Fair Play

by Mia Ford

  “Let’s go back to my place,” he said, stepping close and pulling me into him again. “I want to taste that pussy I’ve been smelling. And my cock needs cleaning off. Can we borrow your tongue?”

  He grinned as he cupped my ass cheeks in his strong hands and lifted my feet off the floor. He tried to kiss me again, but I put my elbows in his chest and pushed hard.

  “No, I’m sorry,” I said, pushing him away and taking a clumsy step backward. “That’s not what I came here for.”

  He held out his hands and glanced down at the dark cum stain on the front of his pants. “Come on Katie Holmes. You’re not going to leave me like this, are you?”

  I stared at his damp crotch for a moment, then shook my head and backed away, as if he was a monster and I was in fear for my life.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “This was a mistake.”

  “What? Hey, wait!”

  I pushed my way through the crowd and found Dru still at the bar. She was making out with the girl I’d seen her talking with. She had her hand deep inside the front of the girl’s pants. She didn’t take her hand out when she saw me coming.

  “I’m going home,” I said in a panic.

  Dru frowned at me. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “You stay, have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You sure?” Dru asked. Her hand was still working inside the girl’s cunt. The girl was resting her forehead against Dru’s shoulder with her eyes closed. She was moaning softly.

  “I’m sure. I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”

  I didn’t look back toward the VIP area, so I didn’t know if Sean was watching or not.

  I just knew that I had blown the only chance I would ever have of interviewing – and possibly sleeping with -- Sean Donovan.

  Sean

  I suddenly knew how Prince Charming must have felt watching Cinderella run away from the ball.

  Only I wasn’t left on the palace steps holding a glass slipper with a tear in my eye.

  I was left standing in the middle of the crowded dance floor with a big cum stain on my pants and a confused look on my face.

  I shook my head. I had never fucked a Playboy Playmate that wasn’t a basket case, and Katie Holmes was no different.

  I’d stick with Victoria’s Secret models.

  They weren’t as adventurous in bed and hated it when you got jizz on them, but at least they weren’t fucking nuts.

  I tugged out my shirt tail to help cover the cum spot on my jeans and pushed my way through the crowd to get back to the VIP booth. I stood next to Ron, the bouncer who watched over the VIP section, and watched a waitress clear away the empties and set out fresh drinks.

  The four blonde bimbos had retaken their seats in the booth. They had left room for me in the middle. They were lined up like circus chimps, preening their hair, checking their makeup in small mirrors, taking selfies and posting them online.

  When they saw me emerge from the dancefloor, they smiled and licked their lips. I turned my back so they couldn’t see the cum stain because I knew it would cause an argument over who was going to lick my cock clean.

  “I think I’ll go home, Ron,” I said, blowing out a tired breath. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I suddenly felt very tired. “Can you have my car brought around to VIP exit?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ron tapped the earpiece lodged in his right ear and ordered the valet to bring my Porsche around to the back door where crowds were not allowed to gather.

  I took out the wad of cash I kept in my back pocket and peeled off three one-hundred-dollar bills and tucked them into the front pocket of his jacket.

  “You should play football, Ron,” I said, patting his thick chest.

  “So you keep saying,” he said with a smile.

  “Just put those drinks on my tab and let the girls order what they want,” I said, waving a hand at the table. “I’ll see you later.”

  As I started to walk away, he tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Mr. Donovan, do you want this?”

  I looked back to find him holding a business card between two thick fingers. There was a Playboy logo on the card.

  “Women are funny creatures, aren’t they,” he said, sliding the card into my shirt pocket and giving my chest a pat. “Have a good night, Mr. Donovan.”

  “You, too, Ron,” I said with a smile. “You, too.”

  Kate

  “So, what the fuck happened last night?” Dru asked, leaning against my office door with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a half-eaten Bear Claw in the other.

  Dru didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, yet she ate like a Sumo wrestler. She said it was her high-octane-lesbian metabolism… although I don’t really think there is such a thing.

  I looked up from my laptop and rolled my eyes. “Well, I guess the disguise worked because he practically humped me right in the middle of the dancefloor. But in the end, it was a bust.”

  I didn’t dare mention that we had basically masturbated one another on the dance floor. That was a fun fact that I would take to my grave.

  Dru, on the other hand, reveled in telling tall tales of her nightly sexual exploits. She held a finger under her nose and took a deep whiff.

  “Oh well, at least I had the common decency to fingerfuck a girl at the bar rather than try to fuck her on the dancefloor. Which would not have been out of the question, I might add.”

  “God, you’re a slut,” I said, snorting a laugh. “Yeah, who was that girl?”

  Dru brought the cup to her lips and shrugged. “Beats me. Never seen her before in my life.”

  “And she let you finger her in public?”

  “We weren’t in public,” she said, smacking her lips. “We were in a bar. And when a beautiful lipstick lesbian walks up to you and asks you to give her a hand, it’s impolite to refuse.”

  “God, you really are just like a man,” I said, shaking my head.

  She smiled, but didn’t disagree. “So, what happened with Sean Donovan?”

