Dirty Saint: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Vesper Vaughn

  “I don’t care about your rules,” Mr. Avonlea says coldly. He’s actually shaking with rage. “Esther, you’re to quit the team at once. Football isn’t for women.”

  The Dean looks panicked and I know that he’s seeing the ten-million-dollar potential fine flash before his very eyes. “Is that really necessary? We really do need a woman on the team for visibility purposes.”

  Esther’s fork freezes on the way to her mouth. “I’m sorry, what?”

  I realize that whatever flyer was put out about this gig, it didn’t include the part where the league had forced Coach and the Dean’s hands.

  Coach clears his throat. “We have to have a woman on the team or staff in some capacity, otherwise we get fined by the league.”

  “We only had the one applicant. No other woman seemed to be interested in the job. You see Mr. Avonlea, this is for the good of the school.”

  Esther is stony-faced. Under the table, her leg is shaking. “I was the only applicant? That’s why you chose me for the team?”

  Coach backtracks. “You came highly regarded as well. I’m sure if anyone else had applied, you still would have had the job on merit alone.”

  Esther is unconvinced but doesn’t press the issue. I slide my foot up her skirt again and this time she doesn’t shy away from my touch.

  Mr. Avonlea throws his napkin on the table. “This is absurd. No daughter of mine is going to be on a football field if I have any say in the matter.”

  Carol grabs her husband’s hand. “Jed, not now. Please. Not here.”

  Mr. Avonlea throws his hand up like he’s about to hit her; she cowers. He lowers his hand. “We’ll talk about this later,” he says. “But I’ve lost my appetite.” He stands up and looks at the Dean. “I don’t know what kind of school you’re running here, but you’ll be missing my donor check next semester. I thought you were the kind of leader who didn’t cave in to 2016 values. Women don’t belong in football.” He hurries out of the dining room, and Carol follows.

  Esther goes back to eating her food as if nothing happened.

  “So. Who’s excited for chapel tonight?” I ask the awkwardly silent table.

  Esther doesn’t speak for the rest of the meal.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SAINT

  I see that Esther’s parents have gathered themselves enough to make it to the family chapel service. I keep turning my head throughout the whole thing to check on Esther. She darts her eyes over to me a few times but makes no gesture that would indicate she’s pleased with my attention.

  Not that I’m fucking surprised.

  It’s amazing how she can ice me out at the flick of a button.

  The service ends and I tell my parents to go ahead to the after-service coffee without me. I find an excuse to hang back by talking to Pastor Blevins. Everyone is gone now; it’s just me, him, and Esther, who has started gathering up the hymnal books people didn’t bother returning.

  “Great, Pastor,” I say. “Are you headed to the admin building for coffee?”

  He nods. “I am.”

  “Let me walk with you,” I say, leading him out of the chapel. I wait for a convincing distance before smacking my forehead in regret. “You know what? I forgot something in my dorm room. You go ahead without me and I’ll see you in a bit.”

  He buys the excuse and I make my way to the guys’ dormitory. I pause in the bushes for a few minutes until I’m sure Pastor Blevins is ensconced in the admin building. Then I double back to the chapel.

  Esther is still tidying up.

  “Need help?”

  She looks up at me. “No,” she replies. “The longer this takes me the longer it’ll be before I have to go talk with my dad.”

  I walk over to her and she freezes in place. “I don’t bite, Delilah.”

  That gets her talking. “What is up with you calling me that? You have to stop. People will know that I’m…”

  “That you’re what?”

  She stomps her foot in indignation. “That I’m the woman from the Bible verse. You have to stop. One day it’s going to slip out in a public place and everyone will know.”

  I reach out to stroke her cheek. “Would that really be a bad thing?” My thumb grazes her flushed skin, and she shuts her eyes, relaxing into my grasp.

  “Saint. We can’t do this. I told you,” she replies.

  I stop touching her and grab the hymnals. “Let me put these away and you tell me what’s going on.”

