I feel awful for Brett—and guilty. This art show was political commentary; I knew Clarissa was getting up on a soapbox. I didn’t give him fair warning about what Clarissa had been trying to convey. I should have explained the situation better before we went. I’m shocked he isn’t annoyed or angry with me. But then again, I think the part he hated the most—other than being a pawn to make a political point—was Jimmy Schnell. God that guy is creepy.

I walked down a long corridor, before reaching the bathroom. As I walk in, I hear a voice talking on a phone. It sounds familiar, but I think nothing of it, and head into one of the stalls. As I do my business I can hear the voice say, “Oh yeah, she’s here. She was arm-in-arm with him. I’m telling you that whole cock shot business was planned by the two of them. I’m going to talk to Mike. I don’t care if I have to bribe the guy. I’m going to get to the bottom of this and expose that bitch for who she really is.”

Jade Stolt. I’ve tolerated her trying to sabotage my career for a few years now. it wasn’t some elaborate plan to keep my name in the headlines. Mike was foolish to turn that camera. Ugh. The mess that guy has gotten Brett and I in. Why the hell isn’t he answering to everyone?

Jade leaves her stall, and I hear her say goodbye to whomever she’s talking to. Time to remind this girl who’s boss. I quickly finish up and head out of the stall. Jade turns, noticing my presence. Her usual smug expression has been wiped off her face. Her skin turns pale, “Uh, hi, Lexi.”

“Hi, Jade.” I smile widely. “Trying your damnedest to see that my career finally gets put on hiatus?”

She turns and primps herself in the mirror, “You can’t tell me you haven’t screwed a guy or two, Lexi. You can’t tell me you didn’t try to seduce Steve or anyone else at the network. You knocked someone off the totem pole to get to where you are today.” She pulls out some lipstick from her bag and begins to apply it.

“I didn’t do favors for anyone, Jade.” My eyes narrow. “I didn’t blackmail anyone, and I sure as hell didn’t sabotage anyone’s career.” I walk up to the sink and begin to pretend to examine my face and makeup.

She gives me an evil grin, “We all have different ways of achieving our goals.”

“We do. Other than trying to prove that Brett and I pulled a huge publicity stunt, what else are you trying? Whatever it is, it won’t last. I’ve got a huge following, you know that.” I turn slightly so my phone records her answer.

“It’s not what I’m going to do—it’s what I’ve already done. Steve and the network are going to give me Super Bowl this year. She gives me her I’ve-fucked-you-over smile.

“That’s what you think. The network won’t go for it in the end, even if Steve pushes it. They’ll want the best in show that night. They’ll want me.”

“Oh, well, I took care of that,” Jade says, with an air of confidence. “I had to bend over and drop down to my knees a few times this past week, but I’ve made damn sure that Super Bowl is mine, Lexi.”

“Lovely. You’ve made yourself into a one-woman brothel. Who did you give favors to?”

She twists her lipstick back down and snaps on the cap, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Well, let me guess,” I say in a callous tone. “You must have given one to old man Reever. He does own the brand.”

She titters, “Didn’t take him long … literally once down once up, so I didn’t have to bend over for him.”

I purse my lips, this is repulsive. Reever is seventy. Gross. I continue, “You must have had to do a favor for his son, too?”

“George? Yeah, but he lasted longer and demanded more.”

As much as I can’t stand Jade, there’s a part of me that feels for her; the thought of this girl lowering herself to this level, so she can interview some hotshots on Super Bowl is sad.

“And Steve, of course?” I shake my head.

“Last, but certainly not least.” She tosses her lipstick in her bag. “But I’ve been with him enough times. I know what makes him happy.”

I should be angry, but I feel sorry for Jade. She isn’t intelligent enough to be more resourceful. “Jade, do you want to know how I got the following I did?”

“Oh, fuck off, Lexi. I don’t need to hear the bullshit lecture you’re about to give me. I am not buying.”

“Don’t be the community garden, Jade,” I say.

“The community garden?” She crinkles her nose.

“You know, the one everybody has planted a seed in?”

“Not cool, Lexi.”

“Neither is selling yourself to get ahead in life. I—”

“Cut the crap,” she interrupts “I know you did this type of shit, too. Steve told me. There is no other way. I’ve tried everything else.”

“So, you’re fine with shoving a few cocks down your throat?” I ask, repulsed. “Since pulling this stunt, have they given you the games and interviews you want?” I note a frown on her face. “Jade, if they were going to give you the big interviews for Super Bowl, you’d be getting the interviews you want now, too.”

Jade’s eyes well up. “Shut up!” she says, storming off.

