Silly Girl

by Michel Prince

  “Did you earn me some tickets?”

  “DeShawn, you’ve known me for what…three years now…”

  “And the last time you looked like this you were eatin’ all that good food. Actually, I’ve never seen you with that big of a smile.”

  “I’m not smiling.” Sylvia focused to keep a straight face.

  DeShawn leaned towards her shoulder and whispered, “Matthias…”

  Sylvia’s face flushed as she entered the museum.

  “Stay away. The last thing I need today is you picking with me.”

  “Tell the truth…you hit that.”

  Waving goodbye, Sylvia walked back toward the photography section hoping to hide out for the rest of the day. The silence of the exhibit was harder than she thought. Usually she could run through her kinesiology notes or name off muscular groups while looking at the pictures, but today all she could think about was she’d left Matthias in his condo with Simone Harris. God she’d even smelled heavenly. When the door opened Sylvia had been hit with a light but distinctive perfume. Had Matthias noticed? More importantly had Matthias…

  She’d had three magical days. If Langston was here at five-thirty then she’d believe that Matthias really wanted her to be his girl…if not, she’d know she’d been a fool. At least she’d had the experience and even with the disclosure of her past she wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

  Sylvia forgot to pack a lunch. Buying an overpriced apple and chips, she found a quiet corner of the café and settled in while Matthias’ comment came back. Move in.

  When her phone rang she groaned not wanting to talk to Leslie who’d texted her a million times over the last few hours for “details.” The number was unknown so she flipped open the phone.

  “This is Sylvia.”

  “What are you wearing?” Matthias had his deep sexy voice going with a little Victor Newman growl to it.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What are you wearing?”

  The thoughts of Simone flittered away as Matthias had made the agonizing over the five-thirty pick up disappear. Had he really called her less than five hours since she’d left his arms? Smiling Sylvia decided she’d play along as her finger picked with the stem of her apple.

  “A uniform. Short skirt, thigh high boots, and a night stick.”

  “I love a woman in uniform. You know what I’m thinking about doing to you right now.”

  “Don’t you have a game to prepare for?”

  “Shut up and play along,” he commanded coming out of his sexy voice.

  “Sir, I don’t play along. I would hate to have to pull out my night stick on you.”

  “Mine’s bigger.”

  He had a point.

  “Let me warn you sir…”

  “I’m at the kitchen counter standing behind you and you’re in your little uniform. My right hand is gliding up your right thigh until it slides in between and I find my happy place.”

  “Happy place?”

  “I smile every time I’m there. Fuck Disneyworld. My left hand has ripped the buttons off your shirt so I can grab on to your amazing breast.”

  Sylvia was completely done at this point. Every inch of her skin was tingling in anticipation of his hand lightly brushing it.

  “I have a problem though.”

  “Which is?” She croaked trying to hold her composure.

  “I need to kiss that spot.”

  “What spot?”

  “The one right where your neck meets your collarbone.”

  “Why that spot?”

  “It makes your smooth, creamy sweet-to-the-tongue-skin rise and lets me know I’ve sent you somewhere else.”

  “Funny. I didn’t think that was your problem.”

  “Your hair is down. It’s in my way.”

  “My hair is up in a tight bun so criminals take me serious.”

  “Well now you know where my lips are?” Instantly Sylvia felt his lips on her neck and her body reacted.

  “Here’s the problem I saw.”

  “You’re against my body. What could be missing?”

  “There’s this hard thing pressing into my back, but your hands are busy.”

  “Is it distracting you?”

  “Teasing more likely.”

  “I could move a hand.”

  “You do and I never talk to you again.”

  “You like them.”

  “Very skilled. The way your fingers are rolling and pinching my nipple is amazing. I’ve got a plan though.”

  “Which is?”

  “Hold me a little tighter because I don’t want to fall.”

  “I’ll never let you fall.”

  “My hand is going to reach behind me…you nasty bastard I can’t believe you’re naked.”

  “I’m wearing socks.”

  “Oooohhhh, there it is. It is bigger than my nightstick.”

  “Are you holding it tight?”

  “Sort of. My hand keeps slipping up and down.”

  “That only makes it longer.”

  “And wider. Mine doesn’t do that. Is it made from oak or some other hardwood? There seems to be some wonderful ridges.”

  “Yes. It. Is.” His halting breaths brought her back to when he had pulled her to his chest and held her tight.

  “I need to put it somewhere.”

  “Where? It only likes warm, tight, safe places.”

  “I’ve got one.”

  “Sylvia, where have you been hiding? I need to ask you a question. I know you’re on the phone, but I need one minute,” DeShawn pleaded.

  Sylvia swallowed and tried to get her voice under control. “H-hold please.”

  “I can’t hold. I’m hard as a rock and you keep stroking me. My fingers are spreading you open so you can…” DeShawn was talking, but all Sylvia could hear was Matthias describing how he was gliding in and out of her. His hands grabbing her ass as he pounded harder. He told how her moans and screams taunted him to work her faster, longer, and angle her hips so he could go deeper.

  His vivid description made her nipples tingle, a heat rise in her core, and her legs go numb.

