Wow, so many great reviews to chapter 1 of this little tale of lust and hate! And so many subscriptions and even favorites so soon! I love it and am honestly a little bit speechless. I also love how so many of you came back and reread chapter 1 (according to statistics).
Thank you so much to Rascalthemutant for reading this and correcting my mistakes. And thank you to Suki59 and Peppermintyrose for the classes in swearwords they`ve been giving me.
And now I`m writing on Dead without a Work Permit. I promise!
From the previous chapter:
“You need to run pretty fast to manage those 5 kilometers before player curfew, Northman.”
I gaped. “What?”
“You didn`t expect me to let you off the hook just because we screwed?” She looked at me with amusement in her eyes, but it was no haha-amusement.
I pulled my track pants up and went for the door. I looked back at her.
“I was right about one thing, though. You really are a bitch.”
I quickly closed the door after me, not wanting to hear whatever she had to say to me.
“SON OF A BITCH,” I shouted, not really sure if I meant Eric Northman or the situation in general. Or both.
How the hell could I have been so stupid? I hit my forehead with my knuckles. Having sex with … no, screwing Eric Northman. This was way beyond calling for the shepherd of Judea. For this I needed all the swear words in the book. Except they weren`t in any books.
This was so wrong, so god-awful wrong. What was I thinking, kissing Eric Northman and then pushing him onto my bed? It was such a bad idea on so many levels. I was not allowed to screw him, I could lose my job, I was being unprofessional, a lousy coach. I mean what coach screwed their players? Well, apart from almost any male coach in the women`s league. And a few female ones?
But it was wrong. So wrong.
And no doubt, Asshole Northman would brag to his team mates and I would be labeled the team whore. I dreaded tomorrow.
Shit, tomorrow. The game was so important and now I had fucked the striker who was already having a dry spell, goal-wise. Now we would all pay the price because Mr. Arrogant would be even cockier and blow even more chances than he usually did.
I had known from the beginning that Northman was a player who needed to be taken down a few notches and you sure as hell didn`t do that by screwing him.
He was like Jason in so many ways. Full of talent, but with no drive. I had pushed Jason to where he was now, but Eric Northman had just leaned back on his god-given talent and never worked his ass off as he should have.
As soon as I joined the club, I swore I would mould Northman into an even better player. I hated to see talent wasted on lazy butts and that was not going to happen on my watch. Eric Northman was 32 years old and could easily be pensioned off in a year or two, but with a little effort, he could last a good five or six years. Maybe even longer. But he didn`t want to make the effort. And that pissed me off.
I had worked hard myself to get where I was.
Jason and I were lucky, we were both born with an eye for football. Both of us knew just where to situate ourselves on the field to make wonders happen and our feet always kicked the ball in the direction and with the force it took to get it where it was supposed to go. We could read the other players like an open book and we quickly learned how to find strengths in our team-mates and weaknesses in the opposition. I had spent hours and hours working on my aim, my stamina and my mental strength to push my talent as far as I could.
Jason had always been too busy with the ladies to care. It wasn`t until I beat him in a few rounds on one-to-one that he realized talent wasn`t enough. Jason was my first self-appointed assignment as a coach and I had done brilliantly, if I may say so myself. Jason was a huge success. He never gave me credit for any of it, of course, but I knew.
And now there was Northman. A huge talent. I had watched him all through the years since he and I are the same age – and he had pissed me off even before I met him. No ambitions. He was happy just being the local hero and scoring all the girls. And some of the goals.
I cringed. Yeah, he certainly did score all the girls. FUCK!
I wanted to pull on my track suit and run my frustrations out of my body, but I did not want to risk running into the manwhore.
How had I ended up in this mess? And with Northman? I could have forgiven myself for having screwed funny and caring Sam or sweet and gentle Hoyt. Even wolf in sheep`s clothing, Alcide, would have been a better choice. But Northman?
And the sex had been spectacular, it really had. I wished he had had a small dick, been impotent or just a bad lay. But he wasn`t. He was the goddamned best sex I had ever had and I almost threw up at the thought.
I wanted my best sex to be with a man I respected and perhaps even loved. Not with womanizing Northman. What was wrong with me?
I forced myself back in bed and tried to focus on sleep and not on the pillow smelling like the striker of the football team I coached.
I was surprisingly refreshed when I woke up. Today was the big match day and I didn`t feel the usual weight on my shoulders. So what if I hadn`t scored the last couple of games? I would score tonight, I could feel it in my bones.
I had no idea where the sudden rush of confidence came from. Lord knows, I`d had some insecurities lately. None I wanted to share with anyone, of course, but they had torn me apart. Being labeled as “old” in the tabloids hadn`t helped my trust in myself.
But tonight I was going to show them.
I tried to analyze why I felt so good. It was certainly not the run last night. I hated running. Running was for midfielders, not strikers. It was beneath me to run around like some trained monkey. But Hardass Stackhouse had forced me.
Stackhouse. I had fucked Stackhouse last night. Fucked her good. And I was fucked.
How could she be a good lay? I had fucked prettier girls than her, more giving girls, girls who had adored the ground I walked on and who had let me know. And then Stackhouse turns out to be one of the best lays I`d ever had – if not the best. I groaned.
I didn`t even like her.
And she certainly didn`t like me.
I suddenly realized that she had presented me with the best means to get rid of her. She had screwed up by fucking me. Not only was it not allowed, but she would also be labeled the club whore if I spread the word.
But I knew I wouldn`t. I may be an asshole, but I wasn`t that big an asshole. I would make sure Sookie resigned her job somehow, but not by using her sexual escapades with me as a weapon. First of all – it could come back and bite me in the ass. I wasn`t allowed to fuck her anymore than she was allowed to fuck me. Of course my reputation as a manwhore was easy enough to carry, but I didn`t want to risk getting fired.
