The Athletic Trainer Page 4

  “Sorry,” the boy says, still overly excited about his introduction with someone famous as he slips under the arm of...

  Did he say Mom? My eyes leap to Eric and the woman again. With Henry at my side, my heart races while I stare at Eric, uncertain what to think, what to do, how to feel. Eric is…married? With a kid? The questions must be written on my face as I stare at my personal trainer.

  Oh my God. The color drain from my cheeks, and those peanuts I ate want to come back up.

  “Alene?” Eric questions, concern on his face as he steps toward me. Concern I’ll expose him, perhaps? I spin away from him and push my way through the crowd but only get a few steps until I slam into another person.

  “Dammit,” I hiss.

  “Alene?” Two firm hands cover my upper arms, and I look up to face someone I know.

  “Andrew?” Andrew has a build like Eric, only he’s a construction worker and slightly shorter. He’s sporting a soft beard, and he looks good. I try not to judge the odd relationship he had with Vanessa, especially as he recommended Eric to me, but my thoughts collide. If Andrew knew Eric was married, how could he do this to me?

  My eyes close. Could any of this be any more embarrassing?

  “Hey. What are you doing here?” Andrew questions.

  Henry’s back at my side, and again answers, “We went to the game.”

  Andrew acknowledges my date with a nod. “What’s up?” he addresses Henry before turning back to me and giving me a curious eye.

  “A date,” he mouths, and I smile, shrugging. It’s embarrassing that I opened up to Andrew about Stephen once upon a few margaritas. He’d met me for a drink to discuss Vanessa, and how he didn’t want to date her despite her marriage falling apart.

  Still holding my upper arms, the crowd crushing around us, Andrew looks over my head.

  “Teddy,” he calls out, and I wonder if the name is contagious. Andrew turns me with his hands on my arms and we face Eric, the little boy, and the beautiful woman as they approach us

  “Teddy, don’t run off like that,” Andrew scolds the child as he runs a soft hand along his face. “Jesus, he gave me a heart attack. Sorry, baby.” Andrew directs the words to the woman and steps forward, rubbing his nose against hers.

  Eric’s eyes are pinned on me, and I’m still struggling to figure out what’s happening. Knowing Andrew swings, is this woman…do they…

  God, I just want to go home and not think things.

  “Alene,” Andrew interrupts my thoughts. “This is my girlfriend, Annette, and her son, Teddy.” Annette curls herself into Andrew, and he beams with pride as her hand settles on his chest. He should be proud. She’s beautiful. He also places a hand on Teddy’s shoulder, and it’s slowly becoming evident they are the unit. Eric is the best friend. The smirk on his face grows.

  “And you are?” Andrew directs to Henry.

  “Her date,” Henry states, the first incorrect fact he’s offered today, although not wholly untrue. Andrew’s sight travels to Eric and back to me.

  “Oh, well, do you want to join us? We’re heading to Batter Up down the street for a burger?” As much as I try to avoid looking at Eric, I can’t help it. My eyes shift to his and away, but before I do, Eric gives a single shake of his head.

  “No, thank you. Henry and I are…” I swallow. Shit. “…are headed to dinner ourselves.”

  Andrew nods before looking back at Eric, his forehead furrowed. “Okay, well enjoy.”

  “Nice meeting you,” Annette offers, but Eric says nothing.

  6

  Alene

  When I arrive on Monday, Eric is clearly upset.

  I’m warming up as I usually do, but there has been no consent form tonight. I’m unnerved by the lacking agreement, assuming it’s intentional and not an oversight. He doesn’t want to play this evening, and I feel silly in the skirt he told me to keep. The one I only wear for him.

  What am I doing here tonight? I wonder as I lift the bar over my head to loosen my shoulders. Loosening myself up for something that isn’t going to happen.

  My suspicions are confirmed when another man enters the gym. There are three distinct areas to this place. The small space behind the hip-high wall. A larger area twice the length of the small section with an extensive exercise contraption and miniature turf field, and a weightlifting area, like big business Olympic sport weightlifting, hidden from the view of the small workout area.

