The Player's Club: Scott

by Cathy Yardley

  By the time the sun started setting, she was sweaty, dirty and miserable. She’d taken the tarp and folded it up like a burrito, weighing it down with rocks, then wiggled inside it with her sleeping bag.

  She’d done all this because she needed, desperately, to change. To do something that proved her life was more than what it had been.

  How’s that working out for you?

  She fell asleep, sweating, curled up on her sleeping bag, the wind like a hair dryer. She didn’t even realize she’d fallen into a dream, especially since it felt so real.

  She was standing in her candy shop, the first day she’d opened. Orders were piling in: customers were standing four-deep from the counter. She moved endlessly, rolling truffles, dusting them in cocoa, painting some with gold leaf and decorating them with sugared violets. She was so busy, she never knew if it was day or night.

  Then, suddenly, Scott walked in, and everyone else disappeared.

  “Come with me,” he said, reaching for her, a wicked, sexy grin on his face.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I’ve got too much work to do.”

  “It’s just work,” he said.

  “If I don’t have this, I don’t have anything,” she protested.

  He was naked, standing in front of her, looking more delectable than all the candy in her shop put together. “Come with me,” he repeated.

  She shook her head, holding her spatula in a death grip. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m scared.”

  Those two words surprised her so much, she actually dropped her spatula.

  The shop drifted away, and it was just the two of them, in her bed, back in her apartment. “What are you scared of?” he whispered to her.

  She hesitated. “I’ve been driven all my life. Everything in my family was about running the restaurant my parents owned. I started working there when I was maybe ten. It was successful. My parents expected nothing less from it, and from my brothers and I. So I learned to be successful.” Tears tumbled down her cheeks. “I married my husband because he was a chef, and I thought we had so much in common. We owned the shop together. But he didn’t love me…not passionately or anything. And I didn’t really love him.”

  “So what do you want now?”

  She took a deep breath, turning and burying her head against his chest. “I want someone to love me passionately,” she said. “I want to stop worrying about whether or not I’m successful. I want to live life, not just sprint through it.”

  “You can have that,” he murmured. “All that, and more.”

  “But business is all I’m good at!” she wailed. “I don’t know how to do anything else. I keep thinking I’m screwing this up.”

  He chuckled. “Screwing what up?”

  “This. You, me. Us.” She winced. “Not that I’m angling for a relationship. I don’t even know if I could handle one. But…” She took a deep breath. “I’ve never felt anything like I feel when I’m with you.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I’m tired of trying to be something I’m not to impress you,” she said, realizing as the words came out that it was true. “I want you to like me for who I am.”

  “Then be who you are.”

  She shook her head.

  “Come to me,” he breathed. “Come to me, just as you are. And see.”

  She opened her eyes. It was still pitch-black out, but the moon was full, and she was momentarily dazzled by the brilliant field of stars stretching out across the sky. She’d never seen so many stars in her life. In cities, you couldn’t see stars like this.

  Come to me.

  It’d felt so real.

  It was probably foolish, but the moon was so incredibly bright, it was like walking through a negative of the landscape. She could see where she was going. And she found herself tramping through the brush, through the ravine, up the slope. Until she got to the mesa.

  Until she got to Scott.

  He did have a tarp set up like a tent, and his sleeping bag was bundled up. She wondered if she would wake him.

  “Who’s there?” she heard him say, his voice deep and imposing.

  She took a breath. “It’s me. Amanda.”

  “Amanda?” he sounded shocked, and he clambered out of the bag clumsily. “Honey, are you all right?”

  She started to say yes, but it came out, “No.”

  He rushed to her side, checking her, his eyes full of concern. “Are you hurt? Do you need the whistle?”

  “No,” she said, brushing away tears. “It’s just…”

  He stroked her cheek. “What?”

  “I just had to tell you I’m sorry,” she admitted through clenched teeth. “It was wrong of me to blackmail you. It’s…it’s not me.”

  He stared at her, silent.

