Al Trunk Mahoney, Defensive Line

by Jean C. Joachim

  “I get it. Takin’ her with you?”

  “I doubt she would.”

  “Don’t know ’til you ask. She’s good for you. You relax around her. Not like Mary.”

  “Don’t remind me. Mary’d hate the new house.”

  “I’m glad you dumped her. Never liked her. Always felt she was looking down on us.”

  “She dumped me, remember?”

  “Not in my mind.” Bull laughed and pulled slightly ahead.

  When the men finished, Coach Bass gathered them in the locker room. “First, congratulations. We made it to the Super Bowl. That’s due to the hard work on the part of every one of you here, and our trainers and coaching staff too. This is a great honor, an achievement, and you all busted your butts to get here. Now, it’s time to focus and work like we never did before. We won once. But losses two years in a row are unacceptable!

  I’m not asking you to do anything I’m not gonna do. I’ll be here every afternoon until we leave. And so will you. Practice starts at noon and runs ’til five. We’ll be running plays until we can do it in our sleep. Is that clear? This means everything to each of us and to the team as a whole. I know you want to win as bad as I do. So, get in shape, get your ass here on time, and be ready to work. Clear?”

  The men nodded and mumbled. A low hum of anticipation permeated the room. Trunk stepped over to Harley Brennan, but Coach got there first.

  “Brennan, you came from the Demons, anything you can tell us that’ll be helpful?”

  “Not much, Coach. I know Mark Davis like the back of my hand, though.”

  “Come to my office. We need to talk.”

  Trunk noted the doubtful expression on Brennan’s face. Al took a deep breath and let it out. He wouldn’t trade places with Harley for anything. It’s a tough spot to be in—let down your coach or spill your buddy’s secrets? Not an easy choice.

  Trunk hit the showers then headed home. The Beast was open, and there were three customers. Al slid onto a seat at the bar.

  “Whadd’ll it be, tall, dark, and handsome?”

  “A Carla special and two blue burgers with fries, gorgeous.”

  “Coming up.” She shot him a sexy grin as she hit the kitchen.

  With a giant appetite born of exercise, Trunk wolfed the food and washed it down with Carla’s delicious concoction. While he craved a beer now and then, being sober had its benefits. His performance on the gridiron had picked up. His speed had improved. And in the bedroom, he was unstoppable.

  Now that Mary was gone, Trunk was better. The desperation, the endless ploys to get her attention and improve their relationship were gone. The loneliness of being in the house without her, and not knowing when she’d be home, had passed. Going to bed night after night alone, chained to her had made him miserable. Unwilling to break his marriage vows to the point of finding a woman to love him, had rocketed his loneliness to the moon. Still, Trunk Mahoney was no cheater. All that had passed for Al. Peace filled him.

  Even Dr. MacMillan had commented on how much healthier he looked. He saw it in the mirror too. His eyes were clear, and his skin wasn’t blotchy. And he had energy—all from not drinking. And not being married to Mary. He’d expected his life to end when she’d walked out the door, but instead, it had begun anew. No one was more astonished than Al Mahoney.

  But the biggest surprise was finding out that he’d never loved Mary. He was learning what true love was. He had never experienced it before, a logical conclusion given his background.

  The pile of plates next to him on the bar interrupted his thoughts. He pushed up his sleeves. “What can I do? Wash dishes?” He turned to Carla.

  Her eyebrows rose. “You? Wash dishes? This is a first.”

  “I want to help.”

  “Okay, babe.” She plucked an apron from a hook and fastened it around the waist of the big man. “Here you go.”

  He leaned over to brush her lips with his. “Did I ever tell you you’re hot in an apron?”

  “Maybe when I’m wearing only an apron,” she whispered.

  “Is that a promise?”

  With a sly smile, she replied, “We’ll see.”

  He chuckled as he carried the stack of dirty plates into the kitchen.

