Chapter Two
On their way out, someone yelled goodbye to Rose. Bruce looked up, from the standard medical forms he’d been given to complete, and toward the person he thought to be Rose. He took in a breath and eyed the leggy therapist with the long, caramel-brown hair and full lips. She waved to the person leaving, before she noticed Bruce sitting in the room. Rose was certainly not the ninety-year old he pictured. She looked familiar, and the expression in her eyes said she knew him, he was sure of it. The way her full lips parted, and her sudden stop mid-stride when she saw him, indicated that they may have met. Was she a fan? A friend of an old girlfriend?
“Hey, aren’t you Bruce Hawkins?”
Bruce handed his clipboard of forms to the receptionist before turning toward a middle-aged guy with glasses at the tip of his nose. He thrust his hand into Bruce’s and shook it before Bruce pulled away. “Wow. It’s an honor to meet you. So, why are you here? Did you get hurt or something?”
“Me? No. Why?”
The guy pointed to the cane. “I thought if you had to use that thing, you were hurt. I hope you’ll be okay to start the season.”
“Oh. I’m not hurt. I’m donating this in case they can use it.”
“Nice. Although, it won’t help me. I’m here because I messed up my elbow playing football,” the guy laughed. “Of course, you’d be out for a while if you did that, right? I told my little boy I might take him to see you in a game, but now I can tell him I met you here. Hey, how about a selfie!”
Before Bruce could object, the guy had his phone out and snapped a picture. In his peripheral view, Bruce saw Rose continue to glance his way.
“This’ll be so cool.” The guy was busy texting and sent the photo on its way.
“Um, you didn’t get the entire room in the picture, did you? I mean, I’d hate to have anyone get the wrong idea.”
“No. I took a close up. Hey, I understand. I know big shots like you don’t want everyone knowing your every move. I guess you’d never live this down if everyone thought you got hurt and couldn’t play. Right? Anyway, thanks, man. You’re the best.”
Knowing the guy was satisfied with the excuse given, Bruce watched him walk out the door before slowly hobbling with the cane to sit at an assistant’s desk just inside the therapy room.
“Hi, Bruce. I’m Amy,” the red-headed nurse said. She took out his chart and placed a blood pressure cuff around his arm while she continued. “I’ll take you blood pressure and check your heart rate before assigning you to a physical therapist. Okay?”
“Sure.” Bruce then noted what looked like a heated discussion between Rose and another therapist, before Rose shook her head and placed some paperwork into a file drawer.
“Excuse me, Mr. Hawkins?” A receptionist had appeared with the paperwork he filled in earlier. “You’re missing your phone number right here and you didn’t sign this page.”
Bruce looked over the paperwork again and filled in the information. He handed it back to the receptionist and turned his attention to the nurse. After she finished taking his vitals and filling in the form, Amy looked around the room. “Let’s see who’s available.”
“I need to work with Rose.” The words escaped before he realized what he said. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to work with Rose, but he was drawn to her. Bruce felt like he needed to get to know her better. “I’d like to work with Rose.”
“Hmm. Let’s see. She was here a moment ago. Our offices are down the hall over there.” She pointed toward a small hallway. “It’s possible she’s doing paperwork. Let me find out where she went and if she’s already scheduled to work with someone else.”
Bruce watched Amy walk across the room to talk with one of the therapists. The man shook his head and motioned for yet another therapist to come over. The three huddled like it was fourth down, with seconds to play.
Amy walked over to him with one of the male therapists. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawkins. Rose wasn’t feeling good and had to leave, so I’m assigning you to Jake Miller. He’ll take good care of you.”
She wasn’t feeling well. That’s what they said. He blinked and looked around, not paying attention to what Jake was saying. Did she really leave? Was she avoiding him? Who was she, and why did she look so familiar? “So, when is Rose going to be back?”
“Uh, what? Gee, I don’t really know. You do understand that she went home sick.” Caught off guard with the question, Jake looked at his clipboard and then at Bruce. “We’re all highly qualified and there’s no reason someone else can’t help you. Since you can’t work with Rose, we’ll need to see who’s available. We do need to report back to Mr. Battista.”
“Mr. Battista? You mean, Rick?” Bruce laughed. “No, I’m good. Let’s get this over with so you can report back to Mr. Battista. Oh, and you can call me Bruce. None of this mister crap.” He’d never heard anyone call Rick “mister” before and couldn’t comprehend the formality toward Rick or himself.
It was show time, and Rick would no doubt be keeping close tabs on what Bruce did. ‘Keep your nose clean,’ is what Rick said. That was the easy part. Making sure the media didn’t find out about his injury and twist it into a career killing move was the hard part.
After a couple of hours, Bruce’s knee was sore but he was walking with less of a limp. He figured it would be another day or two before he didn’t have a noticeable limp and decided to leave the cane. Canes may look more stylish, but he was using it as his crutch, one he didn’t want to be spotted with.
