by M. E. Carter
Geni raises an eyebrow and makes a hmph sound. “I’m curious how you know that. Is it because you are the one they cheat with?”
Tiffany narrows her eyes at Geni. “Why are you so worried about my sex life, huh? Are you so hard up yourself you have to worry about mine all the time?”
Geni gives her a look. I’ve seen this look before. The verbal sparring is about to be taken to a whole new level. “I know all about you, Tiffany,” she says. “I’ve seen the pictures. It’s interesting how many times you’re in the background of candid pictures of the team, coming out of a hotel room. And yet you’re never, ever with the same player.” Tiffany scowls but doesn’t say a word as Geni continues. “The thing is,” she says, “the dynamic of a groupie fascinates me. I’ve done a lot of reading about them. It’s so funny the things you can find on the internet. Tell me, which is your favorite activity, blow job races, sex trains, or circle jerks?”
My jaw drops. “Are those real things?” I ask Geni.
“I don’t know,” she says, never taking her eyes off of Tiffany. “Why don’t you ask our friend here?”
I swivel in my chair. Tiffany is shooting figurative daggers at Geni. I can’t tell if her lack of response is because she’s in shock over the idea of this type of activity or an admission that it actually happens, and she’s been a part of it. Before I can think of any questions to ask, Tiffany’s friend grabs her by the arm, pulling her out of her chair. “Come on. You don’t need this,” she says, and they walk away.
I swivel to Geni again. “Is that true?” I ask. “Does that really happen?”
“According to multiple bloggers who used to be groupies, it happens all the time.”
My brain is spinning. “But… why would Daniel… I-I mean.” I stutter, not able to bring my thoughts together.
“Do I think Daniel is participating in that kind of thing?” she asks, saving me from my inability to speak. I nod quickly. “I don’t know. I’d like to say I doubt it, because he’s a nice guy. But you heard her. She can count on one hand how many of these guys are faithful to their wives. So why would any of them be faithful to someone they’re dating?”
Our conversation is interrupted when the announcers begin introducing the teams. When Daniel’s name is called, he runs onto the field, and the cheers in the crowd get louder. As he runs by our section, he makes eye contact with me and points at me in the stands. I smile and wave, but it’s more a forced response than genuine acknowledgement we know each other.
As the game starts, the drums and horns are so loud, Geni and I can’t talk anymore, which is fine with me. I don’t really feel like carrying on a conversation anyway.
Does he actually participate in group sex parties? More importantly, has he been doing it since we started sleeping together?
I’m not sure what I think of this bomb that’s been dropped on me. On the one hand, we’ve never established what our relationship is. On the other hand… ew.
My thoughts continue to spin, but the one thing I know for sure: I’ve got to confront Daniel about this, because this might be a deal-breaker for me.
We won. Took out the Galaxy five to four.
Except for our sweeper rolling his ankle when he came down wrong during a head shot, the game went fine. It wasn’t necessarily pretty, but we got the job done.
I might have had more enthusiasm if I hadn’t still been pissed at my family. It’s been a week since the showdown at my mom’s house, and the only two people to even try to apologize were Blanca and Geovany.
This doesn’t surprise me. Geovany isn’t just my big brother. He’s one of my best friends. He knows I’m smarter than everyone gives me credit for.
Blanca… well, she knows better than to believe everything you hear. Her ex-husband blasted her publically, not that most people cared, but she lost a lot of friends over his lies about her being a gold-digging whore and cheater. None of it was true, and he basically said as much in court when the divorce finally went through, but the damage had been done. Since then, she’s way less quick to judge people, especially other women.
Eduardo, though, is a totally different story. I know my brother. After my dad left, he tried to take over as the “man of the house.” Never mind that at eighteen, I was the youngest when he left. We were adults, most of us in our twenties, when it happened. Lalo decided someone had to take on that role. It has led to many arguments, but he can’t seem to ease up, and for whatever reason, my mother lets him get away with it.
We all deal with my father’s betrayal in different ways. Eduardo’s way of doing it always leads to a fight.
“You going to party with us tonight, Zavaro?” Mack Shivel asks, slapping me on the shoulder as he passes me on the way to his locker. “Tiffany’s bringing the girls to my place, so there will be lots of free pussy.”
Rowen, our rookie, tenses as Shivel keeps blathering on about the queen bee of the groupies. I hope there isn’t going to be a conflict there. Shivel’s an idiot, but he’s even worse when someone bucks up against him. This is why Coach and I have talked about quietly grooming the rookie to take his spot. If he catches on, coming to work is going to suck until he’s gone.
“Nah, man,” I say, tugging my jeans on over my hips. “I’ve got plans tonight.”
“You seeing your girl again?” Christian asks as he walks over, fresh from the shower.
“I wouldn’t exactly call her my girl.” I pull my shirt from my locker and roll it up before pulling it over my head. “We’re just hanging out. But yeah, she’s coming over tonight.”
“Awwwww,” Shivel yells. “No wonder you’re not partying with us. You’ve got yourself a sure thing, don’t you? Who needs a cleat chaser when you’ve got a classy act like that all to yourself?”