  She relinquishes her grasp on the hymnals and collapses into the pew. “I’m just…just, never mind.” She finally looks upset.

  “What, Delilah?” I ask her, putting my hand on her shoulder.

  Her mouth forms a grim line. I can see tears filling her eyes.

  “I’m…angry,” she whispers this last word like it’s a curse in this place.

  I laugh but stop when I see the hurt in her eyes. “Sorry, it’s just funny. I mean, not that you’re angry. Just that you’re holding it in and pretending like God is going to punish you for having regular, human emotions.”

  She sighs and I hurriedly return the last of the hymnals to their rightful places. I finish in under a minute.

  “Delilah. Come with me.”

  “I need to get to the coffee thing,” she says.

  But she doesn’t move a single muscle.

  “For once in your entire life, could you just let go and lose some control? Break the rules. Do something reckless.” I look around the church sanctuary conspiratorially. “Maybe, just maybe, don’t show up somewhere you’re supposed to be.” I smile at her. “I know you’re capable of it. You already did it the day we got ice cream.”

  She’s biting her lip and I can see she’s actually struggling to say no to this. That gives me hope.

  She stands up. “Alright. Let’s do whatever we’re going to do before I change my mind.”

  She leads me out of the sanctuary; once we’re outside in the evening air, she shivers in her cardigan. I take off my letterman’s jacket and drape it over her shoulders. She doesn’t object.

  “Thanks,” she says quietly.

  We make our way down the crunchy-leaf-covered concrete steps sunk deep into the main hill on campus.

  Esther keeps shooting furtive looks around us. I check my watch.

  “It’s only eight. We have time,” I say to her.

  “Yeah, but I don’t think we’re supposed to be out at night together,” she replies.

  “Relax, Delilah. No one really cares when it comes down to it. Besides that, I know secret ways. Come on.” She follows me around the main administration building; it’s buzzing with activity. We duck below the windows so no one sees us. I know the security guards never make their way around here. We should be fine.

  We escape the view of the admin building and take off at a run toward the stadium. Esther stops running when she sees where I’m taking her.

  “We’re really, really not supposed to be-“

  I spin around and put my hands on her shoulders. She stiffens under my touch. “You either need to trust me, or you can find your way back to your controlling father for tonight’s confrontation. Got it?”

  She bites her lip and nods. I even feel her shoulders relax ever-so-slightly at my touch. “Got it.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  I slip a keycard out of my pocket and tap it on a side entrance to the stadium. The pad lights up green and the door clicks open.

  “Are you supposed to have –“ But Esther stops herself this time. “Right. Don’t ask questions, just trust you. I got it.”

  I hold the door open for her. A smile plays at the corners of her lips and she steps into the dark hallway. Only the glow of the exit sign lights our path. I slip my phone out of my pocket and turn on the flashlight. Our footsteps echo down the concrete tunnel and out onto the field.

  Esther takes a tentative step onto the grass. The moon is bright tonight; not quite full, but glowing nonetheless. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent
of wet earth. The sprinklers clearly ran earlier today. I look up at the stadium seats. I realize Esther is staring at me.

  “Do you ever get used to it?” she asks me.

  “Used to what?”

  She looks down and crosses her arms over her beige sweater. “The people cheering your name, rooting for you. Thinking that they know you just because they saw you on television.”

  I tilt my head. The moonlight reflects off of her hazel eyes. “Yeah, sometimes. But this is what I’ve been working towards my entire life. It’s why I’m on this earth.”

  “To play football?” Esther asks, smiling.

  I nod. “To play football, yeah. I know it sounds ridiculous, and you probably think I don’t believe in God because of, well. You know.”

  “Because you’re a heathen?”

  For once, Esther is joking. I can hardly believe it. I laugh and rub my chin with my fingers. “Yeah, because I’m a heathen.”

  There’s silence as we stare at each other. Esther breaks it. “I understand that. I don’t ever get tired of the smell of the turf, or the sound of the whistles, or the noise helmets make when they crack together. I never, ever get sick of it. Ever.”

