problem was he didn’t want others, at least for now. For some reason he had yet to wrap his head around, it had to be her. He had always been able to move on from a girl. Yet, here he was. The mere thought of Reye had him getting hard. He could remember vividly how her body had felt and how it had fit so snugly on his. If they could generate that amount of heat with clothes on, he couldn’t bear to imagine the heat that they would create with her naked skin touching his.
Up, he had to get up and get some lunch and then head over to the fields. The game started at three. He stood up, grabbed his t-shirt, and walked to the kitchen. His mother’s monthly food service delivery kept the kitchen stocked with minimal help from Stephen and Henri. Having an overindulgent mother worked for him most times. The food service delivered staples—bacon, eggs, and bread, as well as things he and Henri could cook in between eating out or ordering take out—once a month. Usually, his school schedule was way too hectic for culinary treats, but today he would treat himself to a home-cooked breakfast, or brunch, whatever it was called.
He was one of the last of his team to arrive at the fields. The day was perfect for a game. He loved the fall, clear crisp days, lots of sun. Baseball, basketball, and tennis were some of the sports he sampled in high school, but soccer would always be his love. All over the world, people regardless of race, sex, wealth, or age played. No pads, no helmets, just your body and skills pitted against another. Defender was his position of choice and he glo ried in his ability to shut down the other team’s offense. Most dudes wanted to play the forward position, achieving status by scoring, but not him. He wanted to stop those guys, send them back home crying to their mamas. He loved the chance to match abilities with anyone who thought to run by or over him.
He was looking forward to this game. This was sup posed to be a fairly good team with a record that was identical to his team’s. They had to play each team twice during the regular season, and it would be nice to beat t his team today. If they could win both times, they would be the outright winners of this division, avoiding a playoff game. They’d come in first in this division last year, second the year before that.
Most of his team members were already on the field warming up. Standing near his sideline bench, he took the opportunity to size up the opponent. Hard to tell anything from looking at them, he had learned long ago that outward appearances were deceiving. There were four girls, the requirement that allowed a team to be con sidered co-ed, the same number as his team. It is difficult to recruit women, most preferring to play against other women. He observed the women as they stood in a small circle passing the ball between them. A blonde, some what attractive, athletic looking; so was the brunette standing next to her. An African-American girl with short locks stood with her back to him. He knew that hair, that body, she was tall. “Turn around,” he whispered to no one. She did, leaving the circle to retrieve a ball. His eyes roamed her face. Reye. Racking his brain, he tried to remember their prior conversations. Did she tell him she played soccer? He would have remembered that. Yep, it was her all right. Long legs he would recognize anywhere, encased in shorts that weren’t designed for soccer, or at least not when playing against men. His eyes traveled over breasts tucked into a snug t-shirt, remembering the feel of those, too, and up to her face. She stood staring back at him.
He was surprised, pleased, and slightly turned on. His body was particularly pleased at seeing her in shorts. She p eeled away from the circle of girls and walked slowly toward him, hips swinging slowly from side to side. He watched her walk to him, not moving to meet her. It was nice to have her come to him for a change, and pure pleasure to watch those hips
Up, he had to get up and get some lunch and then head over to the fields. The game started at three. He stood up, grabbed his t-shirt, and walked to the kitchen. His mother’s monthly food service delivery kept the kitchen stocked with minimal help from Stephen and Henri. Having an overindulgent mother worked for him most times. The food service delivered staples—bacon, eggs, and bread, as well as things he and Henri could cook in between eating out or ordering take out—once a month. Usually, his school schedule was way too hectic for culinary treats, but today he would treat himself to a home-cooked breakfast, or brunch, whatever it was called.
He was one of the last of his team to arrive at the fields. The day was perfect for a game. He loved the fall, clear crisp days, lots of sun. Baseball, basketball, and tennis were some of the sports he sampled in high school, but soccer would always be his love. All over the world, people regardless of race, sex, wealth, or age played. No pads, no helmets, just your body and skills pitted against another. Defender was his position of choice and he glo ried in his ability to shut down the other team’s offense. Most dudes wanted to play the forward position, achieving status by scoring, but not him. He wanted to stop those guys, send them back home crying to their mamas. He loved the chance to match abilities with anyone who thought to run by or over him.
He was looking forward to this game. This was sup posed to be a fairly good team with a record that was identical to his team’s. They had to play each team twice during the regular season, and it would be nice to beat t his team today. If they could win both times, they would be the outright winners of this division, avoiding a playoff game. They’d come in first in this division last year, second the year before that.
Most of his team members were already on the field warming up. Standing near his sideline bench, he took the opportunity to size up the opponent. Hard to tell anything from looking at them, he had learned long ago that outward appearances were deceiving. There were four girls, the requirement that allowed a team to be con sidered co-ed, the same number as his team. It is difficult to recruit women, most preferring to play against other women. He observed the women as they stood in a small circle passing the ball between them. A blonde, some what attractive, athletic looking; so was the brunette standing next to her. An African-American girl with short locks stood with her back to him. He knew that hair, that body, she was tall. “Turn around,” he whispered to no one. She did, leaving the circle to retrieve a ball. His eyes roamed her face. Reye. Racking his brain, he tried to remember their prior conversations. Did she tell him she played soccer? He would have remembered that. Yep, it was her all right. Long legs he would recognize anywhere, encased in shorts that weren’t designed for soccer, or at least not when playing against men. His eyes traveled over breasts tucked into a snug t-shirt, remembering the feel of those, too, and up to her face. She stood staring back at him.
He was surprised, pleased, and slightly turned on. His body was particularly pleased at seeing her in shorts. She p eeled away from the circle of girls and walked slowly toward him, hips swinging slowly from side to side. He watched her walk to him, not moving to meet her. It was nice to have her come to him for a change, and pure pleasure to watch those hips
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