I couldn’t believe that she could still think about the interview after what had just happened… After she had been screaming my name, moaning, her body shaking against mine.
“I’ll give you your interview, Erica,” I told her. I wondered if she detected the growing anger in my voice. I wanted her to smile a little at me, to bite down on her lip and tell me how good she felt.
“And also some clothes. You’ve torn all my clothes. I don’t know how you expect me to leave this shower room without anything on.” She looked almost angry herself as she spoke.
I couldn’t remember ever fucking a woman who was angry with me immediately after. Usually, they couldn’t wait for more.
“You can wear my spare shirt while you wait. I’ll get Lewis to go buy you some new clothes in the meantime,” I told her, and reached for the shampoo and shower gel.
“Good. We can have our interview while I wait,” she said, running her fingers through her hair.
Before I had a chance to reply, she had turned on her heel and stepped out of the shower. I watched in surprise as she reached for the towel hanging from the hook outside and started drying herself off. She didn’t bother to look at me, nor did she ask when she took my shirt from where it lay, neatly folded, on the bench nearby. She wasn’t ashamed or shy when she slipped into it and sat down on the bench.
Her hair was damp. She had smoothed it so that it stuck to her head. Her eyes looked fresh, very large, and a glistening blue like a stormy sea. She crossed her bare long legs and folded her hands on her lap. Then she reached for her notepad and pen, which she had discarded earlier.
I washed myself while she sat there, waiting for me to finish. When I turned off the shower and stepped out, she was still looking at me intently. “You can go tell Lewis to get me some new clothes. I’ll wait here with the questions till then,” she said.
I stared at her in shock. This was the most confident woman I had met in my entire life. “You’re wearing half of my clothes,” I said weakly.
“You were walking around naked before. What is stopping you now? I’m sure Lewis will be easy to find, won’t he?” She was looking at me with a smirk on her face. Somehow, she had managed to turn this around. She was going to get her way.
I gulped and then turned, dripping wet still. There was no towel or no clothes for me. I walked completely naked back towards the locker where Lewis was waiting, talking to a few of my teammates. “I have a huge favor to ask you, Lewis,” I said as they all turned to look at me, surprised, wondering why I hadn’t dried myself off yet.
“You need to go and do some shopping for me,” I explained when Lewis looked back at me, worriedly.
Chapter Seven - Erica
This was not what I had planned. I detested him – detested the way Kyle Murphy behaved, the kind of self-righteous air he had about him, but he was sexy as hell. And we both had gotten what we wanted: each other’s body. And I had gotten my interview.
My dad had read the article too, and the same evening he had called. I let the phone ring till it reached voicemail and then I heard his voice leave a message. “You interviewed Kyle Murphy, kid? Your mother would be so proud.”
I bit down on my lip when I heard the message. I played it again, over and over. Yes, my mother would have been proud if she were still alive. But what about him? What was stopping him from admitting it… admitting that he was a little proud too?
Anyway, that was all over. Kyle Murphy was over. It had been two weeks since the article was published and my editor was already sending me out for games that I had never covered before. The interview was a success. My face was on the national map. My hard work had paid off. No journalist had ever gotten that close to Kyle Murphy before, nobody had asked those questions and neither had he bothered to answer any of them before. But I had caught him at the right time, when he was at his weakest, at his most satisfied. He had answered everything.
So, the interview was a success and I was beginning to forget about him until I started feeling sick. Not the kind of sickness in your stomach you feel when you’ve had too much takeout on a Friday night. No, this was sickness in the morning, sometimes at work. I had to run to the toilets, then wash my mouth and drink water to compose myself. It had been happening for over four days. It was time to take a pregnancy test.
I was in denial for the first few days, and then I took the test again. Kyle Murphy was a one-time thing, it was a quickie after a game, before an interview. Long gone now. And yet, I was pregnant with his child.
The first feelings of anger gave way to sadness, then to panic, and then to a feeling of misery. What would happen to my career? I wasn’t ready to be a mother. What about my dad? This would give him something to laugh about. If he had a son, he wouldn’t have made such a mistake in the middle of a blossoming career, would he?
I smashed a flower vase in my apartment. Then, I googled Kyle Murphy on the internet and stared at images of him attending concerts, after-parties, and award ceremonies, a different woman on his arm each time. I had seen what was under all those clothes, those tuxedos in the photographs. He had been inside me. Those green eyes had looked directly into my face. He had nibbled my ears, touched my nipples… And now I was pregnant.
One bad decision, one moment of irresistible weakness and now I was pregnant with his child. I was carrying the child of a man I’d never meet again. Kyle Murphy was inaccessible to me. He was American royalty now. I couldn’t even get in touch with him if I wanted to. Not that I wanted to. As much as I would have liked him to take responsibility for what happened, I wouldn’t want my child to have a father like him.
I fluctuated between anger to feeling those warm feelings that a mother feels for her unborn child. The days went on, my sickness continued, and I tried to hold down the fort at the office, all the while coming to love the child growing inside me. The child that would never know its father. Never know that it had been conceived in a shower cubicle in the locker room, after an NFL game.