  “You really love football, too, don’t you?”

  Esther nods. “More than I love anything in this world.”

  I jam my hands into my pockets. “You should be more than the water girl.”

  She blushes and bites her lip. “Was this all you were going to show me? The football field at night?”

  I laugh and hold my hand out. “No. Follow me.”

  She stares at my hand, hesitating to take it. But I can tell that she really, really wants to. She finally does. My skin burns where she touches me, electricity arcing between our bodies. I pull her up the steps of the stadium and she follows. I realize that she’s not even out of breath when we’re a third of the way up. “You’re a lot tougher than you look, you know that?” She still hasn’t let go of my hand.

  “I used to do a tour de stade after classes in high school,” she says. “Sometimes I come out here and do them in the late afternoons when classes are over and I don’t have any meetings.”

  I stop in my tracks and turn to face her. “You run up and down every section of stairs in this place?”

  She grins sheepishly. “It’s how I like to pass the time, yes.”

  “You’re a fucking beast, Delilah.” No wonder her thighs and calves looked so delicious in that miniskirt. My eyes dart down to her garb tonight. I wish she were wearing her party clothes, but there’s something incredibly sexy about how covered up she is right now. She’s like a present I can’t wait to unwrap.

  Esther cringes. “I hate cursing,” she says.

  I pull her up the last few steps. “Why?”

  “Why do I hate cursing?”

  I nod.

  She sighs. “It’s just so…unbecoming, I guess. It just sounds so gross.”

  “Have you ever cursed in your life?” I ask her.

  “Never. Not even once,” she says. We stare out at the stadium.

  “Why were you crying before dinner?”

  I see her tiny hand ball up into a fist. “My father being my father. That’s what I was crying about.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  Tears are forming in her eyes again, and she bites her lip as if trying to hold them back. “He somehow heard about me skipping my classes. Wanted to know what I was doing instead.”

  “What did you tell him?” I ask.

  “That I was studying in the library and lost track of time.”

  “I take it he didn’t buy that?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not sure. But he yelled at me anyway. You should be better than that, Esther. Do I need to glue a wristwatch to your forehead, Esther? Do I need to come with you to every class, Esther?”

  I let out a low whistle. “Fuck. And I thought my dad was a stickler for commitment and rules.”

  She looks down at her feet. “I hate him. I hate my father.”

  I take a deep breath. “Well, there’s good news.”

  Esther looks at me curiously. “What’s that?”

  “We have something in common after all. We’re both huge disappointments to our parents.”

  Esther actually laughs. “How is it possible that you’ve disappointed your father? You’re a star quarterback about to get drafted into the pros.”

  “You really want to know?”

  Esther nods. “Anything to take my mind off of my own daddy issues.”

  “Alright. My dad’s Catholic. He wanted me to go to Notre Dame. I couldn’t get in there. So I ended up at this Protestant college. He’s never forgiven me for it, and I don’t think he ever will. Even if, and by if I mean when, I win a national championship.”

  Esther raises her eyebrows in shock. “Wow. That’s horrible.”

  I shrug. “It is what it is.” I want to say at least my father doesn’t hit my mother, but I keep that to myself. “How about this,” I say, taking Esther by the shoulders. I point her body toward the center of the field. “You’re going to scream FUCK at the top of your lungs.”

  Esther looks like I just told her to jump off the roof of the stadium. “I’m sorry. You want me to do what?” Her hand is at the neckline of her sweater. I know by now that this signals her intense discomfort.

  “You heard me. I want you to do it.”

  She laughs. It’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. “I can’t do that. No. No.”

  “You need to let anger out, Delilah. Before it eats you alive,” I say.

  She’s considering it. I can tell. “Alright,” she says. “If you think it will make me feel better.”

  “I promise it will.”

  “And what if it doesn’t?” Her eyes flash at me.

  “One-hundred-percent money-back guarantee.”

