by Sophie Sin
She makes a rude gesture at the group of young men celebrating then makes a bee line with the rest of her gang for the university guys in green and white. The big man's eyebrows raise when he sees how the fiery blond slaps the bigger men on the back with enough roughness to have them nearly falling over. Clearly she's the leader of the pack and a hard one at that.
Quietly sipping his beer, Andy chooses to ignore the rabid fans and that crazy woman for a view out the window of the street and time to entertain his dark thoughts.
A loud shout that rattles his table quickly brings them back to the woman. She's small and slim and has huge breasts for the trimness of her waist, but she boisterous for her size.
The clonk of a glass being removed from a table behind him catches his attention. He glances back.
“Who is she?”
Walter is clearing some discarded drinks into a green shopping basket. “That's Mary Henderson,” he says without further explanation.
“A fan?”
The man snorts loudly.
“A rabid bitch in heat I'd say. She goes to all the games. I've seen her out there; crazy doesn't half describe how that woman is.”
He steps up beside Andy.
“You mind my words and be careful around that one,” he says in a low voice. “Some says she's a psycho, but I'll let you know she's Irish and hell fire to any man that even makes a pass. I've seen her beat a man five times her size around the ears for saying something negative about the Studs too. She's given me my share of bruises getting her out.”
Irish? It makes sense. She might not have the red hair, but every second word out of her mouth seems to be a curse word. Andy nods his head and goes back to the remainders of his beer.
Unfortunately, each time he tries to turn his mind back to his personal situation, that mad woman bursts in with her voice or a slapping of her hand against the table or some other annoyance. It's very hard to get a thought in when every thought is punctuated by her voice shouting that damn Z to A cheer all the time. Andy has a hard enough time dealing with that during games without it following him into his favorite watering hole.
After awhile the noise becomes too much for him. He briefly notes that the fans of the Gerico Michells aren't taking it well before heading to the bathroom. That woman is as nutty as Walter says she is. Andy hopes she's gone before he returns.
A Sly Deal
Roger Keen, 23 years old, quarterback and captain of the Soft Studs.
The balled up fist that was thrown and knocked Andy Jackson, star offensive team captain and a very big guy by anyone's standards, was apparently coated in Detroit steel. A set of mean looking brass knuckles lent to the Mary Henderson by a bald headed hooligan covered in tattoos of Jesus and the saints going by the name of Joey Smooth (probably not his real name) were sitting right across the bridge of her petite four and landed with surprising accuracy right in the middle of Andy's forehead just as he exited the toilet at about 8:30pm at McMullen's, the young man's favorite bar.
Of course, according to her account, they weren't aimed at him specifically, but they connected all the same in what would later be said was the smoothest one punch knockout anyone had ever seen.
Obviously, there was no need for the 10 count in this situation. Andy was already well and truly out of the fight.
10 seconds after the aforementioned punch all all hell broke loose in the form of a bar fight between a gang of hooligans, several university students, a bunch of rival team supporters and later the staff and police attending the scene.
Men hit men and, reportedly, Ms. Mary Henderson, unmarried, 25 years of age, and clearly very Irish despite her lack of red hair, got the stout end of the bar manager's 'sorting stick' (a 30cm rubber baton) on her rump while the grisly oldster was trying to explain that, in her madness, she had knocked out the offensive team captain of the Soft Studs – a team that she apparently loves more than life itself – and was in big trouble because of it.
Chock on sixty more minutes to that and Roger Keen, quarterback and captain of the Soft Studs, has her in the hallway of the team's apartments near their home stadium. Inwardly, he's thinking that she's the best thing that has happened to him and the team all month. Outwardly, he looks pretty pissed.
“So you say you were aiming for one of the Gerico supporters?” he asks in his usual overly casual voice from his position next to her outside his offensive team captain's room.
Mary's head is down. Her face is contorted into what looks like an ample amount of worry from where Roger is standing. That makes sense, of course: The team manager was pretty angry and even said he might ban her for what she did if Andy doesn't wake up soon. For a fan like her that would be near enough to divine punishment as one could get.
“Yeah,” she admits quietly in that thick Irish accent that, in Roger's opinion, doesn't suit a tiny blond of her quite pretty appearance one bit. “I kinda missed and hit him square in the head.”
Well, at least she's honest, Roger thinks to himself. That's going to make conning her into what he has planned a lot easier.
A cool breeze wafts in through the door that leads to the fire escape a short distance away. Out there is one of the best views of the field one can find and tonight the lights are on as the cleaning crews do their things. If Roger was standing there like he was before, enjoying the night's view and the cool crisp air on his aching body, then he is sure that the view would calm him in this moment. With what he has on his mind, he's going to need it in the next half hour.
The quarterback smiles understandingly and shakes his head.
“I wouldn't worry too much about it. It's been a few months since Andy got knocked out like that and he is quick to get back on his feet.” Roger raises an eyebrow and scratches his nose. “You must have walloped him pretty good, you know. I've seen some of the other teams hit him with some dirty stuff and he's never went down that easy.”
