There were only seconds left. Chris Hamilton raced up the field, keeping the ball secure in the webbing of his stick. Deceptively quick and agile for his size, he spun around one defender and ducked under the forearm of another. A gap opened between him and the opposing goalkeeper.
He knows I’m left-handed, so he’ll expect me to shoot right. Seeing two more defenders closing in, Chris whipped a shot toward the upper left corner of the goal.
The goalkeeper deflected the ball away.
“Time,” the referee raised his voice and blew his whistle. Chris’ side lost the hard-fought lacrosse game, nine goals to eight.
He pulled off his helmet and jogged toward the sidelines after a brief team meeting on the field.
Sculpted muscles of Chris’ six-foot one-inch, two hundred and thirty pound frame bulged under his loose-fitting uniform. Thick wrists and forearms reflected his skill on the baseball diamond as well as the lacrosse field.
He caught sight of Jill Grayson standing on the sideline with her best friend Amy Davidson. He and Jill started going out three years earlier during their freshman year at Deerfield College.
Chris took her in his arms and kissed her long and keep. A warm, contented feeling flowed through his body as he held her as close as his shoulder pads would allow.
“I can’t believe you didn’t score,” Jill said after they broke apart.
“I can’t either.” He thumped his stick into the ground. “Damn, I hate losing like that.”
“Don’t take it so hard.” She tossed him a towel. “It’s only a pickup game.”
“Go big or don’t go at all.” He wiped the sweat off his face and neck. “That’s the only way I play it. Doesn’t matter what I’m doing.”
“There’s Janet,” said Amy, nodding to where Janet Taylor and her boyfriend Jeff Lynch were talking with a couple of players. “Jill’s old friend from way back.”
Chris’ cock jerked, a sharp reminder of the two years he and Janet were together before Jill caught his eye.
“Yeah, my old friend Janet,” Jill muttered. “Let’s get out of here, Chris.” She picked up the folding chairs she and Amy had brought with them.
“Yes, ma’am.” Same old story between you two.
The warm Colorado sun beamed down as the trio headed for the intramural parking lot. To the north, the Darkmoor Mountains were already snow-capped above the surrounding forest. Lake McArthur glistened in the distance.
“Heckuva game you had, big dude,” said Trent Rodgers, one of Chris’ teammates, coming up behind them.
“Except at the end,” Chris said. “I hope I’m not losing my touch.”
“Can’t win every time, C-man. Hey, some of us are going to Brennan’s for a few beers. You guys interested?”
“No can do. Jill and I are headed for dinner and a movie, then V-TECH.”
“One of the hottest clubs in town. That’s cool.” Trent looked at Amy. “You know fans are always welcome.”
“Can I catch a ride home with you afterward?”
“Sure. Let’s go.”
Amy looked over at Chris and Jill. “See you guys later.”
“See ya’, Ames,” said Jill.
“How about Chinese or Mexican for dinner?” said Chris. “I could go for that.”
“I feel like Italian tonight,” Jill said. “Capriccio’s sounds good to me.”
“Italian it is,” Chris said, unlocking the car doors. “Be careful of my baby.”
Pride surged inside him as he carefully wiped a small spot of dirt off the impeccably clean red Mustang GT fastback. When the car came up for sale online, Chris practically begged his Uncle Mike to make the purchase. They decided to use the Mustang jointly. Chris would pay for insurance and maintenance from money earned during the summer but his uncle would be the actual owner.
He pulled into Jill’s driveway just past five o’clock. One quick kiss turned into several of longer duration. The faint flavor of peppermint lingered on his tongue after she got out of the car. How did she always manage to taste so good?
“I’ll be back to pick you up at six-thirty. That all right?”
“Sounds good. See ‘ya soon, big guy.”
Chris lived with his Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Mike in their spacious two-story house. They became Chris’ guardians after a drunk driver killed his parents six years earlier.
He opened the front door and followed the appetizing smell of dinner cooking. His aunt and uncle looked up from putting the finishing touches on the meal.
“Hey Chris, how did the game go?” said Uncle Mike.
