The door clicks shut behind her, and I’m left there looking like a dumbass fool, horny as fuck, and reeling with the image of her creamy thighs spread open, her head thrown back, her round breasts jiggling in my face, and her pupils so dilated they are nearly as big as her irises. And that sexy meow that slipped out of those plump lips.

I look down at my hard cock. He’s still waiting for a hot cunt to drop down on him. Fuck. What a little tease? I snatch up the discarded towel from the floor and wrap it around my waist, raging and frustrated beyond belief. Why’d she leave like that? She looked like she was having a great time and then … she’s out the door faster than shit through a goose.

Beneath the towel, my cock aches, and I consider jerking off just to get rid of my erection, but no, I’ll save it for her. I’ll find her again, and she’s gonna open up, and take all of me inside her pink hole. After that, I’m gonna pump into her over and over until my cum is dripping out of every orifice. Her mouth, her pussy, her ass.

I stop suddenly. What the fuck?

Unbelievable, but I realize that in the hot haze of mindless lust I was about to fuck her bare. I actually wanted to slide my bare cock into her wet flesh. Hell, I’m still fantasizing about it. I must be going insane. A girl like that? Who offers herself to anybody. Shit, I’ve been hit in the head too many times to be thinking such crazy shit!

I swipe a deodorant stick under my arms, pull my clothes out of my locker, and begin to get dressed, but she’s etched onto my brain. She walked her ass into a men’s locker room like she was some innocent, pure thing. All big eyed and dressed like a schoolteacher, but she was so astoundingly into it, so open, so fucking hot. I practically had to keep myself from drooling when she was fingering herself. The look on her face. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. She was utterly lost to the pleasure she was bringing herself, and not paying any attention to my presence.

Every other woman I’ve been with has been either so focused on pleasing me so she can become a permanent fixture in my life, or just looking good while she was doing it so that she can become a permanent fixture in my life, but this girl. This girl made herself cum as though there was no-one else in the room but her and her dirtiest fantasies.

And then… the sensuous way she rubbed her pussy lips on my dick. That sure was something else. The slick softness tantalized me. Her juices coated my cock, the sweet scent driving me crazy, while her little hard clit rubbed and rubbed, and begged for more. Oh, Jesus!

I fuck a lot of women, no, make that a shitload of women, but I never felt like I had to have any of them before. Not like I need to have Reese. This is like something out of a damn chick flick. I walk to the bench and pick up the piece of paper she gave me, looking for a clue as to how to contact her again.

My eyebrows shoot up when I see the address on the paper. It’s from my hometown, Petersville! Not that, that gives her story anymore legitimacy, but it does establish that whoever these people are they’ve taken the time to do their research. Obviously, I’m not falling for it or anything, but… seeing the address does make a tiny flicker of doubt light up in the back of my brain. I grab my phone, pull up Mom’s number, and dial.

“Hello, honey!” she answers after a couple of rings.

“Hey, Mom.”

“I saw the game. You were just wonderful,” she gushes.

“Yeah, it was good,” I reply, pacing the locker room floor.

“Good? Drake Kelly, you scored the winning touchdown. You deserve a medal,” she says proudly.

I fucking deserve a medal for the control I showed this evening when I let Reese’s hot pussy walk away. “Yeah, it wasn’t bad,” I agree distractedly.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, sounding concerned, and I have a flashback of the time I fell out of a tree when I was seven years old and broke my hand. She was so frightened and distressed her hands were shaking, and I had to tell her to stop worrying. It was nothing. The image puts everything into perspective again and suddenly the logical side of my brain takes over. What the hell am I doing? How could I even consider for a moment that she is not my mother?

“Yeah, I am,” I reply quickly. “How are you and Dad?”

“We’re great, honey. Dad and I were just listening to your game on the radio.” Her voice muffled as if she’s just turned her head to look at something else. I must have interrupted her while she cooking dinner or something.

“You busy?”

“I was making dinner, and I think I heard the oven ping. Can I call you back later this evening?”

“I’m out with the guys, Mom.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Have a lovely night, honey. You deserve it. Dad’s out in the garden. I’ll tell him you called.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Before you go, I just want you to know that I’m so proud of you, Drake. You’re everything I ever wanted, and I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

“I love you, Mom,” I mutter guiltily.

“I love you too. Speak to you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” I say, and hang up. Thank God, I had enough sense not to ask her outright. Now that I can think about it without the smell of Reese fucking up my head, the whole idea sounds crazy even to me. I screw up the paper the phone number is written on, and chuck it into the bin by the door as I exit the locker room.

I get as far as the corridor before I come to a complete stop. A janitor is coming up the corridor with his pail and his mop. He’ll empty out the bin, and her number will be gone forever. I realize that I can’t let it go. I don’t know why, but I just can’t. I whirl around jog back to the bin, and retrieve the screwed-up ball. I smooth it out, turn it over, and spot something on the other side.

It’s a torn off hotel stationery, but a piece of the logo and name is still intact. What’s more, it looks familiar. I hold it closer to my face, squinting, and finally, it clicks. The Regatta. Okay, that is good to know, because I’ve been in it once before. It’s just outside town. A Swedish girl I was banging years ago, was staying there. I feel happier, suddenly. I stuff the paper into my pocket and head out of the stadium.

I’ll ask Dad about the adoption thing tomorrow, but I’ll build up to it slowly. No point hurting him. In the meantime, I’ll work getting my mind off Reese.

My phone rings. It’s one of the guys, probably already hammered on whiskey shooters. Tonight, I’m just not in the mood to get completely fucked up and have my pictures snapped by the paps as I stumble out onto the street in the early morning hours.

I don’t pick up the call and decide to drown my sorrows in my favorite bar instead.

