Groupie (Juked Book 2) Page 5

  I follow her blindly up the stairs. I’m more mad than anything else. I look down at my outfit. The red Mutiny jersey fits my curves, as do the short jean shorts. White soccer socks come to my knees. I look cute, but do I look slutty? Do I scream “I like to have sex with soccer players”?

  I hate that this girl is making me doubt myself. I hate that I feel like my friendships have been belittled because I like sex. It feels a lot like slut shaming. It is slut shaming, and it doesn’t feel very good. I have to snap out of this. This isn’t me.

  “You know she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, right?” Sasha says when we get to the top, and she loops her arm through mine. “She’s frustrated because she isn’t getting her rocks off.”

  I smile as we go to the beer stand. “I know. I’m just tired of her attitude.”

  “I wish Quincy would come without her sometimes.”

  “Do you really think Daniel Zavaro is finally settling down? That’s so not him.”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I guess everyone meets their match eventually. Maybe Quincy is his.”

  “Maybe.”

  The announcer starts calling the players onto the field, so we quickly get beers and stand at the top of the stadium seating to watch.

  I immediately gravitate to Rowen, sitting on the bench. His red hair stands out. He’s tall, probably about six one. Tight, strong thighs and fucking amazing calves. On top is no joke either. He lifts his shirt to wipe his face and flashes a solid six pack I can see all the way up here. And his arms—those are some serious guns. His lily-white skin makes me wonder exactly how much SPF he has to put on. He’s not unattractive by any means, but I don’t usually go for redheads. And he is a true carrot top in every sense of the word.

  Yet I’m still drawn to him. His reserved demeanor stands out next to his very aggressive and loud-mouthed teammates. He’s different. I like it.

  Sasha and I stand during the majority of the game. I’m not in the mood to be berated by Geni anymore, and I get distracted by the action anyway.

  In the middle of the second half, it becomes obvious Mack is having a hard time keeping up. I’m not sure what’s been happening to him lately, but the chatter about him being booted is making more and more sense.

  The coach pulls him off the field, putting Rowen in his place. My heart leaps as Rowen immediately goes into high gear.

  It’s amazing to watch him. He’s faster than the opposing midfielder, but he’s not overly aggressive. He holds his ground, and no one can get past him. His mannerisms on the pitch are reminiscent of the old clips I’ve seen of his dad. At the same time, he very much has his own style.

  I’ve never been as fascinated by a player as I am watching him. It’s one more thing that attracts me to him.

  Oh yeah. If he makes a play for me tonight, I will definitely be tapping that.

  As soon as the game ends, the crowd goes wild, cheering for the five to four win our boys pulled off.

  Sasha grabs my arm and yells in my ear. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat before the party.”

  I take her hand, a big smile on my face, so I can follow her through the crowd of people without getting separated. Geni’s harsh words are long forgotten.

  I hear the party before I even get to the door. Sounds like this one is going to be wilder than most of Shivel’s get-togethers. Not that I’ve been to a lot of them. He didn’t start inviting me until a couple of weeks ago.

  He makes it obvious in practice that I’m “below” him because I’m not a starter. Not that I need the reminder. My dad was on the Premier League in Europe. I know full well what the hierarchy is like.

  Entering the apartment, I immediately see Anthony Fordova. I played against him in college. Nice guy.

  “Hey, Rowen,” he says, coming in for a man hug. “Good to see you. How’ve you been?” He smells like a brewery, and his eyes are a little hazy. Guess he’s been here a while.

  “Good, man! I can’t believe you’re already a starting forward. That’s amazing.”

  He waves me off. “Says the rookie who has already been moved up from the practice team.” Anthony was a couple of years ahead of me in school and was always the best of the best in college. He can get around anyone. Make any shot. Offense. Defense. He is the all-around player every team hopes to get. He also spent two years on the practice team for the Galaxy before moving up to starter this year. If I thought he was a great player before, he’s exponentially better now. “That’s fucking unheard of.”

