I needed to get laid. I was on a mission tonight.
Some might say I have been on a lot of missions lately: I had just hooked up with a girl last night, who had been super into me. After it was done, she asked me for my autograph, and I thought, if that’s all she wants after that blowjob she just gave me, that’s a pretty good deal for me.
But tonight, I was on the prowl yet again. And I didn’t think anyone could blame me. I hadn’t had an easy time of it lately, so I’d needed the release. I’d needed to find a random stranger to lose myself in for a little bit. Tonight, I need one bad. I just wasn’t sure I’d find one here.
Batting Cage Sports Bar was exactly the kind of place I didn’t think any of the Florida Sharks football players would go for a night out. It wasn’t the nicest place I’ve been to—although the vibe was great and the alcohol was cheap—but Hanson and Brian insisted on going there.
I didn’t really get a say though. Since I’d been traded from the San Antonio Bullriders back to the Sharks, I hadn’t been around the local nightclub scene much and didn’t know where else to suggest. So, Batting Cage it was.
The place was overwhelmingly drab brown in color, with wooden tables and chairs with leather patent leather seats, raw brick walls, and television screens all around to watch whatever games were showing. Neon lights in the roof above the bar gave it a very distinct feel.
But to my surprise, as soon as I sat down with the boys and we each had a beer in front of us, I began to feel glad that we had come to Batting Cage. We were among the public, the guys who came to watch our games, not the guys playing with or against us, and it made me feel normal for a change.
God knew it had been a long time since I’d felt normal.
I sipped my beer, slowly. We couldn’t get too drunk—we had training every day during the training season, and I had it worse than the others. I had been suspended for a full season, and my fitness wasn’t what it should have been. Getting suspended for your personal life becoming a public debacle makes you fucking despondent, which was exactly what I was.
I had come to Miami hoping everything would be different. I had a bad name after I had assaulted another player during a game—what would you do if the other player told you he’d fucked your girlfriend?—and I’d been benched for the whole season. When it came time to get back into the game again, it had been easier for management to trade me off.
Did I feel betrayed, rejected, replaced?
Yes.
But I got to come home. I had grown up just outside Miami. I’d studied at the University of Miami and played ball for them before the Bullriders had scouted me.
Being back in Miami was supposed to feel better than it did, though. Instead of feeling like I was home again, I felt like an outsider, rejected by the team I was supposed to play with, shunned by all the football fans and without any friends left in the city after I’d been away for so long, and after everyone had branded me as a pariah for my past sins.
I guess they expected me to come crawling back with my tail between my legs. But I wasn’t the crawling or begging type. I was more of the fist-pounding, “I am a successful football player, hear me roar” type.
My stance had always been that my new team mates could take me—flaws and all—or leave me. So far, it seemed they had mostly chosen to leave me. Still, there was time for them to see the light.
It was only training season. They had time to get to know me and love me before the real season started. Since people have told me I have a strange fucking charm about me, so I was sure that my teammates would see it too. Not to mention that they’d see how I play on the field, which is like a total fucking legend.
I looked at Brian and Hanson bantering back and forth over their beer. They were tight, and it was easy to tell. They two of them were the most well known duo on the team. The players all had friends, but I got the idea these two were really close outside of football as well. The kind of players that got together with their respective partners and had barbeques on weekends. Hanson was always talking about how much his wife Lacey loved Brian’s fiancée, Sadie.
Although Brian and Hanson were good friends and seemed nice enough to me compared to other guys on the team, I wasn’t sure I could trust them. They’d invited me out, which was cool, but I still didn’t know where I stood with them. I didn’t know where I stood with any of them, and even sitting here, I didn’t feel like I was part of their team, part of their little party, part of anything at all.
But I knew that if I was going to have any success—not to mention fun— continuing to play pro football, I’d have to make Brian, Hanson, and the whole team like me. And I had a feeling I could do it, too.
“What do you think of the team so far?” Brian asked me.
He was a running back and one of the star players of the team. Hanson was the quarterback.