  “I was just so… I just wanted this adventure,” she said. “But it’s not worth it.”

  Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he seemed to be smiling. “Thanks for that.”

  “Okay.” Feeling like an idiot, she started to turn, to leave.

  “Anything else?” he asked softly.

  She let out a choppy laugh.

  “And I hate frickin’ camping,” she bit out. “I’m starving, I couldn’t get my tarp up, the ground’s really hard, and I’d kill to be in a hotel.”

  He burst out laughing, a clear, ringing sound that echoed through the night sky.

  “Aww, honey,” he said, bundling her into his arms for a hug. She hugged back, hard. Then he leaned down and kissed her. She kissed him, hard and long.

  Then she pulled away, gasping, staring at him.

  “What?”

  “You taste like chocolate!”

  He looked guilty, then sly. “I could share.”

  “You’d better!”

  He led her to his sleeping bag, next to his backpack. “What’ll I get in exchange?” he said. “Out here, chocolate’s as precious as gold.”

  She smiled back. “What do you want?”

  He opened the sleeping bag. “It’s an extra-wide.”

  It would still be snug, she realized. Too hot. Then she saw the heat in his eyes and realized that perhaps that wouldn’t be a problem.

  “Only if you’re sure,” she demurred, but felt her lips curving into a smirk.

  “It’s for survival,” he said with mock solemnity, and she giggled.

  “I’m trading my virtue for a chocolate bar,” she muttered, unable to keep the smile out of her voice.

  “Bar, nothing.” He produced a gold-foil-wrapped truffle. “San Francisco’s finest.”

  She read the label on the foil.

  CandyLove.

  It was one of hers. That is, it was from her shop.

  And it was her favorite.

  She stared for a long moment, and he cleared his throat.

  “You okay?”

  “Holy crap,” she murmured, holding the truffle. “I’ve had a vision.”

  WELL, THINGS ARE DEFINITELY looking up.

  Scott had been lying on top of his sleeping bag, sweating his ass off, wondering what in the world he’d been thinking when he decided that he wanted to do this before he died. Somehow, the thought of a vision quest sounded more mystical and life-changing when he’d thought about it in the abstract, or saw movies about Native Americans who did it.

  So far, it was just sleeping on a rock and subsisting only on chocolate he’d packed on a whim.

  Then he’d heard noises. What the hell lived out in the desert, anyway? Burros, he was pretty sure, but that wasn’t really loud enough to be a burro. So what, then? Some kind of wildcat?

  If this is bad, what the heck are the bulls going to be like?

  Then Amanda had trudged up, looking hot and cute and grim at the same time. Her white-blond hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and she had a smudge of dirt on her high cheekbone. She looked like a cross between a Valkyrie and an Indian princess.

  He suddenly wanted nothing more than to
touch her. Especially after her confession and apology. She actually seemed to believe that he loved “roughing it,” that this barren, burning piece of earth was a slice of heaven for him.

  Of course, she was now snuggled in his sleeping bag, so he wasn’t going to argue with her.

  She sighed as she slowly chewed the chocolate he’d given her, her eyes closed. She looked dreamy, a smile blooming on her face. “God, this is marvelous,” she said, nuzzling against his chest. “You are a lifesaver.”

  “Cooling off?”

  She stretched out on top of the bag. “Getting better.”

  He cleared his throat. “You know, the best way to cool down is to expose as much of your body as possible, I think.”

  She opened one eye, peering at him with amused skepticism. “That so?”

  “Scout’s honor.” He crossed his chest with his fingers.

  “Obviously I was never a Scout,” she joked, her smile turning mischievous. “I guess I’d better take your word for it.”

  He leaned down and kissed her, tasting the rich ribbons of chocolate from the truffle she’d eaten. She used her tongue to tickle his. His cock went from semihard to rigid in a rush.

  He’d slept in shorts, just in case. It took less than a second to strip them off. He focused on helping her out of her shorts and tank top.

