“That’s right baby,” I moan loudly. “Work it, girl.”

My buddy Landon “Brickwall” Karagon, a guard on the team, is standing off to the side, drinking out of a bottle of champagne. He’s as mean as sin and tougher than nails, and he just won the fucking game of the century. “When’re you going to be done with her, bro? Time’s up,” he says, taking another swig. He sets the bottle in a bucket of ice and sighs.

“Alright,” I laugh, spanking the stripper’s ass. She bounces those juicy cheeks right into my face and I nearly take a bite. “Damn. Just as I was starting to having fun, too.”

“It’s only an extra 500 to stay the whole night,” she reminds me, winking and pressing her tits together. She slides off my lap and waits for Landon to saddle up.

We’re pretty drunk at this point in the day and it’s only fucking noon. I’m actually thinking about spending the extra 500, though I’ve already spent all I need on the sports car and four-story mansion after I got signed. My accountant keeps saying I need to think about my future. I keep telling him he needs to relax a little. I think we all know who’s right in the situation.

I kill off the bottle of champagne as this woman takes off her thong and shoves it into Landon’s face. I laugh and head into the kitchen for some orange juice.

“Damn,” I sigh. I’m feeling that feeling again. It’s the feeling of disappointment. I’ve made it to the fucking pros. I’ve won all those college championship games. The only thing left is the damn Super Bowl, but even that seems like a waste of time. The only reason I’m here right now is my hunger to get to the top, my hunger to be the best there is.

Still, I keep thinking to myself, what happens when I get there? I buy more shit, buy more women and champagne, and celebrate too fucking hard. Then, I break a leg or something stupid and I retire in the Hamptons somewhere and work in team management. It doesn’t sound that great, if I’m being honest with myself. It sounds… boring.

That’s when the doorbell rings. “God damn.” I sigh even louder this time. My shirt is off and I’m freeballin’ it underneath these basketball shorts. My eyes are heavy and red and I’m most likely looking like a total wreck. Still, I answer the door, knowing there’s going to be bad news behind it, and there she is.

She’s standing right in front of me, waiting for an explanation. “Uhh…” I mumble to myself, opening my eyes semi-rapidly. “Shit.”

I clear my throat and turn around. “Turn the damn music off,” I yell back at Landon and Misty, that hot little number gyrating on his lap. “And get the fuck out of here. I have unexpected business to take care of.”

Misty grabs her things in a hurry and runs out. “Asshole,” she whispers.

“Whatever,” I mutter under my breath. When she’s out on lawn, half-naked still, I yell after her. “If I wake up to any extra charges or fees, I’ll never fucking hire you again!”

“Um, can I come in?” she asks. It’s Fiona. The girl from high school. The one girl I mistakenly professed my love to. You know, the one who I was going to settle down with. I feel like I just got punched in the gut. I fall back, almost literally. I have to close my eyes and catch my breath. It’s like a thousand bricks have fallen from the sky and landed directly on top of me.

The guilt weighs on me like nothing else. Back then, before I left her, I was sure I would end up as a janitor somewhere. And then I won all those championship games. And it all clicked in my head. I could be the most famous man in the world.

I left her and never looked back.

“Yeah, sure,” I mutter. “Come in. Uh, I didn’t expect anyone today, sorry about all of this.”

She walks inside, stepping over a broken beer bottle and some underwear. They’re not mine. Maybe they’re Misty’s. Who the hell knows anymore?

She sighs lightly and makes her way to my living room. “I would’ve cleaned up had I known,” I explain. She keeps on ignoring me, something I’ve always disliked about her, but maybe it’s because we’re both too shocked to know how to act. Fuck, I feel like a boy again. This isn’t good.

She’s wearing this short, black shirt and it hugs around her thick thighs perfectly. I’m used to dealing with these skin and bones women and that works just fine. But when I see a woman who knows how to carry her body with confidence and sexiness, it always gets my blood pumping. Especially this woman.

I glance at her tits and though she’s wearing a modest skirt suit, they’re begging to be held by me. Shit, I’m not in the right state of mind for all this. I can’t be trusted.

“I would’ve thought Joseph or your manager would have warned you,” she says. “So, I guess we’ll just get the basics out of the way. I’m Fiona Breckinridge, your new Public Relations manager. Yes, we went to high school. Yes, we dated. It’s not a big deal. We don’t have to let it ruin a good season together.”

She purses her lips and I sigh. This is already too heavy for me. “I—” She cuts me off.

“No need to explain yourself,” she says, quite methodically, like she’s been rehearsing lines for days. “Look, here’s the deal. I just came from Los Angeles. I was used to living on the coast. In fact, I loved it out there so much that I bought a house. However, things don’t always go as planned. The Oregon Black Wings hired you on the team and now they need me to make you look good.”

“I—” Again, she cuts me off, holding her hand in the air and taking a deep breath. Come on, woman. I don’t give a shit.

“Let me finish,” she sighs. “I’m used to professionalism. I’m used to working with the best players in the league. They say that you were good. Well, I need you to prove that to me and the world around us. I’m not going to lose my job just because they assigned me to a loose cannon.” She sits back in a chair, making herself right at home, and waits for me to speak. Landon sits, dazed in the corner of the room. I can already tell he’s bored with this. I am too.

Loose cannon? Who does she think she is? Fucking Obama’s PR agent? “Look, honey,” I smile, looking smug as all hell. “This isn’t your first rodeo. I get it. It ain’t mine either. But you need to get a few things straight before we start working together. First, you’re my PR manager. Not my fucking mother. You do your job and make me look good. That’s it. Second…” I try to think of a second point I want to make, but nothing comes to mind. “Second, just leave me alone.”

“I—” This time, I cut her off.

“I’ve been hailed as the best player in the league right now because it’s the truth. I am the best. I will be the best. I won’t go home without winning. On the off chance that one of my teammates fucks up a play, I will go and train ten thousand times harder than the rest and I’ll come back on the field the next weekend and drive it on home. I’m not finishing my career without a plaque in the hall of fame. Got it?”

“I—”

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me. I have some important things to take care of,” I say. I glance over at Landon who nods and opens another bottle of champagne. He turns the stereo surround sound on again and I lean back in my $3,000 Italian leather chair. I smile and I know I’ve gotten to her.

Still, I can’t stop staring at the stockings gripping her tight flesh, her creamy legs. The way they disappear underneath the trim of her skirt drives me crazy. So many thoughts come to mind. What I’d do to her, what she’d do to me. I imagine her crawling toward me on her knees, mouth wide open and ready for me.

I have to literally shake myself out of it. After all, she was my high school fling and the only girl I ever thought I loved. As it turns out for some men, you end up falling in love with the game more.

“Fuck this,” she mutters under her breath. She makes sure to cover the opening of her skirt as she picks herself up from the chair, walking modestly to the door. It’s clear she knows what I want, but she’s not going to give it up that easy, if at all.

She turns around, before opening the door at the front of the house. “We’ve established an understanding,” she says. “You’re a douchebag.”

“Great,” I laugh. “It hardly affects me.”

She opens the door and walks out into my yard, leaving the door open. Fuck.

“You know, it actually will affect you if you keep up this act. It’s worked out well enough for you up until now, but I’ve dealt with a lot of players in my lifetime. There’s one thing I’ve discovered. Winning power gets to a man. And if he’s not strong enough, it almost always breaks him. I’m looking forward to you winning these games for your team, but if you fail, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Wow,” I laugh. Fiona’s become one cold bitch. I smile and glance at Landon, who’s doing the same. “I think I like her,” I tell him.