  I’ve lost concentration on my arm reps as I watch the other man walk to the weight area. He’s large like Eric and built similar in stature, but he doesn’t look at me. If I step a little farther back, I’m hidden from view of that area by the position of a wall. Thankfully, he can’t see me as I feel even more ridiculous in my bottomless skirt.

  Eric comes into sight. His voice reaching me before he does as he speaks to the other man. “Just give us a minute,” Eric calls to the weightlifter as he sets a clipboard on the half wall and walks up to me.

  “Enjoy the game?”

  “Did you?”

  “Andrew is my best friend,” he says with a shrug. “He’s always fun.”

  “I know. I’ve heard,” I snap, an edge coming to my voice since he’s so standoffish. Andrew introduced us. He told me Eric dabbled in the lifestyle once and wanted to give it a more practiced try. I needed a teacher for other reasons, and those reasons are becoming clear. I’m Eric’s plaything while I’ve grown too attached to him.

  At my snappish tone, Eric looks up at me. “Enjoy your date?”

  I snort. His tone mocks me. “Yes, well sometimes it’s nice to have companionship.”

  Eric huffs and shakes his head. “Is that what they call it these days?”

  I glare at him. “Just what are you implying?”

  “My ex-wife cheated on me. I know how these things go.” His voices rises. A cough comes from the weightlifting area, startling us both and reminding us of another’s presence.

  “You think I cheated on you?” I say, lowering my voice. We aren’t even dating. We’re...fucking.

  “Did you think of me when he kissed you good night?” he growls, stepping up to me.

  “No.” Because Henry didn’t kiss me good night and neither has Eric. He licks my pussy and sucks my breasts, but he’s never kissed me. The truth hurts. Tears sting my eyes, and I blink several times. I will not cry in front of him.

  “How about when his tiny hands tried to cover your full breasts?”

  I shake my head. There is no reason to think I’d let Henry touch me, and no reason Eric’s anger should be turning me on.

  “How about when his tiny pecker tried to get in your slick pussy? Were you soaked for him?”

  I’m hot and bothered now, but I’m also pissed.

  “That’s enough. I didn’t kiss him. Not that it matters as you don’t kiss me either.”

  He flinches in surprise.

  “And I didn’t let him touch my breasts or my pussy because I’m not attracted to him like I am you.” The last part might have been a bit too much of an admission, but he stills, like he’s holding his breath.

  “That’s right,” he says slowly, quieter. “You’re attracted to me. And I’m attracted to you. You want another man, you do it with me present.” He pauses. “Or we end.”

  Is he threatening me? Is this arrangement over? Then what he said registers: if I want another man I do it with him present.

  “Is that what you want?” he questions.

  “To end?” I ask because I clearly don’t.

  “Another man,” Eric clarifies as though he’s read my thoughts. He steps closer to me, brushing back hair which isn’t loose from my ponytail. “If you were with another man, would you think of me? Want me in the room? Watching.”

  My breath catches. He can’t mean...

  “If I was fucking you, would you like another man touching you in some manner?”

  Sweet Lord.

  “I’d only want you. Maybe someone else can watch.” I’m teasing. Or am
I? On some level, I’m not.

  Eric exhales. “That’s what I thought.” He steps back for a wooden box and sets it near me.

  “Ten hamstring stretches. Reach to your toes.”

  I glare at his back as he walks away after his directive. I should walk away as well. I’m still pissed off, my body primed to keep fighting, and disappointed we won’t be doing more.

  I’ll show him, I decide, bending at the waist. Lowering for my ankles and then standing tall. On the second bend, I’m reminded my skirt is short, and when I lean forward, my ass shows. Not to mention, there’s nothing covering my privates. As I continue the motion, Eric comes back into view. Thankfully, my backside aims at the full wall as the other man follows Eric. Eric sets him up near the large resistance training apparatus. The man faces me, but I’m not certain if he’s looking at me or just staring in my general direction. I stop my movements, concerned he can see how bare I am under the skirt.

  Eric returns to me, and I swipe at the back of the skirt, holding it down.

  “I’d never let anyone watch you without my presence and your consent.” He takes a deep breath. “Haywood is an old friend. I trust him.”