  I shove my hands in my pockets. “It is what it is. As long as I can help out my team, I’m happy.”

  He smiles and slaps me on the shoulder. “Still humble as pie. You’re a good man, Flanigan.” His attention strays as some girl walks by. I’ve never seen her before, but that doesn’t stop me from looking. I assume she’s another groupie. From the look on Anthony’s face, and the way he follows her ass with his eyes, I’m pretty sure he assumes that, too. “Anyway, it’s good to see you,” he says without looking at me. He’s still watching the woman. “I’ll see you later.” He walks away without a backward glance, approaching her with a smile.

  I shake my head, amused. Bunch of man whores. That’s what these guys are. As long as the women are willing, they don’t seem to care about anything but getting laid.

  I go in search of a beer and hear Shivel yell, “On your mark, get set, GO!” He’s obviously starting another random party game. He’s like a freaking game show host at these things.

  As I head to the kitchen, I wonder if Tiffany is here. I assume she is because, according to her, she always parties with her team. I really hope to see her. I want to talk to her more. I’ve asked around when her name has come up. Daniel speaks really highly of how much publicity she gives the team at her job. Around here, soccer is small potatoes compared to football and baseball. Knowing she uses her job at a TV station to get us coverage makes me really respect her.

  We got to Mack’s place at about nine thirty. By ten, the liquor was flowing, the music was cranked up, and a good time was being had by all. When Mack suggested party games, it seemed like a really good idea.

  “Yeah!” Sasha yells, trying to taunt the players from the other team. Not that they need much convincing. They never do. “My girl is the reigning queen of the blow-job races!” She raises my hand in the air like I’m a champion, and I laugh and take another shot. She’s right. I’ve been playing this game for years. I can’t be beat.

  “All right, all right, all right,” Mack yells, trying to quiet the crowd of people who’ve caught wind of what’s about to happen. “Since we have our reigning queen, sucking machine in the house”—I drop a curtsy to the hoots and hollers—“It only seems fair that she’s paired with someone who has never played before.” A murmur goes through the crowd as everyone looks around to see who it might be. Mack doesn’t keep us in suspense for long. “Nate Funderling, you ready to put your dick where her mouth is?”

  I laugh at his lame attempt at a joke, and at his attempt at throwing me off my game. I’ve sucked Nate off before. This’ll be a piece of cake. Nate, however, doesn’t seem to be too keen on the idea.

  “Dude, no way. My wife ever catches wind of this, and my marriage will be over.”

  The crowd boos and chides him until Mack speaks. “And who’s going to tell her? What happens behind closed doors stays behind closed doors, remember?”

  It takes a few more minutes, but finally Nate relents. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he grumbles, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs that were brought into the middle of the living room. He undoes his pants while the other teams get into place.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say, putting my hands down his pants and pulling him out, hearing him hiss at my touch. “You know how good I am at this. It’ll be over before you know it.” I stroke him from base to tip, making sure to rub my thumb over the tip as he hardens. Sasha and a few other girls I know on their knees, getting their partner ready as
well. The rest of the party crowds in around us, a few bets being made here and there. I smile. It’s unorthodox, but it’s fun. As long as no one gets hurt, who cares, right?

  Mack pushes his way through the crowd, a stopwatch in his hands. “Okay, ladies and gents. Are we ready to get started?”

  The crowd rumbles in agreement, and I laugh. “Let’s do this, bitches!” I yell. Sasha winks at me before turning back to her partner.

  “You know the rules,” Mack continues. “When I say go, start sucking off your partner. First person to come wins. On your mark….” I keep stroking Nate. “Get set….” I blow on him gently, making his dick twitch. “Go!” I wrap my lips around his cock and lick, nip and suck while the crowd cheers me on.

  I snag a beer from a cooler and walk into the living room, where most of the action seems to be happening, and stop dead in my tracks.

