The Athletic Trainer Page 6

  Eric exhales into the phone, a heavy sigh of frustration, and I remember the sound from Stephen. He’d be upset that I had a headache or canceled a date for a legitimate reason. He’d be more upset when we didn’t have sex, and I guess that’s Eric’s issue. We missed our appointment. Our regularly scheduled appointment to fuck. I’m pathetic. Even our arrangement isn’t spontaneous. It’s structured and regulated by a calendar.

  “I’ll call you,” I say to Eric, sounding like a breakup and maybe that’s what we need—a break. It’s been a month of twice a week sex and nothing more.

  “Get some rest,” he says, and the phone goes dead.

  + + +

  There’s a hammering on my door the next morning, which I confuse for the pounding in my head at first. Although I’ve tried to increase my fluids, I’m dehydrated, and I can’t remember the last time I ate. I haven’t left my bed in days, but I slip from the mattress when the pounding doesn’t stop.

  “I’m coming,” I call out, although my voice doesn’t travel, and I’m dizzy as I walk. When I get to the door of my apartment, I bellow, “Who is it?”

  “Eric.”

  Eric? I’m stumped by his visit, and I open the door, knowing I’m a wreck.

  “What are you doing here?” I question, attempting to run fingers through my greasy hair and tugging the long sweater I wear tighter around my middle.

  He holds up a plastic bag while his expression falls. “Jesus, you look like shit.”

  “Thank you. I feel so much better now that you’ve told me.” Sarcasm is my best defense.

  Stepping forward, he cups my jaw like he did the other night each time he kissed me. “I’m sorry. I just mean you look bad, as in not feeling so hot.”

  “I don’t feel great, no.”

  He reaches behind him and closes the door, and I ask him again what he’s doing here.

  “I’ve come to take care of you.”

  “That’s sweet,” I say. “But you don’t need to do that.” As if the words took all my energy, I lower myself to the couch, my legs too shaky to hold me upright. He doesn’t speak but drops the bag to the floor and scoops me up like a bride, carrying me back to my bedroom. Setting me down on my bed, he enters my bathroom and turns on the tub.

  “What are you doing?” I question when he returns to the edge of the bed and brushes back my hair.

  “Let’s start with a bath, baby,” he states, and I want to break into tears.

  “I can’t have sex with you,” I whimper, and he chuckles.

  “I’m not here for that. Let’s get you better before we talk about sex.”

  Eric doesn’t leave me for two full days. He bathes me and changes my sheets, and then tucks himself in with me, keeping me company as we watch movies and I nap. He feeds me soup and crackers and makes me tea. By Sunday afternoon, I fell a little more human.

  “I owe you,” I say, teasing him as we sit on my couch.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” he replies. “And I know what I want.”

  I meant what I said as a rhetorical question but seeing as he’s thought of something, I’m curious.

  “Go out with me,” he states, and my mouth falls open.

  “Okay,” I whisper, stumped but pleased.

  + + +

  On Monday night, I’m pacing my apartment, waiting on Eric. He isn’t late. I’m just ready early, and I’m nervous. How strange is that? I’ve already been with this man. I’ve been with him and another, and now I’m nervous to see him.

  When the knock comes on the door, I jump and then giggle at how ridiculous I’m being.

  “Hey.” It’s the only word I can get out when I see him dressed in regular clothes: dark jeans and a dress shirt rolled to the elbows. He looks good. He looks amazing, actually.

  “You look beautiful,” he says to me, startling me, and I remember he hasn’t seen me in anything other than sports bras, T-shirts, and that crotchless skirt.

  “Shall we?” he says, tipping his head to the hallway.

  “Is it strange if I say I’m nervous?” I ask, which is silly as I never told him how nervous I was to enter the gym and let him experiment with me. Where was the confidence of that woman compared to me now?

  Eric steps forward, forcing me back into my apartment. His hands cup my jaw, and he kisses me. Tender and sweet at first, but then we heat up. Our mouths hungry as our hands roam, fingers dipping into each other’s hair before covering necks and then caressing shoulders.

