The Player Gets Coached

by Janet Nissenson

  He quickly opened up Delilah’s bio page on her company website, and proudly handed his phone around the table.

  Jordan whistled in admiration. “No doubt about it, Finn. She’s gorgeous. Even if I do prefer blondes myself.”

  Aubrey gave her boyfriend a playful smack on the side of his head as she grabbed Finn’s phone out of his hand. “You’d better,” she replied darkly, before studying Delilah’s image. “Wow! But she is definitely a knockout. And way too hot for you, Finn. Not to mention too high class. Look, she actually has a college degree. And I’ll bet she’s never served cocktails or did makeup applications at Sephora for a living, unlike your usual choice of, ah, companion.”

  “May I see that?” inquired Max, always the gentleman. He smiled his thanks at Aubrey as she passed the phone to him.

  Finn waited rather anxiously to observe Max’s reaction, given that the men Delilah seemed to gravitate towards were very much like his friend. But instead of giving a wolf whistle like Jordan had, Max merely nodded and handed the phone back to Finn.

  “She’s quite beautiful,” he agreed. “And her name is Delilah?”

  “Delilah Ferris,” confirmed Finn. “Why do you ask?”

  Max shrugged. “Just that it’s not a name you hear very often nowadays. It calls to mind an old classic movie - Samson and Delilah - based on the Bible story, of course. And your Delilah bears something of a resemblance to the actress who played the role in the movie - Hedy Lamaar. Here, I’ll show you.”

  Max handed his own phone to Finn after finding a picture of the sultry, dark-haired actress. And while Finn thought that Delilah was far more attractive and sexy than the screen siren, the two women definitely shared certain characteristics - their dark hair, expressive eyes, full-lipped mouths, creamy skin.

  “There’s an opening for you, Finn,” suggested Aubrey. “Next time you see your crush, you can tell her she reminds you of the actress who played her namesake in the movie.”

  “I do not have a crush on her,” replied Finn crossly. “Christ, what do you think this is - middle school or something? But I’ve got to admit that your idea isn’t half-bad,” he added reluctantly.

  “I agree. Aubrey’s suggestion would most likely get Delilah’s attention. However,” cautioned Max, “if you’re going to try that approach, might I suggest that you actually watch the entire movie all the way through? Just in case she’s also seen it and asks you a question. I highly doubt she’d be very impressed if you couldn’t answer correctly.”

  “A classic movie you said?” sighed Finn. “Not really my style, you know. I’m more about the superhero flicks or the ones about sports. Does it have any really spicy scenes at least?”

  Max looked at Finn tiredly. “The movie was filmed around 1950, Finn. What do you think?”

  Finn sighed again, in resignation this time. “That I’d better locate a copy and force myself to watch it, even though I’ll probably hate every minute of it.”

  Jordan chuckled. “Ah, the things we do for love. Or in Finn’s case, sex. And while you might not have a crush on this woman, you are definitely all tied up in knots over her. Something I would have sworn would never happen in my lifetime. I think the three of us here would pay good money for a front row seat to watch this little drama unfold.”

  Aubrey stood and began to clear off the table, beaming at Jordan when he got up to help her. “Now, this is really the way to woo a woman, Finn - helping with the dishes without having to be asked. And I just thought of another foolproof way of winning Delilah over.”

  “Well, what is it?” urged Finn. “Don’t forget, I’m going to need to pull out all the stops with her, so I’m open to just about any ideas you guys come up with.”

  “Open up the conversation by handing her over a list of recent test results from your doctor showing that you don’t have any STDs. Given the kind of reputation you’ve managed to acquire over the years, I’d insist on seeing that list before I agreed to even shake your hand.”

  Finn glared darkly at Aubrey, Jordan, and Max as they all howled with laughter. “Hah, hah. Just hilarious. And I take it all back about you being a sweetheart. More like a royal pain in the ass.”

