ROMANCE: Stolen by the Alien Lord (BBW Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance) (Contemporary Science Fiction Paranormal Short Stories)

by Knightingale, Fiona

  “That sounds questionable,” Dana said with a backwards glance. You’re not doing a Chuck Berry thing with those hidden cameras are you?”

  Carl smiled in cynicism. “Look, I know I don’t have to ask you twice. You ain’t getting in there. I don’t want you causing trouble and riling up all the players. You going to be a good girl now and stay in the press room?”

  “I promise to do as ordered, sir.”

  “Yeah…you better,” he said, not buying it.

  Little wonder then that Carl anticipated Dana lying and so stationed a security guard just outside the locker room. He knew she was trouble and that she was the type of person to sneak in, violate a direct order, and fake a controversy just to get a meaty headline. He told Tony, the security officer, to watch out for any “groupies”.

  Dana cracked up when Tony related the same message, just an hour before the game started. “Is that what he thinks? A black women who is a respectable member of the CBM News team and he calls me a groupie.”

  “That’s what he said,” Tony said with a smile.

  “Of all the paranoia. You know that’s all bullshit, right? Now tell me, Tony. Do you ever hear any stories of groupie sex going on in there? Or is that all just male fantasy?”

  “Well, I really can’t say. I just guard the door.”

  “And you do such a good job too. But come on, I have to get a story out of this. Barred from the locker room means I have no exclusive. Come on, be a pal.”

  “Sorry he said,” still smirking, suggesting maybe if he were bribed he might think about it. “I got too much to lose and nothing to gain.”

  “Hmmm, how about I slip you something nice?”

  Tony opened his eyes in wonder, only to see a hundred dollar bill in Dana’s hand, going into his shirt pocket.

  “Oh. Money, yeah that’s good too.”

  “You are so nasty!” Dana laughed, slapping his arm. “Tony, come on. You have a dirty mind. What else did you think I was going to bribe you with?”

  “I don’t know. I just work here.”

  “Yeah well you better watch it there, Tony. Someone’s going to get the wrong idea about you.”

  Dana squeezed his cheek and walked right past him, entering the locker room. Tony looked around nervously and shut the door behind her quickly.

  II

  Dana looked around in silent reverence of all the naked men wandering around the locker room, most sneaking smiles and saying hello—their dicks generously exposed, with just a few married men doing the respectable thing and covering up with a towel.

  Dana grinned and waved but decided to keep the interview professional. She even turned down a few overeager players who were more than willing to pose need for a photo shoot.

  Within minutes, she could tell she was just a pleasant distraction and not “bait” for a horde of horny pirates. They were all just boys and were doing their best to keep things respectable while still celebrating their win of the night. Too bad, she figured. No wild groupie sex going on so far. Maybe that was just the big leagues.

  As she walked onward, she began to notice one conspicuous player walking back inside, still in uniform, and covered in champagne. He was John Reynolds, the star quarterback in the making. He had already earned a reputation as a future NFL star, and was the talk of college football. Of course, unlike the other gentlemen of the team, John was a brooder, and always one hundred percent focused on the game. On winning. He barely had time to rip his helmet off and take a breather from talking to coaches, tapping players and practicing his throws for next week—just minutes after they won and he earned a rest.

  His face was rugged, sweaty and blue-eyed as a movie star. His white skin was tan but boyish, still preserving his twenty-one-year-old innocence. To Dana’s surprise, he didn’t smile or play coy upon seeing her. He actually seemed a little peeved to see a member of the press invading his privacy.

  He lost eye contact with her, tossed his helmet and walked over to his locker, still calming down from all the action.

  Some of his fellow players thrust themselves into his chest, celebrating a win. John played along and screamed and posed, basking in the team’s win. And sure, reveling in the fact that he was the star of the show and that everyone in the media was saying he was destined for greatness.

  Dana eyed John for a few more minutes, carefully noticing his strong presence, loud voice and the confidence he inspired from his teammates. He was definitely the leader of the pack and that made him interesting. She waited for a few minutes, until his teammates were done harassing him and screaming at him in happiness.

  Just when he thought it was safe to calm himself and chill, he looked over and noticed Dana was still there, still looking obviously “professional” and wanting something.

  Dana made herself comfy, standing against a wall and looking at her nails. She only brought along her iPhone, and didn’t have a camera. That probably meant a long and self-righteous interview.

  John rolled his eyes at the thought. He waited until a few more of the guys left and then started gradually approaching her.

  “Why are you still here, lady?”

  “My name is Dana Thompson. I’m hoping to interview you for a story. You must be John, the quarterback everyone’s always talking about.”

  One teammate smiled and smacked John on the ass, as if teasing him about Dana.

  “What was that about?” Dana asked.

  “Idiot,” John laughed. “You have to figure a girl in the locker room gets all kind of stares.”

  “I’m not a groupie.”

  “I hope not.”

  Dana stared him down. “So would you like to be interviewed for CBM News?”

  “Ehhh, I don’t think so,” said John.