I believed I would be able to get over it, that I’d be able to get past it. I’d keep the pregnancy hidden for as long as necessary for my job to continue until I had to take a short leave of absence. I was slowly convincing myself that I’d be able to take care of the baby alone, that I’d give it a childhood better than my own. That after the father I had, my child might be better off without the presence of a father at all.
So I attended sports events, went to games, interviewed more sportsmen – none of whom were nearly as successful as Kyle Murphy of course. But life continued. I was coming down from the shock of finding out that I was pregnant.
One morning, three weeks after I had met Kyle Murphy, I walked into the office. I was fifteen minutes late, entering to find a newspaper waiting for me on my desk. Someone had left it there for me to pick up and read. I probably wouldn’t have noticed a newspaper (in a newspaper office of all places) if it weren’t for my face being in the center of the page.
A blown up image of me, not the usual official mugshot that went along with all my other articles. This was a grainy, zoomed-in image of me sitting cross-legged on a bench in a men’s locker room. I was wearing a loose shirt and my legs were bare. My hair was wet and slicked back and I had a notepad in my hand. In front of me stood Kyle Murphy. I was looking up at him. He was naked, his ass pixelated to provide some semblance of modesty.
I had a smirk on my face and he was looking down at me. I was in the middle of interviewing him. I didn’t have to read the whole news story to know exactly what it was about. I had gotten the interview with Kyle Murphy in exchange for sexual favors. Which was the truth.
Chapter Eight - Kyle
“Do you know what the article says?!” Lewis was yelling.
I was sitting at my kitchen counter, sipping a glass of orange juice. He had interrupted my breakfast at seven in the morning and now he was yelling. I didn’t have to read the article to know what it said. I had seen the photograph and it was enough. The picture was a zoomed-in capt
ure. Someone had taken the picture of us, in hiding, with the camera on their phone.
“Who sold the photo to the newspaper?” I asked instead of answering Lewis’ question.
“That is not the point right now. Their claim is that you demand sexual favors in exchange for interviews. That is what this article says, and that puts you in a terrible light.” Lewis was still yelling. I was trying to remain calm.
Superficially, what the article claimed was true. I did demand to fuck Erica Lee in exchange for an interview. But it had been more than that. The sex was different. I knew we both felt it from the moment she stepped into the shower. She hadn’t contacted me in the past three weeks, but I hadn’t stopped thinking about her, about her body. I wanted more. It was more than just a post-game celebration.
“I just want to know who did it. It had to be someone from the team. There was nobody else in there,” I repeated myself and Lewis rolled his eyes.
“Sex-hungry, sex-addict, abuser… those are just some of the names they’ll be calling you,” Lewis continued.
I slammed the glass down on the granite counter. “It was a sexual encounter between two consenting adults,” I reminded him, but Lewis shook his head.
“She interviewed you right after this happened. There is no way that anyone will buy this theory of yours that it was a genuine attraction,” Lewis stated. His voice had mellowed; he was giving up the fight.
“They can ask her whether it was just an exchange of sexual favors or if there was more to it,” I said, trying to bring Lewis back on my side again. He was the only person I could trust, and I needed him to fight for my public image. One bad bout with the media, something like this, could cost me my career. The coach could throw me off the team.
“What are you saying? Like, you guys were dating? That can’t be right. I set up the interview. I know you had never met Erica Lee before.” Lewis crossed his arms over his chest. I sighed.
“No, we hadn’t met before. But it was more than just a fuck,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t bring up the topic of how he had to go out and buy a brand new dress for her.
“So you’ve met with her since then?” he asked and I shook my head.
“No, but I’d like to,” I stated and Lewis stared at me.
“Are you saying that you want me to try and set something up?” he asked, a realization dawning on him. I thought I saw him almost smile.
“Can it be done?” I asked.
“We can approach her. See if she’s willing to go on record and state that you two were in an actual relationship.” Lewis was thinking aloud while my heart raced. Just the thought of seeing Erica again, maybe talking to her, was enough to excite me.
“Maybe we could even pretend to be in a relationship for some time. Just for the sake of the cameras,” I suggested and Lewis nodded rapidly. He was convinced.
“I’m going to try and get in touch with her. Fingers crossed that this works out and she’s willing to go along. Just a couple of weeks will distract the public eye from this story till something new comes along,” Lewis said. I agreed with him.
I didn’t do relationships, but a pretend relationship to save my own skin? Why not? Especially since it potentially meant that I would see Erica again, maybe even fuck her again.
“She’ll agree to it. I know her career means everything to her. I could feel it in my bones. That is what she’s about. And this story will be affecting her career just as it affects mine. Her credibility as a reporter, as a journalist, will be lost if people believe that is what actually happened,” I explained.
Lewis was excited by now. If the crisis could be averted with the help of Erica, I could rely on him to get it done. He would find her and convince her. Hopefully, within the next twenty-four hours, I could have her in my bed again.
Lewis left my apartment, and I remained sitting at the kitchen counter. The news had shocked me, and I was worried for a few minutes. Now a wave of excitement filled my lungs. I was still angry: my blood boiled every time I wondered which of my teammates had taken the picture that put me in this situation. Then I remembered Erica’s big bouncing breasts, her wet, sticky pussy, and how I was able to stroke her and make her come. How she had screamed my name. I wanted more of that, and I knew she was only kidding herself if she denied the fact that she was attracted to me.
