Playing the Game

by Stephanie Queen

  She laughed. With his eyes blazing, he leaned toward her, threatening to kiss her again.

  Then they heard the loud voice of David McCall. Barry groaned and laid his head on the steering wheel in mock defeat.

  “Hey Barry—you coming or going?”

  “Going.”

  “No kidding? Why don’t you stay for a few minutes? I’m just getting here.” Dave’s voice was getting closer to the car and so Barry opened the door and got out to talk to his teammate.

  “Not tonight Dave. I have a special date to keep.”

  Dave peered in the car and nodded at her. He seemed a little surprised, Roxanne thought, and she wondered why. Barry clipped the conversation short and got back into the car.

  “See you on the golf course Monday, Dave. Have fun tonight.” Barry dismissed him.

  “Not as much fun as you!” Dave shouted as they drove off.

  While he drove the huge Caddy as if it were a Volkswagen, headed for the highway to his home in Weston, Barry was quiet. He put a disc in his CD player and they listened to the mellow whining of a saxophone. Roxanne sat back in her seat, taking the opportunity to study his face. He looked older than his years. The creases around his mouth were deep with use.

  He had the classic features of a dark, brooding Irishman, from the vivid blue eyes, the dark wavy hair, down to the strong dimpled chin. If he hadn’t been a basketball star, she supposed he could have easily been a movie star. Roxanne laughed at herself out loud. Barry looked at her and only shook his head. If he thought her behavior strange, she couldn’t tell. He asked no questions as they pulled into his driveway.

  Once inside his home, Roxanne took in the slick décor of his living room and was impressed. Plush rugs were scattered about the massive room, the vaulted ceiling was sparkling white, punctuated by skylights. A gray stone fireplace took up one entire wall.

  The plump leather sectional looked inviting and Roxanne decided to make herself comfortable.

  “I like your colors, green and beige. Very tasteful.”

  “I call it the grass and dirt look. Not much of it back home in Queens. If I had a shrink he’d probably tell me I was overcompensating for some deep-seated deficiency from my past.”

  “Look at this! Parquet floors! Just like the old Boston Garden. It must make you feel right at home here,” Roxanne said without sarcasm. She knew that in truth, Barry Dennis was probably more at home on the basketball court than off.

  He grinned at her comment. “You picked up on that. You’re quick. Usually takes people quite a while to notice.”

  “It takes people quite a while—or women?” Roxanne asked. She noted his chuckle and added, “I think you’ve been associating with some slow women.”

  He stood in front of the fireplace looking at her with what she hoped was great interest. She was lounging on the couch with her feet tucked up and leaning into the pillows, anticipating something. She smoothed her black silk dress against her thighs.

  “You have me all wrong. I don’t parade women through here. As a matter of fact I…” He looked away before continuing, seeming to change his mind about saying something. “I’d rather talk about you and your love life.” He went to the bar, poured brandy into two glasses and brought them over, putting them down on the cocktail table. Then he sat down next to her on the couch, sinking in deep. They looked at each other. She realized he expected her to say something.

  “I don’t have a love life. There, that covers that topic.” She looked away from his blue eyes and picked up her drink, staring into the liquid.

  “Why were you still wearing your wedding band?”

  “It’s a widow’s prerogative.” She said. She met his stare without a smile.

  “Okay. Have it your way. But I don’t give up that easy. You’ll tell me the whole story before you leave here.”

  She had to laugh at that, although he was perfectly serious. He got up from the couch and for a moment, she thought he was going to start pacing with impatience. But he walked back to the bar instead.

  “That may be, but I don’t have any idea why you would even want to know. After all, here I am.” She spread her hands and leaned back into the pillows, causing her mink hemline to rise almost to the top of her thighs. He smiled back at her invitation, but not without mischief, she thought. He had picked up a cigarette from behind the bar and proceeded to light it, taking a deep drag. Barely suppressing her surprise, she watched him walk back toward the couch with the cigarette hanging from between his lips.

