by Ella Jackson
There were no posters of bikini clad girls on the walls, and I can't see an animal head anywhere. Instead, there's a big soft rug in front of a fireplace, and a large round dog bed filled with toys in various states of chewing.
Dale caught my gaze, and indicated the dog bed. "She's pretty spoiled. But she gets a lot of love and attention."
"That's really nice," I murmured, fishing in my bag for my notebook. "This looks like a great place for a dog."
He nodded. "Yep, there's a big yard outback for her to run around in, and she gets plenty of walking into. I'd always grown-up with dogs when I was a kid, so when I moved here and sign this contract, it was the obvious thing to do. Just having her to come home to is quite something, you know?"
I smiled happily. "Yeah, I do. That's really sweet." If I didn't think he was cute before, I definitely did now. Actually, scratch that. He might be infuriating, but he was cute, and sexy as well.
I looked up, and saw him looking at me. Sheeit. Did he know what I was thinking? Is all this an act to make him look like decent guy, when he's gonna turn out to be some kind of playboy?
No, that's ridiculous. Just get on with the interview, Keisha.
"Something you like?" He leaned back, and pushed his hands through his hair. "I mean, I hope you like the decor."
The decor. Yeah, right. "I was thinking about…something else."
He nodded slowly, smiling again. "So, about that glass of water…?"
"No, thank you." I was almost a trifle snappy, but I was anxious to get back to the questions before his dark eyes unnerved me anymore. "So tell me, Mr Williams –"
"Dale, by now, surely?"
"So tell me, Dale, what do you find is the most challenging part of the attention you get from being a pro athlete?"
He leaned back in the sofa, and the movement brought him closer to me. Part of me wanted to edge away, but part of me really didn't. "That's a good question. I guess it would be the sense of…expectation."
He stopped talking, and I waited for a few seconds before I realised that that was all he was going to say. Okay, if you want to play it like that, fine.
"Expectation? You mean, in the sense of your fans' expectations?"
He nodded. "That's certainly part of it, yes. But it's more than that."
Again the silence. I stifle a curse internally. Okay, Mr Williams, I'll play your stupid game. Let's try something really blindingly obvious.
"More than that? Would you care to –" I leaned closer to him, just close enough so that my blouse made my cleavage visible, and inhaled strategically, "elaborate?"
"It's the sense of…obligation, I guess. The sense that you're not here just to play soccer, you're here as a part of people's lives. Everybody wants something from you."
The air was very still now, and I could hear my own breathing. "I can see what you mean. I – I – that is, I can see that a lot of people would. Want something from you." His proximity was making my head spin, and I couldn't stop myself from leaning closer to him. "What's your – your response, when people want something from you."
He stretched out a large hand, sliding it across the back of the sofa towards me. "Generally, we have a duty to our public. When playing sport just for ourselves, where here for them to. So," he leans down closer to me, "we have to give the public," another deep breath, "what they want."
His lips touched mine, and an electric shock went through my breast.
My head was spinning, and I almost can't believe this is happening. After a moment, he broke off the kiss, and I sat up. At the worst possible time, my phone buzzes, and I reflexively looked down.
Great timing mom. "Remember what your father told you about interviews."
Mom, now, for once that would be good advice. But I'm afraid I am currently a pretty long way from what dad told me about interviews.
I shook my head, and considered adopting a schoolteacher tone. "Mr Williams, I'm not sure that's really –"
"Dale." His tone was gently mocking. "I think by now you should definitely call me Dale."
"D-Dale, let's move on with the interview. Please." My tone sounded remarkably unconvincing even to me. "Would you feel more comfortable if we were to talk about something else?"
I was still talking, but all I could think about was the feeling of his mouth on me, and I'm trying to remember the many, many reasons why that's a terrible idea.
"No." Again, the gently mocking tone. He wasn't pushy, but he certainly was pretty clear about what he wants.
"Can we – can we talk about your relationships with your teammates? Mr, um, Cortez, right?"
