Page 15 of Consummation

I take several deep breaths, trying to calm my churning stomach. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I squeak out.

“You look like you feel sick,” Henn says.

I swallow hard. “I’m just a little hung over, that’s all.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Henn returns his attention to the action on the field, apparently completely convinced by my explanation.

For the next thirty minutes, Henn and I watch the action on thefield, cheering and screaming as Josh and his friends play flag football as fiercely as any gladiators in ancient Rome, and when the game is finally done, Josh jogs over to Henn and me on the sideline. I’m expecting Josh to pick me up and whirl me around like he did earlier, but, instead, he whispers something to Henn, winks at me, and silently heads toward a tunnel on the opposite side of the field.

“Where’s he going?” I ask Henn, admiring Josh’s supremely bitable ass as he jogs away.

“To the locker room,” Henn says. “He asked me to bring you there in five minutes.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, trying my best to sound nonchalant.

Henn shoots me a snarky look. “Josh had a message for you, bee tee dubs. He told me to tell Heidi Kumquat he’s such a huge fan of your reporting for ESPN, he’s decided to grant you anexclusivepost-game interview.’”

Seven

Kat

“Bye, Henn,” I say, hugging him outside the locker room.

“Enjoy your optometry appointment,” Henn says, snickering.

“Hey, man,” I say. “Regular eye exams are critical to maintaining peak visual health.”

Henn laughs. “Oh my God. You truly are the male version of Josh, you know that?”

“You think?” I ask.

“Indubitably.” He hugs me again. “Bye, Kitty Kat.”

I watch Henn walk away, sighing with my love for him, and when he turns the corner and disappears from sight, I open the locker room door and step inside, my skin buzzing with excitement. “Sports Reporter Bangs Super Bowl MVP in Locker Room After the Big Game” has been one of my top fantasies for a very long time—a go-to scenario I’ve thought about many, many times while pleasuring myself. I can’t believe Josh has gone to such lengths to deliver it to me.

I begin walking slowly into the spacious locker room, my stomach bursting with butterflies, my crotch swelling with each step I take. I turn a corner around a bank of lockers, and—boom—there he is: the Super Bowl MVP himself, bending down to put something into a locker, his back to me.

Holy Beefcake, Batman. Josh is dressed in nothing but shoulder pads and tight football pants. His skin is gleaming with grime and sweat. Good lord, he’s hot as hell—testosterone on a stick.

My phone buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it. Whoever it is can wait.

“Excuse me,” I say softly. “Josh?”

Josh turns around and my heart palpitates—he’s raw masculinity in its purest form.

“Yes?” Josh asks.

“Do you have time for an interview?” I hold up my badge to him. “Heidi Kumquat, ESPN.”

Josh smiles and runs his hand through his sweaty hair, flashing me his “THE GUN SHOW” underarm-tattoo as he does. “Sure thing, Heidi. It would be my pleasure.”

I motion behind me to my imaginary cameraman. “This is my cameraman, Brad.”

Josh’s eyes sparkle with obvious amusement. He looks over my shoulder to where I’ve indicated. “Hey, Brad,” he says. He runs his hands over his muscled chest like he’s lathering himself in the shower. “Ask me anything you want, Heidi—I’m all yours.”

Oh, man, my body’s having a physical, chemical reaction to this muscled, tattooed, sweaty man. My brain knows this is make-believe, of course, but my body apparently didn’t get the memo.

My phone buzzes with another text but I ignore it.

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