  “Well, well, well. The big star athlete has a nicotine habit. I bet your coach doesn’t approve of this at all.”

  “He doesn’t know about it.” Barry sat at the opposite end of the couch from her, on the edge. He took one more long drag from the cigarette before he leaned forward and stubbed it out in the plain metal ashtray on the cocktail table.

  “Big secret is it?” Roxanne teased.

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, it is. And it better stay that way.” Barry gave her a menacing look before his face cracked into the lopsided grin. “It’s just one of those leftover habits from my childhood in the city. Everyone smoked. We all thought we were the Marlboro Man and I never managed to give it up completely.”

  “Give up what? Smoking or the longing to be the Marlboro Man?” she asked.

  “Neither. Didn’t you notice what a macho tough guy I am?”

  She laughed. “I promise I won’t let your secret out.”

  “Which one? That I smoke cigarettes or that I’m really the Marlboro Man?”

  “Hmm. I take that back. I bet that reporter friend of yours—Kevin—would just love a story like this: ‘Barry Dennis Has A Secret Identity.’ And I don’t know what I might say if left at his mercy in an interrogation.” Her smile was wide and then she broke out into giggles when Barry grabbed her shoeless foot and began to tickle the bottom.

  “Mercy? You can forget about mercy now, babe. I’ve got your extremely sensitive foot as hostage.” His grin was wide and though she struggled to free her foot amidst her laughter, all she succeeded in doing was to bunch her dress up to her hips so that her black lace panties were completely exposed.

  “My, my. That’s a damned unladylike way of sitting, don’t you think?” Barry’s hands slipped from her foot to travel up the length of her bare tanned legs to reach the top of her thighs as he leaned toward her. Roxanne stopped laughing, but her mouth held the shadow of a smile.

  The butterfly in her stomach suddenly fluttered its wings. Barry’s fingers kneaded the flesh of her thighs, his thumbs circling inward to the softer, more sensitive skin, right to the edge of her panties where he stopped.

  She took a sharp breath and stared into his eyes, telling him wordlessly to go on. His eyes were hooded and glistened with passion. His smirk was frozen on his face and waiting. Unable to contain the warm wet flood of her desire, Roxanne shifted herself so that he touched her where she needed to be touched. She reached her arms up around his neck, dragging him down on top of her on the couch. She kissed him deeply and without modesty or reserve.

  The groan of pleasure that came from Barry caused yet another wave of longing and desire to tremor through her body. He explored her moistness with the skillful massage of his fingertips, returning her kiss with deep plunges of his tongue. She felt drugged with pleasure.

  One of his hands slipped around Roxanne as he moved closer over her body for intimate contact that sizzled her senses to awareness of his desire for her. She pulled her mouth from his, caressing the dark stubble of his jaw with the palms of her hands. Her eyes were half opened. Staring at his mouth, she painted the line of his full lips with the tip of her tongue.

  He watched her as his wry smile slowly curved to one side and he slipped both hands under her bottom and pressed her to him with a longing thrust. His heavy breath fanned her face with the faint scent of tobacco and brandy. She could feel every ounce of his long lean body next to hers; could feel every labored intake of air into his lungs.

>   She stared into his eyes, their vivid blue passion barely kept under control. Beads of sweat had formed on his upper lip and at his temples. She darted her tongue to lick the sweat from his lip, the salty taste shocking her senses with pulsating pleasure. He shut his eyes tight. The corner of his mouth that usually curled to form his famous half-grin now twitched with tension.

  “I want you Roxy. Here and now.” He opened his eyes only enough to send her the message that he was serious. Then as if to emphasize his point he lifted her bottom to press her hips to his, tighter than before.

  Her eyes widened before she could catch herself. Feeling the full force of him, of his desire, startled her with excitement and she felt her fingers clutch his shoulders. Did he expect her to say no? She couldn’t remember wanting a man quite so fiercely at any moment in her life. The height of her arousal threatened to choke her at the slightest provocation. But she waited for him to make the next move. She enjoyed too much the way he ran the show.

