by Vera Roberts
“The next Wayne Gretzky,” Dominique stood behind Ian as he perused more of Sydney’s artwork.
Ian scanned through Sydney’s artwork. “And who’s that?”
“Never mind,” Dominique bit her tongue. Ian was never into any sport that wasn’t rugby, sailing, and whatever wealthy people invented to kill the time. She was convinced the only ones who cared about other sports were Anthony and Gerald, who were regulars at the Staples Center. “Anyway, long story short, she has a show coming up in a few days. Maybe you can attend and look at some of her drawings in person. I’m sure she’ll be there.”
“I’m there,” Ian wrote down Sydney’s contact information. “Thank you, Domi. That’ll be it for now.”
“You’re welcome.” Dominique took her phone back and began to leave. “Maybe you can find yourself a nice, good woman while you’re there.”
“The only woman I want is walking out of my office,” Ian replied as he watched Dominique’s rear jiggle from side to side.
Once Ian was alone again, he opened his computer and researched Sydney. She hailed from San Francisco and counted alternative and R&B music as her creative favorites. She loved reality TV, thrift store shopping, and nursed a Crown Royal habit. When he pulled up a picture of her, her beauty stunned him. Her long, black hair was straightened to a shiny perfection. Her café au lait skin complemented her perfectly white teeth. Her tone body suggested a strong dedication to fitness.
She was stunning. Beauty behind the art, Ian smiled.
He viewed a few more photos and saw a side by side mashup with her and what he assumed was Dean. Ian shrugged at Dean’s photo. Long, blond hair with a matching scruffy beard. He had an athletic physique and a million-dollar smile to match his equally million-dollar endorsement salary. He was a nice-looking fella but he also had the feeling Sydney could do better. Someone a bit more sophisticated and could understand her passion for art more. It was wrong to judge but Ian’d sensed there wasn’t much gluing the pair together.
It seemed so…odd.
He found where her art show was going to be and made sure he was available that night. He closed his laptop again and leaned back into his chair with a proud smile.
Forget Thriller, Ian just found his Purple Rain.
****
“Here will be the reception area where the guests will come through,” the director at the gallery walked Sydney and Sarah through the small building for her first art show. “Over here will be your private area in case you want to work on some art while people look around. We can also have a station located out in the open area in case you want to work in front of everyone. Some prefer not to have an audience as they work and we respect that.”
“Ooh, I think I like the sound of that,” Sydney turned to Sarah and nodded, “maybe I can work on something while people are here so they can see I am legit.”
“Sounds good to me. We have to get you comfy shoes and clothing, though. We also need to make sure people don’t disturb you with nonsense as you work.” Sarah added before she turned to the director. “And what about hors o d'oeuvres and champagne?”
“We can provide that at an additional cost?” The director suggested.
“We’ll do it!” Sarah replied. “And make sure it’s legit champagne and not that bubbly piss cheap-ass rich people like to serve. I have no qualms going to the corner liquor store and getting a bottle of hooch to serve in this mug.”
“We’ll make sure your guests are provided with the finest refreshments,” the director noted, “is that all, ladies?”
“That’s it. Syd, you okay?” Sarah turned and found an empty space. Sydney walked over to another empty area and stared at a wall of nothingness. “It’s fine. Thank you for everything. We’ll see you on Saturday.” Sarah walked over to her best friend and studied her reaction. She was calm on the outside but Sarah knew a mini-hurricane raged inside. “Everything okay, Syd?”
Sydney stared at the empty space in front of her. While most people saw just a plain white wall, Sydney envisioned a multicultural version of the PowderPuff Girls. She saw a warrior queen with a long spear and flowing braids in the wind. She visualized a painting of a nude multicultural model and guests pondering what race and nationality she was.
She saw her life in front of her.
For years, all she wanted was to be an artist. She wanted her own studio and work on nothing but her art. She was afraid of putting so much into her passion and having nothing but failure as a result so she pushed it aside, only to work a dead-end job at Macy’s.