“We lost by one lousy goal. I could’ve sent it into overtime but I blew it.”
“Tough luck,” said Aunt Elizabeth, “but don’t put all the blame on yourself. You’re not the whole team.”
She poured gravy out of a saucepan into a serving dish. “Are you going to be eating with us?”
“No, Jill and I are going to Capriccio’s at seven. Smells great, though. I gotta get going. Jill says hi.”
He grabbed a carrot off the counter and bounded up the stairs to his bedroom. Tossing his lacrosse stick and gym bag into a corner, he stripped off his uniform and put on a pair of shorts, finishing the carrot along the way.
Dropping to the carpet, he began the first of three sets of one hundred pushups, followed by three sets of two hundred sit-ups. Muscles sore from the lacrosse game cried out in protest, but he pushed himself to the end. Pain is temporary. Pain is a thing of the mind. Just ten more…five more.
Push-ups and sit-ups were only part of the regimen he used to keep himself in peak condition. He got up early and ran three miles, then lifted weights for two hours in the gym he built in his uncle’s garage. Three sets of twenty chin-ups completed his morning session.
In the afternoons between classes, Chris put in forty-five minutes of sprint and distance swimming at the campus pool. Sunday was his only day off.
He finished the last set of sit-ups, rested for a couple of minutes, then showered and dressed. Checking his look in bathroom mirror, the first two buttons of his snug-fitting, light-blue dress shirt were open, revealing the sharp divide between thick chest muscles. Powerful thighs filled out khaki pants, a black belt circled his narrow waist, and a bulge was evident between his legs.
His exceptional physique was a key factor behind his persona, the social ‘mask’ or appearance he presented to the outside world. Chris had become timid, depressed, and withdrawn after his parents’ deaths and eventually decided he wanted to present a whole different appearance to his high school classmates. He created the persona soon after and the results surpassed his wildest dreams.
Chris cranked his newly-installed car stereo as he headed over to Jill’s house, rolling down the windows and letting the whole world rock to the classic sounds of Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple.
He pulled into Jill’s driveway, taking the porch steps in single bound, and rang the doorbell.
The front door opened and Chris tried not to stare.
Could she be any more beautiful? Jill paired a classic, dark grey pleated miniskirt with a white, short-sleeved top. Her hair was softly curled at the bottom, catching golden highlights from the fading sun. The hem of her skirt rose above mid-thigh, providing plenty of room to move on the dance floor. For comfort, she chose flat sandals rather than heels.
A ten-minute drive brought them to the restaurant parking lot, filled near to capacity on a Saturday night.
After a short wait, the couple was seated in a cozy alcove.
“What’s your pleasure, madam?” said Chris, in his best imitation of an aristocratic gentleman.
“A little wine to start out, sir. Then I’ll have chicken Marsala, mashed potatoes, and asparagus. And of course some of that wonderful Italian bread.”
Chris chose eggplant parmesan, Caesar salad, and steamed vegetables. He didn’t eat pasta, bread, or potatoes, proud there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his 32-inch waistline, but joined Jill in a glass of white wine.
“This is really good.” He cut another piece of the parmesan. “When you come here you’re never disappointed.”
“Delicious,” said Jill, “but I bet I could make this dinner and it would be just as good.”
“I’ll take you up on that. How about inviting me over, say the middle of next week? I can watch the master chef at work.”
“Hardly that, but it’s a good idea in case you ever have to cook for yourself.”
“I could make do,” Chris said. “But I can always use a few more pointers.”
The conversation turned to their senior year at college and the choice of movie. Jill insisted they go to the nine o’clock showing of the latest romantic comedy but Chris flatly refused, telling her he wouldn’t be caught dead watching a ‘chick-flick’. He gave in only after Jill promised he would have the next pick.
“Dessert or coffee?” asked their waiter.
“Just coffee for me,” Chris said.
“I’ll have the tiramisu,” said Jill, “and another glass of wine, please.”
Chris allowed himself two forkfuls at Jill’s urging, then sat back with a contented sigh. “That was some good dinner. Gonna put on a couple of pounds for sure and I can’t afford that.”