  I sighed as I told the story. “I introduced myself and gave him the card. We chatted for a minute. Then a slow song that he liked came on so he dragged me onto the dance floor. A minute later he’s shoving his tongue down my throat, clutching my ass, and grinding his cock into my crotch.”

  “Sounds like fun,” she said. “I mean, if you like cocks.”

  “I don’t have a problem with cocks,” I said, trying to sound much hipper than I really was. “Then he asked me to go back to his place to have sex. I mean, I’d known the guy ten minutes, Dru. There was no way I was going to go home with him. I mean, do women really do that? Meet a celebrity and have sex with him an hour later.”

  I felt a little hypocritical for even asking the question, but in my mind Katie Holmes was the skank that blew a gasket on the dancefloor with Sean Donovan, not me, not good girl Kate Asher, upstanding citizen and retroactive virgin (my twat was growing back together due to lack of use).

  “A lot of girls would have fucked him right there on the dancefloor,” Dru said. “If I was hanging out with Jennifer Lawrence and she wanted me to go down on her in the middle of Times Square during rush hour on live TV, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  “You also fingerfuck strangers in bars,” I said with a grin.

  “True,” she said with a sigh. “So, what happened?”

  “I freaked out and ran away,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “The good little girl from Utah came out of me and I just got the hell out of there.” I tapped my forehead with a fist. “Dammit, Dru, I should have gone home with him and got him to commit to an interview.”

  Dru’s eyes widened over the coffee cup. “If you had gone home with him, would you have fucked him?”

  “What? No, I mean, I don’t think so.” I rubbed my eyes and growled at myself. “Jesus, Dru, what’s wrong with me? Why am I such a prude?”

  “You were there to do a job, Kate,” she said, giving me a
look of consolation that didn’t make me feel any better. “And not the kind of job he had in mind.”

  “I guess.”

  She sipped her coffee and let me stew in silence for a moment. She bit off corner of the Bear Claw, then chewed as she said, “So, what’s your next move, Katie Holmes?”

  “There isn’t one,” I said sadly. “Katie Holmes goes back in the box and Kate Asher goes back to writing fluff pieces about women’s sports that no one cares to read.”

  “So you’re just going to give up on the idea?”

  I took deep breath and pushed it out slowly. “I guess so. Walter wants a story on the difference in compensation between the women and men’s US soccer teams by next week. I’m trying to line up a call with Carli Lloyd for later today. I’m waiting on a call back from her PR rep now.”

  “Oh well,” Dru said sadly. “It was fun while it lasted. I had a good time being Katie Holmes’ wing-man. Wing-girl. Whatever.” She glanced at the heavy men’s watch she wore on her right wrist. “Speaking of work, guess I’d better get to it.”

  “See you later,” I said, nodding sadly as she pushed herself off the door and walked down the hall toward her office.

  My cellphone buzzed on the desk. I didn’t recognize the number, but figured it was Carli Lloyd’s rep calling me back. The Bluetooth headset was already attached to my ear. I tapped the button to answer the call.

  “This is Kate,” I said.

  The caller hesitated for a moment, then said, “Is this Playboy Magazine? Is this Katie Holmes?”

  I recognized Sean’s voice immediately. I could feel his lips at my ear. His breath on my neck. His cock against my clit. My nipples tingled. Damn, the effect this guy had on me.

  I cleared my throat and said, “Yes, this is Katie.”

  “Hi Katie, it’s Sean Donovan.”

  “Sean, hi. How are you?”

  “I’m good. A little hungover, but that’s normal for me. Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to come watch the team practice today, then join me for a late lunch, early dinner kind of thing. Nothing fancy. Just a burger or pizza, something simple. We can talk about the interview you want to do.”

  My lips moved for a second, but my brain was slow in sending out words. I nervously cleared my throat again and tried not to sound too eager.

  I said, “Hang on, Sean, let me look at my schedule…”

  I muted the earpiece and counted down from ten as I took a few deep breaths and tried not to hyperventilate. When I was sure that I could speak coherently, I tapped the earpiece to unmute the call.

  “Sean? Hi. I’ll have to move some things around on my schedule, but I think I can make that work. What time should I be there?”

  “Awesome. I’ll leave a pass for you at the security gate outside the practice field. Say around one o’clock?”

  “That will be fine,” I said. “I’ll see you there.”

  I ended the call and took a minute to catch my breath, then hurried down the hall to Dru’s office to let her know that Katie Holmes was back.

  Sean

  Man, the coach was on my ass from the moment I walked onto the practice field. Okay, granted, I was still a little hungover from my long night of partying and felt like I was gonna puke, but I ran every route he assigned me and caught every ball.

  After an hour in the hot sun, my body was drenched in alcohol sweat and every muscle ached. I plucked a bottle of Gatorade out of the ice bucket and stood on the sideline to suck it down.

  “Donovan, you’re moving like a goddamn sloth out there today,” the coach snarled as he walked past me. “You need to pick up the pace or get the fuck off the field.”

  “I’m catching the balls, ain’t I?” I said, wiping sweat from my face with the back of my hand.

  Coach Rickets stopped in his tracks and turned around to face me. He leaned in and sniffed the air between us.

