Protein Shake

by Alexis Angel

  “Call me, okay?” she says as she leans for the kiss and I instead move and open the door on my side for her, moving away with the agility of a cat and using her momentum to propel her outside.

  “You got it, Monica,” I say smoothly, giving her my million-dollar smile.

  “Mona,” she says. “My name is Mona and do you even have my number?”

  But I can’t hear her. My door’s closed and I’m drinking some 200-year-old scotch as the car starts up again speeding towards the SportsNation studios. Alcohol. That’s what the doctor ordered after you fuck a slut.

  The last thing I see is cum-car cop running up to Monica/Mona. But the limo has already left them in the dust.

  Oh well.

  * * *

  I walk through the SportsNation studio with my bottle of scotch. I don’t fucking care as people stop to stare at me. I’m Colt Stackford, QB1 of the Dallas fucking Devils. We’ve had an undefeated first 3 games and today we crushed the Toronto Trojans like a foot crushes a bug.

  I walk up to where they’re going to be filming me and pause as a hair and makeup person touches up my face. Some tiny Indian chick. Yeah, I’d fuck her too, although it looks like she has a mustache. But she doesn’t spend much time on me - most likely because I’m already fucking handsome. With my sculpted jaw, broad fucking shoulders, and made for GQ face.

  “You ready?” the host, Jessica McSwain asks me as I sit down. I nod. “You can’t have the bottle, Colt,” she says arching her eyebrows.

  I shrug and put it down on the floor underneath the table. Camera’s won’t pick it up.

  Jessica fucking McSwain. Now there is a hot piece of ass that I’d tap if given half the chance. But she’s already married and if that’s one thing I won’t do, it’s break up a happy marriage. Broken or sad marriage? Fuck yeah. Happy marriage? No.

  The lights dim and then come back on and in less than a minute we’re live.

  “Hello, and welcome to SportsNation Highlights,” Jessica starts, talking into the camera. “I’m joined by a few guests tonight as we recap this epic day in sports history. Let’s go to my first guest – the starting Quarterback for the Dallas Devils - Colt Stackford.”

  I can see the camera swing to me as I say hello.

  “Colt,” Jessica says addressing me in a professional manner. “Super job today on the field. Absolutely outstanding and thanks for being here.”

  I nod. It’s the same line over and over that these anchors have when they’re trying to kiss your ass.

  “What can you tell us about your performance today?” she asks.

  I shrug and smile into the camera. That million-dollar smile. The smile that makes panties drop across America. The bodies that gets pussies wet.

  “We had a good strategy. I executed brilliantly. Good support for my plays. Put it all together,” I say and pause for dramatic effect. “And we crush everything in our path.”

  “Very nice,” Jessica says, but I know she’s too smart to buy into everything I said 100%. “But are you saying it was all you who carried the team then?”

  I laugh. I thought she was smart. Maybe not. “32 points, Jessica,” I say looking at her. “We put 32 points on the damn board. You’ don’t get that without a quarterback who does running plays. You only get that with Colt Stackford.”

  “So let’s welcome our next guest then,” Jessica says and all of a sudden I’m startled. Who else would they want on their fucking show if they already had me? “He leads the NFL in QB sacks and turnovers and plays the other half of the Dallas Devils front lines. Please welcome Ethan Blake.”

  The camera pans and the audience claps as Ethan comes out from backstage and all of a sudden I am fucking pissed off. No fucking way I would have done this spot if they told me that motherfucker was going to be here.

  The audience is still clapping and another thought races through my head. When was there ever a fucking audience and how did I not recognize them? Fucking Christ, I must have had more scotch than I realized.

  Ethan sits down on the other side of Jessica and she smiles sweetly at him. Fuck her. I’m the fucking guest of honor.

  “Ethan, thanks for being on,” Jessica says as Ethan smiles at her. If I have a million dollar smile that fucker has a billion-dollar smile. I fucking hate him. Since we were fucking kids. But I don't say anything and let Jessica continue. “As someone who leads the defense for the Dallas Devils, what do you say when Colt says the entirety of the win was on him?”