“I don’t weigh an ounce more now than I did three years ago,” Jill said. “I always take care of myself and get plenty of exercise.”
“I know a few exercises that’ll take weight off.” His cock stirred at the thought.
Jill leaned over the table. “What would those be?” she whispered.
“Be good and you’ll find out,” he said, tasting a hint of wine as he moistened her lips with his tongue. Feeling them part at his touch, Chris put one hand behind Jill’s head and kissed her with a passion at once returned.
The elegant wood clock at the far side of the restaurant chimed quarter to nine. Jill made a noise in her throat then broke off.
“Hate to break up the party, but we’ve got to pay and get going. Can’t be late for the movie.”
“Oh geez, the movie. I can hardly wait.”
Chris suffered through two hours of ‘lame story and even lamer action’, leaving the theater more than ready for V-TECH.
Though it was still early, a line snaked down the block from the club, a favorite with the younger set in Deerfield. Once past security the couple worked their way through the crowd, a loud, heavy beat pulsing in their ears.
“Do you want a drink or dance first?” Chris shouted over the music.
“Vodka and grapefruit,” Jill shouted back.
He motioned her to one side.
“Let’s grab a table then I’ll head to the bar.”
Jill attracted plenty of notice from the men she passed, but one glance at her tall, muscular escort was enough to keep their attention to looks only.
Women followed Chris with their eyes, taking in his handsome features and virile body. His ever-present sex drive kicked up another gear, but he paid little attention otherwise. There was only one woman for him and she was walking by his side.
The bartender didn’t skimp on the liquor and one drink turned into three. Caught up in the pulse-pounding music, Jill grabbed Chris by the arm and led him onto the packed dance floor.
He knew all the latest dances, his feet, hips, and shoulders moving with surprising ease for a big man, his body under perfect control. Let’s show them how it’s done, Jill. She matched him move for move, the couple weaving their way through the crowd. Her skirt kept riding up, revealing pink, next-to-nothing panties. Chris watched with growing sexual hunger, cock throbbing with desire.
It wasn’t long before the alcohol took effect and Jill moved in close, playing with his belt buckle and brushing her lips against his, then spinning away before he could react. A similar move left his shirt unbuttoned to the navel. She moved sinuously to the beat, gyrating her hips in a way that set Chris’ blood on fire.
He caught Jill and set a blistering kiss on her lips as the lights dimmed and music slowed. He reached under her mini-skirt and pushed down her panties, massaging her tight, round ass. Jill threw her arms around him and locked herself against the ridge in his pants, feeling the heat of his hard shaft radiating though the soft material as she ground her hips into him.
The couple swayed back and forth, moving as one. Lips touched and tongues teased.
The lights came up and another set of pulsating rhythms started.
Jill nodded toward their table and the couple left the dance floor. Chris made no attempt to hide his sizeable erection.
“Damn, that was hot,” he said, slumping into his chair, wiping the sweat off his face and chest. He left his shirt unbuttoned. “I was ready to take you right in front of everybody. A little longer and I couldn’t have held back.”
She smiled seductively, pulling her panties back in place.
“Doing it on a dance floor would be fun. Maybe I’ll try it sometime.”
“Only if I’m the one doing it with you. If any other dude even thinks about it...”
“Calm down, tiger. I’m yours, now and forever.”
“Forever,” he repeated softly, turning to Jill and running one hand gently through her hair. She took his other hand and ran the pad of her thumb across his palm. Gazing into each other’s eyes, kissing and touching and loving, they lost track of time until the closest bartender signaled last call.
The night was warm and humid for early September as the duo headed for the parking lot. Jill got in the Mustang and cuddled up against Chris, moving her hand inside his shirt. Her probing fingers found an erect nipple and applied gentle pressure with thumb and forefinger. His low hum of pleasure made her snuggle even closer.
Chris put the car in gear and headed for Jill’s house. The same comfortable, contented feeling from the lacrosse game washed over him, the warmth of her body against his and her fingers caressing his chest muscles. Words seemed inadequate to express his feelings.
“Babe, life couldn’t get any better.”