Monthly Archives: February 2015


“…and really, the only way that someone can score at this point is if the whole team sort of pulls their socks up and use the last bloody play they have. I mean, can you SEE these guys? It’s pathetic!” He clenched a fist and shook it at the screen.
“Oh, I totally agree. They suck. Just not the same this year,” she said, her eyes locked on to the muscular bulge of his arm.
“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! You know, it’s my dream to go to London and watch these guys play,” he exhaled.
The core of her being tightened. He’d been droning on about football for the last 20 minutes. And all she’d had on her mind was footsie. His slightly bulky body, his hands, his lips…she couldn’t take her eyes, and mind, off them. She just needed to check one more thing out.
“Wow, London. I’ll tell you the quickest way to get a visa. Say you’ve got a secret Chicken Tikka Masala recipe,” she smiled and stuck her tongue out at him playfully.
He stuck his tongue out back in return. His long, lusciously pink tongue. Mission accomplished.
She tapped his arm lightly, using one finger to smooth over the forearm. “You know, I’ve been thinking. These guys are so…hot. It’s so weird, how infrequently we, you know, ordinary people, run into other people that we think are…hot. And well, when that happens, how do you sort of make everything..hotter?”
He tilted his head at her. “What do you mean, exactly?”
She smiled. “I mean…”, she waved her arms about. “Hot. You know. When someone is hot. Sexy. And you can’t take your eyes off them. Or your mind. And you keep thinking about what you’d like to do to them. Climb them like a fucking tree. You know? Push them against the wall and grind up against them. Or run your fingers through their hair. Kiss them. Suck their lip. Run your hands all over them. That. Kind of stuff. You know?” she finished, slightly breathless.
He was staring at her, mouth open. Then abruptly, he shut it. Looked around and leaned into her. “Dude.”
She leaned forward too. “Yes?” she husked.
He whispered, “Who told you?”
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Who told me? Who told me what?”
He smiled, shaking his head, “Don’t play dumb dude. All that stuff you just said. Who told you I said all that?”
Her this-is-hopefully-sexy smile froze. “What?”
He exhaled. “Okay. Look, I know I got drunk last night at the office party and said that I was majorly lusting after the new intern, but she’s a kid. I can’t do all that stuff to her. She’s only 20 man!”
The smile morphed to this-is-not-happening-to-me….-again. She widened the smile, showing more teeth. “Right. No, you’re right. She is too young. Anyway, I think I can hear my phone ringing.”
She flounced back to her seat. Fuming. Himbos. What was the point?

Leave a comment

Posted by on February 10, 2015 in Fiction


Tags: ,