  “No?”

  “I don’t really think much of interviews. You misinterpret what I say. You make it all into some stupid, lame angle. About puppy dogs or Jesus or some shit. I don’t like reading stories about myself. Just report on the team, okay?”

  “Well, I came all the way down here to talk to you, John.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Interviews are just part of the price you pay for being famous.”

  “I’m not famous.”

  “That’s what everyone around here seems to think. I hear the Dallas Cowboys are already sending scouts down.”

  “Really? First time I heard that.”

  “How do you feel about fame and fortune?”

  “Jesus Christ,” he said, followed by a laugh. “You’re just determined to get a story, aren’t you?”

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  “How about this? You ask me your silly questions. I answer them. I don’t give you permission to publish anything I say. Unless I like you by the end of the interview.”

  “You mean you don’t like me now?” Dana said, blinking her eyes for show.

  “No. I don’t.”

  She stared back sourly. “Fine. Off the record. Why did you choose football?”

  He laughed jocularly. “Is that the best you got? Fine. Off the record. Because playing baseball doesn’t get you laid by cheerleaders. That’s why.”

  “Mmm-hmm. And basketball?”

  “Because I’m white.”

  She squinted her eyes. “Would you describe yourself as a confident person?”

  “No. Mean, yeah. Determined, sure. Obsessed, maybe. But confidence implies that I’m happy where I’m at. And I’m not. Off the record.”

  “You’re killing me, you know that?”

  “Good. Then we feel each other’s pain.”

  “Why aren’t you happy? Seems like you have the world right by the cajones. You’re popular. You have a great future. What makes the big man on campus happy?”

  He thought it over a minute. “I used to say winning. Until I started winning. Now I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go on record? I could make this into a great piece. A lot of people out there could probably identify
with you.”

  “I could. But will I? Probably not. Let me ask you a question, Dana Thompson of CBM News. What do you really want to be doing right now? Instead of doing a piece for sports, which you obviously don’t care about?”

  Dana nodded and half-smiled. “What would I rather be doing?” she asked, casually eyeing his bulbous crotch guard and then moving back up to his face.

  He widened his eyes and nodded toughly. “Yeah. You answer my question. How do you like that?”

  “I would rather be telling a story that’s about something important. Games are not important. Social issues, international relations, racism, freedom of speech, that’s what’s important to people.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Dana,” he said proudly. “All those things are important. But learning team spirit is the bloodline of everything. When you learn to play sports, you learn how to live life. You learn about relationships. Diplomacy. You learn to love your brothers out on the field, regardless of whether they’re black, white, brown or whatever. Because everyone can find a reason to hate each other if they look hard enough. But what matters is that when it’s game time, you knock that shit off and come together. As a team. That’s the only way you win.”

  “So you see something meaningful in college sports?”

  “I see something meaningful every day. So don’t knock sports just because you don’t follow it. The truth is, if every kid was forced to play football in school for just one year, there would be a lot more decent people out there.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. Teaches something important. A lot more important than drama class, that’s for sure. Believe me, the people I know got plenty of drama in their lives already.”

  Dana snorted and smiled. “I can believe that.” She looked at John as he was taking off his shoes and cleats. “You know you’re much smarter than the average quarterback.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just because you think all football players are Neanderthals.”

  “Well…let’s just say, John, that some of the stories I hear from your colleagues are less than gentlemanly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. Groupies? Just before I came in here, your assistant coach warned the security guard thinking I was some kind of groupie. Me John! A respectable woman of the press. Now either that tells me that old white man was racist or maybe there’s just some truth to the story.”

  “Like what?” he said. “That a lot of easy girls come in here and want to party? Should I be called a pig for pleasing women? What kind of logic is that? What do you want me to say?”

  “I was just arguing with your coach, saying that entering a locker room for an interview is freedom of the press. A rule prohibiting that, banning all reporters from the locker room, is just playing into that sexist thinking. We should all behave like rational adults and not sex-crazed animals.”

  “And so just for your comfort, some crazy news reporter who I’ll never see again, I should stop partying with girls who want me. Just so I can help news reporters everywhere be taken seriously. Just so I can advance the feminist movement. Gimme a fucking break.”

  “There’s no need to get abusive.”

  “The bottom line is that you’re coming in here with a locker room filled with naked men, their hormones raging, and hopping mad from a win. Or majorly pissed because they lost. And wanting to relieve their frustrations. There’s sexual tension there, yeah. And that’s just a risk you take.”

  Just as Dana began to speak, John hoisted his football shoulder pads off and jersey off leaving him shirtless and hulking. He did a double take on Dana who was silenced and gawking. He had a nice clean body. White meat through and through, with a hard six pack and firm pectorals. The sweat glistened off his skin and his chest hairs were soaked over.

  “Oh I’m sorry. I thought we could conduct ourselves professionally.”

  Dana looked at him in spite. But then her eyes moved stubbornly down south as she studied his raw chest. His body hair was light and trailed down to a small patch just above his pants.