Then she met Dean and he was everything she’d ever wanted.
Now her dreams were coming true, little by little, and she wondered if it was too good to be true. “Is it silly to be afraid of success?”
“No, it’s not silly but we have to ask why you feel that way. You always wanted your own studio, art show, and people to know you solely for your work. Well, two out of three ain’t bad but still…” Sarah glanced over at Sydney. Sydney claimed it was just the nerves of the show but Sarah wondered if the impending nuptials to one of the world’s most eligible bachelors played a bigger role. While most WAGs were silent in the background of their partners’ success, Sydney took the rare forefront appearance. Whatever she did was also going to be a reflection on Dean, whether he was okay with it. “…you’ll do great. You always wanted this and you’re working towards it. Even if you mess up, you’re still going to sell some pieces because people love your art like that.”
“I’m wondering when the other shoe is going to drop?” Sydney’s throaty voice replied.
“Well, you act like that then yes, you’re setting yourself up for failure.” Sarah shook her head. “You need positive reaffirmations. You believe those, you’ll believe you can move mountains.”
“I need grape seeds,” Sydney agreed, “that’s what I need. Grape seed faith.”
Sarah mumbled to herself as she tried to think about grape seeds. She suddenly remembered what Sydney really meant. “You mean mustard seeds?”
“Yeah, those too!” Sydney replied.
Sarah tightened her lips and smiled. There was something very sweet about Sydney’s naiveté. “Syd, you’re hella talented and you’re going to go places. But we need to work on your self-esteem. While I understand moody artists is the stereotypical norm, but this isn’t good for you. If you don’t believe in yourself, no one else will.”
“Okay,” Sydney seemed to ingest what Sarah sold, “I’m going to be a magnificent artist and people are going to lave my work.”
“That’s my girl!”
Sydney gave a weak smile. She’d certainly hoped Sarah was right. Her entire livelihood was dependent on whether her artwork was going to be a success. If it didn’t, she was going have to prepare herself for a life of a desperate and lonely athlete’s wife.
Four
One week without sex was seven days too long for Dean.
Granted he was focused more on keeping the Kings’ winning streak on track. It was heavily rumored the team might surpass the winningest record in a season long held by the 1996-97 Detroit Red Wings. While Dean humored the media with their fascination, he was more concentrated on his games. Everyone wanted to know what his secret was and the answer was pretty simple: sex.
Athletes had that something that gave them an extra edge. Some used their faith. Some credited their diet. Some proclaimed it was their gear. Dean knew what his answer was: sex and a lot of it.
The groupie tales about Dean were just as legendary as his hockey play. Groupies detailed his impressive member and tongue skills. Others clamored how aggressive and dominating he was, with one boldly warning others “just lay there and take it because that’s all he’ll let you do.”
He could honestly say sex was the only reason he kept Rebecca around for as long as he did. Was she a great person? He would probably say no. But was she a porn star in bed? He could give an emphatic hell, yes.
That was, until Sydney.
Sydney had
a trick with her tongue as she performed fellatio that Dean couldn’t describe even if he tried. All he knew it made his toes curl, his back arch, and he did his very best Prince-impersonation as she gave him copious amounts of pleasure.
As he arrived home, all he wanted to do was pick his fiancée up, hoist her against the wall, and watch her face morph into different expressions as he relentlessly drove into her. Then maybe later, they would role-play. He thought about a few scenarios they could try. He already thought about being a doctor and giving Sydney a very-thorough examination.
“Syd?” Dean arrived home and found her nowhere to be seen. A slow smile crept on his face as he knew it was the little game she loved to play with him. He set down his duffel bag and put the flower bouquet on the counter. He was about to go upstairs and search for her when he heard the familiar billiards downstairs.
He already knew what to do.
He peeled off his clothing and grabbed the bouquet, strategically holding it at his crotch level as he carefully walked down the stairs. “Syd, honey? I’m home.”