  Ethan takes a second and then smiles his sneaky and slimy fucking smile. “Well, listen, Jessica,” Ethan says with hate dripping from his words. “Colt’s a child. You have to let children say whatever they want and then let them run free. But as they do that, you have to make sure you’re around to clean up the mess and from time to time make them feel like the center of attention.”

  Jessica looks at me for my response but I don’t even acknowledge her. This shit is between me and Ethan now. “When you learn how to fucking throw, maybe you can say some of those things,” I say directly to him. There’s no fucking camera that I’m talking for anymore. Now it’s just me and Ethan. “Until then, you’re just someone who couldn’t get a job on the offensive line. You might as well go back to high school wrestling.”

  Ethan’s eyes flash and I know I’ve gotten under his skin. “If it weren’t for the defense, you wouldn't even get your chances to throw that ball, Colt,” he says evenly. “But I don’t expect someone who’s had everything handed to them to realize when he’s getting opportunities. That QB job suits you just right.”

  Fuck him. What the fuck does he think he knows?

  “I don’t care what you say, you’ll always be Number Two,” I say.

  “And you’ll always be Rosebud,” he snaps back at me. “You get out of line and I’ll be the one snapping you in place.”

  Rosebud.

  Oh, fuck. He didn’t go there. Not bringing that name up from elementary school on national fucking television.

  I don’t even know what compels me but I jump out of my chair. Ethan, true to his word at least, stands up also.

  “You don’t know anything about me!” I yell at him.

  At some point, Jessica’s slid her chair back and is telling us to calm down. But no one listens to her. The cameras must be loving this because no one stops the broadcast.

  “I don’t need to know much to know you're a silver spooned, candy-ass, fucking pretty boy, Colt!” Ethan yells back.

  That’s when I punch him.

  Don’t get me fucking wrong. Ethan’s a big guy. He’s my height. He’s got a cut, ripped body and giant fucking muscles. If I didn’t hate him, I’d respect him.

  But my punch lands on his face and I see blood burst from his lip and all of a sudden he hits me back. I feel the wind go out of my lungs and I double over.

  But not before I sweep my legs and trip him.

  But he gets his hands on me and carries me down.

  We don’t realize that there’s a bank of cameras across from the table and we both go flying into it.

  Imagine a QB and his defensive end coming at you both - 500 pounds of muscle. It’s no wonder that the camera men are running away into the audience. Fucking pussies.

  That’s when we crash into the equipment. I feel pokes and stabs of metal as they enter my flesh but I’m trying to punch Ethan. He’s got me by my neck. I knee him in the stomach.

  He slams a hand hard into my eye.

  Ouch. That’s going to leave a hurt for sure.

  Security comes and tries to get us apart, but Ethan and I brush them off like flies. They go crashing in two different directions.

  That’s when the real cops burst in. Uniformed officers and even SWAT.

  The audience is fucking screaming.

  “There’s the fucker right there,” a cop yells as he points out to me.

  Fuck. It’s cum-car cop.

  The cops draw their guns, cocking them.

  The studio looks like a war zone. B
roken glass is everywhere and the audience is in chaos, running to the doors.

  Finally, I see two security guards and a police officer come up behind Ethan and I smile in triumph. He’s going to get what he deserves and he doesn’t even realize. One of the men pulls out a TASER. This is going to be good.

  Just as I’m about to crow, I feel 1000 volts of electricity go through me.

  Fuck!

  Ethan drops to the floor, too. They must have gotten us both…

  Whatever. When I wake up, I’ll kick his ass all over again.

  SportsNation

  SportsNation Highlights

  Hello, and welcome to SportsNation Highlights. I’m your host, Suzy Fren.

  One word can only describe the mood of the nation before we head into the week’s lineup. That word: Wow. If you didn’t get a chance to tune in to our show on Sunday, boy did you miss out.

