Without a second thought, she grabbed hold of his hands and moved them to the edge of her shirt. Then, with a smirk of her own, she leaned towards him, putting her lips on his ear.
“Why don’t you show me?” she asked.
Then she moved her own hand between them until her palm began to caress his growing member. He growled as he pushed her shirt above her head. She moved her hands behind her and quickly unhooked her bra.
As soon as she felt her breasts spring free from the fabric, his hands moved to cup them.
“Mmm,” she moaned again as he moved his hands to her bottom and bodily picked her up so that her feet were dangling above the floor.
She could feel her wet, hot sex pressing up against his even through the rough fabric of the pants they still wore. He pressed his lips against hers quickly before sliding down her chest.
“Oh, god,” she muttered as his tongue found her erect, exposed nipple and began to gently suckle it. His hands were still cupped firmly around her denim clad bottom, and she moaned as he moved to suck on her other nipple. Through hooded eyes, she looked down and realized that she wanted, no, she needed to see his naked body.
She needed to feel his skin on hers and she didn’t care how out of character this was for her. She silenced the voice in her head telling her how very, very wrong all of this was.
Instead, she opened her mouth and voiced her desire.
“Shouldn’t we . . . oh, god . . . shouldn’t we . . . take this . . . to the bedroom?” she asked through desperate pants.
He looked up at her and smirked fully.
“So you’re a traditional kind of girl, huh?” he asked playfully.
“Take me upstairs and find out,” Michelle said with a playful smile of her own. It turned into a gasp as she felt him pick her up once again and she wrapped her legs around him.
This time, he moved her away from the wall as his mouth desperately moved to hers once again.
With Chris’s arms firmly encompassing her, she felt herself being carried up a long flight of stairs. The feeling was distant, like it was something she was trying to remember from a dream.
Indeed, every memory, every thought, everything she had ever known was floating away from her. Chris was all that was left. Chris and his hands, and his lips, and his tongue moving over her. Giving her everything.
Soon, she felt herself being tossed roughly onto the bed. She opened her eyes and met his. There was a need, a quiet desperation in his eyes, that she was certain matched the desire in hers.
His eyes told her everything she needed to know. He hadn’t planned for this either, but he needed it. He needed to know her, to feel her, all of her, completely.
His eyes remained locked on hers as he removed his shirt, his pants, and his boxers quickly. Then, he rushed over to the bed and quickly settled over her.
“Mmmmm,” she said again as she felt his mouth reattach itself to her breast. He moved to the other to pay it equal homage before moving down to her stomach.
As his lips moved lower and lower, she imagined his intended goal. A renewed pool of desire flooded to her center as she helped him unbutton her jeans and remove them from her legs.
Without any obstacles left, he continued on his path nipping and teasing just above where she needed him to be. He licked at her inner thigh as his hands moved to knead her breasts.
She moaned and thrashed desperately on the bed. She barely stopped herself from grabbing his head and forcing him to move where she wanted him.
Just when she thought she could stand it no more, she felt his warm tongue thrust out to lick the juices from her center.
“Oh god, oh god!” she cried out as pleasure ran through her. He continued to feast on her warm, wet flesh as she thrashed and shrieked on the bed.
Pressure was building inside her. She knew that she would burst at any moment. She was close. So very, very close.
That was why she let out a cry of protest when his lips moved from her center. The cry turned to one of pleasure however, when he grasped her hips and she felt him thrust inside of her.
He moved roughly, quickly in and out of her, and she knew that this was wrong. She knew she shouldn’t be here, wet and wanting and writhing on an alcoholic's bed.
But she didn’t care about that, couldn’t care. Not when he was pounding into her. Not when his strong hands were caressing every inch of her body.
She was so close again. She could feel the pressure building inside her as he moved his lips to her ear.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “Come for me.”
With a loud shout, she complied. He followed quickly yelling out to the room.
Michelle didn’t know how long they lay there sweating, limbs tangled. She did know that the voice inside her head was coming back with a vengeance. It was screaming at her that she had done something she couldn’t take back.
She wasn’t the kind of girl to have a one-night stand. She wasn’t the kind of girl who gave herself to a man without it meaning anything.
She knew what this meant. She knew she would have to talk to him.
“So, that was new,” he spoke first, his voice still groggy.
“It was for me too,” Michelle said. “Nice to know I’m not alone.”
“So,” he said rolling away from her so that they could face each other on the bed. “What happens now? I mean, is that it, or . . .?”
“Isn’t that supposed to be the girl’s line?” she asked with a smile. He chuckled as well, but the look in his eyes told her that he truly wanted an answer.
She would have to tell him now.
“Look, Chris,” she said, “I like you.”
“Well, I hoped that was obvious,” he said with another slight chuckle, eyeing her naked form. She smiled but was compelled to continue all the same.
“But, if we’re going to do this,” she said, “if we’re going to be together . . . I meant what I said about the drinking.”
His smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed. He was clearly listening to her carefully.
“And not just for me either,” she continued. “If we’re going to be together, you can’t go out drinking every night. You can’t get arrested again. I went through all that with my mom and I’m not doing it again with you.”
He looked at her intently for several moments as though he was making a very difficult decision. For one horrible moment, she thought he was going to shake his head and tell her he couldn’t do that.
She steeled herself to get out of his bed, get dressed and never look back. But, a second later, he nodded his head yes.
“I can scale it back,” he said. “No more partying during the week. My friends might not be thrilled, but they can deal with it.”
“Ok,” Michelle said smiling. She turned and snuggled back into him. “In that case, I guess I can stay.”
The last thing she felt before she fell asleep that night was his strong arms folding around her and pulling her into his chest. She smiled at the thought of falling asleep in this man’s arms and tried to push away the thought that he might not be able to change his ways so easily.
*****
Chris woke up next to an angel. At least, that was what she looked like to him.
Even though Michelle’s long, brown hair was impossibly tangled and there was no makeup to hide the pores and little flaws on her face; she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He still couldn’t quite believe that, for the past two months, he had been lucky enough to wake up to this woman in his bed at least once a week.
Giving up all the bars and clubs had been worth it. Limiting his drinking to one or two glasses of wine on Saturday had kept this wonderful, beautiful woman in his life. And that was worth more than any party he had ever been to.
He smiled sleepily at her and turned to look at the clock on his bed stand, seven thirty. He didn’t have his appointment with the team trainer until ten.
Gratefully, he moved back into bed and cu
rled around her. He knew he really should get to the stadium early. He was on thin ice with the team as it was.
Two losing seasons combined with the DUI he had obtained in March brought rumors of a replacement. And he knew that if he was replaced, other teams were going to be reluctant to pick him up.
Not to mention that if he moved, he would have to leave Michelle. The idea of that happening was worse than the loss of his income, his home or even the game he loved.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. It was as though he was trying to hold her there. He was trying, as best he could, to keep her as long as possible.
He wasn’t quite sure if this was love. But if it wasn’t, then it was the closest thing he had ever felt to it.
He heard Michelle moan sleepily and absently she moved her body against him. He felt his member beginning to grow beneath the sheets as it pressed into her backside.
Gently, he pushed her tangled mess of hair away from her neck. Then, slowly, he placed gentle kisses along the path that lead to her collar bone.
“Hmm,” she moaned before turning to him with a smile, her eyes still blinking open.
“Morning,” he whispered.
“Good morning yourself,” she said groggily.
He pressed his lips to hers briefly before resuming his path down her neck.
“Couldn’t wait, huh?” she asked with an amused chuckle that turned into a gasp as he turned his mouth to suckle her breast. He could feel her nipple becoming erect beneath his tongue and he smiled.
“You don’t seem to be complaining,” he answered her. She gave him a smile in return and moved her hands between his thighs to stroke his growing member.
This time, it was his turn to moan.
“I’m used to it,” she answered still stroking him with a cocky smile. He could feel a desperate pressure beginning to build as she moved her hands slowly up and down his shaft.
He closed his eyes, delighting in the feel of her small fingers surrounding his naked flesh. They flew open again at the sound of his phone ringing.
He glanced over at his phone and barely made out the name. It was Harry, his agent.
“It’s not even eight o’clock,” Michelle said gently. “It can wait.”
When her hand palmed his shaft once again, he was inclined to agree with her. He threw his head back, closed his eyes and pushed the thought of his agent's call out of his mind.
That’s when he heard the beep. Then another. Then another.
He knew that it was Harry texting him. And when Harry texted, the news was never good.
Reluctantly, Chris put his hand over Michelle’s to stop her progress.
“I’ve got to check that,” he told her and she gave him a sullen pout.
“It might be something to do with the team,” he said. Michelle’s expression softened. She nodded as she rolled away from him.
She’d been there with Chris through most of the uncertainty. He’d been waiting for a call for weeks. Waiting to see if the 49ers were going to renew his contract. Waiting to see if he would have a home next season.
That was why his heart was pounding in his chest as he reached towards the bedside table and picked up the phone. There were five texts waiting for him.
Eagerly, he clicked into the first one.
Harry: We need to talk. I won’t beat around the bush. It’s not good.
Chris’s heart stopped beating as his eyes absently moved to the next messages.
Harry: 49ers are going with another quarterback next season.
The phone began to shake in Chris’s hands. The rest of his body stiffened. As though they were acting of their own accord, his eyes wandered to the next messages.
Harry: They’re going to tell you at a private meeting with the owner tomorrow.
Harry: I thought you should hear it from me first.
The last message was the longest.
Harry: Don’t worry about coming down to the stadium today. I’m sure you’re upset. Just spend a nice day with your girlfriend and don’t think too much about it. I’ll find another team for you. Hang tight.