“I’m in here, babe!” Sydney shouted. “I just have to make this one shot.”
“Oh?” Dean arrived at his man cave. “What shot is that?”
Sydney looked up and missed her shot. “Damn it, Winchester!” She laughed and shook her fist at him. “One of these days, you’re gonna mess up and I’m going to get you!”
Dean set the bouquet down, walked over to Sydney, and sat her down on the pool table. Their bodies were pressed together and she could feel his heart pounding through his chest. No matter how many times she’d seen him in his naked glory, there was something so spectacular about Dean. His muscular and broad chest that led down to strong legs. He was tanned, sun-kissed by God, but not obscenely gross. He was, by far, the most beautiful man Sydney had ever seen.
She moaned a little as his lips touched the hollow of her neck. His quick tongue flicked while his moistened lips lightly sucked her flesh. He gave her small kisses as he began to undress her, exposing her taut nipples to the coolness of the air conditioner. “You’re wearing too many clothes right now.”
A slick dampness formed between Sydney’s thighs as she felt Dean’s hardened shaft poking between them. Her mouth slightly opened, inviting him to take control and he didn’t hesitate, playing with her tongue and gently sucking on her bottom lip. “I need to talk to you, babe.” Sydney whispered. “It’s kinda important.”
“Oh?” Dean snuck in another kiss before he removed Sydney’s shirt. His mouth became greedy and hungry for her as his fingers became lost in her hair. “What is it?”
“I was thinking,” she snuck in a kiss, “we can do something that would make our wedding night hotter.”
“Ooh,” Dean caressed her arms, “I like the sound of that already. Do tell.”
“Well, I was thinking,” Sydney softly moaned as Dean dived into her neck, placing a series of heated kisses all over, “I was thinking we could become celibate.”
Dean immediately stopped kissing and stared at his fiancée. “Wait, what?”
“Hear me out, babe!” Sydney saw the worry in his eyes and had to act fast. Dean without sex was akin to a person without air. “Think of how romantic it would be?”
“Forced celibacy?” He made a face.
“That we waited for each other!” She pressed. “And how we have a bit of a courtship as we look forward to our wedding day!”
He nodded and Sydney thought he understood where she was going. “Wait, what?”
“We can cuddle.” She revealed a big smile. “We can Netflix and chill like my friends do!”
“Okay, Syd…Netflix and chill actually means…” Dean shook his head. “…never mind. Where did this come from?”
“Well, Jane suggested…”
Dean never cared for Jane and she reinforced why. “Of course she did.”
“She said she did it with her husband and it made them closer!” Sydney pulled him in for another smoldering kiss. “So what do you say?”
“Um…” Dean tried to think of the most polite way to say hell no to his fiancée without starting a fight. They averaged three times a week and even then he didn’t think it was enough. One time he was jonesing for her so bad, he flew her out to a city he was playing in so they could have sex and sent her back on the next flight home. He wasn’t a cad about it, though. When Sydney arrived home, there were dozens of roses waiting for her. “…when does this supposed celibacy start?”
“Not until it’s closer to our wedding day, silly!” She laughed. “We’ll start 30 days before.”
“30 days, huh?” Dean thought about the wedding. It was tentatively scheduled to happen in six months. “Great.” He laid her down on the pool table and nestled between her thighs. A hand found her heated sex and he inserted a finger inside, causing Sydney to gasp. “I have a lot of work to get in.”
His lips crushed her neck as he continued to play with her. Sydney placed her hand on top of his while he massage and quietly encouraging Dean to not stop. “We’re going to ruin this pool table…” She moaned.
“Like we haven’t numerous times, already?” He chuckled.
He pushed in deeper and it wasn’t long before Sydney climaxed in a frenzied cry. Dean wasted no time as he swiftly entered her. He claimed her, hard and fast with each thrust being more ferocious than the last. He lifted one leg up and held it as he powered into her.
