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"Ugh, that's it, baby!” Sam moaned loudly. “Just like that. You make me feel so good! Ugh!"
There is something cruel about Saturday practices. Sally had the grandeur of spirit to admit that, as it pained her to see how her boyfriend, exhausted from a long week of school, had to drag himself out of bed early and go to the pitch, and on a day that is supposed to be off, at that. On top, of course, of any game day that would happen to be scheduled some weekend or another.
She has a working relationship with Coach Stone Head since she was in middle school, but still, she can recognize that the man is harsh, and he is especially harsh to believe that he ought to poach on his players’ Saturdays to build character and simulate the conditions of game days, when he had no qualms in demanding weekdays afternoons as well.
In that regard, the girl could recognize why her boyfriend did not have much energy for academics. It is brutal. For that reason, as well, she would always be exceptionably pliant during Saturdays in the afternoon, as to cheer him up and spend some quality time together, before he inevitably dragged them to one party or the other.
She would often regret her availability to whatever hare-brained scheme he had in store for her every week, and he always had a nefarious way to make her embarrassed or otherwise exposed. She supposes it is a kink of his, since it would often involve situations where one or both of them would become underdressed in the most peculiar ways.
“C’mon, Sal! Let’s water the plants!”
“Hey, Sally! Can you make me a sammich?”
“I know it’s raining, but could you please check the mailbox? Here’s a weirdly-defective umbrella!”
This time, enjoying some unreliable and uncommon candour to his actions, Sam said he was sore from practice and wanted a massage laying in his double bed. Of course, the deviant acted as if he so enjoyed her soft hands kneading the tense muscles of his shoulders that he became quite vocal after only a few minutes into the supposed therapeutical ministrations of his.
"Samuel Gordon, for God’s sakes! Keep it down!" Sally snapped, feeling embarrassed and pausing her motions for a moment. "Stop moaning like that or you damn neighbours might think we're doing something else in here! I don’t fancy another lecture from my dad about the virtues of a virgin marriage, you know?"
The football quarterback turned around slightly, looking up at his girlfriend suggestively.
“Tell him that ship has sailed.” He responded, serious.
“Sam!” The girl snapped back.
"It is! Besides…" The grin was evident in his voice. "The neighbours heard all they had to hear. Maybe we could just have them have the right idea, if you place your hands a little lower. What do you say, baby?"
Sally pinched his prized throwing shoulder as a clear indication for her negative response.
"Ouch! Careful with the money-maker!" He laughed, attempting to pinch her arm back.
She laughed, swatting his hand away. “I thought that the money-maker was supposed to be your face.”
“That’s for after I get into college, babe.” He smirked.
“If you think you’re making money the way I know you are thinking that you’re making money, you have another thing coming, Samuel Gordon.” She responded, sternly. “You better keep to the straight and narrow, or I will put you there, and so help me God.
“Y’know, I love how you call me by my full name. Makes you sound so domineering!” He shot back, with the sole purpose of making her blush and spatter.
Which he, naturally, achieved with ease.
Oh, how he enjoyed to get a rise out of his usually so strait-laced girlfriend! How he loved the fact that he is the only person that can get her so flustered! He could spend an entire weekend trying to find new and perverse ways to see her cheeks flush so delectably and still never feel bored of it, and he never thought that he would one day feel something like that.
“Oh my God, Sam! I can’t even!” She shouts, hiding her face in embarrassment.
“Now it’s you who’s rousing the neighbours, Sal. Best keep quiet, or my daddy-in-law is going to hear it through the grapevine!” He laughed, almost hysterically, of her priceless reaction.
“Ugh, fine then! If you’re so funny, then I guess you’re not hurting anymore. You can go massage yourself!” Sally shouted, throwing the oil on his chest and walking away.
Before she could go very far, though, Sam held up his hand, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her against his broad chest.
“No, no. I’m sorry, baby.” He said against her hair, punctuating his speech with kisses. “Please finish what you’ve started, it was so good.”
“Then lay down and shut up. You’re being mean.” The girl pouted.
If there is something he enjoyed more than mocking his girlfriend, that thing was when she pouted at him. She looked so cute that he could not stand and do as she wants, every time, and he does it with pleasure.
“Sure will, ma’am.” He responded, handing her the lotion back and laying on his stomach, perfectly silent.
Sally resumed her ministrations on his gradually relaxing muscles, and, after the entire circus that he set up earlier, this time Sam stayed reasonably quiet.
Though, it is fair to say, it probably was not just because she asked of him, as she could sense that the tired quarterback was being slowly and steadily overcome by sleep.
Soon enough, his figure began to slump under her touch. The girl smoothed his shoulders after she had finished, wrapping her arms around him from behind and planting a kiss to his tousled hair.
"Thank you, love." Sam mumbled, kissing her forearm.
"Any time, Sam." Sally whispered, smiling. “Scoot over. I want to lay down, too.”
“Be my guest, babe.”