A locker slams in the background. “You’re a dick, Shivel,” I snap. “Just because I have plans with a woman doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck her. I can have fun with more than my dick, ya know.”
“No,” he says. “You can’t. None of us can. Soccer and pussy. They’re the only things we need.”
Several of my teammates snicker, and I wonder how I’ve never noticed what fucking cavemen half these guys are. I’ve never been one to party with them anyway, but I know what they do behind closed doors, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t give me pause sometimes and wonder why they think it’s okay to participate in activities like that.
Shivel makes his way around the room, inviting more of the guys to his place and I turn to Christian.
“He’s such a dick,” he says under his breath.
“Yep.”
“Please tell me we’re getting rid of him,” he whispers, knowing full well I’m not going to answer him. I look him straight in the eye and give him more information than I should. “Just keep doing your job, and it’ll all shake out the way it’s supposed to.”
Christian gives me a tiny thumbs-up and drops his towel to pull on his boxer briefs.
“So you and this girl,” he says as I find my shoes and socks and sit down on the bench to put them on. “You guys have been spending a lot of time together.”
“Yes.”
“You like her?”
“Of course I like her,” I say as I pull my socks on. “I wouldn’t keep hanging out with her if I didn’t like her.”
He nods and contemplates his next comment. “What’s the problem then?”
“With what?” I finish tying my shoes, stand up, and gather my stuff out of my locker, taking the cap off my deodorant and swiping some on under my shirt.
“You’re awfully quick to dismiss her as your girl. Just wanted to clarify.”
I slam my locker door. “No reason to clarify, man. She’s a great person. I like her. We’ve become really good friends. That’s that.” I hitch my bag over a shoulder. “I’m outta here. I’ll see you Tuesday.”
I say goodbye to the rest of the team and leave the locker room. Quincy is leaning against the wall, holding an overnight bag and looking at her phone
intently. She doesn’t even notice me come out.
Once again, it strikes me how beautiful she is. Not glam like a lot of the groupies try to be. Just girl-next-door beautiful. I feel that familiar stir in my pants.
I sneak up on her and kiss her on the neck, startling her.
“Oh!” she says, holding a hand across her chest. “You scared me!”
“Sorry.” I lead her out of the tunnel toward the parking lot. “You were awfully engrossed in your phone. What were you looking at?”
“Nothing exciting,” she says dismissively. “Just catching up on my soccer trivia.”
“Oh, really,” I say with a smile. “Learn anything exciting?”
She shrugs.
“Did you enjoy the game?”
“Yeah, it was good,” she says. Her enthusiasm doesn’t quite match what she’s saying. “Is that guy who got hurt all right?”
“Marshall, our sweeper?”
She gives me a questioning look.
“The guy who plays right in front of the goalie?”
“Yeah, him,” she says. “It seemed he was in a lot of pain.”
“We soccer players always look like we’re in pain. It’s part of the game.”
She snickers. “I have noticed that most of you are a bunch of babies on the field. Even the tiniest bump throws you into some serious dramatics.”
I smile, because she’s right. “Hey now. Games are made on penalties. If we can get the ref to yellow-card someone for a tiny bump, we’ve done our job right.”
During the drive home, I notice that Quincy is unusually quiet. Normally the conversation flows freely.
“Where’s Chance tonight?” I ask, trying to get her to open up.
“He’s having some Aunt Geni time,” she says. “She seems to think I needed to get some uninterrupted sleep for once.”
I chuckle and stop at a red light. “You’re spending the night at my place, right?” She nods. “Then Geni picked the wrong night to babysit, because you won’t be getting much sleep.” I waggle my eyebrows at her. She smiles back, but it’s not the wide open grin she normally throws my direction. I accelerate through the green light. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, why?”
“I get the impression you have something on your mind,” I hit the highway and we zip toward the exit to my apartment building. “Are you worried about the baby?”
“What? Oh no!” she says with a wave of dismissal. “I’m just distracted is all.”
We are silent while I park in the lot at my building. My place is only ten minutes from the stadium. It’s not the fanciest apartment complex, but rent in Houston is really expensive, especially inside the loop. I’m lucky I can afford it. Not all soccer players can. I’m pretty sure the rookies are all driving from at least thirty minutes away and have roommates.
“So here we are,” I say, turning off the engine.
“No underground parking with a secret passcode to get in?” she jests. “I’m shocked there’s not more security.”
I snicker. “Professional soccer players don’t need much security in the States. In Europe or South America, hell yeah, but here, people are more interested in football players.” I get out of the car and make my way around to the other side. She’s already climbing out, but I take her overnight bag and hand when she shuts the door. “I have an alarm and everything. Can’t be too careful. But I’ve never had any problems.”
It’s the first time she’s been here. “Hm,” she says, taking it all in. “I’m surprised. A super famous athlete like yourself, I’d expect at least one crazy fan stalking you.”
“I’m sure I’ll have one eventually, but right now, I don’t think my neighbors even know what I do for a living.”
We walk up the steps to my second floor apartment and I unlock my door, pushing it open for her. I step in behind her. After disarming the security system, I put the bags in my room and give her a chance to acclimate to this new environment.
