Seduced by the Game

by editor Lisa Hollett

  "I need…to clean up," he said, his hair looking like he had stepped into a wind tunnel. His lips were swollen, his eyes drowsy with passion, his body slick with sweat and spunk. Fuck. I wanted him again. He rolled from the bed as I reached for him. Gaining his feet, Cam glanced down at me. "Jesus, Jacobi," he said upon seeing my cock standing up. I reached down to cup my balls. Cameron shivered at the sight then made a less than speedy retreat into the bathroom. I rolled my eyes as the door shut quietly. Water ran. The heater came on once more. Warm air blew over my moist flesh, making it erupt in gooseflesh. I tugged a blanket over my pimply skin. I was awoken a short time later by Cam, who was freshly showered as well as dressed. I yawned, stretched, then smiled at him contentedly. The fucker looked edible in a pair of team fleece pants topped with a clean wife-beater.

  "Man, you shower fast."

  "Jacobi, as much as I would love to have you stay here . . ."

  My mind was kind of sluggish, what with the fantastic sex combined with the comfortably warm bed, but what he was saying eventually sunk in. I sat up. The dirty sheet slithered over my chest then pooled in my lap.

  "I thought us fucking each other raw would help nudge you toward the closet door a little." He stood stoically beside the bed as I kicked the covers aside.

  "Jacobi, this was a wonderful experience, and I want to continue seeing you, but . . ."

  I waved a hand at him angrily before stepping into my pants. "Save it, okay. I get it. It’s okay to plow me like a field, but it’s not okay to be open about us. Fine. Whatever. When you grow a fucking pair, just let me know."

  "Jacobi, stop being such a fucking assgoblin about it!" Cam barked. I spun around, my pants dangling off my hip bones, my shirt in my left hand. Our eyes locked.

  "You are far too fucking old to be using my lingo." I stalked over to the man, grabbed him by the back of the neck, then attacked his mouth so violently his teeth nicked his top lip. I lapped up the metallic taste of his blood as I ravaged his mouth time and again. Cam was all into the kiss. His hands roamed over me, shucking my unzipped pants off my ass so he could massage my buttocks. Then he pulled back. First it was mentally then physically. I swear the mental shove-off was harder to take then the physical one.

  "Just go back to your room, will you? I’m not ready yet." Deep down I sort of knew one night wouldn’t be enough to propel him out of the closet. I mean, I hoped it would be, but fear like Cam had would take a long time to overcome. My hand still rested on the back of his neck. I tugged him back flush to me. My brow rested against his.

  "I want more than just sneaky screws, Cam." I was being honest with the man. He nodded then stepped back. The sigh almost escaped. I finished dressing. Cam walked me to his door, his fingers wound through mine.

  "Can you come tomorrow night?"

  "Dude, no one is on the other side of the door listening." He was in no mood for joshing. "Sorry, I know this is really rough. Yeah, I’ll come tomorrow night. We’ll have to make up some shit though. Is that what you want? More lies?"

  "Yes, just for now. I need to figure this out, Jacobi. Let me . . . let me call my daughter first. I think, well, I think I can tell her. Can you do that?"

  "Sure." I smiled, proud of his resolve. Relief flooded his face. He kissed me gently then shoved me out the door. The corridor was empty. I stepped into the hallway, turned, then pushed my hands into my front pockets lest I reach for the man hiding in his hotel room. "Catch you later, Cam."

  "Night, Jacobi." The door closed in my face. That huge sigh from earlier blew out of me. I ambled back to my room to sleep alone.

  Six

  Expecting our starting goalie to be in a better place inside his head, Cam was put back in for the last game of the road trip. I was overall pretty cool with it. The man held up reasonably well for the first period. He looked sound, like he was finding his groove. Then the second period came. Cam buckled like a rusty water pipe. It was painful to watch. The team was losing confidence in their goalie. I know it sounds cruel, but the mentality of a team can shift from empathy to antipathy quickly. The men were beginning to mumble that Cam wasn’t giving one hundred percent. Maybe he had grown soft with the big money, fancy car, designer clothes, and TV commercials.

