by Sarah Thorn
He kissed her as he lay there panting. They rolled over, but Danielle kept her leg over his body, and his cock remained inside her. They fell asleep like that.
7
Two more months passed, and Danielle had never experienced such happiness. She and Ray still fucked often. He would tell her to suck his cock while he lie in bed, and the would hold her head and choke her with his massive member, so tears streamed down her face and she couldn’t breathe until he blew his wad, the sticky mass sliding right down her throat. He would furiously pump her on the couch in the living room, or bent over one of the stools in the kitchen.
But they also made love. Tender kisses, light touches. They were in love, Danielle had no doubt about it.
Then the young black woman missed her period. She had always been pretty regular, and going three days past when she expected filled her with dread. She had been taking her birth control, hadn’t missed a pill.
When Ray was out one morning, she took one of his cars and bought a test at a nearby upscale grocery store. In one of her temporary home’s bathrooms, she peed on the little white plastic stick, and sat on the toilet, waiting for it to register. It did, and she cried. She was pregnant.
She knew what Ray would say. There were only two months until their marriage was supposed to be over. But he had said he loved her, and she knew she loved him. Would he want to get divorced? He would think she had stopped taking her birth control pills. He would think she wanted to get pregnant, so he was stuck with her. What was a million dollars when this could be her life? Or at the very least, when he still divorced her, he would have to pay child support. She knew that’s what Ray would think, or, at least, that’s what his father would tell him to think, and then it would be in his head.
She knew she couldn’t put off telling him. When he returned home, just before lunch, she broke the news to him. She had sat him down in the living room, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth he had stood up.
“You said you couldn’t get pregnant,” Ray said, his eyes wide.
“I didn’t say that I said I was on birth control.”
“So you lied?”
“No!”
“So you quit taking the pills?”
“No!” Danielle said. She felt hot salty tears stinging her eyes.
“Don’t you start crying!” Ray said forcefully. He sounded angrier than she had seen him.
“Ray, I love you.”
“You love my money,” the man said, confirming Danielle’s worst fears.
“No!” the black girl argued. It was all she could say.
“You want my money! You think this is the way to get it? I thought you loved me! I loved you!”
“I do!”
“You love this life! This money! My money!” Ray argued.
“It’s not your money!” Danielle said before she could stop herself. “It’s daddy’s money, and I don’t give a shit about any of it!”
“Fuck you,” Ray said coldly, and then he turned and left the room. Danielle ran after him. She begged him not to go, but he wouldn’t listen. He walked out of the massive front door, and she stood there, watching as he climbed into one of his sports cars, and then he was gone. Danielle fell to the ground in a heap, and cried.
When she could, the young woman called a cab and packed up some clothes. Ray had bought her many things over the four months, mostly clothes and shoes, and she was careful not to take any of it. By the time she had a small bag the cab was outside of the gate at the end of the long driveway, and she walked down to meet it.
She had the million dollars in her bank. She hadn’t touched it yet, she hadn’t needed to. Now she did, using it to pay for the cab and a hotel room. She didn’t want to go back to Las Vegas. She needed Ray to know that she loved him. Days passed. They turned to weeks, and then a month. She tried to call him, tried to text him, but he would never speak with her.
She went to an upscale stationery store and bought a beautiful leather bound writing journal, and a set of silver pens. She had the woman at the counter wrap them for her, and then she went to Ray’s home. He wasn’t there, so she went to his parent’s house. His sports car was parked outside. Someone let her past the gate, and she parked next to it, driving a rental car. She sat for a moment behind the wheel, writing a check for the money he had paid her to marry him, or, at least, most of it. She didn’t have the money to pay back the hotel or rental car.
Danielle climbed out of the car and went to the front door, knocking softly. Ray opened it.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I want to talk.”
“Our lawyer will talk when the baby comes,” he said and went to shut the door. She held her hand out.
“I don’t want money from you,” she said.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” another voice said, and then Danielle saw David, Ray's father, come to the door.
“Dad, I can handle this. She’s not the first woman to come after my money.”
“Here’s a check for what you paid me to marry you,” Danielle said, and by the look on David’s face, she knew that news was a surprise to him.
“What’s she talking about?” David asked, and when it looked as though Ray wasn’t going to fill his father in, Danielle did so.
“He wanted to make you mad, so he married me in Vegas after paying me a million dollars. He didn’t think you’d want him marrying a black girl.”
David said nothing. Usually, people didn’t want to talk about their racism. Ray remained silent as Daniel held the check out to him.
“I don’t want it,” she said. “I want you. I fell in love with you.”
Ray opened his mouth to speak, but then he shut it.
“Get this gold digger out of here,” David said from over his son’s shoulder. “Or I can get security to do so.”
“Give me a minute,” Ray said, and he stepped out and reached back, shutting the door behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Danielle said. “I didn’t want to get pregnant; I didn’t trick you. I don’t want your money.”
