Chapter 27 A listless day of innuendo

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 the were bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Twenty.” The largest of the three yelled out and shortly there after 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 others 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 could be humbling.

The concept of a naturally strong man has it’s roots not only in genetics, but in ancient rituals found through out 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 to a cart or fence before a man could join in battle. These were not men who were strong enough to carry all of the groceries in 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 with out 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 passengers 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 little over dressed aren’t we?” was 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 away 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 ad nacho chips, a deli tray and bowls of pretzels, there was a chaffing 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 know 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 for more than seventy thousand people and a potential national TV audience appealed to her voyeuristic 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.

Nadrea just stood watching and waiting. “Are you going to the bar with Vinny later?” Samantha asked.

“Not sure yet,” Nadrea replied not yet knowing if there was a bar event, he hadn’t said a word about it, the answer was a polite side step.

Samantha just smiled “Hope to see you there.”

She said looking over at Steve “We’re going to the tent outside for the post game show” Nadrea genuinely like Samantha and smiled and walked with her to the upper level of the box to say her final good byes. Arriving at the back of the box by the bar to grab a water just as Vincent turned his back to her and made his way toward the suites private restroom. Nadrea again had followed him, though this time less obvious and more intentionally. Her eyes fixed on the door waiting for even the minutest sign that it was about to come ajar. No sooner than it began to open she found herself moving quickly toward it and slipping in before Vincent could slip out. As Nadrea entered Vincent pinned her to the door she had just passed through kissing her deeply. His broad shoulders caste an intimidating shadow behind her while his back was bathed in the soft yellow light of the room. Her arms wrapped upward around Vincent’s neck, his body bending forward to meet her lips with his. His hands large engulf to cover her from the tops of her thighs, her entire bottom to the small of her back when his fingers were spread. She hadn’t remembered how large his hands were.

Moving back with Nadrea clinging to his embrace, panting for breath with their lips still intertwined. Nadrea could feel herself becoming flush, shading ever so slightly as her endorphins raced through her body. Vincent reaching for her chest, moving her away from the wall she turned her back to him. Nadrea ground into him in a manner that was not at all discreet, her intentions were obvious. Vincent’s hand was still on one breast and the other across her small tight stomach toying with her studded belt. As she looked forward, looking at their reflection in the mirror.

“Not here,” Vincent said.

“WHAT!” Nadrea replied completely stunned. Vincent laughed that damned laugh of his “I could take you here…” she looked at him seductively thinking that was about to be exactly what happened, how could he resist she thought to herself.

But he continued “…that’s not what you really want…”

How did the arrogant bastard know what she really wanted? The rage inside of her growing and feeding on the intensity of her lust only seconds earlier.

“…what you really want to for me to take you out there.”

Nadrea just reached for his crotch trying to coax him into her intentions of here and now. “I’ll be out there Nod,” Vincent said stepping away from her. Vincent removed his touch and he was out the door before the sensation of his embrace had left her body, before she could react.

Again she had followed him, this time into a small bathroom that she, now alone was occupying, as she stared into the mirror she wondered how Vincent could have resisted her. This was not a reaction she was use to, she could feel his arousal growing the entire time she had been there with him, but still he walked away. Looking past her own reflection, delighting at the sight of the door she had been pinned against, the spot where her warm hands had left their imprint on the cold porcelain countertop. “Did he know” she said out loud to herself “or did he guess?” She paused “…at what I wanted?” She pondered did he know what she had been thinking about most of the afternoon. She smiled and let out an evil little giggle when she realized she had continued to follow Vincent without a known rhyme or reason, this time into a restroom. She laughed a little harder as she wondered with great expectation where she would follow him next. Mussing her hair as she opened the door, she walked out to find Vincent in an entirely empty suite. He was on the far side sitting in one of the overstuffed lounge chairs. He was just sitting there calmly like nothing had or was about to happen, a bottled water in one hand and the other magnificently large hand was held as if he was posing for a picture, stoic and imposing. Vincent just stared at the suite’s TV with a mostly blank but focused expression, it was like he was just watching a game on the TV at home not at the stadium.