  “I hate that we missed Thursday,” he mutters against my mouth, and I’m crestfallen that all he wants is sex.

  “Well, it is Monday,” I remind him, and he pulls back.

  “Yeah, but we have a date first, and sex does not need to be on the agenda.”

  Eric holds out a hand and leads me to my door, and out we go on an official date.

  9

  Eric

  While I was just as nervous as I think she was, the kiss settled things for me. I thought maybe she only wanted sex. She told me she’d come to me to learn how to be with another, but I wanted that other to be me. I was disappointed when she didn’t show last Thursday, but when I heard she was sick, it was the perfect time for me to show her that she meant more than sex to me. We talked while I was at her place, keeping things casual and easy between food and movies. She was funny, and she got my sense of humor as well, so when it came time to leave, I asked her out, and I’m relieved she said yes.

  Doesn’t mean I don’t want to have sex with her, but I’m willing to meet in the middle. If she wants dates, I can do that, and then I’m hoping we can recapture what we already have—sexual chemistry.

  We go to dinner and laugh. We head to a bar for a drink and laugh more. I’d like to take her dancing one night and go to a ball game on another, and these thoughts continue when it’s time to take her home.

  “Does it seem strange not to be at the gym?” she questions, sitting in my car outside her apartment complex.

  I shake my head. “Nope. I enjoyed myself.”

  Her eyes fix on mine. “Want to enjoy yourself more?” she whispers, and I’m already growing hard.

  “What did you have in mind?” I tease.

  “Come up and see,” she says, and I reach for her hand, kissing her knuckles.

  “Whoever said you were boring was full of shit, and as for confidence, I like what you have.”

  She smiles at me and gives me that look she has when I’m touching her, like she’s so into me. The bonus is, we aren’t at the gym, and she’s still giving me that gaze. I lean over to kiss her, taking her lips slowly, but it heats quickly. My hand comes to her thigh, forcing her dress upward, and her legs spread.

  “Here?” she whispers, and my fingers hook around her underwear, finding her wet and ready. Fingers delve into her heat, and her breath hitches. I capture it with a kiss, missing this kind of connection—mouth to mouth and fingers roaming. Her hips move.

  “Baby, I’ve lasted hours without touching you but my patience is done. This dress.” I hum. “I’ve wanted to unwrap you and enter you since the moment I saw you.”

  “Eric.” My name on her tongue catches as I add another finger, watching her face under the streetlight. We don’t call each other by our names or even endearments when we’ve met at the gym, but that’s all changing.

  “This is some good night kiss,” she groans, her head rolling on the back of the seat.

  “This is not a good night kiss,” I warn her, slipping my two fingers back and forth, the heady scent of her arousal filling my front seat. “This is a precursor to how I plan to make you come all night long. On my fingers. On my tongue. On my dick.”

  “Jesus, you are so dirty sometimes,” she says, her voice hitching as I stroke her soaked pussy.

  “You don’t like it?” I question.

  “I think I like it too much,” she states, and my mouth leans closer to hers while my thumb begins to flick at her clit.

  “I think I like you too much,” I admit, and
her mouth gapes, giving me the shot I need to crash her lips with mine and bring her to an orgasm on my fingers before we move on to part two of the night’s workout.

  + + +

  Alene

  Eric walks me to my door like he didn’t just finger me in the front seat of his car. It relieved a little more of the tension, the apprehensive part I was feeling about how this night would end. Do I invite him in? Will he invite himself? Then I just decided to go for it, and as if he knew I was a bundle of nerves again, he touched me.

  When we enter my apartment, I point at the couch, but Eric turns to me, taking my mouth once again.

  “You said you wanted dates,” he begins. “But what else do you want?”

  I’m not certain how to answer. I don’t want to give up the gym time, but I also don’t want us only at the gym.

  “Tell me,” he whispers.

  “I want you to make love to me. Nothing kinky, just lovemaking. Just once.”

