What the hell did you wear to a football game in an indoor arena anyway? What did it matter? He probably wouldn't even see me or I him. I might just go, watch the game, and return to my apartment where Big Ben waited.
I called Amanda.
"Really, Becca, there's no dress code. Be comfortablecomfortable shoes and a lightweight top will do. The stadium's cooled, but still gets warm when all the hot bodies pile in."
"Okay, thanks."
I hadn't told Amanda or Lyle, my prerequisite black, gay friend, as he called himself, how I got the tickets, just that I had them and they were invited. Amanda was great in that she didn't ask too many questions, because her mind was currently filled with finding a student-teaching position. But she did enjoy football and went to all the college's games. She also stood nine inches shorter than me and made me feel goliath. Lyle was two inches shorter than me, an arts major, and completely gay since before puberty. He really enjoyed football but only because of the sweaty players.
If I did happen to see Killian and he didn't care for Lyle's lifestyle, that would be that. I had no room for homophobic macho athletes, even if they dripped orgasmic scent into my bloodstream.
Amanda picked me up in her seven-year-old Honda Civic. Lyle already occupied the shotgun position, so I folded my tall frame into the back and turned slightly sideways to accommodate my legs. I wore my ocean-blue capris and a gray cropped t-shirt with a bright yellow Tweety Bird on the front. White deck shoes minus socks covered my feet. I had put my hair in a ponytail and propped large, dark sunglasses on my head for effect.
As we drew closer to the stadium, Lyle turned to me. "Let me see those tickets so we can try and park by the entrance we need."
I removed them from my small, cross-over-the-shoulder purse, and handed them forward.
A minute later, Lyle turned my way again. "Umm, who gave you these tickets?"
I looked into his questioning eyes. "Why? What's wrong with them?"
"They're for the VIP skybox."
"What?" Amanda and I asked at the same time.
Lyle gave me a look. "Sooo, do I need to ask again or will you give up your sugar daddy?"
I laughed at the thought of Mac the Knife being any woman's sugar daddy. "Killian MacGregor sent them to me."
"What the hell?" Amanda swerved through two lanes of traffic and exited the freeway nowhere close to our turnoff. I breathed a sigh of relief that we survived her display of missile evasive driving. Lyle, totally unaffected by our near brush with death, looked at me with something like horror on his face.
"What?" I asked with absolute innocence.
Amanda pulled over in the first parking lot she came to, put the car in park, turned my way and glared. "How the hell do you know Killian MacGregor?"
Before I could answer, Lyle spoke slowly, "You mean Mac the Knife, starting quarterback for the Scorpions, Killian MacGregor?"
I kept the nonchalant look on my face. "That would be him. I met him at that party my sister took me to a while back."
"Bu-bu-but I set you up on two dates and you've had Killian MacGregor on the hook?" Amanda sputtered.
I dropped my evasive act and gave a sigh. "Look, I received the tickets earlier this week, but it's the first time I've heard from the man since the party. One of the players got a little out of line, Killian stepped in and I'm sure this is his way of making things good. I had no idea the tickets were for some skybox."
"Not just a skybox-the VIP skybox. And girlfriend-we're totally underdressed." Lyle glared at Tweety Bird. I knew it was the bird because he had no interest in my breasts.
I looked down at myself and sighed. "Look, guys, we don't have to go. I'll treat you both to pizza and make up for it."
Amanda pulled the car back onto the road. "Over my dead body. Killian MacGregor sends VIP tickets and we are damn well taking advantage of it. I can't believe you would seriously go out for pizza." The disgust in her voice came through loud and clear.
"If you don't want Mr. MacGregor, I'll take him," Lyle said with pure muscle worship in his voice. "That man gets more than just the juices flowing, if you know what I mean."
Thinking about Lyle's juices flowing was not a pleasant thought and I seriously had no idea what more he was talking about. "I doubt we'll even see him."
"Oh, baby girl, we'll see him. These tickets kind of seal that deal," Lyle practically purred.