‘Hang tight’, ‘don’t think too much about it,’ ‘I’m sure you’re upset.’ He read the phrases over and over turning them around and around in his mind. Shock was slowly fading into anger.
Harry could tell him not to worry all he wanted. It wouldn’t make the team take him back.
And he could make all the assurances he liked about finding another team, but Chris knew that was a longshot at best. No one wanted a quarterback with a losing record and a drinking problem.
The phone still in his hand, he made a tight fist around it. He squeezed it so hard that he thought it might break. He wouldn’t have minded if it had. He wanted to throw it against the wall and see it shatter into a million tiny pieces.
“Chris?”
The voice and a small, warm hand on his back made him jump. He turned to see Michelle looking at him with concern.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. She looked into his eyes and then down at the phone still clutched tightly in his hand.
She was the reason he couldn’t throw it against the wall. She was the reason he couldn’t scream or curse.
She wouldn’t mind if he did, but he would. Something inside of him wouldn’t let her see him break. He wouldn’t, couldn’t let all his rage and grief out in front of her.
So, slowly he released the phone from his grasp and put it on the bedside table. He tried to smile. He tried to remove the worried look in his eyes. It didn’t seem to work.
“It’s nothing,” he assured her.
She didn’t look convinced. She would prod and needle him about it, he knew that. She would ask him until he gave up and answered. He had to get away from her.
So, he pulled himself away from those searching blue eyes and stood up from the bed.
“I’ve just got to go into training a little early,” he said without looking at her. He moved to the dresser drawer. “The manager wants to talk to me about something.”
“Do you . . . do you think he’s going to tell you about your contract?” she asked.
She’d been as worried about this as he had been, if not more. He knew he should tell her, and he would. He just needed to sort it all out in his own head first.
“I don’t know,” he lied. “It could be.”
“Well,” she answered as he finished putting on his pants. “Text me when you find out and let me know. Okay?”
“Yeah,” he answered. He hated lying to her. Really hated it. It was almost as bad as lying to his grandma had been when he was little. He would always feel this guilty knot form in his stomach when he told grandma a lie.
Now, that knot formed for Michelle. Only it seemed ten times more painful.
“Listen babe, I gotta go,” he said grabbing his phone from the bedside table. “I’ll text you as soon as I find out, ok?”
Before he could move the hand carrying his phone to his pocket, her hand jutted out to touch his wrist. He turned to look at her and the knot tightened.
“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. Ok?” she said. “I promise it’s nothing we can’t handle.”
She smiled that warm comforting smile at him and the knot in his stomach became so tight he feared it would burst. Unable to speak, he simply nodded before rushing from the room.
He pounded quickly down the steps, rushed to the garage, hopped in his car and began to drive. He had no idea where he was going. He had no idea what he was going to do next.
He had to think. To clear his head. To come up with some kind of plan.
What if he couldn’t get onto another team? His sponsorships would dry up. That meant his money would go. And worst of all, he’d have to give up the only thing he was good at - football.
It was the one thing that had given him an outlet when he was a kid. The one talent he had that had kept him off the streets and saved him from the fate of most of his childhood friends who were either selling dop
e, in jail or dead. There was nothing else for him. If he couldn’t play, he was no good to anyone.
And, even if he did get on another team, he would have to move away from Michelle. Sure, they could do long distance, but he knew guys who had tried that and it never worked.
So, the only two options he had were to either lose football or lose Michelle.
As hard as he tried, as far as he drove, the decision seemed impossible.
He drove through the city barely noticing his surroundings. Finally, he came to a bar he had favored in his partying days. Two months ago he would have been at this bar every single night. It had been a tonic for all his problems. A remedy for all his fears. He needed that remedy now.
So, silencing Michelle’s voice in the back of his mind, he pulled into the bar’s parking lot. No matter what he ultimately decided, he knew that right now, he was going to get drunk.
*****
It was nearly eleven o’clock that night when Michelle got the call.
She had been fretting all day, constantly checking her phone. He’d promised to text. The fact that he hadn’t told her that the worst might have happened. He might have been kicked off the team.
Then she thought that maybe something worse than that had happened to him. Maybe something had prevented him from calling her.
She tried, as best she could, not to imagine him bleeding out on the highway. She tried not to jump and tremble every time an ambulance passed, but she couldn’t help it.
He always called her when he promised to. The fact that he’d broken his long-held standard told her that something was terribly wrong.
When she finally heard his voice on the other end of the phone. His words slurred and slow, telling her he was in a holding cell, she knew she’d been right.
“Michelle, just call Harry,” he said. “He’ll wire the money. Then he'll come and pick me up.”
“Fuck that,” she spat back at him over the phone. “I’m coming.”
“You don’t have to-” he started.
“Look,” she said cutting him off instantly. “You called me. Not Harry. I’ll be there in half an hour and I don’t want to hear another word.”
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