It dawned on Nadrea for the first time how beautiful he was, his hair soft and shiny, his jaw strong and squared. His full lips offset by his piercing eyes. “Well, alone at last.” He said with a grin that was on loan from Satan himself. Nadrea’s image of Vincent had changed in her mind by the day. In a week he was just a man to toy with in a bar, maybe a play thing and then again maybe not. He had become the complete baneful obsession of her thoughts throughout much of the week, vilified, despised, an albatross of obsession to be disposed of on her terms in her way over dinner on Thursday. Was he cruel or casually aloof? Friday he had shown up and fit right in, but on his terms not her own despite her best efforts, she found herself at the end of the evening or in truth in the early morning in a way and place that he had planned. Perhaps he was cruel she thought to herself maybe only seemingly aloof but how could anyone who knew her for such a short time cause such a stir? She left off the part about the stir being in her cold unattached jaded little world.

As Nadrea crossed the suite walking towards him, Vincent just sat there watching the game. “Are they gone?” she asked. “No they’re invisible” he replied not yet acknowledging her presence except for his response. She stopped in front of him to block his view of the TV. Her gazed focused on him unwavering as she admired his beauty. She looked into his eyes as he looked away watching the game on another TV more towards the field. As she continued to look deep into his eyes she got lost in them like so many others had done in Nadrea’s, but unlike when others looked into hers the returned gaze was intended to have people get lost in her. Vincent wasn’t even looking at her. But she was lost in him, his beauty, his demeanor, his ability which was quite rare to be who he was on his terms despite her best efforts, it was maddening making him all the more interesting. Vincent continued to look away, no longer focused towards the field. Had he taken even a moment to look into hers he would have at first seen what he thought to be Nadrea’s lust, arousal and wanting tied to her physical needs of the moment. There to be seen, if he had looked just slightly past them, he could have seen her soul. Not the image she projected, not who she pretended to be and not even who she thought she was. Had he looked at her at that moment he would have seen who she really was at her core, in the darkest depths of her clouded dark soul. Vincent’s body tensed and he stood, his posture that of aggression while yelling at the top of his lungs, his voice angry filled with unbridled rage “DOWN” he yelled as he stood. Nadrea fell to her knees, her heart raced, her arousal intensified and in an instant she went from feeling in control to unsure. Nadrea found herself afraid but excited by the new possibilities lowering her posture even further. “Fucking Down” he yelled again without pause, his entire body flared. He looked back from the field toward where Nadrea had been standing only seconds before to find her kneeling at his feet, head down eyes on the floor. “Do you roll over and play dead too?” he asked. She didn’t speak, she wasn’t sure of what he wanted, whether or not to respond in words or in actions. Vincent reached down and took her hand off the floor, leading her with it, bringing her slowly back to her feet. As she stood slowly again her eyes locked on his, this time his were focused on hers as well. Nadrea wasn’t sure but she couldn’t remember having ever done something so simply thrilling as holding his hand. “I wasn’t yelling at you,” Vincent stated not in his usual biting and sarcastic tone but gently and softly. Vincent may have been a swordsman and at times with consent or upon request a rough lover but he was never cruel, he did not speak to his lovers in the manner that he assumed Nadrea had just interpreted. He was not abusive, had never raised a hand in anger to a girl or woman, it was not who he was. “He was down on the play” Vincent continued to explain that he was yelling at the play, Nadrea pretended to care seeing new possibilities in the last few seconds. As Vincent continued to explain he wondered why she reacted like she did, it was seemingly so out of character for her.

“Follow me,” Nadrea said, for once she was leading as she headed to the front row of the box. Vincent paused at the second row, tugging her behind him into it. Nadrea kissed him as he tried to place her facing him onto the table.