  “So can you?” DeShawn said, holding a shift change request form in his hand.

  Sylvia signed and took her blue copy, not paying an ounce of attention of what she’d gotten herself into.

  “Are you okay?” DeShawn asked. “You’re red as a beet.”

  “I’m fine,” Sylvia’s voice scratched out while she waved her hand hoping he’d leave. Eventually he turned and left allowing Sylvia to go back to her fantasy.

  “You’re more than fine. Wine is fine. Winning a game is fine. Licking you until you pant is not fine. It got me hard again.”

  “Wait, I missed something. Last I remember I was bent over—”

  DeShawn turned and stared at her.

  “Who’s there Silly?”

  “DeShawn.”

  “Tell him you’re having hot sex right now and he can kindly lock the door on the way out of my condo.”

  Sylvia laughed and Matthias groaned. DeShawn saw that as an opening to start talking again.

  “I wanted to thank you again. My girl will make you whatever you want for dinner that night. You know who you spend New Year’s with you’ll spend the rest of the year with.”

  Sylvia looked down at the blue sheet and realized she signed on to work the Fire and Ice Ball on New Year’s Eve. Damn it.

  “Silly… Silly… Destiny?”

  “What did you just call me?”

  “Oh, you were listening. This is really messing with my buzz.”

  “I’m sorry. DeShawn wanted me to take a shift and you were distracting me so I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Now you’re stuck with his shift?”

  “For some Fire and Ice thing that’s being held here this year.”

  “Fire and Ice Ball for the Children’s Hospital?”

  “I guess, it’s New Years.”

  “You can’t work that.”

 
“It’s annoying, but I get time and a half.”

  “You’re my date.”

  “What?”

  “It’s one of my charities. Being divorced means I’m not going with Sharee. You’re my girl now. I expected to go with you.”

  “Are there any other social obligations I need to put on my schedule?”

  “A ton. That’s why I need you to quit your job.”

  “To be your professional groupie. No thanks.”

  “Why?”

  “Self-worth. I work so I’m not dependent on others for my survival.”

  Matthias wasn’t responding. Sharee had been right about him being a kid. It scared her because her fantasy of him was dissolving.

  “You’re ruining the beginning of this phone call,” he pouted.

  “I get a ten-minute break at three.”

  “I’ll be at the field-house then.”

  Sylvia hated disappointing him, and more than that, she was afraid he’d find someone else to play out his fantasy with.

  “Am I still coming to your game?”

  “Why wouldn’t you be?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought…”

  “Silly, if you’re not at my game I’ll walk off the court and come find you.”

  “No you won’t.”

  “I am a child.”

  “And I’m your favorite toy?”

  “You make the most amazing noises and light up like a fire truck.”

  Sylvia looked at her watch and saw she had five minutes left on her break. Leaning in on her elbows she prepared herself this time.

  “Only when you rev my engine. You know pulling back hard and fast to get the wheels locked in place.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “When I’m locked in place you have to hold tight to my tail end so I don’t get away from you.”

  “I’m holding. Tight.”

  * * * *

  Municipal Auditorium was a throwback to the art deco era with its high ceilings and decorations in the twenties style. Sylvia used to be nervous because of the winding ramps, but after eight seasons of scrounging tickets she’s learned the ins and outs of the whole stadium and the other venues because she’d turned the wrong way more than once and ended up in the Music Hall or Little Theater.

  Waiting in the lobby for Leslie before she went to Will Call to pick up the tickets, Langston came up behind her and she jumped.

  “Why are you so jumpy? I dropped you off like three minutes ago.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve seen him play so many times, just not…”

  “From box seats on the court.”

  “Box seats?”

  “They’re the best in the house, what did you think he’d get you?” Langston asked and passed her two tickets.

  “You better spill,” Leslie said as she spun the already dizzy Sylvia around.

  When Sylvia regained her ability to focus on solid objects she took in her friend who had her dishwater blond hair pulled up into a ponytail.

  Leslie, true to form, was wearing jeans and a T-shirt for the Chiefs. She had yet to buy anything Emperors because she didn’t believe they were going to last in town. The four Emperors championships aside, Leslie only cheered for the Chiefs because they’d put in decades.

  “Box seats,” Sylvia whimpered and held what might as well be a set of golden tickets in her hand.

  Municipal Auditorium put their box seats on the edge of the court as opposed to up high like most other stadiums. Sylvia and Leslie got to have their own server as they watched closer to the action then Sylvia had ever been. Matthias could actually fall into her lap at some point in the game. During warm-ups he came over to make sure the seats were good enough since they weren’t at half court, but instead by the corner.

  “They’re wonderful, Matthias,” Sylvia assured him as he stroked the side of her cheek with his thumb. Flashes went off around the box and Matthias grimaced.

  “I better go, Silly Girl, or you’re going to be all over the tabloids by ten tonight.”

  “I understand.” Sylvia swallowed down her disappointment.

  “What’s wrong?” Leslie asked as he dribbled his way back to the three-point line. “He’s…really with you isn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Sylvia looked to her knitted fingers then smiled. “He calls me his girl.”

