6 Sexy Three Can Play Stories (6 page)

“
Who is she?”

Walter is clearing some discarded
drinks into a green shopping basket. “That's Mary Henderson,” he
says without further explanation.

“
A fan?”

The man snorts loudly.

“
A rabid bitch in heat I'd
say. She goes to all the games. I've seen her out there; crazy
doesn't half describe how that woman is.”

He steps up beside Andy.

“
You mind my words and be
careful around that one,” he says in a low voice. “Some says she's
a psycho, but I'll let you know she's Irish and hell fire to any
man that even makes a pass. I've seen her beat a man five times her
size around the ears for saying something negative about the Studs
too. She's given me my share of bruises getting her
out.”

Irish? It makes sense. She might not
have the red hair, but every second word out of her mouth seems to
be a curse word. Andy nods his head and goes back to the remainders
of his beer.

Unfortunately, each time
he tries to turn his mind back to his personal situation, that mad
woman bursts in with her voice or a slapping of her hand against
the table or some other annoyance. It's very hard to get a thought
in when every thought is punctuated by her voice shouting that
damn
Z to A
cheer
all the time. Andy has a hard enough time dealing with that during
games without it following him into his favorite watering
hole.

After awhile the noise becomes too
much for him. He briefly notes that the fans of the Gerico Michells
aren't taking it well before heading to the bathroom. That woman is
as nutty as Walter says she is. Andy hopes she's gone before he
returns.

A Sly Deal

Roger Keen, 23 years old,
quarterback and captain of the Soft Studs.

The balled up fist that was thrown and
knocked Andy Jackson, star offensive team captain and a very big
guy by anyone's standards, was apparently coated in Detroit steel.
A set of mean looking brass knuckles lent to the Mary Henderson by
a bald headed hooligan covered in tattoos of Jesus and the saints
going by the name of Joey Smooth (probably not his real name) were
sitting right across the bridge of her petite four and landed with
surprising accuracy right in the middle of Andy's forehead just as
he exited the toilet at about 8:30pm at McMullen's, the young man's
favorite bar.

Of course, according to her account,
they weren't aimed at him specifically, but they connected all the
same in what would later be said was the smoothest one punch
knockout anyone had ever seen.

Obviously, there was no need for the
10 count in this situation. Andy was already well and truly out of
the fight.

10 seconds after the aforementioned
punch all all hell broke loose in the form of a bar fight between a
gang of hooligans, several university students, a bunch of rival
team supporters and later the staff and police attending the
scene.

Men hit men and, reportedly, Ms. Mary
Henderson, unmarried, 25 years of age, and clearly very Irish
despite her lack of red hair, got the stout end of the bar
manager's 'sorting stick' (a 30cm rubber baton) on her rump while
the grisly oldster was trying to explain that, in her madness, she
had knocked out the offensive team captain of the Soft Studs – a
team that she apparently loves more than life itself – and was in
big trouble because of it.

Chock on sixty more minutes to that
and Roger Keen, quarterback and captain of the Soft Studs, has her
in the hallway of the team's apartments near their home stadium.
Inwardly, he's thinking that she's the best thing that has happened
to him and the team all month. Outwardly, he looks pretty
pissed.

“
So you say you were
aiming for one of the Gerico supporters?” he asks in his usual
overly casual voice from his position next to her outside his
offensive team captain's room.

Mary's head is down. Her face is
contorted into what looks like an ample amount of worry from where
Roger is standing. That makes sense, of course: The team manager
was pretty angry and even said he might ban her for what she did if
Andy doesn't wake up soon. For a fan like her that would be near
enough to divine punishment as one could get.

“
Yeah,” she admits quietly
in that thick Irish accent that, in Roger's opinion, doesn't suit a
tiny blond of her quite pretty appearance one bit. “I kinda missed
and hit him square in the head.”

Well, at least she's
honest,
Roger thinks to himself. That's
going to make conning her into what he has planned a lot
easier.

A cool breeze wafts in through the
door that leads to the fire escape a short distance away. Out there
is one of the best views of the field one can find and tonight the
lights are on as the cleaning crews do their things. If Roger was
standing there like he was before, enjoying the night's view and
the cool crisp air on his aching body, then he is sure that the
view would calm him in this moment. With what he has on his mind,
he's going to need it in the next half hour.

The quarterback smiles understandingly
and shakes his head.

“
I wouldn't worry too much
about it. It's been a few months since Andy got knocked out like
that and he is quick to get back on his feet.” Roger raises an
eyebrow and scratches his nose. “You must have walloped him pretty
good, you know. I've seen some of the other teams hit him with some
dirty stuff and he's never went down that easy.”

She blushes at his words.

Roger carefully runs his eyes down her
trim body. Those breasts are larger than they look and they are
caged in a bra that is confining them to a point where they are
bulging around the straps. Her stomach is smooth and slim and her
hips small and tight. A glance over back tells him that the butt is
just as well put together. This woman is just right for the job
that he has planned. Hopefully, her temperament doesn't end with
beating down men. She's going to need everything she's got to make
this work for them all.

He clears his throat and kicks off the
wall.

“
I'll tell you, Mary,
there's only one way that you can appease the manager and avoid
being banned from all of our games for life,” he starts out
slyly.

The woman looks at him hard and perks
up a little when she sees the honesty in his brown eyes.

“
Is there?” she asks
without needing much more prompting.

Roger nods and quietly assures himself
that this is for the good of the team.

“
Yeah. There
is.”