  I listened to the grumblings from the team with a wince. If only Cam would come out! That night I told Likka, who was taking a day off from sex, that I was going to go check on Cam. Try to talk him up, you know? The Finnish mountain told me I was good boy. An hour later, as I lay under Cameron with his prick buried in me, I wasn’t sure how good I was, but I sure as hell knew how in love I was. Cam spoke little that night. We had sex. He withdrew from me, pinching his condom tightly around his flaccid dick then disappearing into the bathroom to take a shower. When he came out, I was dallying in bed.

  "You got something against my spunk on your skin?"

  He gave me a clipped reply but would not meet my eyes. I lay in his bed naked, fingering the tiny speckles of seed on my lower abdomen. It was obvious from the way his nostrils flared that he was turned on. But did he ask me to stay? No. He wrapped himself in his blanket of fear then begged me to leave because he was expecting a call from his daughter. I did, but it was not happily. I knew where his head was at, but shit, did that mean I deserved to be shoved out the door like some cheap whore? It made me feel used, dirty, and less understanding of Cam’s delicate situation.

  The only thing that made me feel slightly less trampy was the knowledge that Cam would at least be broaching the subject with his daughter. He had vowed to me as he made love to me that he would tell her when she called tonight. Likka seemed mollified with the noncommittal reply I gave him about Cam. I slid into the bath to wash off the smell of sex. The light was out when I emerged. Likka was snoring loudly. I rolled to my side, pillow over my head, and prayed that sleep would come quickly.

  On the return trip home I obviously couldn’t ask Cam about his conversation with his daughter. Nor could I after we got back to Pittsburgh because he left before I could say word one to the man. It kind of tweaked me, but I didn’t think anything about it. I resolved that I would call him after I got unpacked. That didn’t happen. What did happen was Brad coming to my room, eyes glittering with need. Yeah, it was one of those things. I saw him closing the door behind himself in the small mirror over the dresser. My eyes followed him as he closed the distance. I sidestepped when he reached out to embrace me from behind.

  "What’s up with you?"

  "Nothing man, I’m just not really into being groped without giving a dude permission." Brad stiffened slightly. "I mean, we made out one time. That’s not an open pass to my dick whenever you feel like it."

  "Whoa, just back the fuck up, okay?" Brad said. I threw a balled-up hoodie into the hamper then spun around to face him. "I think you were just as into that make-out session as I was. Maybe if you weren’t being such a fucking cock tease, I wouldn’t be all over the place trying to figure out what it is you want from me."

  "I am not a cock tease!" My hands fisted at my sides. "I’m just not used to a man being such a bitch about shit! Next you’ll be texting me to ask me to pick up some tampons and chocolate on the way home."

  That one got me pushed soundly into the wall. "Fuck you!" Brad snarled. I raised my fists. Our landlord busted in. I think we would have come to blows if not for the big body shoving itself between us.

  "I’m out of here!" I yelled as I grabbed my vest off the bed.

  "Good, stay the fuck out!" Brad shouted over Pete’s bare shoulder. I exited like a typhoon, slamming every door I met until I was out in cold so severe it felt as if I had walked out into Antarctica as opposed to Pittsburgh. My Rover was blocked in. I didn’t feel like going back in to ask Brad to move his ride, so I called a cab then went to the corner to wait for it. I was stuttering with cold when I relayed the address to the cabbie.

  The yellow taxi was an older one. The upholstery smelled like wet ashtrays. The radio was cranking out Rasta. I tried several times to get Cam
but his phone kept kicking me to voice mail. At least I knew his address. Hell no, he hadn’t given it to me. I had asked Likka, who had been to Cam’s numerous times over the years. How nice is that? Having to beg your fucking lover’s address from a teammate? When we reached the affluent neighborhood Cameron called home, I was worked into a frothing anger at Brad. I wasn’t too keen on Cam either, but since I was on his doorstop about to beg for a room, I kept my anger in check. When the double doors of the sprawling Spanish home opened, Cam looked stunned.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" He jerked me in off his stoop like I was a mangy tomcat returning after a week of debauchery. I shook free of his grip. The foyer of his house was incredible. Dark paneling, bronze wall sconces to carry the Spanish feel inside, a thriving green plant as tall as I was.