  He must have read her mind. He took her panties and tore them from her bottom. At the same time pressed his face whisper-close to hers. He spoke in a gruff, gravelly voice.

  “I take it this means you want me too?” His grin was back in place, if momentarily, and he lifted himself from her, but only long enough to remove his pants and shorts. Then he was back. And this time there was no pause, no stopping, no talk.

  Roxanne opened herself to him and took him in her arms. This time when their faces came together their mouths met in a kiss, an open, prowling kiss. With his body fully upon her, she felt him enter her velvety wetness with a tightening twinge of excitement that warmed her entire body to an inferno. He thrust deep inside, with a long gliding movement. She held her breath with her arms wrapped around his back and he buried his face in her hair. She heard his hard breathing as much as she felt his breath as she moved her body under him to counter his rapidly escalating thrusts. Her thrill ran deep and she sank into the mindless sensation of her body.

  He pushed himself into her again and again. He pulled her bottom up, no longer controlling the tide that carried him into this frenzy. Roxanne let herself be carried away by him until spasms of pleasure overcame her and she clenched her legs around him tightly. He did not stop. He pushed and pushed and pushed until his breath turned to moaning. He yelled and held her to him, and in one last spasmodic rush of energy, his passion was spent.

  Clinging to him with her eyes shut tight, Roxanne let the stunning sensations slowly leave her until she finally felt herself relax. She turned her head to face this man with amazed fascination. He lifted himself slightly from her so that he could look at her. His face hovered a hair above hers.

  Roxanne was acutely aware of his warm breath, of the sweaty, earthy scent of sex that surrounded them, and she wanted to say something to him. But she was fresh out of snappy remarks. Nothing seemed appropriate to say to this man to adequately express how she felt. And just exactly how did she feel? She had to admit to herself that she was overwhelmed; completely bowled over by the level of intensity and excitement this man aroused in her. And though she admitted that to herself, she didn’t dare admit it to him.

  Looking into his lazy blue gaze, as he continued to stare back at her, she recognized the blaze of passion that lay just beneath the surface. He spoke first.

  “A guy could lose control with a woman like you.” His voice was gravelly.

  “You mean it’s not always this intense?” she asked.

  “Hell no. And you?”

  “Never,” she said. She couldn’t believe she admitted this much. His slow smile lifted his mouth to a half-grin and his eyes glittered. She grinned back without guile. She felt giddy with excitement over their discovery of each other.

  “In that case, we’ll have to make the most of our evening together.” He lowered himself slightly and leaned on his elbow to one side, still watching her, still inside her. She turned her head slightly. She felt him growing inside her.

  “You read minds too.” She trailed her fingertips down the length of his side to his buttocks where she began a lazy massage, pulling him into her more deeply.

  The phone rang.

  “Ignore it,” Barry said. He took her earlobe between his lips as he slowly pulsed back and forth inside her. It rang again.

  “Who is it?” Roxanne asked. He must know who would be calling at this hour. The pleasing sensations he was creating tingled through her, but the ring of the phone didn’t stop. It rang again. No answering machine came on to stop it.

  Barry stopped all motion and lifted his head. She could swear he was about to say something, then instead he groaned an oath and rolled off her and off the couch in one motion. He walked to the phone and picked it up.

  Roxanne watched him, standing there half naked. She listened to him and didn’t want to be told who it was. What if it was another woman?

  All the pleasure drained out of her and she straightened herself up, retrieved her panties from the floor and put them back on. Barry continued his conversation in a low voice and Roxanne wondered what to do, as she sat back on the couch and took a sip of her forgotten brandy. More importantly, she wondered how she felt.

  Not great.

  When he hung up the phone and walked back to her he didn’t seem at all self-conscious that he was dressed only in his shirt and socks. He gave her a calculated look, and then retrieved his own pants to put them back on.