“Not like that” she said “ I want to see who might be watching us” as she kissed him again turning placing her back to him and leaning forward, over the table hands in front of her with her legs straight and spread wide she leaned forward a little more and waited for him. His hands tracing over her skirt, up the back of her legs, raising her skirt in the center allowing the sides to continue to drape over her concealing at least a little their intentions, preserving her modesty for everyone but him. Entering her slowly, sliding to his full length with his first movement, his motion measured, slowly making the most of every fraction of an inch slowly sliding inside of her filling her time and again. Vincent’s pace remained maddeningly slow, deliberate, and quite intentional, his notable girth’s friction filling her with sensations, Nadrea’s intensity building. She wanted to feel his lust and force and intensity as she had on Friday night, but he just steadied her hips limiting her motion and maintaining his desired pace, the strength of his hands evident in his controlling grip on her waist. It was like he had once again found a way to touch her that she had never felt before. She looked up from the table, biting her lower lip staring out at the crowd below her, at the players on the field and the stands on the far side of the stadium. She wondered with growing excitement who might be watching them, seeing her fight back her first waves of release, fighting to hold back her orgasm, struggling to stay stoic as she moved ever so subtly with him. A willing participant in driving her own pleasure deeper and deeper again she tried to quicken his pace. Again Vincent steadied her hips denying her the speed and motion she longed for. Pressing himself deeper than she had ever felt him before, again deliberately slowing his pace even more, sliding with ease allowing each sensation one by one to reach her brain. Her orgasm now rising out of control reaching back for herself, Vincent took the hand and pinned it gently to her back. Her other arm still in front of her on the table there just incase of an increase in their thrusts speed and intensity to prevent a violent collapse forward. No one, not man or woman, not self pleasure or cock or tongue or toy had ever built the intensity of sensations he just had. For all of her experience and literally countless lovers she had never been fucked quite like this before.

Nadrea wondered for a moment what he was thinking of, she felt his undivided attention was hers, but worried that he might in some cruel twist of fate be watching the game. She looked out across the stadium one last time before collapsing her torso completely on the table, head turned to the left, hair draped across her face, breasts pressed into the surface of the table flatting has she pushed downward harder. Vincent watched as her other hand moved between her legs and just as she felt her own first self caress he removed that arm and guided it back behind her pinning it with the other. As Nadrea feigned a struggle he held both arms in place with ease behind her, both seemingly gentle and firm at the same time.

“If what I’m doing isn’t good enough for you right now then I’ll just stop” Vincent stated cavalierly pausing again with his fullness completely inside of her, again allowing her to feel him in yet another new way and wave of sensations. Not able to fight it any longer her orgasm rose to its peak, seemingly from her feet through to her head and her entire body shaking with its intensity. She surrendered to him completely as he again began to glide through her, another release washed over her completely. As a third wave approached he tensed and released himself into her causing her sensations to again intensify even more. Arching up she imagined that the world had just watched her come, Nadrea imagined that it would never stop, but it did as Vincent removed himself and her long flow skirt fell back into place. Vincent covered himself with a towel and she turned and headed toward the restroom. Neither had spoken yet, as Nadrea lingered following beyond, retucking a blouse and adjusting her belt. She tried to be most lady like while putting her thong back into a reasonable semblance of the places it was supposed to be in and not where it had become lodged off of center.

When she returned Vincent was sitting in the front row of the large empty suite exactly in front of the spot Nadrea had just moments before be positioned behind and peering over during their interlude. “I’ve never fucked like that before” she said kissing him delicately. A kiss she intended as a genuine sign of affection rather than one with other erotic intentions. This was a nonexistent gesture in her world.

“I know” Vincent responded with his ever present laugh followed by “Prudish librarian, called it right when I met you.”

Nadrea began again “No! I’ve been…”

“Fucked from behind” he interrupted “I certainly hope so, you’re over 18.”

Nadrea for once ignored his interruptions and spoke again “That’s not what I meant. I meant I’ve never”

Vincent cuts her off again “…Been taken in front of a stadium full of people and possibly on national TV.” He concluded.

“Well yes and” Nadrea said growing impatient “so slow and deliberately”

Vincent uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading… it was heading toward genuine emotion decide to make light of the situation as the conversation was becoming intense and serious both things he was not in the mood for replied with. “Told you, you prudish, sexually repressed librarian. For me I do this at every at home game. Why do think every one left?”

Nadrea was not sure if he was kidding or not again she was not the jealous type after all but she suddenly cared about whether or not this was the first time he had someone like that in this specific space. Her defenses rising.

“So Steve must really hate it on the weekends you don’t have a date!” She quipped back at him partly out of defense and partly because she didn’t want to know the truth. She preferred to instead live in denial. Normally she would have only cared about getting off and she had certainly done that, but she wasn’t feeling quite normal, for a reason she had not yet determined she wasn’t feeling at all herself. Sitting next to him, Vincent responded an overly hearty laugh to her jab at him “Steve’s no where near as good as you were.” As silence fell on the conversation with the roar of the stadium as background noise. She smiled to herself knowing that she was the first he had in that situation; in the way they had just shared together. “Besides you have much nicer legs and he looks really dumb in a dress.”

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