I knew it was going to happen again, all I needed was to be in the same room as her. I knew I could rip her clothes off again. This news report had come as a blessing in disguise. No matter how many other women I fucked, Erica Lee had been on my mind since I first met her and I was about to have her again.
Chapter Nine - Erica
I hadn’t even thought about seeing Kyle Murphy again, let alone standing in his living room, in his plush penthouse apartment, waiting for him to join me.
But did I have any other choice? The media, to which I belonged just a few days ago, was hounding me now. I couldn’t leave my house without a dozen paparazzi following my every move. I wasn’t like every other girl Kyle Murphy was seen with. I was different than all the rest. I had slept with him for a purpose: to get ahead in my career and there was proof of that. The proof lay in my five-star interview.
My editor had fired me, I couldn’t leave my apartment, and I was hiding a pregnancy. I didn’t even want to think about what my dad was thinking of me. He had called me several times, but I never answered the phone, and he didn’t leave any messages. I could predict what he would say anyway: “I knew you’d go and get yourself knocked up. That’s what all girls do.”
So, I had no other choice but to welcome Lewis’ phone call. He said that he had a suggestion to make, for both of our sakes. And I listened to him, to his suggestion that we embark on a fake relationship for only a few weeks until everything died down. The media would be convinced that the photograph published was just a private, intimate moment between a loving couple. And then maybe I would still have a shot at a career as a journalist.
I stood at the French windows, looking at the view. Kyle had sent a chauffeur-driven Mercedes to pick me up from my apartment. His place was decorated in shades of gray and eggshell white, immaculately clean. It was obvious that he was rolling in money.
“Erica.” I heard his voice at the door and I whipped around to find him standing there. His arms were crossed, biceps bulging. He was looking at me, a smile on his face. Unlike me, it appeared that Kyle Murphy had nothing to worry about.
“Hello, Kyle,” I said as quietly as possible. I couldn’t quite understand why my heart was racing. He was gorgeous to look at, there was no denying that. His hair was short, dark and rich like velvet. His eyes were sparkling green, his face chiseled as though cut out of marble. He wore a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. He looked casual and comfortable, like he had no clothes on at all. I was afraid that I would blush and tried to control my nerves.
“I’m glad you decided to take the offer,” he said and took a few steps towards me.
“Do you know who did it? Leaked the photo, I mean?” I asked him, growing increasingly nervous with every step he took towards me. I wasn’t easily intimidated, but I was afraid of him for some reason. Or was I afraid of myself? Frightened of what he might make me do again?
“No, but it has to be somebody from the team. I’ve put Lewis on it. Hopefully we’ll find out soon,” Kyle said as he came to a stop in front of me. I looked away from him, unable to hold his gaze any longer, but I could sense that he was smiling.
“I knew you weren’t pleased,” he said.
I jerked my head back to look at him. “Why would I be? I lost my job because my editor thinks I slept with you for the interview,” I snapped back, but there was no fury in his eyes.
“Didn’t you?” he asked. I saw a smirk develop on the side of his lips.
“Nobody was supposed to find out,” I said, gritting my teeth. I was looking directly at him now, at the soft stubble on his jaw, the way his small nostrils flared, how his eyes sparkled, his sharp eyebrows framing his face.
Kyle Murphy was sexy, of course, but even just his face was a treasure to look at. But didn’t I hate him?
“Yes, I know. Nobody was supposed to find out. But, clearly, somebody caught us on camera. Somebody who has something against me.” His voice changed a little and I thought I detected a slight anger. Was he as angry and upset about everything as I was? I couldn’t imagine it, I couldn’t imagine him worrying about anything. Everything came so easily to him.
“And I definitely didn’t want to get you dragged into all of this either,” he added. Our eyes met. His gaze had softened, the smile gone from his eyes. He was serious about this. I lost some of the rage I was feeling.
“It was both our faults,” I said softly, only loud enough for him to hear. I hadn’t admitted it before because I had been so mad at him, but that was the truth; it was both our faults indeed. He hadn’t forced me into anything. He had only presented himself, planted the idea, and I was eager to grab it. I was eager to feel him inside me.
“Good,” he said, suddenly clapping his hands together and surprising me out of my thoughts. “I hope you’ve packed a bag because you’re staying in my apartment for the next few weeks. It’s all settled. I’ve set up the guest bedroom for you.” Kyle’s mood was on high again. I stared back at him as he stated this, no words to add. I had to admit that it was a good plan.
Chapter Ten - Kyle
I couldn’t remember the last time I had woken up to a woman in my apartment, let alone another person in my house. I had a strict no staying over rule with all the girls I slept with. I liked to fuck, get my fill, and then see them out of the door. I liked to sleep alone in my bed and I liked to wake up early, by myself, and have my breakfast in peace.
But here she was, another person. I had woken up at six, as usual. I ate my breakfast, took the elevator down to the gym in the basement, and by the time I was back in the apartment by eight, Erica was up and pottering about the place.
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