  Eric doesn’t answer; he just leads me to my room. Once inside, he spins me, so my back faces my bed, and then he kisses me quick and hard, lingering as though he hasn’t kissed in a long time and he’s liking it. I like it. I like him. And while I know being in love would intensify the lovemaking, I want to see how we’d do if we went slower and took our time with one another.

  Eric pulls the tie on my dress and then forces his hands inside to loosen the material. His hands roam my skin, and I’m more self-conscious than I’ve ever been with him. The slower pace gives my thoughts time to wander and question.

  “Stay with me,” he states. It’s more like a command, as if he’s reading my thoughts and I smile that he’s caught me drifting. My dress is shoved over my shoulders and slips to the floor. When he pulls back to look at me, I feel more exposed than I’ve already been with him.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, and I want to cry at the tenderness in his tone. His mouth returns to mine, and I work at unbuttoning his shirt. He removes my bra.

  We move to the bed, lowering until I’m on my back. Eric slips to his side next to me, skimming his hand up and over my skin. His hand takes its time to coast over my belly, around my breasts, and up to my throat where I swallow under his touch.

  “Nervous?” he asks when he’s never asked me before, and I wonder once again where the confident woman who fucked him in an empty gym has gone.

  “A little,” I say. “Isn’t that silly, considering everything else we’ve done?”

  He shrugs. “I’m nervous too. Even though I already know what your pussy tastes like and how you clench my dick deep inside you, I also know every time we’re together is different, better, but just as enchanting as the time before.”

  “Where did all this sweet talk come from?” I tease because he is being sweet despite a few dirty words.

  “You bring it out in me. I want to give it to you.” Stunned into silence, he lowers for a breast, taking his time to lick and suck at the heavy swell. He isn’t wrong. It does feel different even though he’s done this before. The swirl of his tongue around my nipple is tender somehow but no less enticing, no less exciting. I’m coming out of my skin. He is so different than the way he’s taken me in the gym, and I’m not certain which I like better. Both, I decide. I want both versions.

  Eric pulls back and reaches for my panties. With a snap, he rips the side of the thong material and then scoops his hand between my thighs. He cups me, holding the heat and wetness without a word. His mouth covers mine again, kissing me before his fingers give in and fondle folds already damp and eager for more. His touch is so soft, teasing and torturing. Finally, a finger enters me, and my hips rock upward.

  “I like how you take what I give,” he whispers, a smile in his voice.

  “Is it hard to go slow?” I question, and his smile grows.

  “So hard,” he teases, moving my hand to cover him in his jeans.

  “You need to take these off,” I demand.

  “Yes ma’am,” he teases and withdraws his fingers from me. I’d whimper at the loss, but I can’t take my eyes off him as he stands to remove his pants and boxer briefs. His body is perfection, athletic and strong. He’s a marvel to look at, and that dick, it’s just perfection.

  Eric folds back to my side, skimming his hand up my inner thigh and returning his fingers to me. I wrap my fist around his solid length, rubbing him. We lie like this, taking our time to stroke each other. Me tugging him. Him fingering me. He stiffens in my grasp, and I become wetter, if that’s even possible.

  “I don’t want to come without you,” I tell him, offering him too much honesty this evening. He’s already given me an orgasm out in his car.

  He rolls over me, and my legs open to accommodate his hips. His heavy dick falls to my entrance.

  “The other night.” I swallow. “You didn’t use a condom again.”

  “I keep getting carried away with you,” he says, brushing back my hair, staring down at me. “I’ll get one in a minute,” he says, dragging his tip through my slick folds, coating the head. It feels so good, and I want him inside, real and raw, but we shouldn’t do it like that.

  “I’m on the pill.” It seems to be all the invitation he needs, and he presses forward, taking his time to enter me, slipping to my depths. His hand coasts over my arm, reaching out for my fingers and curling with mine. My head turns, watching our fingers link as he fills me, repeatedly pulling back and then slipping forward.

  Making love is too much. He is too much. This is too much.

  My head rolls back to look up at him, but he’s watching us, watching where we join. His dick slips forward, disappearing into me, and then he pulls out, slick with the connection of us. In and out, he moves.