  “Oh. My. God!” Leslie shrieked. “You got the prince. That never happens.”

  “I know.” Sylvia smiled to cover her fear that he wasn’t proud of her and he didn’t want the world to know about them. Then again she wasn’t about to shout it from the rooftops either. The last thing she wanted was attention from anyone—but Matthias of course.

  Sylvia finally shared with her friend the last few days of euphoria. The unrealness of how he was with her.

  “I mean in my wildest dreams I never imagined—”

  Langston entered the box and sat down behind the two ladies.

  “Anyway.” Sylvia blushed and turned back to the game.

  “Who’s the muscle?”

  “Langston, this is my friend Leslie.”

  Langston nodded and kept his game face on.

  “You can’t talk during the games?”

  “Remember a few years ago, Ms. Kinder? The fan that rushed on the floor.”

  “Isn’t that security’s responsibility?”

  “Sharee didn’t see it that way.”

  “Why am I Ms. Kinder, but Sharee gets to be Sharee?”

  “Do you want to be Sylvia?”

  “I’ve never been anyone else, how about Mary Ellen? You think I could be a Mary Ellen?” Sylvia raised her eyebrow at Langston and he finally broke.

  “Sorry Silly… I just—your friend is here. I didn’t want you to be disrespected.”

  “Leslie?” Sylvia hitched to thumb at her friend. “Please, she wouldn’t know the difference.”

  “Yes I would.”

  “Really. Remember when you asked if having a guy hold you down instead of being tied down could still count as BDSM?”

  “It was a legitimate question. Bondage doesn’t always have to include duct tape.” Leslie tilted her head and looked at Sylvia. “You know, you never answered me.”

  “You asked me in front of the head curator and my boss!”

  “Don’t put the Marquis de Sade’s letters on display and call it art.”

  “Right, that’s the reason you asked.”

  As the game progressed Sylvia tingled all over and smiled so much her face became sore. She’d always enjoyed watching Matthias play, but tonight he was on fire, and every time he looked over at her she couldn’t help blushing because it usually happened after she jumped up and yelled something like she was thirty rows up and not inches from the court.

  “Matthias usually doesn’t use these seats.” Sharee had arrived to train her replacement, Simone. “Instead you’d be at the edge of the court right by the locker room but…with Silly now I’m assuming we’ll have these available to us. Hey Silly.”

  “Why do you call her that?” Simone whispered a little too loud.

  “Because Matthias does. He nicknamed her Silly Girl, so that’s what I call her.”

  “You do know that she can hear you?” Leslie snarled at them. “We all can.”

  Langston bit his lips and stifled a smile.

  “Seriously, we’re human…even Langston figured it out by the end of the first quarter.”

  Langston got a look from Sharee in some secret language they seemed to have and exited the box. Sylvia stayed focused on the game, but had become self-conscious of jumping up and yelling after big plays. Something about Simone had her feeling like she was back in a competition, and that was never a place she wanted to be.

  “Silly Girl,” Simone’s sophisticated upbringing seemed to ooze from every word, making Sylvia afraid her trailer trash family had a neon sign flashing overhead. “Would you mind if I called you Sylvia?”

  “No, I’d prefer it. Thank you for asking.” Sylvi
a finally looked in the light hazel eyes of Simone and saw…not a friend, but not an enemy either.

  “Good, you’re a woman and I’d hate to be called a silly girl by anyone. It’d make me question…” Taking a seat next to Sylvia in the box Simone pulled out her phone and messed with a few social media sites. “Now, we’re going to have to deal with a few pictures that have already surfaced since you got here today. Sharee’s phone has been blowing up. I know how I want to respond, but as the person in question, what would you like to say about your relationship? Are you ready to go public or I could play you off as a fan that won a drawing.”

  “Like a make-a-wish kid,” Leslie snapped. “I have half a mind—”

  “Really, that much? I underestimated. You’re her friend. I’m here to protect his image. Right now Matthias is at a delicate stage and any misstep by either her or him could do irreparable damage.”

  Sylvia looked out on the floor, but the teams were in a timeout and she couldn’t see Matthias through the huddle wall.

  “Do what’s best for him.”

  “Sylvia.” Leslie took her hand. “There is nothing for him to be ashamed of. You’re amazing.”

  Sylvia leaned toward her friend. “I’m sitting in his jersey and a pair of jeans that don’t fit right because his body guard bought them for me on a Wally World run. Now look at his ex-wife and his PR rep, between the three of us which one doesn’t belong.”

  “You don’t have to become them. He likes you. He wants you. What did he pick you up in? Fuck me pumps or your old lady reliables?”

  “I fell in love with his image and I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect it.” She turned to Simone who acted as if she’d been too focused on the mysterious damning photos now swarming the web to listen in on their discussion. “Protect him.”

  * * * *

  “How many women will it be tonight Matthias,” T’Kai teased as they broke from the huddle.

  “T’Kai why don’t you focus on the game for once instead of the stands.”

  “I could say the same to you.”

  “Just because you hit a double-double so far doesn’t mean shit when of our sixty-three points, thirty-five are mine.”

  “When did your stroke start workin’ on those threes man? Seriously.”