  Still not completely certain what he means, I nod, consenting to I don’t know what.

  “Let’s do ten squats to warm up.”

  “If I squat, he might see up my skirt.” I can’t exercise with someone watching me, plus squats are the worst. My pussy pulses, and I’m normally wet, making little noises from the arousing movement.

  “Then spread wide. He wants to look, but he won’t touch unless you let him.”

  Eric steps to the side, and I gaze at him. He means this. He wants me to squat, potentially exposing myself to a man across the gym. Haywood.

  Wait. “Haywood Russell?” The centerfielder?

  “Ten squats, Alene. We can see how you feel after that,” Eric continues without answering my question.

  I lower, bending my knees and sticking out my ass. I face Haywood, but my skirt rises, like I expect—not a lot—but enough to hint, even to question. Is she wearing panties?

  Is he watching me?

  “A little wider, Alene. Really feel the burn.”

  My thighs do ache but not as much as my sex, making wet sounds and pulsing harder than my heart. Haywood’s been doing arm motions. His eyes remain in my direction, but his movements have become slower. Less succinct.

  “Let’s go for ten more,” Eric requests, dragging the wooden box behind me. “Lower like you plan to sit and then stand.”

  I begin. The full attention of Haywood is on me as he stops moving, and Eric walks behind me. He straddles the box and sits, so as I lower, I hit his lap.

  “Stop,” he whispers, holding me on his knees. “You have his attention.”

  “Can he see me?” I whisper as I’m propped on Eric.

  “Do you want him to see?” Eric whispers at my ear.

  “I don’t know,” I say, although my eyes don’t leave Haywood who stands still, focused at me.

  “Let him watch,” Eric suggests, his hands coming to my knees and then spreading them. My legs open over his. He scoots me back, and my thighs open wider. My back comes to his chest.

  “Okay,” I hesitate.

  “Take off your T-shirt,” Eric demands. The zippered bra is underneath, and I tug my shirt over my head, eyes returning to Haywood across the gym. I can’t read what he’s thinking or even know if he completely sees me as the hip-height wall cuts me off, but he scrubs a hand down his face and steps closer to the bar he just used for resistance training. His arms cross over the metal length as he watches me.

  “You fulfill all my fantasies,” Eric mutters at my ear. Skimming my inner thighs with tender fingers, he comes closer and closer to my center before retreating back to my knees.

  “What fantasies?” I whisper, a thrill rushing through me that Eric thinks of me in such a way.

  “The ones where I touch and fuck, and you give everything to me.”

  My skin prickles with excitement, and the rush of his words, but the teasing fingertips on my inner thighs distract me.

  “He’s going to see what you’re doing,” I whisper as Eric’s fingers come dangerously close to my center.

  “Let him watch,” he says to me. “You’re already wet with the possibility.” A finger dips into me, and I moan. My eyes close for a second and then pop open, meeting Haywood’s. He stands tall, no longer leaning on the bar so carefree but clutching it with his hands.

  Eric’s finger slides in and out. The wet sounds grow louder. I lean into him, my back melting against his chest as my hips rock with his fingers.

  “Such a sweet girl,” he murmurs to me. “Always so ready, so willing to play.” He kisses my shoulder. Next, he kisses the side of my neck. Then he bites me at the tender spot in between, and I purr.

  “You like that? You like my lips on your skin while he watches? My fingers in your pussy while he stares?”

  Sweet Jesus. I nod as my eyes seek out Haywood’s. He’s still gripping the bar with both hands.

  “Can he see what you’re doing to me?” I know Haywood can see something, but is he able to view over the wall and between my thighs?

  “May I invite him to come closer? I bet he wants a better look.” Eric’s fingers keep working, in and out, and his mouth returns to my skin, nibbling before sucking.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  Eric pulls back his head and must signal to Haywood somehow. Haywood then makes his way around the apparatus and approaches the semi-wall barrier between the two sections. He moves around it and pauses to rest his backside against the hip-height wall. Crossing his arms, a hand reaches for his lips, and his fingers tug the bottom one. His eyes stay on Eric’s fingers disappearing into me, and my fingers curl on the skirt, rucking it higher.