  Several of my teammates are relaxing on the furniture… with some random chicks blowing them. In the living room. While two dozen people cheer them on, and Shivel is calling out things like “Thirty seconds, boys. Suck harder, girls. The title is on the line!”

  I want to pull my eyes away, but I’m so stunned by what I’m watching, I can’t. One by one, I look at each contestant before finally landing on the dark hair I was hoping to see but not like this.

  Tiffany’s hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her eyes are closed in concentration as she sucks and licks Nate Funderlings’s cock. Her cheeks are sucked in, showing how hard her pull is. She is holding onto him with one hand, quickly stroking in time with the movement of her mouth, and massaging his balls with the other.

  My heart plummets. I like this girl, really like her. But seeing her suck off my teammate, my married teammate, makes me want to vomit.

  I want to pull her off him and rip his cock off. I want to punch Shivel in the face when he yells “Forty-five seconds. I know someone is close.” I want to claw the eyes out of everyone who is watching her in what should be a private, intimate moment.

  Most of all, I want to drag her out the door like a caveman and hide her away. Protect her from these people who are using her like a toy. These people who are disrespecting her in the name of “friendship.”

  And then I want to yell at her for letting them do it.

  “Get ready, Tiff. I’m close,” Nate yells, a look of ecstasy on his face as Tiffany sucks so loud, I can hear the pull from where I’m standing. He grabs her hair and groans, the cheers in the background increasing as people pass money back and forth, presumably for the bets they must have placed. My stomach rolls. I think I might be sick.

  Shivel grabs Tiffany’s hand and raises her to her feet, presenting her to the audience. “The winner and reigning champion of the Texas Mutiny blow job races, Tiffany Wendel!” He hands her a glass of dark liquid, and she takes the shot, grimacing at the taste of it.

  She smiles at Shivel and then looks around the room at her fans. When she sees me, her smile drops and she goes pale.

  I put my beer on the small table by the door, turn on my heel, and leave.

  An hour later I’m still driving around. When I got in my car, I didn’t really know where I was going. Just as far away as I could from what I had seen. Now I find myself at Daniel’s apartment. He’s our captain and has told us he has an open-door policy. Anything we need, he’s here.

  Right now, I need to cash out on that offer. I need him to calm me down. Maybe tell me what the hell kind of team I’ve signed with that does stuff like this.

  I knock on the door, bouncing from foot to foot, still shaking. A few minutes later, Daniel answers, wearing athletic shorts and nothing else.

  “What’s up, Rookie?” he asks, surprised to see me. “Everything okay?”

  “Do you have a minute?”

  The look he gives me tells me I probably need to calm down more. He cocks his head to gauge if I’m here to cause trouble or not.

  “Come on in,” he finally says. I step into the apartment and stride over to the window. “Give me a minute,” he says. “I’ve got company.”

  I nod. I’m too keyed up to even know where to start. I can’t get the visual image of that beautiful woman sucking off my teammate out of my head.

  “Now, what’s so important you have to interrupt me when I have company, Rookie?” Daniel says behind me. I turn and face him, still furious.

  “Do you know what’s happening at Shivel’s apartment right now?”

  “Nothing illegal, I hope. His parties can get kind of wild.”

  I start pacing. “I hope it’s not illegal. God… how old is she?” I rant, throwing my hands in the air while I walk back and forth. “Could it be illegal? That would be even worse.”

  “What are you talking about?” Daniel asks, stepping in front of me to stop me from pacing.

  I take a deep breath before speaking. “Tiffany.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “She gave Nate head.” He looks at me blankly. “In the middle of the living room while people cheered them on, Daniel. People were making bets on how long it would take her to suck him off. She was racing other girls! Girls who were doing the same thing to the other guys. She’s so fucking young.”

  “She’s twenty-two.”

  “How do you know that?” I wonder how well he knows her. My anger flares again, but I try not to let it show. He’s still my captain.

