Authors: Michael Malflic
Puffing like a blast furnace Vincent found himself flanked by two even larger men. Every muscle in his body was flaring and filled to capacity, his heart pounding with an alarming intensity as he lowered himself again, thighs straining like they were bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Twenty.” The largest of the three yelled out and shortly thereafter a loud crashing sound of metal meeting metal ensues as Vincent re-racked the weights and caught himself stopping just short of becoming a heaving mass of pulsating flesh crumpled on the ground beneath the bar. Vincent and his two training partners were praying to the iron gods, and today was the holiest of all days in the week for them…it was leg day. They were finishing with the time honored tradition that had begun years earlier, an exercise the called “Death
Squats
.”
“You
gonna
Puke?” the large man on the left ask as he continued to heave and catch his breath.
“Only if those are new shoes.”
Vincent responded, an indication that while tired and winded the current contents of his stomach would be remaining there until processed as usual. Death
squats
, as they called them were in fact really called “breathing squats”. At the end of a long heavy workout the guys used them to test each other’s strength and in a way their manhood. The concept was simple, do a squat take and blow out three big breaths and repeat until you get to twenty. Without weights on his back his thighs would burn, but in the safety of a power rack with 495 pounds on his back, gravity pressing the bar across his shoulders it could be absolutely humbling.
The concept of a naturally strong man has its roots not only in genetics, but in ancient rituals found throughout the world of a boy’s passage into manhood. The most notable of these took place in the clans and towns of Scotland where a heavy stone, a testing stone, would have to be lifted on to a cart or fence before a man could join in battle. These were not men who were merely strong enough to carry all of the groceries in one trip or who could easily open a tight jar. They were men who had put in countless hours
over all of their adult lives to become truly powerful and they could easily inflict serious harm upon another without much effort.
Soon they found themselves getting ready to go about the rest of the day, which for Vincent meant slipping into a pair of jeans, a faded
Lacoste
shirt that was so old that the faded shade was giving way to the tattered bands on the sleeves and worn out collar and his favorite pair of worn out English Tan Maddens’. Vincent for all of his different obsessions truly loved cars, none of them were new and with rare exception none were inexpensive. Today he decided to drive his black Jaguar Convertible. His faded polo worn and tired paled in comparison to the immaculate appearance of the car. He wound through the streets, top down, pre-game this and traffic that blared from the radio, the wind blew through his hair, the sun on his face and a crumpled piece of paper that was resting on the passenger’s side seat. As he pulled up in front of her Brownstone she stood from the baby grand piano in her sitting room, headed down the hall and out the front door. As the door opened,
Nadrea
looked more like she had stepped off the runway in New York during fashion week in her BCBG fall collection, wearing an outfit right out of the catalog, a cognac cashmere cardigan with crocheted detail
, a
black wool skirt, studded belt and seven hundred dollar boots with a zipper detail, her hair pulled back tightly and her stark makeup contrasting her pale skin.
As always with
Nadrea
it had taken hours to be ready, she didn’t go places in her own mind, she only attended
events,
today the event she was attending was nationally televised and would have 70,000 others in live attendance at FedEx Field. As she walked down the old stone stairs toward the car, Vincent leaned across and unlocked the door for her.
“A li
ttle over dressed aren’t we?” W
as the greeting he extended to
her.
“No, just because I’m going to be surrounded by morons and slobs
doesn’t
mean I have to be one of them.” She said turning down the blaring radio.
He stepped on the gas as he threw a U turn and headed for the stadium. “How long is this going to take?”
she
asked already annoyed by the wind passing over her head.
Vincent just ignored her, turned up the radio and drove faster, hoping to drown out her next series of comments.
Nadrea
crossed her arms and stared aimlessly out to the side sat in an annoyed silence like a petulant child wondering why she ever agreed to go to such a stupid thing. As they arrived at the reserved parking section Vincent finally slowed and lowered the radio, not to talk with
Nadrea
who was still sitting and stewing, but to carry on with other game goers and the lot attendants. Vincent was social and charming
, he
conversed and heckled passers-
bys
and tailgaters on his way to an open parking spot.
“We’re here.” He stated triumphantly, she was still not talking. He got out of the car and began to put up the top.
Nadrea
was standing and watching as he worked to put the open top up by hand.
“You know they have cars that all you do is
push
a few buttons and the top goes right up?” She stated in her best sarcastic bitch tone.
Vin didn’t even pause
“ I
know, but it gives me something useful to do with my hands.” “Jerk”
Vincent just laughed that always present laugh. “Come on.”
Nadrea
started to follow him again, following this man not knowing where they were going, she assumed into the stadium. “
What’s it like?” he just looked at her slowing to make eye contact but still looking puzzled.
“
Vin
what’s it like here?” she paused uncertain of herself, very much self-conscious about where she was and the surroundings.
“Not much different than New York.”
She stopped and for once Vincent followed suit as
Nadrea
leaned in close to him “I’ve never been to a game before.”
“Oh” he responded mystified, “we’ll go to a little party with a few friends of mine, then we have a box that will be catered and watch the game from there.”
