suit and jogged over to the coach. After receiving direction from the coach Anthony fist-bumped the guy he was substituting and then he jumped into the game.
Alien Affair Page 31