“So. Would you like to make an appointment to come back tomorrow? Same time?” Jake asked.
“Will I work with Rose?”
“No. I mean, I guess I can ask her when I see her again, but she might have the day off. And being new on the staff, she might even come in at a different time.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.
“Picking up the appointment schedule, Jake said, “Even if I did schedule you with Rose, it looks like she’s on vacation after tomorrow, so I guess you’re stuck working with me.” Jake placed the binder on his desk. He sat in front of Bruce and rubbed his day old stubble. “You seem to want to work with her in the worst way. Is there something you haven’t told us?”
“Of course not.” So why am I attracted to her? “I just thought I was supposed to work with her, that’s all.”
“Well, you’ve been assigned to me so let’s see how you do.” Jake gathered his paperwork and put it in a file and then handed Bruce several documents. “These are the exercises we worked on today. I’d like you to try a few of these at home tonight and see what you can get through. Starting tomorrow, for a week, I’ll have you work your knee just a little more each time you come in. Then I think you’ll only need to come here every other day, if that. We’ll have you take it slow at first before increasing the number of exercises until your knee’s better. You’re in good shape, so the stronger we can make it now, the faster you’ll recover.”
Bruce looked at the papers and wondered if he could get away with not doing the exercises. “Maybe I’ll hit the gym to build up my strength faster.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jake said. “You’re doing fine now, but you don’t want to overdo it. You might even feel some discomfort later tonight or tomorrow. Start with the exercises and see how it goes, but stop if you feel it’s strained, and continue using the knee brace your doctor gave you. I’ll need to give my report to Mr. Battista—I mean—Rick, and we’ll talk about when you should start back at the gym.”
“Sure.” Bruce didn’t like being babysat, but he knew Rick would eventually need to talk with the team doctor, who would then discuss his future with Coach Carter. Their decision would be sent to the president of the Miami Thunder, Ian Dare. Any misstep at this point could kill his career. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
By the time he left the facility, it was late. Bruce looked at his watch and blew out a breath. Stretching his leg, he felt a little better, especially having abandoned his cane at the therapist’s office. He played hard, on and off the field, and decided to head where many other players went.
Paradise, the BDSM club, where members go to relax and have their own personal brand of fun.
After getting his usual whisky neat, and taking a seat in a corner, Bruce scanned the darkened room ignoring the sounds of sexual play. With the clubs one drink maximum, since consensual sex and alcohol wasn’t a good mix, he figured he’d nurse his glass and wait.
For her.
Although Bruce was getting to know when she came into the club the few times each month, he sometimes miscalculated and ended up without a playmate for the evening because he refused to settle for anyone else. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. Having arrived earlier than usual, he didn’t have to wait long. He wasn’t the only one who noticed her as soon as she stepped inside. She had a sex appeal about her that could make a football player drop a perfectly thrown pass. Her hand slid along the smooth grain of the bar and her fingers clasped the stem of a martini glass as easily as it had clasped his cock. He smiled and hardened at the memory.
When she spotted him across the room, she signed a greeting and he held up his glass as a salute. Different from the other women who were members, she had given him a slip of paper when he wanted to negotiate a scene. She wrote that she couldn’t talk. He knew she could hear since she shrugged when he had told her he couldn’t sign. With a sensual smile, her soft, delicate hands embraced his, and then she positioned his fingers and slowly showed him his first sign. There were no illusions, she wrote “I like you” on the paper and then showed him the sign again. It was one of several he’d learned this way and since their first encounter, he was hooked. He only wanted her.
Their relationship was unique in that they’d agreed not to share their real names. However, since he was a rising football star, she’d already known who he was, so she told him his name would be Hawk. She called herself Grace. She had also written that she liked to wear wigs. What was she hiding? Or hiding from?
The clink of her glass to his brought his attention back from his daydream and to where she stood in front of him. Bruce took in her long, deep Egyptian-blue lace dress that accentuated her curves. He remembered telling her that this was his favorite dress. It was one of several that had a slit up one side, from her ankle all the way to her thigh. She dipped one finger into her drink and brought it to his lips.
“Mmm.” Pear martini. Her usual. He sucked on her finger and then took one more into his mouth before releasing them. He stood and cupped the back of her neck, brought her against him, and kissed her hard on the lips. Their tongues intertwined and their bodies molded together in their customary greeting. His hand drifted down her back and he squeezed her firm ass before releasing her.