“OK” she understood the party part but was looking at large out of shape men grilling meat over fire next to her. She hoped there was something strong to
drink,
she didn’t particularly care for meat grilled over a fire by fat shirtless men. She walked side by side
with him still taking her clues from his strides. Finally they arrived at the far side of the stadium after walking through what she believed to be a reenactment of the poor masses of a city in medieval times. They approached a group of men with an old blue van, she could feel her heart sink as she was certain that this was the spot for the alleged party they were to attend,
when
he turned left and headed for a large white tent with a band playing oldies rock inside of it. There was a hostess checking invitations at the opening on the side that served as the door. Vincent walked up and kissed her check as she glowed at the sight of him.
Nadrea
thought she was old enough to be his mother. “Go ahead in.”
He laughed “I will Beth but here’s the pay off of our bet” he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a Philadelphia eagle undergarment.
She laughed “get out of her Vinnie before someone thinks we’re doing something wrong.”
“Beth this is Nod. She a virgin
” he
stated with an evil grin. “She’s never been to a game before”
“Too bad I thought you finally found a decent girl to date, speaking of which your usual is already here.”
Beth never spoke directly to
Nadrea
it was if she was nothing more than a well groomed pair of drapes.
Nadrea
who had started to slip out of character due to the uncertainty of the situation was back in full bitch mode expecting to see his “usual” probably some poor little tramp trying to fuck her way into a better standard of living. She thought how cold he was to bring her to a place where he was intending to see another woman, his usual date. And just as her blood began to curdle half way across the room three strides behind him Vincent stopped by a couple. She was ready to make sure the little whore knew her intentions of having Vincent as a play thing and that she couldn’t. As she stepped into the group, “
Nadrea
, remember Steve the bartender form the night we met? And this is…” she was waiting for the explanation for the girl in the cheap jeans and worn out sneakers and the stupid painted on baby doll T with an Indian on the front planning her first polite move before the strike.
“…my cousin, Sam.”
Sam spoke up “Nice to meet you. What a pretty name.”
Nadrea
replied more out of ingrained social response than genuine forethought logical response
“Nice to meet you too.
Hi Steve.”
As they headed for the buffet it was sushi, quiche, fresh carved roast beast, salads and fruits. In a way it was like being royalty surrounded by peasants.
The group explained how they were regulars at the games, turned out Samantha, as every one called her except for, Vincent was actually not only pleasant but the product of two successful parents, an only child of a sports obsessed father who was one of the owners a textile distribution company out of the Carolina’s.
His usual, she would find out, was Steve.
After a few white wines and a surprisingly good light meal they headed into the stadium toward a set of elevators and passed through several people checking their tickets. They were escorted to a private suite that was laid out with a vat of hot cheese and nacho chips, a deli tray and bowls of pretzels, there was a chafing dish with hot dogs and burgers and a bar stocked with beer and soda, and a few assorted barely palatable wines.
Nadrea
soon found herself staring out the front of the box looking at the stands. “Not many people here”
Sam Laughed, “Its 90 minutes before the game, don’t worry it’ll be full, it always is.”
Nadrea
just stood and watched as large men clad in short sleeve Lycra and shorts roamed around the field, a ritual that later gave way to the same large men reemerging in uniforms to stretch and practice, as the stadium filled, so did the box and not long before the game there were 20 people in it, wondering in from various clubs and pregame parties. Soon the seats around her were filling up with the affluent and privileged as she watched the masses pour into the rest of the stadium.
As the afternoon wore, on the box started to empty and Vincent found himself standing next to an all too bored moderately aroused little sex kitten. It must have been something about the primal instinct of large men hurting each other for sport that added to her mildly interested state, either that or the utter boredom that could
be commonly associated with the long cold nights filled with cabin fever in the Great White North where there was little else to do other than drink and fuck. As Vincent slid past
Nadrea
easing himself down the aisle behind her she pressed herself into him shooting him her very best “take me now” expression, one that had to have been noticed by the others around who were too polite or proper to comment. Pausing at first, momentarily grinding back into her ever so slightly, the thought of being an active performer being taken in front of more than seventy thousand people and a potential national TV audience appealed to her exhibitionist side more than a little, sure most people wouldn’t be looking or know what was going on, but some would. That in itself was the draw.
Nadrea
pushed into him harder hoping he would get the idea, Vincent returned the favor by pressing back again increasing the pressure on her, taking a hand full of her flowing black skirt and teasing it across he calves, dancing playfully above her knees leaning forward continuing to press into her harder
Nadrea
could all but be heard gasping at the thought of what was about to happen, the anticipation of what she concluded to be a certainty was maddening as her arousal grew instantly from a way to pass some time to a lust filled desire for the contact to escalate. As she leaned forward he moved her hair to one side kissed her neck and then stepped completely past her dropping her skirt back to its full length slowly. Vincent’s left hand tracing slowly across her thigh and ass to the small of her back. Finally finding a small space of skin exposed between her blouse and skirt for him to touch her skin, sending gentle erotic sensations through
Nadrea’s
entire body. She turned and looked at him with frustrated look of disbelief. “Not yet Nod.”
he
said making his way to the upper level of the box, eventually finding his way back to the bar.