Sydney’s back rubbed hard against the felt of the pool table and she knew it would be painful later. It didn’t matter. Her man was finally home and every fiber of her promptly responded to his need and desire of her. All that mattered at that moment was Dean. Not her art. Not their wedding. Nothing else.
Dean flipped Sydney on her stomach and pulled her up by her waist, where he sharply entered her again. Sydney was like no other woman. She brought out the animalistic nature in Dean and he no longer felt like himself, almost to the point of insanity. He was lost within her, within them, and she consumed all of him.
“Did you miss me, baby girl?” He taunted.
“God, yes!” She cried.
He thrust harder into her as he leaned over her. He licked the sweat off her back as drove into her. “Don’t run from it,” he wrapped an arm around her waist as he buried himself to the hilt, “don’t run from it.”
Sydney felt her eyes roll into the back of her head as Dean relentlessly pounded into her. “Fuck me,” she begged.
She gripped him like a vise as he powered into her. She stuck her claws into him and had him hooked from the first moment. His body was on fire, his soul felt alive, and for the first time in Dean’s life, he finally felt complete.
Flesh slapping against flesh. Moans echoing off the walls. Billiards knocking against each other. The more he powered into her, the deeper in love he fell. He was willing to give up everything and anything just for her and he already knew it was dangerous.
It was also too late.
Delirious, wild, and wanton, they moved together as one until they crossed the edge, Sydney first and Dean followed her shortly afterward…
****
“I feel incredibly underdressed.”
“Well, we’re all looking like we’re about to go to a church play and you’re looking like the hobo we sympathetically picked up from the street to tag along for a free ticket.”
“You are so honest.” Sydney glanced at her best friend.
“And that’s why you love me.” Sarah blew her a kiss.
Sydney and Sarah sat in the backseat of Dean’s SUV while he drove and Jameson rode shotgun. The men were dressed in business casual, as were Sarah. Sydney, who planned to paint at her exhibit, wore shortalls and a tank top completed with her worn Chuck Taylors. Sarah insisted on doing her makeup so Sydney looked presentable in the face if the rest of her might be covered with paint.
“How are you feeling, baby?” Dean asked.
“Nervous,” Sydney leaned forward. “The gallery told me the event was sold out.”
“That’s incredible!” Jameson commented.
“Yeah, it is.” Sydney grinned. She would’ve been happy if it was just one person who was interested. It was overwhelming to see it was a hundred people. What was even more daunting was the fact there were even more on a waiting list. “ I just hope I sell a couple of pieces.”
“I think you’ll sell more than that,” Sarah commented. “I see you going far, kid. This is just the tip of the iceberg. I see Marvel, Disney, and DC Comics in your future.”
“Hell, even Nickelodeon.” Jameson commented. “They’re always looking for new talent.”
“She could even design some concerts. I know a few musicians who use artists to design their shows,” Dean commented.
The world was spinning at a dizzying pace and Sydney suddenly felt the walls closing in on her. “Stop the car.” She yelled. “Stop the car!”
After Dean pulled over, Sydney quickly unbuckled and got out of the car. She vomited a short distance away. “Shit!” Dean unbuckled his belt. “I’ll go see about her.” He closed the door behind him.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Jameson broke the thick air. “I thought you would be chatting up a storm.”
“I would be but my focus is on Syd right now,” Sarah glanced out the window. She saw Sydney bent over while Dean rubbed her back. “Poor kid. She’s finally getting to live her dream and the nerves are getting the best of her.”
“It happens to everyone. I remember my first pro game. I missed every shot. I went left when I should’ve went right. I got knocked down on my ass more times than I would like to acknowledge.” Jameson chuckled. “It always sucks the first time but after a while, you’ll wonder why you were ever so nervous.”
“True that,” she agreed. Sarah briefly paused before she began speaking again. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?” Jameson unbuckled and turned around. “What is it, cuore mio?”
“I think we should…” Sarah’s eyes became quizzical and confused. “…wait, what does that mean?”
“It means my heart,” Jameson smiled. “You’re my heart. Now, go on.”