I sigh. Jade is going to learn the hard way. I dry my hand with a paper towel before leaving the washroom. I walk down the long corridor and find Brett waiting. “Why aren’t you outside?” I ask.

“There are so many people at the entrance,” he says, exasperated. “I was trying to get through the crowd, but I kept having a bunch of people asking for autographs and if I came to see my dick pic.”

“Ew. What did you say?”

“Nothing, I didn’t get anywhere near the entrance, so I figured we could hide out somewhere in the gallery while we wait for the crowds to leave.”

I give him a look, “Is it that, or did you want a few words with Clarissa?”

“No, it’s that,” he says insistently. “I doubt she would have an ear for my opinions anyway.”

“I think she would. I’ll stick around.”

“It’s all right, Driver. In a couple of weeks, I’m sure this will all be forgotten.”

Despite his desire to act as though it never happened, I persist. “I’m saying if you feel the need to explain to her how she exploited your vulnerable moment, Brett, feel free. She did an art piece on your nether regions, she can’t expect that you would be okay with that.”

“Nah. That would be too awkward. She would probably say I was being whiny.”

“But isn’t that exactly what so many men say of women who call out sexual harassment?” I ask. “If she tells you you’re whiny you could remind her of that. It would be hypocritical of a feminist to call you whiny.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Let’s take a walk, talk about other things.”

“Fine. How long do you think we’ll be locked up in this cold, industrial looking place? I never bothered to ask Clarissa when the show ended.”

“No idea.” We turn down another corridor, the noise of the crowd fading. “Let’s see if we can find some place, or another exit.”

We head down several corridors, but don’t find an exit. Eventually we enter a large room with a chandelier dropping from the ceiling and a circular booth beneath it. “Looks like a meeting room.”

“Yeah, this must be the place where they make backroom deals to slap a bunch of pornography on the wall and rename it ‘art,’” he says, joking.

I snicker, “Probably. But it looks to be the only cozy place in the building.”

We take a seat in the leather booth. He takes out his phone.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those people that starts texting in the middle of a conversation during a date.” I glance at his phone.

“Hey.” He guffaws, “I’m not an asshole. I’m checking to see if Hal has contacted me. Now that I’m going to be playing the rest of the season, he’s hoping to get some promotional work for me.”

“That’s great. Has there been any bites?”

“Not yet, Beckham and musicians seems to get all the underwear ads.”

I laugh, “Yeah, but you look a lot like David Beckham. Charge a little less and they might come after you.”

He rakes a hand through his blond hair, “Nah, need to marry a musician or a model, work a little harder on the field,” he says drily. “Then I can charge a pretty penny. Hal can’t get me a job for more than a couple thousand, I imagine.”

“Hey, a couple thousand is what the average American works for every month. I wouldn’t look down on making that in a day.”

There’s a long pause and as we sit in silence. I realize that other than snooping on his phone the other night and hearing a bit about his time in Japan, I don’t know that much about Brett. “How did you decide to get into football anyway?”

“Wasn’t really a decision I made.” He shrugs. “My mother put me in football when I was younger for a recreational thing to do. She always said I had too much energy and needed more outlets. But she wasn’t one of those parents that sat on the sidelines demanding perfection.”

“How long did it take you before you thought you were going to be a professional?”

He sits for a moment in thought. “Everyone encouraged me to be. They thought I was great. It was the next logical step. Everyone expected it.”

This makes me think. I mean, every man dreams of playing sports professionally, but Brett talks of it as if he fell into it. “If you would choose to be some other profession, what do you think it would be?”

“I’ve never given it much thought. Football was there and I took the opportunity, but if I didn’t have the talent, I’d probably start my own business. Truth is, all the constant demands from coaches and fans is daunting. I don’t enjoy working for someone else. What about you? Why did you decide to be a sport journalist?”

I look down to my red heels, embarrassed about what I’m about to say. “I walked in the boys’ locker room one day in high school. Wanted to make a trip back in.”

He howls, “Ah, that’s why I always got the feeling you were sneaking peeks.”

“Blew my mind to learn there was a job that would pay me to go to the locker room after a game.”

His eyes flash, “Do you enjoy sports?”

“I don’t mind sports. But there’s a lot of things I don’t understand about it. I mean, sport fanatics scare the crap out of me.”

“Me, too.” He chuckles.

“Well, at least you don’t have to interview them. The nuts that paint their hairy, sweaty pot bellies are odd. I’d rather go to a Star Wars convention or a Harry Potter showing than interview those weirdos.”