  She laughs again. I could get used to hearing that sound for the rest of my life, I know it.

  “Okay,” she says. She clears her throat.

  “Wait!” I reach over to her neck. She flinches. “You need to really let loose.” My fingers find the top, pearly white button of her sweater. With a flick of my fingers, it’s undone. She doesn’t stop me. She just stares at me. “That’s better.”

  I wonder if she can hear how fast my heart is beating.

  She turns back toward the center of the field. “Do I just…do it?”

  “Just do it, Delilah.”

  “Fuck.” She whispers it. It’s hardly a primal scream. She claps her hand over her own mouth. “Oh my goodness. I can’t believe I just did that.”

  “Come on. You can do better than that. Let it out. Let it all out. This only works if you-“

  “FUCK!” she screams. The word falls away from us, jumping over the stadium seats. Fuck fuck fuck fuck…it echoes and dissipates at the far end of the field.

  “Again,” I say like I’m coaching her.

  She balls up her fists and leans forward. “FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” There’s a vein going at her neck. Her face is turning purple.

  I put my hand on her back. “Don’t forget to breathe,” I joke.

  She relaxes and for once, her muscles aren’t tense as I’m touching her. “That felt really, really good.” She breathes the words towards me, her gorgeous face beaming in the moonlight.

  “I told you,” I say. “I told you it would.” I’m thinking right now of other ways I could make her feel good. I bend down and seize the moment. I kiss her.

  I’m surprised by Esther grabbing the back of my hair. She returns the kiss. And not just a peck, either. It’s full-on, make out session kissing. I find her lips beneath mine and move my hands down to her hips. I give her soft flesh a squeeze and she pulls away from me. She claps a hand over her mouth again.

  “Oh my word,” she whispers. “Oh my word. I am. I am so…I am so, so sorry. I don’t know what just got into-“

  But I grab her mid-sentence, lifting her off of her feet. She’s not entirely sure what to do with her b
ody, so she sort of hangs there, against me. I don’t care.

  I have her in my arms, and that’s all I’ve fucking wanted this entire time.

  “You’re gonna have to pull your skirt up,” I whisper to her. “If you want to hang onto me with your legs.”

  She pulls away from my face, her body still hanging in mid-air. “You do it,” she says. I set her down on the ground and get on my knees. I reach under her skirt, sliding my palms up her calves to her knees. Then I slide up to her thighs. Just when I’m about to reach her panty line, she stops me. “Wait.”

  “You really want me to stop?” I reply, waiting. Breathing.

  “Don’t stop,” she says.

  I lean forward to kiss her sweet, pale flesh.

  She trembles underneath my lips, breathing heavily. I move the fabric up higher and reach her pale pink cotton panties. They’re covered in rosebuds, which makes me think of the rosebud waiting for me underneath the fabric.

  I move slowly up her thighs, and she squeezes my shoulders as I make my way higher and higher and higher. Then I stop. “Grab your skirt,” I instruct.

  She takes hold of the bunched up fabric and keeps it around her hips.

  I lift her off her feet and her legs wrap around my torso. I walk over to the back wall of the stadium, kissing her mouth as I move. She returns my kisses with gusto, her hot tongue connecting with mine. I press her back against the wall. I can feel the heat coming from between her thighs. It seeps through my shirt and it’s all I can do to not unbuckle my dress pants and ram myself into her tightness.

  Actually.

  Fuck that.

  I reach a hand down and unbuckle them with one hand. They fall to the ground.

  Esther doesn’t stop me as I start to pull down my boxers.

  I kiss her neck and she groans, pushing herself up against my body. “You sure you want to do this?” I whisper to her. “It’s your first time, right?”

  As a way of reply, she grabs my hair and kisses me on the mouth.

  That’s all the answer I need.

  I push her panties aside and enter her, her hot wetness enveloping me so tightly I think I’m not going to make it more than a few seconds.

  We push against each other, Esther’s moans echoing through the empty stadium.