  "Yeah, hi to you too." I stepped back from the man. He glanced up the steps leading to what I assumed was his living room. Cam reached over to dim the light hanging over our heads. My stomach did some sort of sick flip-flop. "Do you have another man here?"

  "Of course not!" He tried to take my arm once more. "I’m sorry for being so curt, but you’re not supposed to be here."

  "I need a place to crash," I said, morbidly intrigued by how his brown eyes flitted all over. The fucker was hiding something. Then she stepped into view at the top of the steps. A young woman of perhaps sixteen with long brown hair, wide brown eyes, and Cam’s nose. I gaped at the teenager. She hugged her lean midsection in a move so typically teen girl I almost smiled. She was dressed casually like her father, jeans and sweaters for both. "Hi there!"

  "Hi." She hugged herself tighter. I pushed around Cam.

  "My name’s Jacobi," I said as I climbed closer to her with my hand out. She eyed my palm warily then glanced at her father.

  "He plays on the Pumas, Jane."

  I turned to look at Cam. The. Mother. Fucker. He had never mentioned me to her. Probably he never even told her about us, or his homosexuality. When I found his eyes, he beseeched me to remain silent with his gaze.

  "Oh, yes! I recall reading about you on the internet." She continued to talk. I stood on the third step with my mouth open an inch as my heart hung in fucking tatters.

  "I, uhm, I’m sorry to interrupt. I just, yeah, I’ll be on my way." Cam opened the door. I stepped outside in a trance. Like a zombie I stumbled down the steps, the sudden blast of frigid air making my eyes water.

  "Jacobi, I just need more time." That was Cam whispering at me. I didn’t reply. I left him to his secrets. I was done with him. Done with the lies, the pain, and the need to coddle Cam Evans. From this point on, his position was up for grabs. I hoped losing his spot as the starting goalie hurt as badly as what I just endured.

  My feet carried me an entire block unbeknownst to my brain. I stopped when a pair of halogen lights swept over me. I turned, eyes shielded with the back of my hand. I guessed it was a cop coming to check on the stranger strolling around Fox Chapel.

  "Jacobi!" the driver shouted. I raised a lip at Cam. The headlights died. I saw he drove a red BMW X5. Classy. I spun around then pounded down the sidewalk. He drove along beside me, the Beemer’s lights off. "Jacobi, would you stop acting like such a petulant child and let me explain?"

  I stopped walking. I threw him a glare. "Petulant? You think that was petulant?" I asked through clenched teeth. Then I strolled over and kicked the driver’s side door in. "That was petulant." I gave the door another kick just for the giggles.

  Cam came out of his car like his ass was aflame. I had time to get my arms up but he didn’t throw the punch I had expected. He tackled me to the ground then he threw a sloppy left. I blocked it with ease. We then got into a rolling, kicking sort of show where we spent more time pounding each other on the back then we did actually trying to connect with the knuckle to face. A porch light coming on broke up the skirmish. I staggered to my feet. Cam backed up to his car.

  "I swear our lives would be so much easier if I just yelled your fucking secret out for the whole neighborhood to hear!" I threw the words at him like a sharpened dagger. He physically jerked at the threat. "Don’t worry, I wouldn’t out anyone." His big body remained tense. I padded closer so the conversation would be private." You stay the fuck away from me, you lying prick. I am so done sucking your dick in both the physical and literal terms." I jabbed an icy cold finger into his designer jacket with each word.

  "If you would just let me explain, Jacobi." I threw a hand up into the air to silence the man. It worked. His kissable lips flattened out. I stalked off into the night, ignoring the call from Cam’s neighbor. I heard Cam feeding the concerned homeowner a line of bullshit about one of his teammates being a little tipsy. Cam was good at lying. Truth told, he was a fucking expert at deception. It suddenly hurt to suck in a breath. I blamed it on the painfully cold air.