  “You smell like pussy and booze,” he said. “And you look like shit.” He came close enough to poke a stiff finger into my chest. “We’re not paying you eight-million dollars a year to party your ass off at night and give a half-ass effort on the field during the day. You have until Friday to dry out and clean up your act or Lockett plays yours spot on Sunday. Am I clear?”

  “Crystal,” I said, biting my tongue so hard I could taste blood. I knew better than to talk back to Rickets. I might be the star running back, but he was the coach and he decided who got to play and who stood on the sidelines. Talent is what gets you to the game, but it’s the coach that tells you when to play.

  It would kill me to just watch a game and not play in it.

  Rickets was a grade-A asshole, but he was right.

  I was partying my career into the ground. I had to dry out and get my head back in the game before I found myself unemployed.

  “How did that feel?” Leon asked as he dropped his helmet on the ground and fished out a red Gatorade.

  “How did what feel?”

  “Getting your ass chewed off by the coach.”

  “Felt great,” I said. I tugged the drenched t-shirt over my head and mopped the sweat off my face with it.

  “He’s right, you know,” Leon said. He stood next to me, but kept his eyes on the field. “You’re killing yourself, man. He’s gonna give your spot to Lockett, and when that happens, they’ll find a way to break your contract or trade you off to fucking Minnesota.”

  “That’s never gonna happen,” I said, shaking my head.

  Leon shrugged. “I hope you’re right. By the way, I asked Monique to marry me and she said yes.”

  “That’s awesome, man,” I said, bumping him with my elbow. “I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks, man,” he said. He tilted back the Gatorade bottle and emptied it into his mouth. He tossed the bottle into the trash and picked up his helmet. As he was putting the helmet on, he nodded toward the stands behind me.

  “Is that the girl from last night?” he asked. “The girl from Playboy you told me about?”

  I turned around to see Katie Holmes sitting in the stands watching us. She had her red hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. When she saw me turn around, she held up a hand and smiled.

  “Yeah, that’s her,” I said. “She’s a knockout, huh.”

  “She looks good from here,” he said. He picked my helmet up from the ground and shoved it into my belly. “Come on, she’s seen your dance moves. Show her what you can do on the field.”

  I took a deep breath and willed the vomit back down my throat, then tugged on my helmet and ran onto the field.

  Just knowing that Katie was watching me seemed to infuse me with an energy I had not felt in a long time. Maybe I was just showing off, but I had one of the best practices of my life.

  When it was over, Coach Rickets gave me an approving nod and Denzel Lockett flipped me the finger. I just smiled and trotted into the clubhouse to take a shower.

  Kate

  I felt my pulse quicken as I watched Sean sprint down the field to catch a long pass from Matt Murphy. They were such a perfectly-matched pair; Matt Murphy with the golden arm that could throw the ball with speed and pinpoint precision, and Sean who could leave the guy covering him in the dust and hit the mark so perfectly that the ball practically fell into his arms.

  I’d never been to a New York Kings’ practice session before. I had never been assigned to cover the Kings and now that the entire SIO staff was barred from the stadium, I’d probably never get the chance to do so.

  I had no idea what I’d been missing…

  Watching the players practice without jerseys and pads, I imagined that it must have been a little bit like watching gladiators in the Roman arena; large, muscled, sweaty men of all shapes, sizes, and colors; in tiny shorts, pushing and shoving and running and tackling one another.

  It was also a little bit like foreplay.

  As I watched Sean on the field, I felt my nipples plump and a growing moisture between my legs. I smiled to myself bec
ause I’d had the foresight to wear a thick bra and a panty-shield to manage the effect Sean Donovan seemed to have on me.

  I was a little sad to see practice end. Sean trotted over to the fence and gave me a big smile. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His muscled torso was brown from the sun, and glistening with sweat.

  I came down the bleachers to meet him at the fence. He looked even better up close. My eyes followed a trail of sweat as it sluiced down from his neck, through the crease between his thick chest, across his chiseled abs, and into the waistband of his shorts. I could almost taste his salty sweat on my tongue.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said with a smile. “Give me a few minutes to shower and we’ll go to lunch. I’ll meet you at the back gate in twenty minutes.”

  “Sounds great,” I sighed. I heard the dreaminess in my voice, so I quickly cleared my throat and added, “You looked great out there today. Good hands.”

  Shit, did that sound like innuendo…

  “And you looked great sitting up there,” he said with a wink. He held up his hands and started backpedaling. “Okay, see you in twenty.”

  Sean turned and trotted across the field. I watch his ass move in the short-shorts until he disappeared into the clubhouse. I was gathering up my purse when a woman’s voice called out from above me. I looked up to see a gorgeous black woman holding a baby two rows up.

  “You Sean’s latest?” she asked in a snide tone.

  “What? No, I’m a journalist here to interview him,” I said. I climbed up a row and gave her a smile. I stuck out my hand. “Katie Holmes, from Playboy Magazine.”

  She scrunched her nose at my hand and rolled her eyes. “Interview my ass.”

  I let my hand drop to my side and gave her a frown. “No, really, look…” My bag was hanging over my shoulder. I dug one of the fake business cards out and held it out to her.