He lands on the ground.
Three seconds are up and I see the wide receiver running with his hands out. I pull my arm back, take note of his trajectory and let the ball fucking fly.
The football shoots out and over the heads of the everyone on the field. It sails and for one second there’s peace.
Until it lands in the arms of my receiver.
He’s so fucking far down the field that in a
nother five seconds he prances to the end zone.
I look over at Marvin, the defensive tackle that’s going to try to redeem himself. It’s time to make sure he realizes who the fucking boss is.
“Oh yeah, Marvin,” I say to him as my breath comes out in ragged gasps. “I fucked your wife.”
He looks at me like I could do better in the insult game. But I’m not done.
“Like literally man, you were on the road and we had a Thursday game, and I came over and fucked your wife.”
His nostrils flare like a bull and he snorts.
“Careful what you do amigo, you don't want to get fucking ejected,” I say to him as I start getting ready to run to the side-line. “And just in case you don’t believe me, that poplar tree outside your house could use some pruning.”
Boom. His fucking face falls. He knows he can’t touch me on the field. And he must know that if he even tried I’d knock him back down to Division III football I’d hit him so fucking hard. All he can do is go back to his side
By the end of the first quarter we’re up 28 to 7. By halftime, we’ve got this shit locked down. The Donkeys didn’t score. By the end of the game, I’ve taken this team to a 35 -14 win over the Denver Donkeys.
I throw my head back in adrenaline.
Lights. Camera. Flash.
Glory.
Football.
This is what I fucking live for.
* * *
“Fantastic team effort, everyone!” Coach Karl says to everyone in the locker room. I don’t mind. We fucking won. Not just won, we destroyed the Donkeys. In a fashion that they’re not likely to forget.
“Game ball,” the Coach says, and people quiet down. This is where the team pays homage to the one person who displayed more talent, skill, and fucking heart than everyone else. Without who we wouldn’t be celebrating. Everyone looks to see who the coach is going to name but I already know. “Game ball goes to…”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish because that’s the exact moment when Julianna comes in.
“I’ll take that, Karl,” she says, walking into the locker room without batting an eye. It’s over a hundred fucking men. Large, sweaty, muscled men in various stages of undress. And she’s a fucking smoking hot single woman with a fucking tight black dress on that’s showing off her legs, tits, and ass.
Coach Karl stumbles a bit, not used to the owner, or even a woman come in and upend him. You can tell by his demeanor that he’s not used to taking orders from a woman. For a second, I wonder if they’re gonna replay the same shit that happened when she took over practice. But he retreats graciously this time, giving up the one accolade he allows himself to give his players each fucking game to Julianna.
I feel kind of bad for the dude as he as he steps aside and hands her the ball. A bunch of the guys fucking clap and give her dog whistles as she enters the huddle. She smiles like she’s fucking enjoying it.
Fuck. Any other woman with a sex tape out there in the world would be curled up in bed hiding from the world. Julianna seems to not even care.
“I see you’ve seen my handiwork, huh?” she says with a grin.
Fuck me, my cock twitches at her fucking words. She doesn’t care. She laughs and the guys laugh along with her, cheering and hollering. She’s basically one of them - except with a fucking hot body.
“Game ball,” she said, twirling the football with the skill of a professional, “I think is pretty fair to say it goes to the one and only Colt Stackford!”