Something wasn’t right. He noticed how stiff her body became and when he opened his eyes, hers were open and focused beyond him. “Grace? Is everything alright?” His question brought her attention back to him and she nodded, although he wasn’t convinced. He looked around to see if he could determine what might be bothering her. A familiar laugh carried over the hum of noise in the area. A long haired blonde turned slightly, and he noticed Allison Edwards sitting along a bank of draped windows across the way. As a top rate sports commentator, Allison made it her mission to tell everyone what she thought. He’d need to make sure she didn’t find out about his off season activities. Her opinion was taken seriously and one wrong statement now could break him. No, he was sure it wasn’t Allison that made Grace uneasy since they’d never met. A man speaking with Allison looked familiar. Was that Jake? Bruce couldn’t be sure, and in the dim light, he had second thoughts as to whether or not that really was Allison, but not being able to determine who it was, he refocused on Grace.
“Shall we?” Bruce motioned to the seat next to him, nearest the wall. She sat and once comfortable, patted the seat next to her for him to take. It was part of the game they enjoyed. He looked into her sultry green eyes, ran his hand slowly along the slit of her dress until he reached the inside of her thigh. The flowing fabric was enough to hide where his hand went, and her eyes closed in what he knew was ecstasy as his fingers grasped the lace of her panties. The swell of his erection strained against his zipper and he nipped the top of her shoulder tasting the saltiness of her skin.
The heat between them was like a hurricane on steroids until she suddenly broke their embrace. She placed her hand on his to stop his advance and then pushed a slip of folded paper his way. Reluctantly he removed his hands from under her dress. “What’s this?” He raised his eyebrow when he looked at the top of the paper and read “Give me twenty minutes before opening.”
She rose from her seat, snatched her purse and then placed her lips on his. He took her mouth hungrily and thrust his tongue inside. For a second time, she broke their embrace and he was puzzled. When she placed her hand on his cheek, he wished he’d shaven instead of leaving the rough shadow that built on his face. He watched her saunter toward the door, her hips moving with that sexy sway he enjoyed. She turned and looked once more in his direction before she exited.
This was new to him, and he wasn’t sure what to make of the change. Was it possible that she was trying something different? They always discussed in advance any variations to their routine; she would write a scene and he’d either agree or tell her about his own plan and they’d negotiate from there. Is this what she thought their agreements were? Routine?
Did she need a change in plans? A change in how they handled their scenes?
Twenty minutes was written at the top of the paper. He pushed it away from him, impatient, as though the note didn’t exist. He looked at his watch and then eyed the paper again and wondered why she said twenty minutes. Although they usually ended up at his place after negotiating an act, there were only a couple of times they went back to her place. It normally took, at most, ten minutes to get to her apartment on the edge of Central Park, if that was really where she lived. Certainly he could trust her, couldn’t he? Five minutes had passed when he looked at his watch again. The suspense was getting to him. Frustrated, he downed the rest of his drink and pushed aside his glass.
A hand caught the glass before it hit the floor. “What’s the problem? Did your lover skip out on you?” the familiar female voice asked.
Surprised he’d been watched, Bruce stood, and swung around and came face to face with Crystal. A club member who had a preference for bondage games. She had tried to negotiate a scene with him once but he turned her down because he didn’t want her. He only wanted one partner.
Grace.
“No. I’m fine. We’re meeting later.”
“And yet, here you sit. All alone.” Before he realized what she did, Crystal grabbed the piece of paper and smiled when she read it. Her tongue slid over her lips and she took a step closer and brushed back her long black curls that hung in front of her chest. She unbuttoned the top button of her tight red corset and moaned, and then she leaned toward him so he had a close view of her ample breasts. “I can hardly breathe in this thing,” she said, licking her lips once more. “You know, I have a brand new video camera I’m just dying to try out. Maybe we can go somewhere and take a look at it together. You can film me. I can film you. We can film us.”
“I already told you. I’m meeting someone shortly.” He moved her hand off his chest when she tried to unbutton his top button, and then he rubbed his knee as it started to throb. With his free hand, he pointed to the note. “Now, if you’d give me that before I—”
“She doesn’t want to play with you anymore,” Crystal interrupted. The bitterness hung off her tongue. She placed the paper on the table, face up, open in front of him, and then dipped her middle finger into the spilled martini on the table and rubbed her finger in the v of her breasts. “My guess is that she’s moved on. And so should you.”
As though someone sucked the air out of the room, he looked down at the paper where the words hit him hard. There they were, “While it was fun, I’m leaving and don’t want to be contacted. Grace.” He read it over and over. It was like fumbling in the end zone and losing a championship game. Bruce’s head spun and he picked up the note and shoved it into his pocket. Twenty minutes. Grace needed a head start so he wouldn’t go after her. “You had no right.”
“I’m a lady who just wants to help someone through a difficult time.” Crystal smiled, and then brushed her hand across the top lace of her corset that barely covered her nipples when she leaned against him. “I’ll be here when you come to your senses. Remember, I have that new camera.”
Bruce looked down at her breasts firmly against his chest. Then he looked up and met her eyes, his gaze narrowed, and anger filled his voice. “You’re no lady.” Then he pushed past her out the door.