  * * * *

  Carla’s hand shook a bit as she hung up the dishtowel. Trunk had already gone upstairs. She’d stayed to put the glasses and the salt and pepper shakers away. At a creak in the old wood from the wind, she started. She chewed a nail as she went through her mental checklist of things she did to close the place for the night. But it wasn’t The Savage Beast making her nervous.

  Only two days left until Trunk took off for Florida and the Super Bowl. They were leaving several days early, like they had the year before. He told her that Lyle Barker, team owner, liked to give the guys time in the sun to relax, workout in the new stadium, and get used to their beds before the big game.

  Wives accompanied the players, but not girlfriends. Carla couldn’t go anyway, she had a bar to run. And Super Bowl Sunday was going to be a huge day for business. Still, she knew that when he came back, Trunk would be getting the deed to the house and moving in. He’d already stated his intention of staying there, even while renovation was going on.

  Her time with Trunk Mahoney had turned into a brief, but intense, affair. She’d known it would be and had gone ahead anyway. Thinking back on their time together brought a smile to her face. She’d never been as compatible with any other guy. So, he’ll be moving on. Probably for the best. Then she wouldn’t have to argue with him about the kids thing.

  Sadness floated around her like a mist. Dropping her head back and closing her eyes, she made a wish. I wish he was the one man in fifty million who doesn’t want kids. Then, she laughed at herself for such a wild, unattainable desire. Finally, she pushed to her feet, slowly. It was two, and she was tired.

  She tiptoed into her room. A gentle snore told her Al was asleep already. Probably worked him hard on the field today. Soundlessly, she shed her clothes, draping them across a chair, and slid into bed. His side was already warm, so she crept over, little by little. He muttered something in his sleep, rolled to his side, and flopped an arm over her. The warmth of his touch soothed her. Forcing panic at their imminent farewell out of her mind, she closed her eyes. She needed rest. The next few days would be exhausting, physically and emotionally. Now was no time to indulge her pity party, allowing it to keep her awake.

  In the morning, Trunk awoke first. He patted her rear as he climbed over her and headed for the bathroom. Cool air chilled Carla. As she pulled up the covers, she noticed how big the bed was without him. Quickly, she scooted over to the warm spot he had vacated. The pillow carried his pleasant scent to her nose as she eased the quilt up to her shoulder.

  “Hey, sleepyhead. I’ve gotta go workout.” Trunk leaned over the bed, smelling of piney soap and aftershave. She grabbed a bit of his T-shirt with both hands and yanked him down. He laughed, spreading his fingers to hold his weight and keep from crushing her. “Are you getting frisky?”

  “Com’ere, you big lug.” She pulled him close for a kiss, reveling in the softness of his lips and the roughness of his T-shirt against her skin.

  He stroked the tips of her hair. “I can’t start anything now. Maybe after five?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Work. I’m opening at four. Tons to do. And Doodles will be popping in every two minutes to see if I’m done yet and can get my ass downstairs and help,” she said, grinning.

  “Tonight then?”

  “It’s a date.”

  He kissed her again then went on his way. Carla rolled over. Tears clouded her eyes, but she blinked them back. How many nights were left with Al? A couple. She vowed to close up early tonight, take a bath, and be ready. She hugged the pillow, shut her eyes, and sank into a dreamless sleep.

  * * * *

  True to her word, Carla shut the place down at eleven. There weren’t many customers, so it was easy. Al was in bed reading when she h
it the bathroom. Carla had made a sexy lingerie run to the discount store before opening the bar. While she hated to spend the money, she had managed to find the perfect shorty gown, just covering her tush, in black, sheer, with a bow between her breasts as the only closing.

  She sank into the tub and let the hot water do its job relaxing her muscles. The last little bit of lilac bubble bath still made foam that tickled her nose. She scrubbed with her loofah and then simply floated. Thoughts of her lover danced through her mind, tantalizing and tempting her. Then, there was a knock on the door.

  “You coming to bed, baby?”

  She called out, “Don’t come in. I’ll be there soon. Just getting pretty for you.”

  “You’re already pretty.”

  “Impatient? “

  “Yeah.”