My body is still buzzing when I slide up a bar stool. It’s like Reese sashayed into my locker room and pussy whipped me in one encounter. I like it here because it’s small and private and everyone knows me, so I can usually come for a drink and not get mobbed by half the city. I know some of the guys really dig that side of playing, but it’s not my thing. Sure, notice me when I’m on the field, but off it, give me a break, will ya?

Sandy one of the bartenders comes over with a bottle of beer for me.

“Great game,” she says with a friendly grin.

I nod my thanks. As I slide my card along the bar surface I tell her to get herself and the rest of staff a drink too. She flashes an even wider grin and goes away.

I take a long slow swallow and let out a satisfied sigh as the cold liquid splashes down my throat. Closing my eyes, I try to lose myself in the social buzz of the bar for a few seconds. This is my happy place, but today I find myself fucking tormented by the image of Reese, in nothing but her panties, hand busy underneath the thin fabric. My dick twitches.

Fuck, that girl…

Before the image earns me another painful erection I snap my eyes open. I stare moodily into my glass and feel someone’s gaze on me. Not an unusual thing. I spend a lot of time with people either recognizing me outright or squinting at me while trying to figure out where they’ve seen me before. I turn around and clash glances with a woman sitting at the other end of the bar. She is staring hard at me.

Her mouth curves. I smile back as I lift my glass to my mouth. She’s hot, not Reese-hot obviously, but hot nevertheless. Blonde hair down to her breasts and a tight sweater that accentuates a trim, athletic figure. I trail my finger down the condensation on my glass and wonder what it would be like to ask her to strip, play with herself, then sit on my cock the way I asked Reese to do.

I don’t have long to wonder because, a couple of seconds later, and she’s making her way over to me. She leans right into my ear to talk to me. It isn’t exactly loud in here, and she really doesn’t have to get so close, but hey, I’m not complaining. She smells good, not Reese good, but good enough and Reese did leave me with a bad case of blue balls.

“Drake Kelly, right?”

“Yep,” I confirm, as she pulls back, and beams at me.

“Damn, I was just watching you play,” she gestures towards the TV above the bar. “You’re hot.” She bites her bottom lip. “I meant to say good.”

“Thanks,” I raise my glass to her, and her eyes dance down my body, lingering here and there, and ending up at my crotch. Not hard to tell what she’s thinking.

“Uh, look, I never do this,” she whispers, leaning up against the bar and raising her eyebrows. “But do you want to come back to my place? I’ve got plenty to drink, and…”

She lets her sentence trail off, leaving the obvious unsaid. I stare at her for a second, waiting for that stirring between my legs at the thought of hooking up with her. She looks like a girl who knows how to give good head, and I was left high and dry, and I’m carrying a full load, but I don’t feel anything. Dammit, really? Has Reese had that much of an effect on me?

I need a release, but I don’t want her. I want Reese… and her damn freshly shaven, eager pussy.

“Sorry Princess, I have other plans tonight, but if you’re around another time…”

She flushes, and steps away, muttering something. I’ve offended her, but I’m just not into her. My head and my dick are somewhere else. I turn back to my beer, angry with myself. What the fuck is wrong with me? A hot woman offers herself straight up to me, and I don’t take advantage of it because of… wait for it… I’m hung up on a scam artist that I haven’t even so much as slid my thick cock into her sweet hole.

Maybe that’s the problem.

Maybe that’s how I get her out of my system. What if the tease is actually a crumb and I’m supposed to follow the trail? She’s certainly pointed me in the right direction with the torn off hotel notepad and all.

I know where the hotel is. I could go there. Yeah, it’ll be a bit intense, a lot desperate, but what the fuck. If she’s feeling even half of what I am, she must want to finish what we started. What’s the worst she can do? Tell me to fuck off? I can take being brutally shot down. I need to find her and know either way.

I down my beer, pay my tab along with a generous tip and get to my feet. Making my way back onto the street, I flag down a cab and slip into the back seat.

“The Regatta, please.”

“It’s an hour’s ride,” he says, turning back to look me in the eye.

“I know.”

“Okay,” he says, turning on the meter.

I sit in the darkness and marvel at what the fuck I’m doing. I have no idea what I find so tantalizing about this girl. I know nothing about her beyond her name, and how good she looks naked. But something about her eyes, the way they burned into mine, or the way her mouth made me dream of sliding my dick into it. Or even the sound of her voice, a little whispery, as if everything she says is a big secret.

It is still bouncing around inside my head and it isn’t going to stop until I figure out what her deal is. Or at least, until I get rid of this damn hard-on.

“Could you wait for me?” I ask the driver when we arrive at the hotel. “I’ll pay extra.”

“How long do you think you’ll be?” he asks suspiciously, and I shrug, fighting to keep a cocky grin off my face.

“Not long,” I promise, even though I hope she’ll be sucking me off for a long, long time. He nods curtly, and I head into the lobby of the hotel.

“Pay me what you owe me first,” he says.

I pay him and approach reception. I lean up against the polished wood and look around. They’ve prettied the place up some since the last time I was here. Even the switchboard is fancier. A pretty receptionist comes out of a door and comes up to me. She gives me a dazzling smile.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m looking for Reese? She left her bag at my place, I wanted to drop it off.”

She cocks an eyebrow at me. “Where’s the bag?”

“In my pants.”

She rolls her eyes, goes to the computer, and taps at a few keys. Then she turns back to me and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, looks like she checked out about an hour ago, but if you like, you can leave your name, in case she calls looking for her… handbag?”

“No, it’s fine,” I say and I can’t even pretend that I don’t give a shit. I feel like I’ve been shot in the heart. “Thanks anyway.”

I make my way back outside and get into the cab.

“She wouldn’t put out, huh?” the driver comments heartlessly.