I nodded, taking a sip of my beer to give me a chance to think about it. I didn’t want to say something terrible to two of the most dedicated players on the team, but the truth was I didn’t feel like I fit in yet, and that made me uncomfortable.
“It’s a great team, of course, and I’m so honored to be part of a team with statistics as good as the Sharks.”
Hanson chuckled. “That’s a very diplomatic answer,” he said. “You having any trouble with the players on the team?”
I shrugged. He’d seen right through me.
“Not in particular,” I told him, truthfully. “But in general, well, I sense that no one much likes me, which is understandable at this point. I just need some time. To show everyone who I am and what I can do.”
Hanson and Brian both nodded back at me.
“I can tell you now,” Hanson said, “when your image takes a dip, the team turns away from you. It’s very hypocritical because we’ve all had bad press at one point or another, but it’s how it is. You just keep on keeping on, and you’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“Yeah,” Brian added. “We’ve both had issues, and they were both about women. You’re lucky it’s not as complicated for you.”
I took another sip of my beer and only nodded instead of answering. I didn’t want them to know the full story, that all the drama with the assault charge and the terrible violence on the field—something I’d done because I’d been defending my girlfriend at the time—had been grounded in the truth. She had fucked someone else while we were dating. And it had been that player.
He hadn’t only gotten into my head, he’d gotten into Marisa’s pants as well.
Go fucking figure.
“Lacey was here to straighten me out,” Hanson said. “And the more she tried to fix me, the more trouble I got into. At some point, I thought I was going to lose everything because of women.”
Brian nodded. “And now, they’re married, and they have a little boy together. It will turn around, trust me.”
I smiled at them. “Thanks, guys.”
I had to be polite, but I didn’t like talking about the women in their life. I knew, in general, what their scandals had been about. I’d read about that in the tabloids, just like everyone else.
But I didn’t like talking about women. I had lost Marisa, not because I was a dick but because she had decided to find someone else’s. Not only had that resulted in my heart being ripped to shreds, but my image had been fucked and my career had been dented so badly, I didn’t know how much was left to save.
I was happy that the guys were happy, obviously. Everyone deserves to be happy in love. But I wasn’t that guy. All I wanted was to fuck and be done with it.
Speaking of which, I spotted a hottie at the bar. She kept glancing my direction. She had long, blond hair—impossibly long—and her eyes were a fresh green. I could imagine what it would feel like to have that hair fan all over my chest while she rode my cock, or to see those green eyes look up at me with her lips around it.
She was curvy as hell—just like I like them—and I continued my fantasy, thinking about grabbing her hips and watching her ass bump up and down on my lap while I fucked her pussy until she was calling out my name. I was thinking the dirtiest thoughts about her that I possibly could. I was straight up objectifying her. But judging by the skirt she was wearing—something so short it could be a belt—and a top that showed more than enough cleavage, I was guessing she wasn’t exactly trying to win someone over with her personality.
I couldn’t help but think she looked familiar. Where did I know her from? I figured she might be a rabid fan, following the team around to see where we hung out off hours. All the better, then. She’d be down to fuck.
“Excuse me, guys,” I said. “I’m going to the bar.”
Brian glanced at me and nodded. Hanson glanced over his shoulder and grinned. I’m glad they weren’t going to judge me. Now that they had both settled down, the only field they played was the football one. But I had an ocean full of fishes to catch.
The girls in Miami were fine as hell—some of the cutest I’d seen anywhere—so I planned to continue catching and releasing them for the rest of my life, and not get tied down like Brian and Hanson did. I had had my shot at love, and hated myself for taking it, since it wasn’t worth the risk. I didn’t plan to make that mistake again, that was for sure.
All I planned to do when it came to women was fuck them and forget them. And next up was this hottie who was ripe for the taking and sending me all the right signals.
Hopefully she wouldn’t be too clingy afterwards. I fucking hated that. I just wanted to rip her clothes off, have my way with her, and never see her again.
That was my standard MO, and I was about to implement it. Just like I was about to fuck this hot chick until she was weak in her knees, which I couldn’t help but notice were just as cute as the rest of her.