  When they did, they were breathless from laughing. The minute her warm naked skin touched his, all his laughter vanished, leaving only breathlessness.

  She responded as he pressed hot kisses just behind her earlobe, then nibbled the sensitive flesh. She pressed her whole body against him, and he could feel the hard pebbles of her nipples against his chest as the curls at the juncture of her thighs nestled his cock. He shuddered, struggling to keep a grip. He nipped at her neck, licking the well of her collarbone, kissing the hollow of her throat. She wound her fingers in his hair, keeping him flush against her, and hooked one leg over his hip.

  The two of them strained against the confines of the sleeping bag. He took one of her breasts in his mouth as he held her hip, his cock tracing her stomach. She cried out softly, arching her back, rubbing her hips against him. He suckled gently, deliberately, when it was all he could do not to lay her back and plunge inside her.

  “Scott, did you bring a condom?” she whispered.

  It took him a second to get his bearings. Then he rummaged around his clothes, pulling out the condoms he’d optimistically kept in his jacket pocket. “Be prepared,” he murmured with a lightning grin.

  “I’m so glad you were a Scout,” she purred as he hastily rolled it on. She reached for him, offering him her other breast and shifting slightly so she was under him. He was between her legs, tracing the areola of one breast with his tongue as he caressed the other with his palm. She trembled beneath him, her hands clawing gently at his shoulders, her legs going as wide as the bag would allow.

  He’d thought the desert was hot. Suddenly, the world was on fire. He didn’t notice the discomfort of his surroundings, or the hardness of the ground. All that mattered was the woman beneath him. It was heaven.

  He moved back to her mouth, feasting on her full lips. She rubbed restlessly against his cock, making soft, insistent sounds in the back of her throat. The sounds were like throwing gasoline on a fire. He reached between them, his fingers probing the fissure to her sex. She was already damp—already wet, and his cock throbbed painfully. Still, he took the time to circle the erect nubbin of flesh nestled between her folds.

  She cried out again, her hips bucking against his hand. “Oh, yes,” she said, her eyes alight. “I just want you inside me.”

  He positioned himself, then slid into her slowly, groaning at how tight she felt around him. She sighed, shuddering, and he could feel her pussy rippling around his shaft.

  He propped himself up on his elbows, moving his hips against her, then withdrawing by slow inches. It was brutal to be patient, but the effect was worth it. They moved gracefully, her hips lifting to meet his every deliberate thrust. Her hair was against his pillow in a white-gold cloud, her eyes were closed, her mouth open in a silent gasp of delight.

  “Amanda,” he breathed, unable to put what he was feeling into any other words. He’d never had sex like this. Not with anyone else, not ever.

  She mewled, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  He lost it. Slow and deliberate made way for hot, hard and fast. His hips flexed and pumped, and each time he buried himself fully inside her, they both groaned, growing increasingly louder. She clawed at his back, and he bucked against her, the two of them moving like mating animals as the need grew and built on itself.

  He had to wait. Everything in his body was screaming at him to come, but he needed to make sure that she was satisfied. Then, he could…

  “Ohh!” She tilted her head back, and he could feel her pussy contracting against him, hard as a fist, stroking his cock with a rippling strength that surprised him. Before he could help himself, his orgasm blazed through him, and he shuddered against her, his hips jerking as he spilled himself inside her.

  When it was over, he nearly blacked out, overwhelmed by the sensation.

  He rolled to his side…or at least, as best he could, since they were still sausage-cased in the sleeping bag. “Wow.” It was all he could manage to say.

  She made incoherent happy sounds for several long moments, nuzzling against him, before he left her to take care of the condom. “I could get to like camping,” she eventually said in a sleepy voice.

  He laughed. “You’ve hit it, now you’re going to sleep on me?” he said, with a small yawn.

  “There’s always the morning,” she said, snuggling up against him. Then her eyes widened. “Unless… Did you want me to go back to my, er, bag? You know, my campsite?”

  “Why would I want that?” he said, holding her tighter.