She blushes at his words.
Roger carefully runs his eyes down her trim body. Those breasts are larger than they look and they are caged in a bra that is confining them to a point where they are bulging around the straps. Her stomach is smooth and slim and her hips small and tight. A glance over back tells him that the butt is just as well put together. This woman is just right for the job that he has planned. Hopefully, her temperament doesn't end with beating down men. She's going to need everything she's got to make this work for them all.
He clears his throat and kicks off the wall.
“I'll tell you, Mary, there's only one way that you can appease the manager and avoid being banned from all of our games for life,” he starts out slyly.
The woman looks at him hard and perks up a little when she sees the honesty in his brown eyes.
“Is there?” she asks without needing much more prompting.
Roger nods and quietly assures himself that this is for the good of the team.
“Yeah. There is.”
Quarterback Roger Keens very carefully leans in and lifts a few locks of her blond hair to whisper for a good few minutes into her ear. The situation and the team's dirty little secrets are delivered. How he hopes she can change things raises some eyebrows, but that wasn't unexpected given his idea. In the end, she stares at him, licks her lips and, quite shockingly, smiles broadly with a mannish lust that is truly becoming of the woman that the police told him was bat shit crazy over the Soft Studs.
Her voice is low and amused when she responds. “Damn, if you said I'd get to do all that then I would have knocked one of you guys out sooner.”
Roger Keens shakes his head in quiet shock and smiles back.
“I'm sure you'll knock them out nice and good with other things very soon.”
A single look into her eyes confirms that this one really is a spit fire. It's exactly what they need to save the team and it dropped right into Roger Keen's lap.
Despite himself he actually feels excited. This could change everything.
Four Man Merry-Go-Round
<
br /> Back to Andy Jackson. Currently semi-conscious.
What a horrible way to wake up.
The three biggest assholes on the planet are standing around him in a small semi-circle looking a lot like someone went and stuck a carrot up each of their butts (which is something that Andy feels wholeheartedly they deserve). At the base of the bed is that crazy freak of a woman who knocked him out just as he was zipping up on the way out of the men's and beside her with his slim arms crossed and his usually overly casual expression of boredom on his face is Roger Keens, who also seems to have an odd look of satisfaction in his eyes that doesn't bode well for Andy considering what the man probably has planned (a mass beating to finish him off perhaps?)
“Give me a damn good reason why these fuckers are in my room, Roger, or I'm going to go ape crazy on them in the next 10 seconds,” Andy groans from his position on his large bed.
Roger smirks at him and flicks his sneaker toe off the small fan that is whirring away at top speed in an attempt to cool the room down a little. That one has a plan, Andy is sure of it, and whatever it is the young offensive captain is pretty sure that he's not going to like it.
“Maybe he wants you guys to make up,” the woman blurts out before Roger can answer.
“What would you know about that?” Andy growls. “Who here dared talk about our personal problems to this woman? I'm going to kick your ass right here and now.”
Barry Leek, Joey Barbason and The Black Rock – three of his team mates on the offensive side – look in all directions. Clearly they are not stupid enough to mention that each and every one of these mother fuckers slammed Andy's wife on multiple occasions before he found out about it to the crazy blond Irish woman.
Not a word is said. The woman slaps the sheets of the bedding and makes the mattress jiggle about under Andy's back. Her expression is amused and she appears totally oblivious to the near death tension that hangs in the small room.
In the silence that follows the big man shivers as her finger runs up his calve with a little tickling left to right motion of the tip and a wide happy smile on her face.
Andy's mouth dries a little as he stares at that finger as it reaches the bottom of his knee and works it's way down the lightly sweating expanse of his calf in the opposite direction.
What does this woman intend to do?
That question seems to be an important here.
“Andy, you guys, I have a little conundrum in front of me here,” Roger Keens says finally, “You see, the team manager is considering chopping off one of you three and I've been asked to consider who might be best to go.”
There's an instant angry response. The Black Rock slams his huge fist into the nearby table and growls out that he'd like to see the manager try. Barry and Joey take it a little less well and start throwing curse words left and right at each other – each swearing the other will be the one to go. Andy is the only one with a cool enough head to note the obvious.
“We are under contract. You can't fire one of us.”
Roger's expression changes a little. There's a very real sense that what he has to say next is going to be uncomfortable.
The slim man runs a hand through his slick hair and looks Andy hard in the eye. “Yeah, but I'm cool with one of you going on holiday somewhere nice and cold. I believe a team transfer to Alaska would do the job.”
“Fuck,” The Black Rock growls. “You have to be kidding.”
Andy stares into Roger's brown eyes. He's not so casual now; not so relaxed. This time he means what he's saying. It's that serious.
“Okay, I'm listening. What's your solution? You wouldn't have us all here if you didn't think you had one.”