  “Just the natural state of man.”

  He walked an inch closer to her and Dana sprung up and backward, as if being threatened with assault.

  “Jesus, woman. You are so uptight. I’m going to go shower now. None of my statements are to be printed. You be gone by the time I come back.”

  Dana seemed unsatisfied and watched a shirtless John turn around, showing his broad back to her. “Or else what?”

  “Or else…” he said, slowly inching his way forward, getting nearly within kissing range. “I’m going to physically put you out. Because I don’t like you. And that was our deal. Remember?”

  John taunted her with a smile and then walked backward to the shower. He could care less than Dana was still eyeing him and stripped his pants down along the way, exposing his firm naked asscheeks for any and all who looked.

  Another teammate high-fived him on the way there.

  Dana sighed and typed in some notes on her tablet. Men. Such big boys. So rough and touch. But so delicate under their ego.

  **

  III

  John Reynolds emerged from the shower, dripping wet and with a modest hard-on going, since he was too distracted to jerk off in the shower. Maybe it was a good Friday night. Maybe it was time to the bar and chase some tail.

  He furled his brow as he saw Dana still sitting on the bench, waiting for his return to his locker. John finished wiping his pubes and then tied a small knot around his back, leaving one wet layer of cloth between he and the overeager reporter.

  “Still here?” he said, making an angry face.

  “Yeah, I told you I wasn’t leaving till I got a good story. This isn’t the field, son. This is real life. Tough questions. Freedom of the press.”

  He laughed. “Son? You look about my age, baby-cakes.”

  “Mmm-mmm,” she said with a little bit of a head shake and snap. “Don’t be getting too fresh with me, college boy. “I’m a real reporter. You’re still an amateur quarterback.”

  “I’m not amateur. Look at my form.”

  She raised her eyebrow.

  “I meant my game play. Horn dog reporter.”

  “So since you are still being so rude with all your off the record comments, how about you tell me the truth about all your whores? Do you really just have all kinds of wild and irresponsible sex after games? Is that what they do in the NFL too?”

  “Well…” he said, tilting his head. “The NFL more so than around here. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get my fair share. Mostly girls on campus you know.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she said with a squint.

  “Bookworms. They’re the easiest…” He winked.

  “Well, obviously some women have very low opinions of themselves.”

  “Oh yeah right. Because TV reporters are a beacon of morality and professionalism. Actually I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

  He leaned in and whispered. “Some of the girls that come here to get laid, actually say they’re assignment reporters from the college newspaper.”

  Dana put her tongue in cheek and glared.

  “I’m like, ‘Bullshit… But come on in.’”

  Dana scowled and then lost eye contact. “And I suppose your other buddies back there also engage in this conduct? I imagine so because your assistant coach whatever his name is made such a big deal about it.”

  “Ah, well. There’s a story there, now that I think about it.”

  “Oh? A story, huh?”

  “Something I forbid you to tell to the media. In fact, I’ll sue you for defamation if you cross me.”

  “Now this I got to hear. Off the record.”

  “The truth is, some of my teammates tell the security guards not to let sluts or so called ‘reporters’ in here. But that’s only if they’re black.”

  Dana folded her arms.

  “They don’t want to hurt the girls’ feel
ings. But they prefer white women.”

  “Uh huh. And that’s not racist?”

  “Well, no. It’s just their preference. Nothing personal.”

  “That sounds personal to me!”

  “Whoah, whoah,” John said with a smile. “I thought you’d be relieved. To know, you know, that none of those respectable young African Americans were being exploited by all those white jocks. They’re being turned away by the staff because it’s the right thing to do. I thought that’s what the whole point is?”

  “Hmmm. I see how it is. A whites only snank club.”

  “Now it seems like you’re a little jealous.”

  “I am not jealous of any of that.”

  “But just so you know…” John said with a half smile. “The only reason you’re getting this interview is because I like you.”

  “Oh so now you like me?”

  “I like…you know…”

  “What?” Dana asked with her hands on her hips.

  “I like…black girls.” John said shyly, not sure if that was politically correct to say.

  “Oh I see.”

  Dana double-blinked and lost eye contact, feeling a slight rush of adrenaline. “Ummm…okay.” She looked at her tablet and put her finger up to her mouth, still trying to deal with the sudden shift in emotion. So what? He liked her. Keep it together, girl.

  Dana composed herself and smiled. “Well, I’m not a groupie. So sorry to disappoint you.”

  “The disappointment is mine.”

  “Hmmm,” she replied, this time meeting his eyes for an uncomfortable moment.

  “So starting now I’ll answer your questions. On the record.”

  “Okay. Cool. Good. So…Would you say there is a lot of peer pressure in the locker room, so that if a woman was in here, she would be in danger?”

  “I’m not answering any questions that I already answered off the record.”

  “Ah, okay. So…John Reynolds. Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No,” he said with a fixated smile.

  “And why are you so unhappy if you’re on top of the world?”

  “You’re still asking me about my off the record comments. Get it together, Miss Thompson!”