“Yeah, I never understood that one either,” he admits. “I mean it’s great that they love a team, but it’s a little much and it freaks me out. No one wants to see that. It’s like scanning through a bunch of ‘people of Wal-Mart’ pics on the Internet.”

I giggle, “Except when you’re viewing the people in the Wal-Mart pics you feel relatively safe. I feel for any fans sitting next to those kinds of guys. Nobody should buy a ticket to see that action happening right next to them.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “If it were me, I’d be asking for a refund.”

There’s another long pause, before I start asking the big questions that have been boggling my mind. “I never hear much about you, though,” I say, “a lot of the other players, you hear what’s going on in their private lives through the network and other players. Why is that? Information about you seems to be scarce.”

“I think rumors start when a player goes out and parties a lot after games. It’s a slippery slope. On the one hand, being the starting quarterback, I need to bond with the guys, on the other, I should be careful going out. If I bring a girl with me, the media will quickly find out from sources that we’re at the club.”

“Ah.” I wag my finger, thinking of Izzy. “That’s what I mean. You’ve been in pro football for a few years. So, there must have been some relationships. But I haven’t heard anything. How have you been able to keep your relationships a secret?”

He shifts uncomfortably in the bench. “I don’t know if I should be telling a media persona about how I’ve managed to keep my life private.”

“Come on, Brett. I’m curious. I’m not going to out you,” I say earnestly. “I want to know how you’ve managed this. You don’t need to tell me who you’ve hooked up with.”

He furrows his brow, “Isn’t it obvious?” he asks. “Think about our date tonight.”

He’s right; it’s screaming in my face. “Right. We’ve gone to exclusive or low-key places. Not clubs or sports bars.”

“If I were to spend lots of nights in places like that, I’m sure other reporters would have written about me. I would be in more than the sports section.”

“So, exclusive places only?”

“And places where sports fans aren’t likely to attend. I was surprised that people recognized me at the art show tonight,” he says uncomfortably.

“That was strange. Jade Stolt was here tonight, too. I’d never peg Jade for the type to go to an art show.”

“That is odd,” he agrees. “She strikes me as a jersey-chaser.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Tonight, when I went to the washroom, I overheard her telling someone on the phone that she was going to somehow prove that you and I were both in on that whole cockgate thing, like it was a publicity stunt. Then she confessed to me that she gave head to the president of the network, and did some sexual favors for a few others.”

“Yuck. Why?”

“She wants to do the big interviews for Super Bowl this year.”

A repulsed look comes over his face. But then he pauses, “I hate saying this, Driver, but isn’t that what a lot of you girls do?”

“I, for one, didn’t do that,” I say, offended. “I gained a following using WeTweet and a couple of other tactics. I wasn’t going to suck someone’s cock to get the job.”

“Hm. So how do your parents feel about your work then?” he asks.

I pause. I hate when this subject comes up. It’s always depressing to explain my past, “I don’t know how they feel.”

He cocks his brow, “Do you talk?” he asks cautiously.

“No. I’ve never met them.” There’s a confused expression on his face. “I grew up going from foster home to foster home,” I say, my voice a little shaky. It’s not often I tell someone about this when getting to know them.

“Oh? That’s awful,” he says sympathetically. “Do you know what happened to them?”

“They died in a car accident when I was a toddler. I have no memory of it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” He continues, cautiously, “So, what part of the country did you grow up in then? I read online you grew up in the Midwest.”

“Yeah, uh, all that crap is obviously not true about me,” I say. “Anne thought it would be better to lie so the media didn’t ask insensitive questions, or assume things. If that kind of information was out there for the world to see, could you imagine what my interview with Jimmy Schnell would have been like?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t discuss sensitive issues with Jimmy Schnell,” he agrees.

I pat his arm, “I doubt Jimmy Schnell wants to discuss his parents, either. Apparently, they are bible-thumping Midwestern types. Wanted him to go to one of those awful ‘turn-my-kid-straight’ camps.”

Brett’s expression softens, “I don’t like the guy, but that’s sad.” He gazes into my eyes, “So is there any place you have considered home? Any family you felt close to or keep in contact with?”

“The boys’ locker room always felt like home.” I give him a wink.

“You really are a perv, sports bunny.” He wraps his arm about my waist. “So, if what’s online isn’t true, then what is?”

“I know nothing of horseback riding.” I snigger. “All that Christian stuff … uh, I’ve had some foster families that were religious, borderline zealous.”

“Did they treat you well?” he asks in concern.

“For the most part. Some of them made you feel as if you were there to do chores. Especially, if you were on a farm. But thankfully, I never ended up in an abusive household. It was something I feared every time I switched homes though.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you didn’t wind up with anyone too terrible.”