  That’s right. It took the NFL only one day to place both Ethan Blake and Colt Stackford on a paid suspension as they reviewed their on-air actions. What on air actions are we talking about?

  Cut to clip of Colt punching Ethan in the face.

  This Monday, NFL Commissioner Bo Horton announced that both the quarterback and defensive end were being suspended after their on-air fight and arrest. And then to add yet another twist to the unfolding drama, we reported a whirlwind of activity between the Dallas Devils as they tried to get rid of their toxic players. Why would they do that, you ask?

  Cut to clip of Bo Horton at a press conference.

  “It’s not outside the possibility that the League could end up either fining these players for their despicable behavior or their team for allowing something like this to take place. This is a breakdown in discipline. And it’s something I’m going to stop if it’s the last thing I do. And as Commissioner, I promise you, if these two get in trouble ever again – if they so much as litter – this League is going to throw the book at them as well as any team that decides to employ them.”

  Cut back to the clip of Suzy Fren.

  That’s right. You heard it here. The Dallas Devils have decided that Colt and Ethan are such liabilities that they’re better off without the top quarterback and defensive player in the league. And so a late night secret trade was announced yesterday evening – between the Dallas Devils and New York Nailers. The Nailers gave up third string kicker, Boris Johnson and received both Ethan and Colt.

  So think the Nailers made off like bandits? Not so fast. You heard the Commissioner. For the first time, the League is cracking down on bad behavior. Which means that Commissioner Horton will hold the teams responsible for any future bad behavior from the players. Colt and Ethan better keep their noses clean, because the Nailers are on the hook and the League is going to be watching.

  The New York Nailers for what it’s worth could use the help. They’re currently 3 games to 1 in the season so far and hoping to make it to the playoffs. This after Julianna Heaton, the team owner became the first woman and youngest owner of an NFL team when she purchased the struggling franchise outright roughly a year ago for $1.8 billion. She’s displayed a tough approach as she took a bankrupt team and proceeded to turn it around to become Super Bowl contenders this year. We also all remember her father, the late Bob Heaton who used to coach the Nailers and sadly passed away last year.

  Julianna Heaton has been no stranger to controversy herself – her forceful and vocal support of women’s rights within corporate America has made her a target for conservative columnists. She was last in the public eye this year when she complained about the salary caps that were imposed by the NFL on the teams in the league. It’s too soon, but the acquisition of Colt and Ethan by the Nailers has some speculating the Julianna is going to have to cut one of the players, as combined they exceed the salary cap that the New York Nailers are allowed. The good news? She has until the end of the season to decide. The bad news? These are the two best players in the NFL. And they’re both so toxic that no other team wants them at this time.

  Within hours of the trade being announced, opinions were split as to whether Julianna, as the first female owner of an NFL franchise would be able to tame these two bad boys. But from everything that we can tell, this woman is up for the challenge. Getting her start on Wall Street, where she personally rose to the top within ten years as CEO of the multi-national investment bank, Carter Jeffries, Julianna has never been a stranger to media scrutiny. While named as the most charismatic billionaire on the Forbes 400, as well as the richest single woman alive last year, Julianna Heaton has however always been one to polarize. Her supporters point to her independent and strong attitude - not bowing or scraping to anyone. Her detractors point to a long list of complaints against her - from a take-no-prisoners attitude that she uses wherever she goes professionally, to an almost gleeful indulgence in her own playboy lifestyle, to the complete lack of mercy she has shown her corporate enemies. This, Julianna’s supporters counter, is nothing more than what any successful, wealthy, single alpha male would do. Why, they ask, is it so hard for an alpha woman to do so?

  Regardless of which way one supports her, it’s up to Julianna to straighten out these two men. Which has some people a bit worried. Because who’s going to be the one to straighten her out first?

  Julianna

  The sun is the first thing that wakes me. It’s 6:45 am as I look at the clock and I’m usually up by 6.

  Christ. I slept in again.

  I look over to my right and at the naked man and I realize the reason why I slept in.

  Last night was like something out of a porno - except I was both the director and star.