“You have a really big family,” she says when I come back into the room.
She’s looking at one of the last pictures taken as a family before my dad left. I try not to look at that photo very often. It’s missing a couple of my nieces and nephews, and my dad’s in it. I’m not really sure why I keep it, but the thought of taking it down gives me anxiety, so I leave it on the shelf and ignore it.
“I feel bad that you haven’t talked to them since we were there.”
“Don’t. They were out of line, Lalo especially.”
She puts the frame down. “They were just looking out for you. They’re your family. You don’t want to lose them over someone like me.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “What do you mean, someone like you?”
She walks to the window that looks out over the pool. “What are we doing here, Daniel?”
I cock my head. “We’re hanging out.”
“Yeah, but what does that mean?”
I straighten, not quite sure what to say. If this is the commitment discussion and how she needs more, it’s really gonna suck. I can’t give her that, which means this will have to end, and I don’t want it to end yet.
“Quincy, I… I thought we were having fun,” I say quietly. “I can’t give you any more right now.”
She sits on the couch, a look of frustration on her face. “We haven’t been dating that long, and we’re both busy. Hanging out is fine. I just….”
“What?” I ask, sitting next to her. “I’m kind of confused.”
“So am I.” She blows out a breath and clasps her hands, resting them between her knees. “I sat next to this girl Tiffany at the stadium.”
“Uh-huh.”
She whips her head up to look at me. “You know her?”
“Everyone knows her. She comes to all the games and parties with the team.”
Quincy stares at me. Her expression is a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. “You… you know her?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking me.”
She averts her eyes. “She’s a groupie, right? And she does groupie things.”
“Hold on.” I feel really stupid. I should have known what she was getting at. “Quincy, I know Tiffany, but I don’t know Tiffany. Not intimately.”
“You don’t?” she asks, looking relieved.
“No way. I’ve heard the stories about what goes on between the groupies and my teammates. Even walked in on things a couple times, but that whole scene… it’s not my thing at all.”
“It’s not?”
“Oh, hell no,” I say firmly. “I have never been part of that scene. Can you imagine if that got out to the press? My mama would have my ass if I got involved with stuff like that.” She smiles. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a prince by any stretch. I’ve enjoyed my fair share of women, but not those ladies.”
“Since we’re on the topic, what kind of women have you had your fair share of?” She looks at me, and I know I’ve dodged a bullet with the groupie talk, but I have a feeling the serious conversation isn’t quite over yet.
I relax into the back of the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table. “Mostly it’s been fans, almost like groupies but only looking for a normal one-night stand. None of that kinky voyeuristic shit, and never the same one twice. It’s very clear from the beginning it’s no-strings-attached sex, and I never see the person again. I usually don’t even know their name.” I feel a little embarrassed. “It works for me.”
She gets quiet. I can practically hear the wheels moving in her head, so I give her time to process.
She gestures between us. “You know my name. We’ve had sex multiple times. We see each other all the time. I’m not asking for a defined relationship, but I need to know. What is this?”
“You need to know I’m not sleeping with anyone else.”
“Yes.” That single word rushes out of her in a deep exhale. “I hope that doesn’t sound crazy or relationship-y, but I can’t be doing this if it’s not monogamous. It’s not how I’m wir
ed.”
I understand. “I won’t define this because I honestly don’t know how. I genuinely like you as a person. You’re my friend. But I’m also very, very attracted to you in a more than friends kind of way. So if it’s okay with you, I want to keep doing what we’re doing.” I wink at her, and she punches me playfully in the arm.
“That makes sense,” she says. “I feel the same way. Like we’re friends with benefits, but that’s not quite it either. Just do me a favor, please.”
“What’s that?” I ask, wrapping a lock of her hair around my finger. All this sex talk combined with the high of today’s win is making me horny.
“If you end up seriously attracted to someone else, or if you hook up with a groupie on the road, please respect me enough to let me know. I like being friends with you, and that can’t happen if you’re sleeping with more than just me. That feels disrespectful to me, and I just can’t do it.”
“I promise,” I say and lean toward her. “But I don’t see that happening any time soon. There’s something freeing about our situation, don’t you think? We enjoy each other’s company. The sex is fucking fantastic. I don’t feel the pressure to make nice with other people so I can get laid.”
She laughs and grabs the back of my head, pulling my face toward hers. “You’re such a pig.”
“Never said I wasn’t.” I kiss her, gently at first, then taking it deeper when she starts to moan against my lips. I feel like this conversation didn’t exactly clarify what is happening here but gives Quincy the peace of mind that I won’t lie or cheat on her. And really, what else does a woman really want?
I finally break away when I feel the hunger pangs in my stomach. “Since you’re here for the night, let’s eat. Wanna watch some Netflix and chill? I’m sure I can find some more high-budget porn for us to watch.”
She snort-laughs, but she doesn’t protest.
Not when I bake a frozen pizza for us to eat.
Not when I actually turn on Netflix so we can actually chill.
And not when she rides me on my couch, back arched, tits bouncing in my face until she’s satisfied multiple times over.
I’d say this arrangement works for the both of us. Whatever it is.