I wanted to slap the smug look off his face. "Don't get your hopes up."
"It's my dick that will go up once I'm in the same room with him."
"Not a pretty picture, perv," Amanda said in a cheerful voice.
It took twenty more minutes to arrive at the stadium and by this time I was way past worried. All week I'd dealt with the prospect of going to the game; enjoying time with my friends, watching a sport I knew nothing about, and getting a small peek at Killian. But I convinced myself I wouldn't be talking to him. Now, Lyle had my heart racing and my knees feeling weak. I was willing to admit the lack of circulation could be caused by the tight quarters in the backseat and my scrunched up legs, but I had my doubts.
Men waving flags directed us inside the stadium parking lot and to a row of quickly filling spaces. So much for parking near the entrance we needed.
"Let's get inside, out of the heat, and then we can walk around until we find our way to the skybox," Lyle said as he looped his arms around our shoulders and steered us to follow the rest of the crowd.
Most people wore purple and white, the team colors. Even Amanda sported a team jersey. Lyle looked halfway dignified in a form-fitting pair of jeans and an off-white, untucked short-sleeved linen shirt. Tweety Bird and I were out of place. We handed our tickets over at the turnstile.
"Wait right here, please." The woman immediately spoke into her portable radio while gesturing us to the side.
She ignored us after that, but a minute later an electric cart pulled up. "I'll take you to the elevator," the driver said.
Amanda squeezed my hand as we stepped on board. "You're sure you haven't seen him once these past two months?"
"I'm sure." Somehow my voice sounded normal, at least to my ears. I saw Killian MacGregor every night in my dreams. I needed to stop thinking about what he did to me in those dreams, because it was either girl sweat or my lady bits had just leaked again.
When we stepped from the elevator, a woman wearing a white blouse and black uniform pants checked our tickets. She didn't so much as raise an eyebrow when she said, "Right this way." We followed while staring at the luxury offered on this floor. It only proved we didn't truly belong.
The first thing I noticed were men dressed in suits. About a dozen people stood around talking inside the skybox, all looking like they were dining in an exclusive restaurant. One younger woman actually wore a skin-tight, sequined purple jersey that displayed her playboy breasts. Slowly, all eyes turned our direction, and it was obvious these people thought we had the wrong room. Cut that-wrong floor.
The lady with the night club jersey stepped forward, put her dainty, well-manicured hand out, cranked her head back to look me in the eye, and said, "You must be Rebecca. I'm Malory, Blitz's wife. Killian asked me to keep an eye out for you and your friends and make you feel at home."
"Tha-thank you. Um-these are my friends Amanda and Lyle."
"Hi." Amanda the talker failed me with her one-word greeting.
"Hi, gorgeous, I'm Lyle."
Malory shook their hands and looked genuinely pleased to meet us. She leaned in close to me and conspiratorially whispered, "Don't let the big shots," she nodded at the suited gentlemen standing around us, "intimidate you. They're nothing but big fluffy puppy dogs when you get to know them."
I finally managed to exhale. I had hated Malory on sight because she was everything I wasn't: short, buxom, blonde, and absolutely stunning. But I could forgive her anything for making me and my friends feel welcome.
She introduced us to everyone; the team owner, his wife, and staff echelon. I stopped trying to remember names. Malory walked us to the bar, in the opposite corner from the door, told us to order whatever beverage we wanted, and to also order from the menu. Our food would be delivered. Two huge television screens took up the side walls. This was another world, but as awkward as I felt, what I really wanted was to stare down at the field and catch my first glimpse of Killian.
"This is fucking unbelievable," Lyle whispered in my ear. "You've struck gold, baby girl."
I shot daggers of fire his way and as discreetly as I could and gave him a short painful nipple twist. Of course, he loved it and managed only a small gasp. Amanda was right, he was a huge perv, but every kinky thing I'd learned about sex came from his verbal sharing of escapades. Too bad, besides nipple twisting, I'd never been able to try them on anyone.