  What’s his name again? I’m having trouble remembering.

  Bill?

  Mike?

  No. It’s Barry. Right. Barry Miller or something like that. He's sleeping on his front, in a deep and dreamless slumber.

  I think he’s passed out after the workout I gave him. I don't think he’s used to women taking charge like I did.

  I look over at him. He’s six feet two inches. He’s muscular. I’ve seen him around the gym a few times too. He works out pretty thoroughly and has a nice body. I mean, 6 pack abs are nice. Leg and back muscles are great. But I’ve seen it all. His cock isn't bad. About 9 inches. It gets the job done.

  But overall? It’s just meh. Another bad boy in a long line of bad boys. All looking at themselves in the mirror, trying to look like the perfect alpha male. All trying to be brooding and mysterious. I seriously chew them up and spit them out without a thought nowadays. They think they’re all that before they meet me. They think they’re players. That they can drink and fuck everything in their path.

  I don’t mind that. Let people be people. But they think they’re God’s gift to women. That women will just drop everything in their lives to suck their cock.

  Yeah, Barry wasn’t bad, but I’ve had better.

  I am better.

  I mean, you name it, I’ve fucked it. Mafia hit men. Billionaires. Princes. Firefighters. Cowboys. Even some really wealthy guy that claimed to be a dragon.

  I wake up the guy. I doubt he’s the one usually getting woken up after sex. He’s probably so used to tiring the girl out that she can’t walk the next day.

  Not me.

  “Hey Julianna,” he murmurs as he opens his eyes.

  But we don’t have time for small talk. I’m usually at my punching bag by this time. I start my day with some yoga. Then I hit the bag. Then I run. And by 7:30 am, I’m showered and in the office.

  I’ve followed this same schedule since I was 7. I was determined to succeed back then at life. I kept that determination when I went to college - graduating magna cum laude from Yale, and then getting my MBA at Harvard at the top of my class. Oh, it wasn’t all studying all the time. Trust me. I knew where my priorities were, sure, but I also knew I had urges I needed to fulfill. And trust me when I tell you I wasn’t going to let a bunch of old men who made rules dictate what I could or couldn’t do with my body. Fuck them. I d
ressed how I wanted to, ate how I wanted to, fucked who I wanted to. So you’d see me at a fraternity party with the guys checking me out. But I was deciding myself which one I wanted. Regardless of who came up to me, I always placed my desires first.

  That’s why when the investment bank Carter Jeffries offered me an Analyst role, I jumped at the chance. Five years later I was the youngest Managing Director in the history of the Firm. Five years after that I was their CEO. But I wasn’t content to just stay at CEO. I started a holding company and began buying distressed real estate right after I got out of Business School. It began doing really well and by the time I was made CEO of Carter Jeffries, I was able to sell it for a nice amount.

  What’s a nice amount to me? Try $5 billion.

  After climbing the top of Wall Street, there was one thing I needed to do in life. So the next year, I quit and bought the New York Nailers football team.

  I paid the entire $1.8 billion out of my own pocket.

  That’s right. I paid for a football team like some men go buy cars.

  How many bad boys you know that do that?

  To be fair, it was hard work. I bought the team last year. And over the course of one year, I turned it around from a bankrupt organization bleeding money to something that I was hoping could be Super Bowl worthy this year.

  But all that wouldn’t happen if I couldn’t get out of bed.

  “Did you sleep good, baby?” Barry asks, and I come out of my self-reflection.

  Fuck. I’m late for work. But I need to fuck.

  “No time for talk, hon,” I say, putting him to his back and straddling him.

  I’m naked and I can see his eyes go wide as he sees my tits waving in front of his face. I take his cock in my hands and start stroking it. It’s still soft, but I can take care of that.

  Bad boys think they can handle any woman. But they can’t handle me. I’m the one thing that a bad boy alpha male can’t handle.

  I’m a bad fucking girl.

  He’s getting hard, but I have a schedule. I also have an itch I need to scratch before my day.