  Aubrey’s blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “Maybe I’m just hanging around the three of you a little too often, starting to pick up bad habits and all. But, hey, if you don’t want a female perspective on how to make headway with the lovely Delilah, then maybe I’ll just leave you guys to do the dishes while I go watch the next episode of The Crown.”

  Finn shook his head. “No, stay. Please. And sorry, Aubrey. I do appreciate all of this. It’s just that this whole situation is so foreign to me, you know? And I know I’m going to sound like an arrogant prick for saying this, but I’ve never had to work at picking women up before. Kind of the opposite, if I’m being honest.”

  Aubrey began loading up the dishwasher. “No offense, Finn, but did you ever stop to think that might have something to do with the sort of women you’ve hooked up with in the past? I wasn’t kidding before when I hinted that Delilah might be out of your league. I mean, how many women have you dated in the past who actually own a very successful business and are under thirty years old? And that chick you introduced us to a couple of months ago who’s some sort of jewelry designer doesn’t count. There’s a big difference between selling high end pieces to Tiffany’s and hawking your wares to tourists at Fisherman’s Wharf.”

  Finn grinned wickedly. “Yeah, but what you don’t know is that she was wearing some of her jewelry in - ah, let’s call it hidden places. In other words, she also designs body jewelry.”

  Aubrey shuddered delicately in reaction. “Yeah, I really didn’t need that much information, Finn. And I can almost guarantee you that Delilah Ferris doesn’t have any of her private parts pierced. Like I said - definitely out of your league.”

  “Aubrey brings up some good points,” agreed Max. “Without knowing much about the lady, she actually looks like - well, a lady. Not one of your usual flings who’s content with going to the corner bar for a few drinks, or dancing at one of those singles clubs you frequent. If I had to wager a guess, I’d say Ms. Ferris is the sort who enjoys being wined and dined at a Michelin starred restaurant, and then perhaps going to the theater or the ballet afterwards.”

  This time it was Finn’s turn to shudder. “Unfortunately, Max, you’re right on the mark. I assume it wouldn’t surprise any of you to learn that I’ve sort of hounded the concierge in my building for any info he can disclose about Delilah?”

  Aubrey, Jordan, and Max all shook their heads.

  “Frankly, I think it would have shocked us if you hadn’t done something like that,” commented Jordan. “So what did this concierge - who, I assume, is supposed to be discreet - have to tell you about the object of your stalking?”

  “I am not stalking her,” Finn objected. “At least not in any sort of perverted or illegal way. And, yeah, Armando’s a good guy, always willing to help you out with stuff, but unfortunately he also loves to gossip. I knew if I asked him about Delilah he’d tell me anything I wanted to know. And Max hit the nail on the head when he assumed she likes to go out to nice places. Armando’s made reservations for her at Bix and Gary Danko, just to name a few. And he’s also signed for tickets for her to the symphony and ballet. Plus, I’ve seen some of the different guys she’s gone out with. They - well, I’m probably going to hate myself for saying this, but they could all be Max wannabes.”

  Max smiled, though to Finn it sure as hell resembled a knowing smirk. “As I said - Ms. Ferris is definitely a lady. And one with very good taste, it seems. And if she likes the ballet and symphony she probably enjoys the opera as well. Did you know that there’s also an opera based on the Samson and Delilah story? It’s by Camille Saint-Saëns, a very famous French composer.”

  Finn looked at his friend derisively. “Are you seriously asking me if I’ve ever heard of a particular opera?”

  “It was
more a statement of fact than an actual question,” clarified Max. “I think all three of us know better than to ask you something like that. My point, Finn, is that your Delilah most likely would enjoy seeing an opera that shares her first name. Or at least listen to the music from the opera. And while it won’t be opera season here in San Francisco for a few more months, the symphony is currently in session, and I believe they might have a Saint-Saëns program on their schedule. Let me check.”

  Max pulled out his phone and scrolled through it until he located the information he was searching for. “Ah, I knew I saw that on the schedule. Yes, here it is. The performances start in two more weeks and run for almost an entire month. Plenty of time for you to convince the lady to go out with you.”