He looked briefly baffled, as if this were the last thing he was thinking about at this point. "Ricky? Yeah, what about him?"
"Well, you and he are…rivals, right? There was some trouble between you before the first game, right?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, that's right. We, uh, don't get on." He sounded almost absent-minded about this. "That bastard." He looked away for a moment, and the wicked expression formed on his face. "He did say one thing right though, given that."
My heart was still pounding, and I didn't know where this is leading, but anywhere that gets my mind off the wetness between my thighs had to be good at this point. "Really? What was that?"
"He told me," he slipped his hand between collar of my blouse and my hairline to tilt my head back to face him, "that you would want, to kiss me. Right here."
Goddamn. "D-Dale, I certainly don't…" Before I could say anything else, he leaned forward and kissed me again. I panties were soaked by this point, and his other hand moved from my shoulder down over my waist, and onto my hip.
"What are you doing, Dale?" My voice sounded croaky and distant.
"I'm trying to decide if you want to talk me into this, or talk me out of it." His words set me tingling and I crossed and uncrossed my legs, trying to hide how turned on I was.
He slid his hand up my skirt, and I could feel his fingers hooking around my panties. His right hand was still on the back of my head, tilting my face toward him. I wasabout to refuse; to back off, but there was just enough suppressed arousal inside me that it carried me along on a wave, and before I knew it I was kissing him back, pressing into him, pushing my thigh against his hand.
"Dale," I moaned, my mouth open, and gasping, "we can't do this."
He traced a line up my thigh with his fingers. "No?"
"It's… Unprofessional. Really, really, unprofessional." I wasn't very convincing even to myself.
It sure is; what was even more unprofessional was the way my hands were roaming over his chest, gripping him tight. I put one hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer to me. "We… Definitely can't."
Before he could say anything in response, I kissed him back, hard. My head spun from the passion in each touch of his lips.
Behind me, there was a rattle of the doorknob. I could barely hear it, but Dale looked up, suddenly, and reared back. "Shit."
A key sounded in the lock, and the door crashed open. "Hey, man, brought you back some…" Standing in the doorway, filling it, dark eyes and chiselled features arranged in an expression of pure surprise, was Ricky Cortez.
Shit indeed.
The expression of pure surprise on Ricky's features doesn't last long, and was replaced by a look of pure joy. "Whoops. Looks like we came home at a bad time, didn't we, sweetheart?"
Next to him, a large yellow Labrador bounds forward happily, trailing her leash. Without waiting for an invitation, she inserts herself in the space between Dale and I, and starts covering him with kisses.
Dale looked at me. "Look, I –". His voice is muffled by the large yellow dog in his face, and part of me wants to laugh through my acute embarrassment. "Cyrus! Back off for a minute." He wrestled the dog away from his face, and looks up at Ricky.
Ricky looked back at both of us, and opened his mouth as if to say something, but a look from Dale made him close it again. "How about I take Cyrus for another walk? Like, right now? I mean, I am
not one to impede the," and I could tell he was impressed with his own joke, "freedom of the press."
"Yeah. Yeah, you do that. Thanks, Ricky." Dale's face was not exactly red with embarrassment, but not entirely comfortable either. He handed the leash over to a grinning Ricky and after Cyrus is dragged reluctantly away from her master, the two of them depart out the front door again.
There was a brief silence, and we looked at each other. I was uncomfortably aware that my blouse had become unbuttoned at some point, and I wondered idly how much of an eye full Ricky had gotten. Mind you, that was the least of my problems right now.
Dale was the first to break the silence. "So, I guess there are a few things I didn't tell you."
Eight
Dale
Talking to her before kissing her would have a been better alternative.
I had nothing left to lose at this point, and I figured it wouldn't hurt if she saw my bedroom. I'd never had a woman in here before since I moved in – except for one, of course.
It was fucking ironic that the one time I did have a woman in here, all of a sudden I was nervous.
