Chapter Two - Kyle
That fresh after-victory feeling overcame me when I walked off the field and back towards the locker room. I have to admit – it was the biggest thrill. It was why I played the game, why I trained every day of the week, every week of the month. I pushed my body to the limit, I worked hard to stay fit and on top of the game, to be the best… because I love to win.
To hear the crowd cheer was a high, an adrenaline rush, and a reminder of all the good things in my life. Most importantly, a reminder of all the panties that were going to drop tonight. A game always charged me up for a good fuck. I needed to feel the smooth flesh of the inside of a woman’s thigh immediately after a game.
If I won, and I always won, it immediately turned me on. I don’t know how to describe it other than that it was an instant, animalistic instinct to fuck.
We had won again, my teammates thumping my back as we walked back towards the locker room. I was already scanning the cheering crowd, eyeing the people who had gathered at the entryway.
I noticed the handful of women, fans who were screaming my name. Tight asses, delicious cleavage, flowing hair, big eyes, smooth necks. Those were the first things I noticed. I was like a wolf on the prowl. I knew I could have any of them – all I had to do was give them a look.
I smiled at a few of them, and I could see it in their eyes as I passed by. They were desperate for me. I had read the papers this morning: a recent poll had revealed that I was named as “The Sexiest Man in America”. It had made me laugh that morning. Now, after the game was over, after we had run and the adrenaline was pumping through my veins, I wanted a prize. An actual prize.
One of the girls who was screaming my name, whose palm I lightly grazed before walking away, had licked her lips when our eyes met. She wanted me. I could imagine her panties getting wet. She was going to tell all her friends that I had looked at her. It made me smile. Maybe there was some way I could get her into the locker room, into my shower, bend her over and get it over with. That was the only way I could relax, the only way I could calm my nerves and enjoy the rest of the celebration with my teammates. I needed to fuck.
Then I walked into the hallway, my teammates flanking me on either side. We were like an entourage, a convoy of the most eligible bachelors in the country, who had just won another game.
But my focus had shifted already. I had seen her standing at the entrance of the locker room, and I decided almost instantly that she was going to be my catch for the night. She would do.
She could have been a reporter, or a lawyer, or an architect. The bottom line was she looked nothing like my usual screaming fans. This girl had straight glossy blonde hair that was neatly parted on the side, it was cut sharply at her shoulders. She immediately looked low maintenance, like she had barely spent any time doing her hair. She was wearing a pair of black tailored trousers and I instantly thought, “Who wears trousers to an NFL game?”
A white shirt was tucked in at the waist, and that waist was small, and the buttons on her shirt were slightly parted to accommodate for those big juicy breasts. A lanyard hung around her neck, and that was when I made up my mind. I knew she was a reporter even before she stuck her hand out in front of me.
“Kyle Murphy.” She said my name like she was informing me of it - like I might have been clueless of my name before she instructed me. I looked into her eyes. They were large, blue eyes, yet focused – like she was on a mission. She was serious about what she was about to say.
I hadn’t slowed my pace (neither had those around me) and she walked beside us, keeping her hand stuck out towards me.
“I’m Erica Lee from The Statesman,” she continued. This time I smirked at her. But unlike all my other fans, she was a tough nut to crack. I still hadn’t seen her smile or blush.
“Hello, Erica Lee,” I said and decided to shake her hand. Physical contact might get the ball rolling. Our hands met and I was instantly aware of how small and slender her hand was in mine, but I shook it nonetheless with a strong jerk. I was almost afraid that I had broken her arm.
But she looked unaffected.
“I have an interview with you. Your manager confirmed it with us this morning,” she continued, and I raised my eyebrow. Honestly, I couldn’t remember. I didn’t pay attention to half of the things that Lewis said to me, and especially not on game day! But the very fact that she was here, so close to our locker room, meant that she had been given access. It was obvious that Lewis had allowed her to try to get an interview with me.
She was still not smiling, and I was still walking. I walked straight into the locker room and she followed me. “Mr. Murphy,” she said after a few seconds of silence. Her voice was sharp, authoritative. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken to me like this.
My interest in her had lain in what lay underneath those trousers and that white tucked-in shirt. But she looked like she meant business, and I wasn’t sure if that annoyed me or interested me more.