  He sat on the other end of the couch, leaned back and reached his arm along the back to touch Roxanne’s hair.

  “So why did you get dressed?” He frowned.

  “Why did you?”

  The smirk flashed onto his face before he broke into a full-fledged laugh.

  “That was a woman?” She needed an answer.

  “Yes.”

  She stood. She wouldn’t wait to be asked to leave.

  “No need to go. It was my ex-wife.”

  She sat back down. If the call was a non-issue for him, then she wouldn’t make an issue of it. She’d been enjoying herself too much and she wanted to get that feeling back again. She was glad that he wasn’t going to ask her to leave.

  He leaned toward her, and for a moment she thought he intended to pick up where they left off, but instead he only touched the laugh line on her face.

  “You laugh a lot don’t you?”

  “So do you.”

  “Not as much as I’d like to, but I try.” He retrieved his hand and took a cigarette from a pack in the end table drawer and then he went to the bar where he lit it and took a long puff.

  Roxanne laughed at him. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. This smoking habit of yours is too ironic,” she said.

  With that, he shook his head, raised his eyebrows and planted the butt in the ashtray to put it out.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what the call was about?” He came around and stood in front of the bar, leaning back with his arms folded.

  “No.”

  He raised his brow and shook his head.

  “She called to give me the message that my daughter Lindy won’t be coming over tomorrow as planned. And that she’ll be gone until Monday.” He stood there, arms still folded, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of the situation.

  But she knew. He may be disappointed that he wouldn’t be seeing his daughter, she couldn’t quite tell, but she was most definitely not. She rose from the couch and sauntered over to him at the bar, bringing her glass. She poured herself more brandy.

  “That’s good to hear because three really is a crowd.” She stood before him and took a swallow of her brandy.

  As was characteristic of him, she was beginning to realize, he laughed with great amusement and flashing eyes. And when she put her brandy down on the bar, he reached forward and gathered her into his arms to lean back against him.

  “How would you like a tour of the bed…I mean the house.” Barry laughed at himself.

  “You have a one-track mind.”

  “Suddenly I do.”
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br />   “Must be catching,” Roxanne said as she snuggled herself against him even closer to feel again his growing desire.

  Barry cleared his throat but didn’t move. “So tell me about this money problem of yours,” he said.

  Roxanne raised her brow in surprise and pushed herself away from him. She picked up her drink and headed back to the couch. She hoped he wasn’t having second thoughts about her, but then after a quick glance over her shoulder she reassured herself that the interest was still there. Maybe instead, he didn’t want her to have second thoughts about spending a night with a sex fiend. She smiled at the thought. Then, after taking a deep breath, she answered his question.

  “Nothing to tell. I’m broke. But I’ll get by. I have a lot of assets to sell.” She winked and he, of course, laughed. She couldn’t make herself ask him for the interview just yet. She didn’t want to spoil the evening. She didn’t want him to think it was about money or her job. Because it had nothing to do with either. Shaking her head, she also realized as soon as she asked him the favor she would look bad. Not now.

  “So tell me about this smoking problem of yours.”

  “Nothing to tell. I’ll get over it—eventually. What about your late husband? Why’d you marry him?” Barry came over and joined her on the couch. He wasn’t giving her any room to breathe.

  “Not that again. What about your ex-wife, why’d you marry her?”

  “Because she was pregnant.” He stopped.

  She waited for him to continue. He didn’t. He took a swig of his brandy.

  “Tell me about it,” she prodded.

  “We got married, she had the baby, and six months later she was history.” He said it matter-of-factly.

  “She walked on you.” Roxanne was not surprised.

  “Yeah. Said something about not being able to stand it anymore. But I told her up front I wasn’t thrilled with her, or marriage. Warned her not to expect much from me. I guess she was sure she could change all that. But she didn’t.”

  “And now?”

  “Now she’s married to some baseball player and they’re all playing house somewhere, happy as clams.”