  She giggled. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

  “Okay, but tonight, and before I fall asleep would be a good idea.”

  She listened for his footsteps before pulling the plug. A purple towel waited on a chair. She dried off, brushed her shiny locks, and applied a little lilac lotion to her legs and belly. She brushed her teeth and dabbed a bit of lilac perfume from the little left in the bottle between her breasts. Then, she slipped on the negligee. Perfect fit. A smile graced her lips as she checked herself out in the full length mirror.

  She hung up the towel and opened the door. A draft of cold air swirled around her, making her shiver and hardening her nipples. She ran down the hall to the bedroom, where the air would be warmer. Yes, Trunk warmed up an entire room by himself.

  The brass doorknob was chilly in her hand. She turned it and opened the door a few inches. Al had left the bedside lamp on low. He lay in bed, reclining, half covered by the quilt, his fingers laced behind his head.

  His gaze snapped to the door. “Come in, honey, don’t be shy.”

  Carla grinned. Never been called that before. She threw the door open and stood in the doorway, her legs spread, hands on hips. “How’s this?” she asked.

  His sharp intake of breath warmed her heart. He bolted to a sitting position, staring at her with hot eyes. “Holy shit. You look fuckin’ amazing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Where did you get that? It’s made for you.”

  “Could say that.”

  “What are you doing over there? Get over here.” He patted the spot next to him.

  Hips swinging, she strutted over to the bed.

  Al was practically drooling. “Can you leave it on the whole time?”

  “Yep. Like it?”

  “Love is more like it. And you smell great. Like a…like a…” He closed his eyes. “Like a day in spring.”

  “You’re a poet.”

  He let loose a deep, guttural laugh. “Doubt that. But you’re sex on legs, baby.”

  Carla braced herself with her hands and climbed onto the mattress. Al reached over and grabbed her under the arms, hauling her up against his chest. His hungry mouth found hers. He tucked her under and rolled over, so he was on top. Spreading her legs with his knee, he knelt between them. When she fastened her arms around his neck, he lowered his palms to her rear, squeezing and lifting her until their hips met.

  He was already erect and pushing against her. He was a maniac, on fire, his desire overwhelming her. Carla had never seen him like this, so passionate, so forceful. Before she could utter a word, his hands were under the fabric, gliding up and down her body, closing over her flesh, stroking and caressing her.

  Sexual heat flared in her, the flames licking at her insides. She closed her fingers around him. He was pure steel. For a woman so in control of her life, Carla was thrilled to her toes to have him take over. And he did. His teeth nipped at her peaks, his lips seemed to be everywhere at the same time. Thrilling sensation after sensation flew through her body, building tension until want became need.

  He flipped her over onto her stomach, as if she were a blueberry pancake. He removed her hand then rubbed against her. “God, you’re wet,” he muttered.

  She raised her hips, while he closed his fingers around her thighs, lifting them and pulling them toward him. One minute, he was at her entrance, then wham, he was inside her. She gasped as he filled her.

  “You okay?”

  “God, yes. Don’t stop.”

  She heard him chuckle as he moved in her. Al pounded her, grunting. A couple of drops of sweat splashed on her back. She turned her head, watching him with one eye. The man was possessed. He slid his hands up her back then down again. His thumbs pushed gently on the inside of her thighs. Pressure grew until it became unbearable, peaking and bursting into a soul-shuddering orgasm.

  She buried her face in the pillow and called his name. Al stopped for a moment, stroked her head, and then continued for a few more seconds before a loud groan signaled his release. He dropped his forehead down to her back and bestowed tiny kisses along her spine. It tickled, and she giggled, collapsing flat on the bed. He eased down on top of her, slipping his palms under her to cup her breasts.

  “That was amazing,” he whispered, nuzzling the silky, black fabric across her shoulders.

  “Oh my God. Al, you outdid yourself.”

  “Baby, you’re hot. Smokin’, steamin’, like a fuckin’ volcano.” He pushed up and rolled off.

  Cold air chilled her, as the back of her garment was soaked through with their sweat. She sat up, unsnapped the bow, and shed the nightie.