Keisha turned back to me, after looking back down the stairs, and I waited for her before I took her hand and led her gently into the bedroom, watching as her eyes swept around the room and took in the big bed and furnishings.
She was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen, and I was torn between the desire to tell her all about my life, and the desire to rip off her clothes right now, and have her on my bed. My cock strained against my jeans. I didn't care anymore what she wrote about me; I just wanted to take off that silky blouse and make her nipples hard.
I didn't know her hardly at all; we'd only talked a little before today – but I felt drawn to her, like I hadn't to any woman for a long time. Now that we were in my bedroom, I was beginning to think that bringing her up here was a bad idea, if all we were going to do was talk.
"Sit down," I said gruffly, motioning her to the bed. She looked at me, her expression unreadable, and after a pause went and sat on the bed. She crossed one stocking covered leg over the other, and I felt my cock throb painfully at the site.
Taking a deep breath, I got control of myself. "So," I began, "the thing with Ricky."
"Yeah." Her face was flushed, and I could tell that she was is turned on as I was, but in her eyes there was a light of interest. "Something tells me you guys aren't really rivals the way the press seem to believe."
"No, we're not. We sure didn't see eye to eye when we arrived, but Will really kicked our arses and told us to get our shit together, and after the first game, we found we actually had more in common than we thought. But, by then the narrative of rival soccer players was well-established, and, well, Jessie said it was getting us views and eyeballs, so we sort of went with it."
Her expression was incredulous. "So let me get this straight. This guy who's supposed to be your rival, is actually a friend who takes your dog for walks. Is that right?"
"Yeah, now that you put it that way, I guess he is." I looked at her speculatively. "In fact, he's actually one of the few people I genuinely trust. Sure, he can be that of an idiot sometimes, but he's got a good heart. I trust him to –" I stopped suddenly, not being quite ready to tell her about Daisy yet.
"To what?" Her eyes were enquiring, and I felt a pang of guilt.
"Nothing. I mean, I trust him to, have my back in a fight." It didn't sound very convincing, but if Keisha didn't believe me, she didn't press the issue.
This was a low even for me. I liked her. I wanted her to like me because I haven't met someone like her in a while, not just drop dead sexy, but sweet and open, and enquiring. I wouldn't do anything to put my family at risk, but I didn't want that day to end. Just having her there, in my home, sitting on my bed, talking, was nice. The memory of her lips sent a surge of blood to my loins, and I resisted the urge to pin her down on the bed again.
Instead, I sat next on the bed and take her hand. She looks up at me, eyes trusting, lips slightly apart, almost shy, and I felt a wave of protectiveness wash over me for her. For an instant I thought about what it must be like to take on a job trying to talk to people who didn't want to talk, to find out things from people who didn't want to give away their secrets, and to do it all fighting the prejudice of being a woman. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and protect her.
But this was crazy. I hardly knew her.
"Do you see yourself staying here in Cheyenne for long? I mean, I know you guys get moved around a lot, get traded from one place to another place, right?" Again, always the reporter even though her notebook was far away downstairs, and she was sitting on my bed.
"Another good question. No, I plan on staying here for as long as they keep me. Good defenders aren't easy to come by, and although I don't pay much attention to my stats, I know that I'm up there in the league. So I think they'll need me for a bunch of seasons yet." I had another reason to want to stay here, but I kept it to myself. "What about you?"
She looked down at her lap, and for a moment. She seemed unsure. "I – I don't know yet. My mom keeps telling me I should quit this place, go to a big city and start working my way up the ladder of journalism, but taking orders from people for ten years sounds awful. But if I stay here, I don't know whether I'll ever get noticed, or built up the kind of CV which will get me an interview anywhere outside of a small town. I keep on changing my mind from week to week, and no decision really seems like the right one."
She shook herself, and looked up at me again. "But this is supposed to be about you, not about me. Anything else you want to tell me about your…relationship with Ricardo Cortez?"