“The pill doesn’t mess up. You can’t get pregnant on it.”
“You can, it’s just rare,” Danielle said. “Trust me, you can.”
She felt tears in her eyes once more, and she felt like an idiot. One slipped over her bottom eyelid and slipped down her mocha cheek, but Ray reached out and wiped it away.
“I bought you this,” Danielle said, holding the gift out to him. He opened it and smiled when he looked to her his own eyes were misty. “You can’t give up on your dream,” she said. “You have to write that novel.”
Ray nodded. He couldn’t speak.
“I want to tell you about my father,” Danielle said. Ray looked to her. She had never opened up about her dad. She went on. “He died before I was born. That’s why I don’t talk about him. I don’t know him. He was with the wrong people. He was killed, shot by a guy he had some sort of beef with. It sounds dumb. Exactly what your father must think about black people, but that’s who my dad was. A thug who was killed. That’s all I know him as. I didn’t get to learn about the man my mother fell in love with. I don’t want my own child to do that. You aren’t dead, but I don’t want this baby to grow up without knowing their father. It has nothing to do with money; I want him or her to know you. You. An amazing man, with love, and passion, and a writer. I want this baby to know you. A writer. A father. Someone who does amazing things with his life. That’s what I want for the baby, and for you. It has nothing to do with me or the money. We could live in a one-bedroom apartment.”
Ray laughed. “We might have to. My dad is going to have a fit when I tell him.”
“When you tell him what?”
“That I’m going to be a dad. That I’m going to be with you. Telling me about your father… I know that this was just…. an accident, but you know, thinking about it, maybe it’s exactly what we need. I love you, Danielle. I do. And if I weren't already married to you, I would want to mar
ry you.”
Danielle grinned and threw her arms around her husband. They kissed, and she knew they would be together forever.
*****
THE END
SPORTS Romance - More Than a Game
“Grades matter, they matter a lot. I worked harder than anyone else to get here, and I have the report cards to prove it. The lowest grade I had was an ‘A-‘, and that was because the teacher hated me. It’s a black spot on an otherwise spotless record. I don’t want another black spot. It would make all the effort I put into getting into this college moot.”
“What was your name, again?”
“You know me, Coach, I’m Christine. I’m in your athletics course on Monday, and Wednesday at 9 am. I noticed that my grades had dipped into the ‘B’ level and wanted to know what I could do to improve my grade. I need to get an ‘A’ in this course, or I may not be able to transfer to a graduate degree program.”
The coach rolled his eyes at me; I’d seen it happen before and was quite use to it at this point. His old leather chair was a bit worse for the wear, more duct tape than chair it would seem, and his hand grasped at what I could only assume was a playbook.
“Are you telling me to change your grade to an ‘A’ because you asked me to?”
“No, I want to know if there’s anything I can do to improve it. I have looked through your syllabus and have recorded my performance.”
I produced a notebook that I had kept through the entire course. I recorded my athletic improvements including my jogging speed, blood pressure, and several other factors that I felt would prove my point.
He took the book and flipped through the pages.
“Are you serious?”
I pushed my glasses from the tip of my nose.
“I assure you, I’m quite serious. I believe I’m showing major cardiovascular improvement in the class, but if my own improvement isn’t enough to sway your grading scale then I would like to know what may?”
He threw the notebook back on the desk; I felt he may be impressed by my research. He rolled his chair to a filing cabinet behind him and thumbed through the files for a minute.
“What’s your last name again?”
“Reynolds. Christine Reynolds.”
He pulled a folder from the cabinet and pulled a few papers from it.
“Have a look for yourself; it shouldn’t be hard to figure out why you have a ‘B.'”
I took the papers from him and started to read. All the categories had numbers and checks except for one; participation.
“Is this saying that I don’t participate in class?”
“That’s to say that you never engage your peers. It’s a class. I may be your teacher, but you’re actively choosing to play by yourself. You seem to go out of your way to avoid the other students.”
I scoffed. “I participate in the class activities. Isn’t that enough?”
He stood himself up and came over and leaned on the desk in front of me, snatching the papers out of my hands.
“School is about more than accomplishing the task at hand. I like to think that my class also teaches students how to handle situations in life that may be overwhelming. You have to know when to ask for help and know how to help others. It’s part of being human. Self-reliance is a great asset, but being a team player is what most sports and athletics are about.”
I sighed and stood up.
“So you’re saying all I have to do is engage with the other students, and I’ll get an ‘A’?”
“Yep, that’s all I’m saying.”
I gathered my things, including my athletic journal.
“Then that’s what I’ll do,” I said as I made my way toward the door.
He smiled and nodded.
As I grasped the handle, the door tore open, pulling me along with it and causing me to collide with the person on the other side.
My face was jarred so hard that my glasses flew from my face and fell to the floor. The world became blurry as I did my best to focus my eyes to make sense of what I was seeing and possibly find my glasses.
“Excuse me,” I said.