  * * * *

  The following morning at scrimmage I played as if my life depended on it. Revenge is a mighty strong drive. It spurs a person onward better than any motivational speaker. After paying for another cab ride home, I lay in bed all night, plotting out how best to hurt Cam. I know. It was petty, little, mean, small-minded, and shitty of me. If my mother knew I was being such a rotten person, she would weep. Did I want to make my mother cry? No. But I was in pain. That’s my defense for being a massive bottle of feminine refreshment anyway. After the AM skate I sat in silence beside Cam, removing pads and tape with erratic, aggressive movements. We never spoke a word to each other. I was so intent on ignoring the pretender I never saw Ivan until his big feet were in my line of vision. Cam and I both raised our heads simultaneously.

  "What do you think, Cam? Are you here?" Ivan paused to tap his temple." Are you ready for the start?" I slipped a sneaky look at the legend. His chin was up, his eyes bright.

  "The best way out of a slump is to play through it, right?" Ivan nodded at that reasoning before he walked away. I felt Cameron looking at me. "I wish you would meet me somewhere so we could–"

  I got to my feet, peeled off my leggings then went to the showers. I hoped he enjoyed looking at my ass because that was all he would ever do with it again. The blast of water hit me in the chest. It stung for a moment. How the hell had my life gotten so convoluted in such a short span of time? And the really stupid-ass thing was that I wasn’t in the shitpit quite deep enough, I guess. I then went home to compound the mess even more. This cluster was my own doing. My bruised heart prodded me along, whispering rancid, hurtful things into my ear, until I found myself knocking on the door of Brad’s room, my mind whirling with dark glee at the thought of rubbing this under Cam’s regal nose. Brad was surprised to see me looking so contrite. I was surprised to see him in nothing but a towel knotted around his waist.

  "Look, man, I was in a bad place last night," I mumbled, hand kneading the back of my neck. "I didn’t mean to say that shit to you. I wanted what happened between us to happen. Maybe I was scared of it, you know?"

  Brad leaned a strong shoulder to the doorframe, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "So you’re saying what here, exactly? That you wanted me all along but were afraid to admit it?"

  I nodded. He folded his arms over his chest. The time to act was here so I leaned into him for a soft, searching kiss. It lacked the fire that Cam and I had when tongue slid over tongue, but that didn’t matter. I was done with emotion. All I wanted now was sex I could use as retribution. Somewhere in Jersey my mother was feeling a huge disturbance in the Force. I was just about to slide my hand inside Brad’s towel when my cell phone chirruped in my front pocket. The vibration did pleasant things to my groin. Brad pulled away slowly as I fumbled to tug my phone free. As soon as I saw who it was, the semi-erection I had wilted.

  "It’s my mom." I seriously didn’t know what to do.

  "Let voice mail pick it up." I shook my head. I guess that was it. Brad rolled his eyes then closed his door in my face.

  "Hey Mom," I said as I dragged myself back to my room.

  "Jacobi, did you keep the re
ceipt for the sweater you bought me for Christmas?" I dove onto the bed then rolled to my back.

  "Maybe," I said as I stared at the ceiling.

  "Honey, are you okay?"

  No, Mom, I was not okay. I was so fucking confused that I almost seduced a man I didn’t want in order to stab the man I loved in the heart. I wanted to cry. Or punch someone. Or fuck someone. In lieu of those options…

  "Mom, you got a few minutes?"

  * * * *

  As soon as I walked into the locker room, I could feel the tension. It settled on the skin like August humidity. The team was already anxious. I dressed in silence. My mother had told me quite a lot during our forty-five minute talk. Cam was already geared up. He sat stiffly, lost in the world he entered before a game. My fingers itched to touch him. Mom had imparted lots of wisdom to me, some useful, some just comparative. After the mother/son chat I had spent an hour and a half lying on my bed, hands resting on my stomach, thinking while staring at the newly-painted ceiling.

  "Jacobi." My mother had chided as only a mother can. "Why would you pull away from the man when he needs you most?"

  "He hurt me, Mom."

  "Of course he did. He’s hurting inside too deeply to do anything else. Try offering him your support again. Being mean isn’t like you, son."

  "What if he lies to me again? What if he never comes out?"

  "Do you remember learning to ride a bike?"

  I could not figure out what this had to do with two gay men having relationship problems.