“So am I,” I say. “But I never felt at home with any of the families I stayed with. Each time I took my garbage bag full of clothes to another house, I’d walk in knowing it was only temporary. After I was out of the system, I went to New York State University. Got my bachelors in journalism. The rest is history.”

“So, no doing favors, like Jade? That must have been difficult.”

“Actually, it wasn’t. Once I got a huge following online, I started asking fans what kind of questions they wanted answered from their favorite players. The network noticed how many followers and hits I had on my social media and started putting me on air more often.”

“Smart, Driver. I’m glad you didn’t resort to doing anything scandalous.” He puts his arm around me.

“I’m glad you feel that way. Not everyone appreciates someone that’s willing to put in the hard work. I know Steve didn’t.”He looks at me for a long time, “I didn’t think Steve was like that.” I rub the back of my forearm, “Come on, Brett, everyone’s like that in this industry.”

His blue eyes penetrate mine, I feel my insides quiver and my cheeks become flush again. I’d look away, but his gaze captivates me. He leans in taking a sample of my lips. He pulls away his eyes still piercing mine. I’ve been anticipating this moment all night. But the lust I had felt in the locker room and the limo are no longer there. His soft expression restrains me from my instinct to pounce on him.

I glide my hand up the nape of his neck, feeling his short hair beneath my palms. Our mouths meet again, and they begin to explore one another in a frenzy. I can feel his hands scrambling at the back of my dress, searching for the zipper. I respond, eagerly undoing his buttons. One pops off and I pull away as I hear it drop and roll away on the floor. I cringe. Shit. This guy wears nothing but designer clothes.

“Don’t worry about it. He pulls me closer to him again, crashing his lips to mine again.

I pull off his shirt and continue to kiss him, nibbling my way to his neck. I feel his hot breath on mine, as he nuzzles his mouth between my neck and shoulder. I pant. That’s a sensitive spot for me.

“Like that, sports bunny?” he says teasingly.

I murmur. He pulls at my dress and the soft fabric slinks from my shoulders to my hips. I look down at his crotch. His eyes follow mine, and he unzips his dress pants. As I shimmy my dress down my legs, he kicks his pants to the floor. I’m propped up on my knees in the booth with only a thong and bra on. Brett is sitting in a pair of boxer briefs. I can see the outline of his length through the grey cotton fabric. I bite my lower lip. He sees the hunger on my face and reaches into his boxers and pulls out his huge cock, “Come here, Lexi.”

I can’t be bothered to pull off my thong. I shift the piece of material aside with my fingers and straddle Brett. He takes hold of my waist as I slip my other hand down to guide him to my opening. His tip becoming wetter with my arousal.

His eyes roll back in his head, “We certainly are ready, aren’t we, Lexi.” He takes a firmer hold of me and plants me down on his cock. We both groan in appreciation of his thick mast invading me. I drop my head to his shoulder and begin to kiss his neck. His hand slides up my back and unhooks my strapless bra and it slides off, falling onto the bench. I continue to neck him working my way to his mouth and suck his bottom lip. He places his palms at my temples and kisses back, “Ride me, Lexi,” he mutters as his lips explore mine.

I sit up and begin to bear down on his cock as he grasps onto my hips, holding me steady. I continue to drive myself down his length. Slow at first, but as my body warms and my muscles tighten, I’m eager to release.

Seeing my need, he wraps one arm around me and uses his finger and tweaks me as I slide up and down his erection. “Huh.” I moan in appreciation. But his touch has made my urge stronger. I need to cum! It’s as though Brock read my mind. Within moments his strong arms have lifted me up onto the table, my legs dangling over the side and his hot prick is charging into me.

“Yes, yeah,” I gasp, knowing I’m not far from getting what I need. Other than a few pants, Brock has barely responded. The intense expression on his face shows me his determination and focus. He isn’t stopping until I cum. Athletes. He doesn’t have to pump for long, within moments every muscle of my being is clenching, I grit my teeth, “Mmm!” I hum, as I beat my fist to his chest. “Oh, God!”

I watch as his eyes squeeze shut tightly, and his mouth forms an ‘Oh.’ I can feel him filling me and my mouth crashes to his. Our tongues dance as he continues to pump gently, our moment ebbing.

Brett collapses back onto the bench and we both breathe heavily for several minutes watching each other through hooded eyes. He grasps my waist and pulls me onto the bench with him. I cuddle up to his hot sweaty shoulder and he puts his arm around me as we both catch our breaths.