Roger kicks off the set of drawers he has been leaning on with a clonk of his sneaker's heel on the wood finish and turns the fan so that it is blowing cool air over him. He twists a foot into the light blue carpet and shrugs his shoulders.
“This woman and I have made an agreement. She knows well enough that she'll be banned if this doesn't work out, so there's more than enough motivation on her side to get the job done.” Roger looks uncomfortably to the woman and shrugs his shoulders a few more times as if trying to get something heavy off them. His voice cracks when he delivers his next line of what might turn out as a game changer for the four men in the room by the seriousness of his tone. “Tonight, boys, you are going to have a little party.”
“A party?”
Andy tries to get up so he can speak a little more clearly, but the woman's red painted fingernails dig into the flesh of his thigh painfully enough to have him sit back down with an angry look her way.
“What kind of party?” Barry asks. “You bought her here to finish Andy off or something?”
The tall man growls at the big offensive player. That one has already done enough to well and truly finish him off. He doesn't need some crazy broad's help to achieve that.
Roger laughs and relaxes a little. He glances to the blond, who is also smiling his way, and stops gritting his left sneaker heel into the carpet. Suddenly, he's back to casual again. The man leans back against the dresser and keeps on smiling.
From the bed Andy watches him carefully. He's well aware that his quarterback is a wild one. What he's organized here is a meeting of men that isn't on the smart side of things. Someone could get killed if this goes on much longer. That's how hot the atmosphere is right now.
“Andy,” Roger asks, “do you find this woman attractive?”
The big man props one elbow up on the soft edge of the mattress and looks her over.
It doesn't take long to decide. He shakes his head. “Not in a million years.”
As the words leave his mouth Andy purposefully meets the woman's eyes. Clearly she's not perturbed by his comment. What exactly is going on here?
“That's good, but I really need to confirm this, so you'll have to bear with me asking again: You would not date this woman?”
“Hell no.” It's an immediate answer. “She's nuts for starters and she knocked me out.”
Roger stands up. His expression brightens.
“Great. That's absolutely wonderful.”
The quarterback turns his eyes to the others. They are looking at him warily.
“When I asked them while you were knocked out the others said they wouldn't either,” he explains before stalking forward to the side of the bed to put a hand on the big man's shoulder.
“And, Andy, last question. Answer honestly, okay.” He pauses, takes a breath and says his piece. “Andy, would you fuck her? Be honest.”
It's like being thrown in ice water. 'A party' Roger said before. He couldn't possibly mean...?
There's nothing else that he can think to say. “Excuse me?”
“I said would you stick your dick in her?” Roger makes the action with his eyebrows raising suggestively.
Andy's blue eyes settle on her frame. There are those ridiculously huge tits to consider and the woman sure is trim. Normally, he'd go for it, but she's clearly completely insane. This one is the kind of woman that could no doubt take a man to places he has never gone before, but Andy has had that in his wife and he's not stupid enough to repeat the past here tonight.
“No,” the man lies. “I would not.”
Roger chuckles in a knowing way.
“Bullshit, buddy.” He glances left to right at the other men. “I'll leave you four to work out your differences. I recommend that you do it with your dicks and not your fists.”
The slim man strolls casually out the door of Andy's room like he hadn't just suggested group sex to them all. He leaves the four of them alone with the one tiny woman and closes the door with a loud thump.
There's a short period of silence filled only by the whirring of the fan.
“I'm going to kick your ass first, Barry,” Andy growls on deciding that this is all bullshit and fists are a way better answer than this preposterous solution that that fool of a quarterback has suggested.
Before any violence can
happen, out of nowhere, a hand slaps down HARD between his legs. It smashes his balls flat like two flies under a swatter.
“No – you – aren't – big guy,” the woman whispers menacingly in his ear, suddenly right up beside him in the trance of pain that he is in. “Any fist fighting will result in further punishment and you don't want more of what I can dish out.”
Andy holds his nuts between his legs in both hands, blinking back tears as he tries to not look like a total wimp in front of the other men.
“Wow, that had to hurt,” Joey mutters from where he is standing at the side of the bed closest the door.
The woman ignores him.
“For the good of the team,” she announces, “I'm going to let you have me any way you want, boys. You had better perform though or you'll be getting a slap in the balls like your offensive captain here.”
One look at the big man holding his nuts as if they are going to split and roll off his body is enough to have them immediately stripped down to naked. Andy knows that these assholes aren't the kind of guys to hold back when a fresh and nice enough looking piece of ass is on the table. He learned that the hard way with my wife.
That muscled freak Barry is the first to mount up on her. His arms are as large as her stomach and they are popping out with veins that crisscross the expanse of the flesh as he strips her down in the crudest manner possible.
The woman's jeans are torn a little from where he yanks them down hard. Her ripped panties are thrown to the table against the far wall. From under her green and white Soft Studs t-shirt an ultra tight bra is revealed. It is popped open by Joey who gasps when her breasts nearly tear the fabric and bounce several time on achieving freedom.