I could feel my glasses being thrust into my hand, which I gladly took and replaced. In my panic to find my glasses I hadn’t realized the person whom I had struck; it was Hollis.
“Hollis?” I questioned, meekly.
He didn’t even say anything, just pushed past me into the room and shook the coach’s hand.
“How’s the arm?” said the coach.
“It’s doing well. I iced it for a while, and it hasn’t swelled much.”
“Good, good. We got a career making game coming up, and I want you ready for it.”
Hollis looked pleased.
“Alright, I’ll just be going now,” I said.
Neither of them acknowledged me, but I couldn’t help but take a quick look at our local football star now that he was so close.
I felt so tiny by comparison; he was more than a foot taller than I was, and I was almost 5’7”, which according to statistics is above average for a woman. Strong, sinewy muscle ran up and down his arms and back, pushing through his shirt in all the right places. I admit it, I was swooning.
I felt a bit feverish as my pulse quickened a bit. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, and I had a feeling that I should lie down. I left the room, closing the door quietly behind me as the two bonded and talked about the upcoming game.
My thoughts were hard to sway from the thought of Hollis’ physique, but the anxiety over my grade was helping. If he wanted a girl who would participate in class, then that’s exactly what I would do.
2.
The morning was chilly before class; so I thought it best to bundle up. I had always liked running; it was the easiest way to settle my mind before starting my day. Even so, I hated having to wear contacts to enjoy a calming run. But, some things are necessary evils, so I pushed the horrendous things to my eyes.
It showed that I liked to run, and I received compliments all the time about my skinny arms and toned legs. It’s nice to feel like you’re doing something right, and compliments are a great measure. It was like getting an ‘A’ in personal health.
I popped my headphones in my ear and grabbed my room keys. It was nice living alone, fewer people to deal with, less drama to get involved in, and more time for me to get work done.
I lived near the track, which was actually a premeditated measure on my part as I knew I would be jogging almost daily. As I stepped out onto the street, the cool air struck me hard. It stung my nostrils and burned my lungs as I breathed.
A light fog had accrued over the night, instilling a silence on the block. Statistically speaking I had less a chance of being attacked in the morning during daylight, but that did little to dissuade me from looking over my shoulder every few steps.
Across the street, the track was mostly empty, save for a few people that I didn’t recognize throwing footballs around. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them in the morning. Dedicated players practiced anytime they could.
The music in my ears picked up a bit, and I started to hit my stride. I had been in track in high school, and I was actually quite decent in distant running, I had the medals to prove it.
As I rounded the corner of the track, I saw him again. Hollis had decided to practice early today. I tried my best to suppress a blush, but most of my energy was being used for running. So, I just smiled and waved.
He smiled but kept walking.
The guys had joined into a circle near the edge of the track, and it looked like they were discussing something important, so I lowered the volume on my music so I might listen in. Their words rang out as little pricks of sound in an otherwise empty space, and I could hear just about everything.
“Coach says I gotta get my grade up, or I might be benched,” Hollis said.
“Dude, you need to play. If you’re not there, then we’re goin’ to get killed. The second string doesn’t have the same arm you have.”
“Yeah man, I’m working on it. I was up late last night trying to finish up this math for extra credit. But, it was hard since Sandy was over. I maybe work on it for ten minutes before she was all over me.”
“You with Sandy now? What is that, three girls this weekend?”
“I don’t know if I’d count the other two. Beth was amazing, we had this hot moment when I had to hide her under the desk. I was trying to talk to Gus, and she started going down on me while I was talking. After that, she had to split. I wouldn’t count Angie either; she kept asking me if I liked what she was doing and it was just weird. Sandy was crazy, and kept me up all night.”
I started running a little quicker; I felt a little angry and more than a little jealous. I was much more upset at myself for feeling jealous of a couple cheerleaders. They spend all day around football players; I think they get become cheerleaders just so they can flirt. I couldn’t picture myself as that kind of girl.
They continued to talk.
“Anyway, Coach said that my academic advisor has been watching my grades close, and I’m about to fall under the minimum GPA I need to keep playing.”
“That’s what you get for spending more time with girls than studying. You should really get a tutor, or maybe find someone that’ll just get your work done for you. It’ll give you more free time.”
I rolled my eyes thinking about being a tutor. It’s a good thing they didn’t think I could hear them.
“Man, if I could find a smart chick that would do my homework in exchange for sexual favors then I’d be set for life.”
They all laughed; it bothered me to think that they would even consider something like that. I slowed to a stop nearby.
“Are you kidding me? You want to have sex with a girl who will do all your homework? No wonder I’ve been avoiding men my age.”
They turned to me with shocked faces. Hollis looked at me with a slight smirk.
“Are you sure you’d say ‘no’ to that?” He paused. “ You’re the girl from the office the other day, right?”
I nodded.
“You know, you’re pretty cute without your glasses on. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take me up on that deal? Seems like you need to get laid.”