  Finn shuddered. “Seriously, Max? The symphony? I could probably handle the ballet or a play. But the fucking symphony? I’m not sure I could sit through two hours of that without falling asleep. Or hanging myself.”

  “Actually,” Jordan pointed out in far too cheery of a voice, “the entire program is probably closer to three hours.”

  “Ah, the things we do for love,” teased Aubrey. “Or, in Finn’s case, lust. But you’d probably impress the hell out of her just by knowing there’s a movie and an opera that bears her name, Finn. First, though, you need to stick to your guns about no more bimbos - uh, I mean women. Especially if Delilah has already seen you multiple times with one of the members of your fan club hanging all over you.”

  “Yeah, I know,” grumbled Finn. “I need to pretend I’m staying at a monastery or something. Hey, maybe I should just move in with Max, given that he’s been living like a monk for years now.”

  “No,” Max stated firmly. “The last thing I need is a roommate. Especially one as untidy as you are. And you’re too old to need a keeper, Finn. Now, I’m sure we can all come up with some additional ideas for you to win over your elusive neighbor, but after that you’re on your own.”

  Finn exhaled tiredly. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

  ***

  The last time Finn had been this nervous about anything was just before his first official game as a starting quarterback for the Miami Dolphins. And even then he’d had a much better idea of what to expect would happen next - either he’d throw a completed pass to his favorite wide receiver, or get knocked on his ass by the opposing team’s three-hundred-pound defensive end. As he took a deep breath and knocked on his neighbor’s front door, he thought wildly that right about now he’d take getting tackled a dozen times in a row as opposed to the very real possibility of being rejected by Delilah Ferris yet again.

  It had been Aubrey’s idea to buy Delilah some sort of housewarming gift, even though she’d been living in the building for more than a month by now. But Finn had been willing to try almost anything to get the woman’s attention, and had begged Aubrey to meet him at a florist near where she worked.

  “Would it shock you to learn that I’m not the sort of guy who normally buys his dates flowers?” he’d asked her wryly as they’d perused the various bouquets, plants, and other gifts in the small but well appointed floral boutique.

  Aubrey had merely given an exasperated shake of her blonde head. “It would have shocked me to learn otherwise, Finn,” she’d commented dryly. “Unfortunately, you don’t seem to have a romantic bone in your entire body. Here, get her this. A plant is less personal than a bouquet of flowers, and more of a standard housewarming gift. And this one’s really pretty with that white ceramic pot.”

  Finn had given an adamant shake of his head. “Not that one, no. It is pretty but too pink and delicate. Delilah might be petite but she’s fiery, too. This red one over here would suit her much better.”

  Aubrey studied the red amaryllis in its dramatic black and gold square pot. “It is eye catching, that’s for sure,” she acknowledged. “You’re probably right that it would be something she’d like. I was looking at some of her designs - not that I could ever wear any of them, of course, given that I’m so tall - and they’re really striking. No pastels or florals or little lacy things like you’d expect someone to design for a small woman. Well, except for the lingerie, that is. I, ah, assume you noticed that Delilah did some of her own modeling?”

  Finn had grinned wolfishly. “Would it be ungentlemanly of me to tell you that staring at those pictures of her in lingerie have provided me with untold hours of, ah, pleasure?”

  Aubrey made a horrible face. “Not only would it be very, very ungentlemanly, but I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit,” she retorted. “And trust me on this one, Finn - do not ever tell Delilah that you jacked off with the image of her in a bra and panties in your head. If it makes me nauseous to think about it, you can only imagine how she’d react.”

  He chuckled softly to himself now as he recalled that look on Aubrey’s face, and half-wished she or Jordan or Max was here right now to give him some final words of encouragement. He was nervous enough that when Delilah didn’t answer his knock immediately, he was sorely tempted to chicken out and dash back inside his own condo. But then a soft, feminine voice called out, “Just a second”, and he was obliged to see his mission through.