Second of all – I wanted to fuck her again. Shit. I hated her AND I wanted to fuck her. Pretty fucked up. Me being turned on by her wasn`t going to metamorphose me into some gentleman-Jim, though. I still wanted her out of the club. If I could fuck her on her way out, fine, but her fine butt was leaving.
I smiled to myself and went to have breakfast in the hotel restaurant.
Andre had told the players to come to the stadium 3 hours before kick-off. First of all he wanted them inside the stadium room before the home supporters gathered outside, second he wanted to give his usual pep-talk, and third the players had to warm-up – which was my job.
Everyone was there when Mr. Arrogant Bastard decided to grace us with his presence. I had been chewing my nails mentally, nervous to see him again. Nervous to see if he would use last night to tip the balance between us.
I gritted my teeth.
“Very good of you to finally show up, Northman,” I spat sarcastically. Andre looked at me from the corner of his eye.
Northman blew me a spiteful kiss and Andre started his usual speech about how important this game was, how close we were to winning the series, how much football is a mind-game and how the players would have to pull themselves together and win this one.
And then he told us we would be playing 4-5-1. I groaned. How did Andre expect us to win with just one player on top and 5 in defense? I hated 5-4-1.
I knew that Andre didn`t trust Sam or our defense, but that also meant that he didn`t trust me. Or at least that he trusted Northman more than me. I had worked my ass off to get the defense in shape. I had worked hard on Sam and his trust in himself and he was now the king of the goal. And Hoyt and Tray were a confident wall of defense.
Northman on the other hand was a liability. I had not gotten through to him and even if his talent was indisputable, his mind worked against him. And his laziness.
And now today`s game depended on him.
If I had been head coach, I would have trusted our defense enough to run a 4-4-2. That way Northman would have had help on top and we would at least have had a shot at getting a goal.
But I wasn`t head coach. Not anymore. Not yet.
I hadn`t noticed that everyone had left the locker room after Andre`s speech. Everyone but me. And Northman.
“So it seems I`m going to score again tonight, huh Sookie?” Eric wiggled his eyebrows at me.
I just looked at him. I probably should have been thrilled that he apparently hadn`t told anyone about our sexcapades, but I could do without the innuendo.
“Like I scored last night,” he bent down and whispered in my ear. Was he stupid or did he just pretend to be?
“Fuck you, Northman,” I said, not at my most eloquent.
“Ah, but you already did, sweetheart.”
He laughed all the way out of the locker room.
I felt invincible when I entered the football field. This was an away game so I didn`t get the home-roar from the supporters, but I still got more than any of the other players.
I looked over at the coaches and could see Sookie biting her lower lip, as she always did during games. I`m sure she would have smoked if this has been back in the Sixties before smoking was declared unhealthy. Or probably not. Sookie would probably have looked through the silly promises in the cigarette commercials. And she might just have grabbed the Marlborough Man by the balls and made him choke up the truth.
I smiled at the image.
I ruled this game. I owned the ball every time it came my way. I made lops and screwballs and even had a tunnel going. And I scored. Twice. It was fucking incredible.
I couldn`t help looking at Sookie when I did my victory dance and both times she was a sight for gods. She looked utterly happy and she even smiled approvingly at me. I was a goddamned hero.
After the game she let me hug her, and I hugged her good, and blew some hot air down her neck just to see her shiver.
When she went to hug Sam as well, I almost knocked him down. Granted he had done an outstanding job, saving a couple of balls from going into the net, but he had had the help of an enormous amount of defense players. 5-4-1 was chicken shit football, but it made my goals even more impressive.
We were cheering and singing in the shower and for once I welcomed Sookie when she entered the locker room with Andre. I felt like a king and wanted her worship and I didn`t mind being naked when she did. If course I couldn`t have it here, but I had plans for later on in her hotel room. The plane wouldn`t leave until the afternoon the next day, so I figured Sookie and I could have an all-nighter together.
She was the Ice Queen, but I was the human fucking blow torch tonight and she would be a little puddle of water before I had finished with her.
We all dined together and the atmosphere was happy and light, but I was sitting on needles, waiting for us to go to our rooms – and for me to go to Sookie`s room.
After a lot of chit-chat and getting rid of Bill and Chow who wanted to take me out to meet some of the local girls, I was finally in my room. I raided my minibar only to find two small bottles of champagne, and ran down and knocked on Sookie`s door.
I was leaning on her door frame when she opened, smiling my most charming smile.
“Northman,” she greeted. “Did you come to run with me?”
I then noticed she was wearing her track gear.
“Oh, I think I can find way more interesting ways of working out,” I waggled my eyebrows while presenting her with the bubbling. “Let`s celebrate!”
I was on my way into her room, when I felt her hand on my chest. And it was no caress. She was stopping me.
“I`m going to run a couple of kilometers and so should you.”
“I ran fucking five kilometers yesterday.”
“And you scored twice today.”
“Yes, I fucking scored twice today and I would like to celebrate.”
“We already celebrated tonight, Northman. Now you should focus for the next game. Go for a run!”
Her voice was cold and she spoke to me like she would to a bratty boy.
“Go fuck yourself, Sookie!” I shouted and turned around to walk away.
“I might just do that, Northman,” she taunted, making sure I wouldn`t get any sleep tonight.
Poor Northman. No celebration and now no sleep. *runs off to giggle*
I admire Sookie for being able to say no. Not sure I could….
I hope you still like the story. And I hope you don`t hate Sookie for saying the no none of us would be able to say if we had the hot striker outside our door, wanting to celebrate 😀