  “Aw, do you have to take that off?”

  “It’s wet, and I’m freezing.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  She cupped his cheek and stared into his eyes. She saw love. It warmed her heart and terrified her at the same time. “It’s okay, babe. It’s okay.”

  He stretched out on the bed and motioned for her to join him. She cuddled up to him, resting her cheek on his chest. Her fingers played with the hair there.

  “I wish I’d met you before I met Mary.”

  “Me too, Al. Me too.” Her heart ached at the thought of what might have been. Never had she known a man like him. Still, the kid thing was set in stone. She shuddered at the thought of having children against her wishes. Nope. That decision stands.

  They fell asleep, only to awake two hours later and make love again. They made love three times before dawn broke. Exhausted and sated, the couple slept until nine, arising refreshed. Trunk headed to the gym while Carla made her list for the day over coffee. Neither one made mention of the night before, leaving it to a passionate memory they could cherish when they parted company.

  * * * *

  In the locker room, Robbie Anthony slapped on aftershave.

  Tuffer Demson came up behind him. “Look, Robbie, this is my first date with Lexie.”

  “So?” The kicker looked up from the mirror.

  “I’m not planning on getting laid or anything.”

  “Hey, if the lady’s willing, who am I to say ‘no’?” Robbie chuckled.

  “I don’t like to rush anything.”

  Robbie turned around and placed his hands on Tuffer’s arms. “Cool it, Tuff. No pressure.”

  “You’re not gonna bring us back to your place and shove us in your spare room?”

  Anthony laughed. “No way. Where’d you get that idea?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “The guys. The team. Always kidding. Giving you a hard time. You can’t believe a thing they say outside of football.”

  “Good. I was worried for a minute.”

  “Let’s just have a good time. These are nice girls, Coach’s daughters, you don’t want to fuck it up.”

  “You got that right.” Tuffer wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

  “You’re not going dressed like that, are you?”

  “Jeans. T-shirt. What’s wrong with that?”

  “You gotta have a little class. These girls have a rich daddy. They dress nice. You gotta do the same. Besides, we’re going to The Sweet Magnolia. Tie and jacket, buddy.”

&
nbsp; “I think I have one here. I’ll be right back.”

  Tuffer scurried away to his locker, praying he had left his more formal duds there. He opened the door to find his prayers answered. While changing his clothes, he stopped to check his wallet. He’d picked up three hundred in cash, not sure how much would be needed to wine and dine the Coach’s daughter. I’m not taking her out because she’s Coach Bass’s daughter. She’s cute and seems nice.

  Demson had met Lexie at the Christmas party for the kids from the shelter. He’d been too shy to say much, but she had chatted him up. He’d thought she was flirting with him. But he was so backward with women, he hadn’t trusted his own instincts. He’d asked Lawson Breaker, another team newbie. Breaker had assured him Lexie had, absolutely, flirted with him, and he should ask her out. Tuffer had screwed up all the courage he could muster and called. She’d accepted right away.

  When he’d told Robbie, that’s when the idea of a double date had come up. Robbie had had his eye on Alyssa Sebastian for some time, but couldn’t find a good way to approach her. So, he maneuvered Tuffer into setting it up. Robbie had been popular with the cheerleaders, until it became clear he wasn’t in a marrying mood. At least with Lyssa, he’d confided to Demson, she wasn’t looking to marry for money.

  Tuffer struggled with his tie. He was a big man, a full six three and two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle. He had a broad neck and long arms. His dirty blond hair went well with his blue eyes. He considered himself one of the uglier guys on the team. But he smiled to think that maybe Lexie didn’t agree.

  “Much better. Now, you look like a player,” Robbie said.

  “I am a player. Defense.”

  Robbie laughed. “Like a player with women.”

  Tuffer shook his head. “No way. And I could never pass for one, either. What the hell would I say?”

  “Smile. Nod. Ask her all about herself and listen. She’ll be begging you to take her to bed.”

  “I’d be happy with a second date.”