The way in which she said 'relationship' made me smile. "No, I can assure you we just good friends."
"Shame. That would have made for quite the exclusive."
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I am afraid I am completely – and resolutely – single." My blood was surging again, and I knew I couldn't fight the urge to lean over her and kiss her very much longer. I looked at her again, and saw her lips wet, and her breathing flushed.
"Well," she breathed, "there are some benefits to that." Her hand crept forward onto my arm, and all of a sudden she was on top of me, kissing me hard my hands, finding their way up the back of her blouse. She threw her arms around my neck, almost hanging off me, and it was all I could do not to tear her blouse as I pulled it off her. My hand finds the clasp of her bra and undid it in one movement. She gasped and a shudder ran down her back. "Ohh, Dale..."
Our tongues wind together, and I feel her grinding against me, making my cock harder and harder. I savoured the taste of her mouth, and worked one hand down her sides, past her thighs, finding the hem of her skirt. I felt her shiver again, and she pushed into me, harder. My cock throbbed painfully in my jeans, and I felt one of her hands working my zipper. With a practised motion, she unbuttoned my jeans and put a hand on me.
"Dale, fuck, I want..." Her voice was hoarse and husky. The feeling of her hand on my cock made me rock-hard, and she used a practised motion, stroking me back and forth. I slid my hand up her skirt hooking a finger under her panties again, but this time I went further, sliding it across the top of her pussy. She shivered all the way down her body, and breathed in my ear again.
With one movement, I pushed her panties to one side, and slipped one finger inside her. She writhed against me, and I could feel how wet she was already. A small moan escaped her lips again. "Mmmm, that's so fucking good...."
Her hand was moving rhythmically on my shaft, and the steady throbbing she set up had me close to coming already. How the fuck could she turn me on so quickly, while she was still almost fully-clothed?
I pushed my finger deeper inside her, stroking her firmly, and she mewled with pleasure. Wrapping one arm around her, pulling her tight to me, I used another finger on her clit, plunging into her and stroking her alternately. Her gasps increased in tempo, and she forced her mouth onto me, tightly, almost fiercely. Faster, and faster, bucking her hips ag
ainst me, her hand tight on my shaft, stroking me.
"Fuck, Dale, fuck...please..." Her whispers were insistent and hoarse. "I need it, I need..."
I knew exactly what she needed, and I was going to give it to her. My fingers pushed into her deeper, urging her closer and closer to her climax, her body shuddering against me. The air was very still, and I could hear her breathing, ragged now as I coaxed each breath from her lungs with my fingers on her clit and inside her. Again and again, until finally she gave a racking sob, and I felt her tighten on my fingers, frantic with lust. Her fingers on my cock stiffened, and then relaxed as she convulsed in my arms. I kissed her neck, kissed her cheek, holding her as she tightened and relaxed on me, until finally she was spent.
Keisha looked up at me, still flushed. "I...I didn't make you come." Her hair was messy, and her blouse in disarray.
She was the sexiest fucking thing I'd ever seen.
"It's okay. Honestly, it is." We were laying back on my bed, looking at the ceiling. She was nestled into my chest, and I could feel her breathing rhythmically. I leaned over and stroked her hair. "That was pretty fucking sexy, you know."
She looked up at me again and bit her lip. My cock stiffened, and she felt it. Her hand drifted down my chest, and settled on my shaft. "Are you sure…?"
I took a deep breath. "Believe me, there is nothing I would like more right at the moment. But, maybe we should wait." I desperately wanted to plunge inside her, and to feel her give herself up to me completely, but this was all a lot in a very short space of time. I hadn't been with a woman for a long time, and thought of her getting frightened and running away from me was too much to contemplate.
She sighed, and tried to smooth down the front of her blouse. "I actually came here, telling myself I was going to be completely professional, you know." She looked down at her skirt, still hiked up around her hips. "Guess that didn't work out so well."