  “Rowen, who doesn’t know her? She isn’t just a great contact for us. She’s a groupie, too. Been gang-banging the team for years.”

  After the conversation we had the other day, I thought he cared more, but not only does he know, he doesn’t care. I don’t know what to make of that. “This doesn’t bother you?”

  “Why should it?” He shrugs and crosses his arms. “She’s an adult. They’re all adults. As long as she’s doing it willingly, it doesn’t matter if I like it or not.”

  “But she….” I run my hands through my hair and pace again. “But it… how is this just okay? How is it okay that my entire team is treating these women like, like objects? She’s letting them do these things to her and that’s okay?”

  He gives me a confused look. “How is this the first time you’ve come across this? Didn’t you play soccer in college?”

  “Yeah, but my coach wouldn’t stand for stuff like this. We were supposed to be role models, not animals who went around disrespecting women.”

  “Hold up. That’s not my scene. Never has been. I’m too afraid of my mother to get involved in that shit. But who says she’s being disrespected? Did she tell you she feels disrespected?”

  “Well, no. But she’s disrespecting herself by allowing them to… holy shit. You don’t seem to understand what’s going on.”

  “I understand just fine,” he says, cutting me off. “They’re called cleat chasers for a reason. Look, I know you like her.” I look at him critically, silently questioning how much of our poker night conversation he remembers. “Stop looking at me that way. I remember more about that night than you think.” I feel like I’m being reprimanded by my father. “I respect the hell out of her for what she does for this team. But she also loves the partying. She likes putting out for the team. As disturbing as it is—and trust me, there are more disturbing things than blow job races—she’s made a choice. So can you. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to be a part of it.”

  I nod, but I can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t actually love it. I can’t believe she thinks so little of herself that she thinks this is normal. Or maybe I have a hard time believing someone would actually enjoy being treated that way.

  So why does she do it? And maybe more importantly, why do I care so damn much?

  An hour later, I’m sitting alone on the balcony at Mack’s place, waiting for Sasha to either pass out or get bored. We’re taking a cab, but I can’t leave her here alone. We do some crazy shit, but for the most part, we watch each other’s backs.

  I focus on my whiskey swirling around in the glass. All I can think about is the
look on Rowen’s face when Mack declared me the winner. It was a mixture of shock and anger. Those looks I can handle. I’ve seen it all before as people flit in and out of our circle of friends. It’s the disappointment I can’t let go of.

  I’ve never claimed to be anything other than what I am. I’m not here to snag a player as a husband. I’ve never striven to become a wife or girlfriend, or WAG as they’re more commonly called. I just like partying with the guys, and I love sex. Period. The end.

  So why does Rowen’s opinion matter to me?

  The door to the balcony slides open, and I down the rest of my drink, assuming Sasha is finally ready to call it a night. I put the glass on the floor and turn, but the person sitting next to me isn’t Sasha.

  “Rowen,” I breathe out, my heart skipping a beat.

  He doesn’t say anything. Just sits back and stretches his long legs out in front of him, resting his hands on his stomach. I stare at him as he looks out over the apartment complex pool. The blue glow gives his skin tone a strange tint.

  “I should have stuck around earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t make a point to talk to you before leaving.”

  Of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t what I expected. “It’s okay. I, um… I was… well, you saw.” I’m not sure how to react to an apology. He owes me nothing, yet he’s treating me differently than most men would after watching me blow his teammate.

  His jaw clenches then relaxes. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. It caught me off-guard.”

  I smile shyly. “That’s right. Your old coach and his conservative ways.”

  He smiles back at me. “Can’t blame me for being a little shocked.”

  I clear my throat, suddenly embarrassed I participated at all. Another feeling I’m not used to. I’m never ashamed of my behavior at these parties. It is what it is. But something about this time seems different. Or maybe it’s Rowen who’s different. I feel the need to explain myself. “We haven’t done that in a very long time. Got caught up in the moment and the booze, I guess.”