Quarterback Roger Keens very carefully
leans in and lifts a few locks of her blond hair to whisper for a
good few minutes into her ear. The situation and the team's dirty
little secrets are delivered. How he hopes she can change things
raises some eyebrows, but that wasn't unexpected given his idea. In
the end, she stares at him, licks her lips and, quite shockingly,
smiles broadly with a mannish lust that is truly becoming of the
woman that the police told him was bat shit crazy over the Soft
Studs.

Her voice is low and amused when she
responds. “Damn, if you said I'd get to do all that then I would
have knocked one of you guys out sooner.”

Roger Keens shakes his head in quiet
shock and smiles back.

“
I'm sure you'll knock
them out nice and good with other things very soon.”

A single look into her eyes confirms
that this one really is a spit fire. It's exactly what they need to
save the team and it dropped right into Roger Keen's
lap.

Despite himself he actually feels
excited. This could change everything.

Four Man
Merry-Go-Round

Back to Andy Jackson.
Currently semi-conscious.

What a horrible way to wake
up.

The three biggest assholes on the
planet are standing around him in a small semi-circle looking a lot
like someone went and stuck a carrot up each of their butts (which
is something that Andy feels wholeheartedly they deserve). At the
base of the bed is that crazy freak of a woman who knocked him out
just as he was zipping up on the way out of the men's and beside
her with his slim arms crossed and his usually overly casual
expression of boredom on his face is Roger Keens, who also seems to
have an odd look of satisfaction in his eyes that doesn't bode well
for Andy considering what the man probably has planned (a mass
beating to finish him off perhaps?)

“
Give me a damn good
reason why these fuckers are in my room, Roger, or I'm going to go
ape crazy on them in the next 10 seconds,” Andy groans from his
position on his large bed.

Roger smirks at him and flicks his
sneaker toe off the small fan that is whirring away at top speed in
an attempt to cool the room down a little. That one has a plan,
Andy is sure of it, and whatever it is the young offensive captain
is pretty sure that he's not going to like it.

“
Maybe he wants you guys
to make up,” the woman blurts out before Roger can
answer.

“
What would you know about
that?” Andy growls. “Who here dared talk about our personal
problems to this woman? I'm going to kick your ass right here and
now.”

Barry Leek, Joey Barbason and The
Black Rock – three of his team mates on the offensive side – look
in all directions. Clearly they are not stupid enough to mention
that each and every one of these mother fuckers slammed Andy's wife
on multiple occasions before he found out about it to the crazy
blond Irish woman.

Not a word is said. The woman slaps
the sheets of the bedding and makes the mattress jiggle about under
Andy's back. Her expression is amused and she appears totally
oblivious to the near death tension that hangs in the small
room.

In the silence that follows the big
man shivers as her finger runs up his calve with a little tickling
left to right motion of the tip and a wide happy smile on her
face.

Andy's mouth dries a little as he
stares at that finger as it reaches the bottom of his knee and
works it's way down the lightly sweating expanse of his calf in the
opposite direction.

What does this woman
intend to do?

That question seems to be an important
here.

“
Andy, you guys, I have a
little conundrum in front of me here,” Roger Keens says finally,
“You see, the team manager is considering chopping off one of you
three and I've been asked to consider who might be best to
go.”

There's an instant angry response. The
Black Rock slams his huge fist into the nearby table and growls out
that he'd like to see the manager try. Barry and Joey take it a
little less well and start throwing curse words left and right at
each other – each swearing the other will be the one to go. Andy is
the only one with a cool enough head to note the
obvious.

“
We are under contract.
You can't fire one of us.”

Roger's expression changes a little.
There's a very real sense that what he has to say next is going to
be uncomfortable.

The slim man runs a hand through his
slick hair and looks Andy hard in the eye. “Yeah, but I'm cool with
one of you going on holiday somewhere nice and cold. I believe a
team transfer to Alaska would do the job.”

“
Fuck,” The Black Rock
growls. “You have to be kidding.”

Andy stares into Roger's brown eyes.
He's not so casual now; not so relaxed. This time he means what
he's saying. It's that serious.

“
Okay, I'm listening.
What's your solution? You wouldn't have us all here if you didn't
think you had one.”

Roger kicks off the set of drawers he
has been leaning on with a clonk of his sneaker's heel on the wood
finish and turns the fan so that it is blowing cool air over him.
He twists a foot into the light blue carpet and shrugs his
shoulders.

“
This woman and I have
made an agreement. She knows well enough that she'll be banned if
this doesn't work out, so there's more than enough motivation on
her side to get the job done.” Roger looks uncomfortably to the
woman and shrugs his shoulders a few more times as if trying to get
something heavy off them. His voice cracks when he delivers his
next line of what might turn out as a game changer for the four men
in the room by the seriousness of his tone. “Tonight, boys, you are
going to have a little party.”

“
A party?”

Andy tries to get up so he can speak a
little more clearly, but the woman's red painted fingernails dig
into the flesh of his thigh painfully enough to have him sit back
down with an angry look her way.

“
What kind of party?”
Barry asks. “You bought her here to finish Andy off or
something?”

The tall man growls at the big
offensive player. That one has already done enough to well and
truly finish him off. He doesn't need some crazy broad's help to
achieve that.

Roger laughs and relaxes a little. He
glances to the blond, who is also smiling his way, and stops
gritting his left sneaker heel into the carpet. Suddenly, he's back
to casual again. The man leans back against the dresser and keeps
on smiling.