  “There you go. Let him look. Let him see how wet you get for me, dripping over my fingers and leaking down your thighs.” The skirt is up to my hips, and there’s no hiding what Eric’s doing. My head tips back for his shoulder.

  Haywood groans, and a deep voice follows. “She looks like she has a sweet pussy, man.” He addresses Eric, and Eric huffs.

  “The sweetest. And when she comes on my tongue, it’s candy.”

  Oh God. I’m going to come from Haywood’s intense eyes and Eric’s thick fingers.

  “Eric,” I warn. My hips rock, and I dance on his thighs. His erection pokes my lower back, and I notice Haywood has one as well, tenting the front of his thin athletic shorts.

  “See what you did to my friend? Can he show you what you’ve done to him?” Haywood looks up at Eric, over my head, but I nod, and Haywood pulls down the band of his shorts. He’s long and solid like Eric. His hips are smooth with a fine line of a treasure trail compared to Eric’s thicker span. Haywood grips himself, jerking at the length as his eyes widen on me.

  I groan again and come undone. The stroke of Haywood’s hand on his cock. The sound of Eric’s fingers slicing through me. My orgasm drags on, and I lean my arms back, reaching around Eric’s neck, which forces my breasts forward.

  “Her breasts, man. I have to see them,” Haywood pleads while still stroking his thick dick.

  Still riding the high of my release, I mindlessly reach for the zipper, unzipping the fabric and revealing the heavy swells with sharp nubs. My breasts tumble free, and Eric removes one shoulder of the bra.

  “Hot damn, girl,” Haywood appraises.

  “I’m one lucky man,” Eric states possessively.

  “So fucking lucky,” Haywood adds as I watch him stroking himself. I cup one breast, lifting the weight and tease over the nipple between my thumb and finger. Eric strums his fingers over my swollen folds, sensitive and ripe from the orgasm he just gave me, and I’m building for more.

  “He wants to touch you,” Eric tells me, and surprise covers me.

  “How?”

  “Anyway you’d like.”

  My eyes fix on Haywood. “My breasts,” I offer, and Hay
wood releases himself, stalking to me, and then lowering to his knees before me. His fingers tenderly circle one large swell and then move to the other, repeating the motion like a figure eight. Then he draws smaller, coming closer and closer to the sharp nipple before his thumb and forefinger pinch.

  I cry out, and Eric forces a finger inside me again. I hum at the rush.

  “Do it again,” Eric tells Haywood, and both men strum at me; one fingering my pussy, the other fingering my breasts. My eyes close as I drift into pure pleasure, but it isn’t enough. I want to repay these men.

  “I want him,” I whisper as I open my eyes and find Haywood’s hand wrapped around his dick, stroking himself while his fingers trace over me.

  “Where?” Eric asks.

  “My mouth.”

  Haywood quickly stands, and I eagerly open when he places his tip at my lips. My tongue comes forward licking around the crown as Eric’s fingers work harder, delve deeper at me. My hips rock against his erection at my backside while I open and take Haywood into my mouth, sucking and lapping, aggressively slurping at him while my own orgasm grows. The empowerment to break the man before me while being broken by another rushes through me so fast, I release Haywood to cry out as another orgasm rips through me.

  “Back in your mouth, baby,” Haywood says, demanding I finish him off, and I return him there while Eric’s hands slide up to my breasts.

  “You’re so big,” I say, addressing the thickness jutting out at me. Then I open and suck him in, taking him to the back of my throat before dragging to the tip, circling it with my tongue.

  “Easy girl,” Haywood warns.

  “She can take it,” Eric warns, his hands still manipulating my breasts.

  “She can, but I might not.” Haywood growls as I take him deep again. Eric removes my bra completely, slipping it off my shoulders. After dropping it next to me, he massages up my arms and then his fingers find my nipples, tweaking and tugging. My sex pulses, needing more once again and I groan.

  “Fuck,” Haywood hisses as my throat vibrates around him.

  “I need inside her,” Eric says, and Haywood pulls out of my mouth.