  “I’m going to come,” he mutters, and I nod, wanting to feel him explode inside me. “But not without you.”

  My own hand slips between us, rubbing over my clit as he slides into me.

  “Jesus, that’s hot,” he mutters, increasing the tempo, and I match his thrusts, swallowing him into me, feeling whole for the first time in a long time. I clench, and he curses, unable to keep the pace without giving in. The pulsing of him inside me sets me off, and I follow his lead, falling into the abyss of an orgasm so sweet, so tender, like a soft caress against my skin. It lingers to the point I’m melting into the sheets at my back.

  Eric gives me more of his weight, and I curl my arms around his back, wrapping my legs around his hips and holding him over me.

  “That was incredible,” he whispers into my neck.

  You are incredible, I want to say.

  Too short a time passes before Eric exits the bed to clean up and then returns to take care of me. Climbing back into bed, he lies on his back, staring up at my ceiling. Here’s where I expect awkward to begin.

  “Which did you like better, making love or sharing me with Haywood?” I ask.

  “I wasn’t sharing you,” Eric snaps, his head rolling on the pillow to look at me. “I was giving you a gift.”

  Okay.

  “And making love to you was my gift,” I offer.

  “How is that a gift?” he questions, and I realize we didn’t share the same connection. He didn’t feel the power of us as one which I did. I guess we can go back to random sex, which isn’t random as it’s scheduled and anticipated. I just thought we’d mix it up—be spontaneous—but I was wrong.

  “Never mind,” I tell him, rolling to my back and staring up at the ceiling myself. Now what? Does he stay? Does he leave? This is when Harry doesn’t know how long to linger in When Harry Met Sally.

  “Don’t do that,” Eric says, rolling to his side and perching up on an arm. “Don’t shut me out.”

  “I don’t know how to let you in,” I say, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away. “I thought I just did, but we aren’t seeing it the same way. Maybe we can’t date. Maybe we need to go back to the gym.” Or no gym at all. At this moment, I know I can’t do more with Eric. It’s all in or nothing. That’s how the game is p
layed.

  “Do you want Haywood?” he asks, his voice lowering as he looks down at me.

  “I just want you,” I say, more honesty, more of too much. When he doesn’t answer, I add, “But maybe going back to only Mondays and Thursdays is the best.”

  “What if I don’t want to go back?” he mutters, holding my eyes, but I need to look away. I can’t hope he wants more when he just told me lovemaking wasn’t a gift to him.

  “I’m not certain how else to move forward other than to stop.” I stare at him.

  “Do you want to stop?” he asks, his voice full of caution and concern.

  “No.”

  “Did you not enjoy our date?” he questions.

  “Did you?” It seems like the more important question. Falling back on the bed, he looks up at the ceiling.

  “When did this become complicated?” he asks, and I’m wondering the same thing. We’ve been together. He spent the night after one wild night. He cuddled me for days while I was sick. Why is tonight different? Was it the lovemaking? Was slow too much for him?

  I roll to my side because I can’t have this conversation. It’s too much for me. We should have just left things as they were, I guess. I shouldn’t have wanted more. It never comes to more. Closing my eyes, I feel Eric roll into me, surprising me when his arm comes over my middle, and he tugs me to his chest.

  “Don’t let it be over?” he whispers. “Not yet.”

  10

  Eric

  Fuck it. By Wednesday, I break. I don’t want to screw her at the gym. I want back in her bed. I want to take her in my car and on her couch. I’ll do her on the kitchen counter and dining room table. I just can’t keep us separated to only Monday and Thursday.

  “Eric,” she says, a question in her voice as she opens her door late at night. I know she works a midday shift, and I had to wait for nightfall to see her.

  “I can’t wait,” I say, rushing her once the door opens. My mouth crushes hers, devouring her lips. It’s been so long since I’ve kissed someone, and I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I also didn’t realize how powerful making love to her would feel. It’s like she imprinted on me, and I can’t separate her from me. I can’t keep the distance and aloofness in the gym. I need us to be closer.