  Because this isn’t a relationship, you dweeb. He suddenly winced, realizing he wasn’t really acting as if this was an affair. He was acting as if she were a girlfriend.

  “Did you want to go back?”

  She shook her head, looking puzzled.

  “If you go back, there’s no telling what might happen to you,” he said. “If you stay here, we can, you know, watch each other’s back.”

  A slow smile crept over her face. “So we’re just being practical.”

  “Exactly.”

  She kissed his throat, his shoulder. Stroked his chest, causing him to tremble slightly.

  “I guess I could stay for one more night,” she said slowly.

  He smiled. He’d never been good at hit-it-and-quit-it; he wasn’t a screw-around guy. But if she was, then he’d take what he could get.

  He’d just have to deal with it one day—and more important, one night—at a time.

  6

  “NOW CAN YOU TELL ME what in the hell possessed you to traipse out to the middle of nowhere with a bunch of wannabe hippies on some vision quest?” Jackie asked without preamble as she met Amanda at the lobby doors of her newspaper’s headquarters.

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Ready for our Wednesday lunch?”

  Jackie rolled her eyes. “I know you want to get all adventure-ish and explorer-y and whatnot, but really. That’s not an adventure. That’s torture. And not the fun kind.”

  “I think I figured that out on my own,” Amanda said.

  As they walked, Jackie continued to stare at her. “Right. What’s really going on?”

  They arrived at Fat Slice pizza, each getting a slice of fat, gooey, calorie-laden excess with the ironic large diet soda. “What do you mean?” Amanda asked, in her best innocent tone of voice.

  “You’re lying. Or at least fibbing,” Jackie said, poking Amanda in the shoulder as they walked down the sidewalk toward the Square. “You’re keeping a secret.”

  Amanda had trouble swallowing her bite of pizza—guilt felt like a lump in her throat. “Um…”

  Jackie’s eyes went wide. “You got some!”


  Amanda frowned. “Thanks. I was thinking about putting it on a billboard, but now I won’t need to.”

  “Who? Who?” They sat down on the low wall along the Square, and Jackie’s gaze shone on her like an interrogator’s light. “It wasn’t… Was it the neighbor? Fire-escape guy?”

  Amanda felt the blush crawl up, and Jackie whooped before she could confirm it. She hated keeping any secret from Jackie, but she’d promised: it wasn’t her secret to tell. In the meantime, she’d never promised to keep her sex life a secret.

  Lesser of two evils, she rationalized.

  “So how was it?” Jackie asked with gusto. “Come on. Spare no detail.”

  Amanda spared a lot of details, like the club, and her dancing, et cetera. But she said that they’d met up one night in a dark hallway, and then she’d invited him into her window…

  “And the rest was history,” Amanda said with a slow grin.

  “So he’s why you went camping,” Jackie said. “Well, I’m not for roughing it, but to each her own. What’s going to be your next move?”

  “Not sure,” Amanda hedged, getting to eat some of her now-cold pizza. “I’m sort of playing it by ear.”

  Jackie went silent, studying her. Amanda sighed, sensing trouble coming.

  “You know, you don’t have to have all your adventures with one guy,” Jackie said. “There are plenty of bad boys in the sea.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Amanda said. “I’m happy with the one I’ve got, thanks.”

  “Uh-oh. You’re getting attached.”

  Amanda scrunched up her face. “You make it sound like I named a stray puppy.”

  “Didn’t you? You are so fling challenged,” Jackie whined. “A total serial monogamist.”

  “And that’s a bad thing,” Amanda observed.

  “This time it is.” Jackie wiped her mouth and hands with a napkin. “Repeat after me. I am only interested in casual sex.”

  Amanda’s blush burned across her cheeks again. “Out loud? Seriously?”

  “I am only interested in casual sex,” Jackie repeated with menace.

  “This is like that time you tried to get me to say ‘penis’ in a movie theater,” Amanda grumbled. “I’m not a prude, Jackie, I just—”