  A moment later the door opened halfway, with Delilah peering at him uncertainly, only the upper half of her body visible. She was clearly not pleased to see him, and didn’t bother to downplay her scowl.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she muttered ungraciously. “I was about to head out so I don’t really have time to - oh, isn’t that the most beautiful amaryllis!”

  Finn grinned triumphantly, grateful that his instincts had proven correct at the florist shop. Delilah Ferris was far from an ordinary woman, and would not be impressed with a sweet bouquet of pastel-hued posies. She was far too vibrant, too extraordinary, to settle for the status quo. And the only way to grab the attention of such a woman would be to surprise her with the unexpected.

  “It’s for you,” said Finn, extending the plant towards her. “Let’s call it a belated housewarming gift. And for some reason I thought you’d like red.”

  Delilah didn’t take the plant from him but did touch one of the vivid blooms gently. “Actually, red is my favorite color.”

  Finn thought to himself how appropriate it was for a she-devil’s favorite color to be red. Out loud, he merely replied, “Then I’m glad I went with my instincts. Uh, can I carry this inside for you? It’s a little heavier than it looks.”

  Delilah hesitated for a moment before opening the door all the way and motioning him inside. “Sure, thanks. But just so you know, I’m a lot stronger than I look, and not some helpless little female. I believe I’ve already mentioned the fact that I hit the gym several times a week.”

  He gave her a quick, assessing glance, mildly surprised to notice that she was far more casually dressed than usual in a close-fitting pair of jeans, a silky white blouse, and black ballet flats. Even in more casual attire, however, she still looked classy and elegant, not to mention mouthwateringly sexy. The jeans clung to her curvy hips and sweetly rounded ass, while the expertly tailored blouse emphasized her lush breasts. The pure white silk made him envision pouring fresh milky cream over those tits and then lapping it off of her naked skin one drop at a time.

  Finn gulped, forcing his undoubtedly lustful gaze away from her far too tempting breasts. “And just so you know, Delilah, I would never, ever consider you helpless in any way, shape, or form. Where would you like me to put this?”

  Delilah waved a small, slender hand to her right. “On top of the piano, I think. Nothing else has looked quite right there, but I think this will be perfect.”

  He carried the plant over to the glossy black piano that stood in one corner of the spacious, open concept living room, setting it down carefully, then ran a hand over the top of the beautiful instrument. Finn knew absolute zilch about musical instruments, but even his unskilled eye could tell that this was a very expensive piece.

  “So, you’re beautiful, a
successful businesswoman, and talented as well,” he mused. “That is, I assume you can actually play this thing, and it isn’t just here for show?”

  Delilah shook her head, running her fingers lightly over the keyboard. “It’s definitely not just for show. I’ve been playing since I was around five years old. Unfortunately, my job demands so much of my time these days that I seldom get a chance to play very often. And I’m nowhere near as good a player as my sister. She - well, at one time she could have been a professional.”

  “Why didn’t she?” inquired Finn, trying with all his might to remain cool and collected, instead of grinning with glee at the fact that his standoffish neighbor was actually condescending to speak to him, and about something personal to boot.

  She gave a little shrug. “Sometimes things happen - life happens. She still plays from time to time with a couple of local groups, swears she has no regrets about the choices she made, but I’m not sure I really believe that.”

  “She’s older than you? And she lives in San Francisco, too?”

  “Yes, to both questions. Desiree is three years older than I am, and she lives in the Marina District.”

  Finn gave a low whistle. “That’s some pretty pricey real estate over there. Is she in the fashion business, too?”

  Delilah shook her head vehemently. “God, no! She’s an investment banker, and insists that she has to wear a suit to work every single day so that her clients and co-workers take her seriously. When you’re as petite as Desi and I are, people tend to treat you like something precious, more like a cute little doll than a grown woman. In my business I can get away with wearing pretty, feminine things, high heels, a color palette that runs the spectrum. But Desi is competing with mostly men in her profession, so she feels she has to dress accordingly. By the way,” she added warily, “I don’t recall mentioning that I was in the fashion business. Have you been stalking me, Mr. McManus?”