CHAPTERTWO
ORLANDO
The morning after hooking up with Troy, without having remembered to set my alarm, I wake up just in time to be late for training.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” I curse as I sprint down the street, chasing the Lyft that missed my apartment.
I finally did something I’ve been fantasizing about for years. It feels like a major event, and I’m proud of myself for making it happen before I get too famous and lose my anonymity.
I gathered up all my courage and I finally, honestly did it. I sucked a cock, and yeah, I liked it.
But typically, I’ve made it hard on myself for no reason. I blow one dude and fall asleep jerking off about it, and next thing I know, I’m late to the field again.
I’m a hot new striker on the Philly Force, the pro soccer team here in Philadelphia. My first year was rocky with plenty of setbacks, but I’m really trying to turn it around this season and cut the antics off the field. The Force has barely lost a single game, and my coaches are giving me a try in the starting lineup. I’m getting more and more time on the field, but I can’t settle for that. I always need to be achieving that next level, pushing myself to be better.
It’s how I got here in the first place. I give my all every minute I’m on the field, throwing myself into the game with relentless, high-power energy.
Understandable that my coaches don’t always see that dedication, though, considering I’m ten minutes late and constantly getting myself in trouble. I’m just as excitable and enthusiastic off the field, though, and still figuring out how to reign it in.
Case in point, it might not have been the best idea to seduce a stranger into a restroom.
Although the payoff was totally worth it.
With a stern glare, I’m sent to stretch. After warming up, I get redirected to run an extra 5K while everyone else turns to movement and attack planning, my favorite.
I curse myself through the first mile, but manage to focus on challenging my best time for the rest of the run. After some hardcore drills, we hit our first break, and I find Stace off to the side of the field. When I walk up, we high five, our standard greeting.
“Sometimes, I think you might be the sweatiest man on a team of sweaty men,” she says as I wipe my face with a small white towel.
I laugh. “Don’t lie. I saw Patterson after you gave him that ass-kicking at strength training. He was a waterfall.”
She wrinkles her nose, and we both laugh.
Stace was a new trainer last year, and when she was assigned to work with me, we helped each other adjust to the pro-soccer world. Long hours at the gym turned into a friendship, and when a particularly unflattering photo of me outside a nightclub with some teammates made the rounds online, she helped me realize my new pro-athlete lifestyle was interfering with my game.
Stace is finishing this accelerated business school at night, with plans to launch her own training company and app. She’s been encouraging me to keep out of trouble and stay focused, and I’ve been taking her with me to some professional events so she can do some networking of her own.
Like everyone on the team keeps joking, we’re basically work girlfriend and boyfriend.
“Okay,” Stace says, throwing a towel over her shoulder. “You texted me that you got home safe last night, but am I getting any details?”
I glance around. The field is pretty quiet with everyone on break, but I’m not out of the closet, and not even sure if that’s something I want for myself. Stace is the only person I’ve opened up to about this, though, and I am eager to talk about it.
“I have now confirmed that I love eating hot dogs,” I tell her. “Definitely adding more hot dogs into my diet in the future.”
She grins. “Soon?”
“Unlikely. I’m not going to risk trying a totally random hot-dog stand again, and this place is closed to future business.” I push a hand through my hair, ignoring the sting and disappointment that came from Troy turning me down, and lower my voice as I drop the pretense. “You remember, I vetted that guy a lot like you recommended?”
“Yeah. You made sure he didn’t care about soccer.”
“Exactly. Well, when I got there, I accidentally walked up to a totally different guy. Like, a random stranger. We didn’t realize the mistake until we were already getting down to business.”
She laughs. “Is that why the hot dog stand is closed to future business?”
I remember the way Troy smelled, like leather and soap. How hairy his arms were. The explosive burn of his beard, so good it hurt. He was mountainous, shaking as I worked him over.
His crown choked my breath, and I can still feel his dick throbbing in my mouth.
