An Unlikely Couple

I felt like such a loser. It was the summer after my senior year of high school and I was the only one in my circle of friends who wasn't enrolled in college. I was the captain of my football team during both my junior and senior years and was being scouted on a pretty regular basis. I just knew I was getting a scholarship for sure! I had lain in my bed almost every night during football season dreaming of all the calls I would get once the season was over. Oklahoma, Southern Cal., maybe even Florida State would give me a ring. I dreamed dreams of my cell phone battery being consistently drained of its power as a result of the thousands of calls I was sure to receive. Mom and dad would have to buy me two or three extra phones just to compensate, but they wouldn't mind. I was Michael Anderson, and their world revolved around me.

I was 6' 1" and weighed in at 215 pounds. Not terribly large for a linebacker, but big enough to do some damage when I needed to. Besides, it was my superior skill that commanded attention, not my gargantuan size. I had it made, or so I thought. It was the third game of the season when it happened. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a cool September evening, 73 degrees, slight smell of moisture in the air, but not raining. Not yet, anyway. It was a perfect night for football. We were playing a team we had beaten the year before pretty badly, and we were prepared to do it again. It was the end of the second quarter with only 23 seconds left. The other team was down by 13 and was trying hard to score before halftime.

The quarterback took the snap and dropped back to pass. My feet churned as I dropped back into my area of pass coverage when I saw him cover the ball, lower his head, and charge toward the line of scrimmage. My heels dug into the turf as I charged forward to make the tackle. We crashed into each other with the force of two semi trucks in a head-on collision. Our legs still pumping as we each fought to gain ground, neither of us was willing to give up so much as an inch. It didn't take more than a second for my teammates to crash in around me to assist in the tackle. That's when it happened. I don't know who it was, but I felt a helmet drive deep into the back of my knee. The flash of pain that shot through me at that moment is something I can't even describe.

The next thing I remember is being carried off on the back of the golf cart the trainers use to haul injured players off the field. That was it. That was the end of my season. No phone calls came. No extra cell phones were purchased. I spent the rest of the season on crutches standing on the sideline. I was 18 years old and already I felt like a has-been. My life was over.

I spent the rest of my senior year in a mild state of depression. I didn't fill out one single college application even though several of my friends were trying to talk me into going to the same schools they were going to. I just couldn't bring myself to do it, though. I hated the idea of being just a normal college student even though most of my friends were going to be just that. Most of the guys weren't playing football after high school. For most of the guys the athletic chapter of their lives was over and the next chapter was about to begin. Such a thought made me sick to my stomach.

*** *** *** *** ***

The first day of my summer job had just begun. My mother had gotten me the job through one of her friends because, as she put it, I needed to do something productive over the summer instead of lying around feeling sorry for myself. I agreed, and accepted a job at an inbound call center. The job basically consisted of sitting in a cubicle waiting for the phone to ring. Apparently when someone is stupid enough to buy something from a telemarketer the call gets transferred to an outside company that verifies the information and basically ensures the customer wasn't lied to. The job seemed easy enough. At least I got to sit and read magazines in between calls, which is what convinced me to take the job in the first place.

I had just finished my training for the day and entered the break room to grab a coke when I saw her standing by the vending machine. Rachel MacDonald had graduated in my class. In fact, she sat by me in my algebra II class during the last semester of our senior year. I didn't know her very well because we were in different social circles during high school, but I was still a little sheepish considering I didn't want anyone from school knowing where I had ended up after graduation. Getting injured was bad enough, but working at a freaking call center instead of going to college was worse.

We didn't talk to each other that day because I spent the rest of the day finishing up my training class. The next day, though, as luck would have it, I was seated in the cubicle next to hers. She looked just like she did all through high school; pale skin, dark hair, dark eyes and lipstick, and dark red fingernails. She had her nose pierced, which I secretly thought was kind of cool on a girl, and was carrying the same black backpack she carried since the 9th grade. She was wearing blue jeans and a Lacuna Coil concert t-shirt that looked like she had just bought it and was wearing it for the first time. I had never really spoken to Rachel in high school, but now that my ego had been taken down a notch I figured I could at least acknowledge her existence.

"Hi," I said, expecting the same giggly reaction I usually got from the cheerleaders.

"Hey," she replied without looking up from her Rolling Stone magazine.

That was odd, I thought to myself. I figured she would be excited to have someone like me sit next to her and say hello. Don't all girls want the star football player to talk to them? About an hour had passed before I decided to try again.

"Did you get that shirt at a concert, or something?" I asked.

"No, I got it at Abercrombie and Fitch, where else?" she said, sarcastically.

I blushed, realizing how stupid that question now seemed. "Sorry, I've just never heard of them, that's all."

She closed her magazine and gave me a look as if the sight of me actually caused her eyes pain and said, "that's probably because they don't get played much on the radio. Not everything can be commercially packaged and presented to you by the morning zoo. Sometimes you have to disengage yourself from the media and decide for yourself what you like instead of letting MTV or the local disc jockeys to tell you what to listen to."

"Okay, fair enough," I said. "Have I done something to offend you?"

"I'm just a little confused as to why you are even talking to me, to be honest," she said. "Aren't you popular kids supposed to only talk to each other? I mean, we went to the same school for the last 4 years and you never said hi to me or any of my friends, so why are you talking to me now?"

I didn't know how to respond to that. I just assumed we would jump into a conversation together. I hadn't expected to be put on the spot like this.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just never thought it would matter. I mean, it isn't like you tried to talk to me and I pushed you away or anything. We just had different friends," I replied.

"Why are you here, anyway?" she asked. "Aren't you supposed to be playing for some college somewhere bashing your head against stuff and grunting like a retard?"

"Well, no," I said, a little offended at the remark. "I was injured last year and didn't get a scholarship, so I'm just taking the summer off to clear my head and plan my next move. I'm here because I just needed to do something to earn a little money. You didn't know I hurt my knee? I thought everyone in town knew that."

"Believe it or not, some people have better things to do than keep track of what happens to YOU," she said.

"Ok, fair enough," I replied. She obviously had made up her mind that she didn't like me very much and frankly I was beginning to think she was just a bitch, anyway. I turned back to my computer and took a couple of calls before hitting the "away" button and heading to the bathroom.

I was just sitting down at my cubicle and was about to hit the "accept calls" button when she grabbed my hand.

"Hold on," she said. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch earlier. High school's over now and I shouldn't be so bitter about stupid shit that happened. I'm sorry."

I didn't know what to say except, "it's okay, don't worry about it."

"High school just wasn't a pleasant experience for me like it was for you, and when I saw you yesterday I just got this tense feeling. It was like, ok I thought all the bullshit was over and I could move on, but now here you are. I just assumed you would be an asshole, and I'm sorry for being rude," she said.

I was at a loss for words. I wasn't used to people apologizing to me like that. I was more accustomed to people who were afraid to show a vulnerable side. I had heard my friends and girlfriends apologize when they said or did something that made someone else mad, but it was usually just a quick "sorry, dude" and that was it. Rachel, however, seemed to be genuinely concerned that she had hurt my feelings.

"No, really, don't worry about it," I replied.

*** *** *** *** ***

Over the next week or two Rachel and I talked every day. I learned that she was very artistic and had even written a few short stories and poems. I was beginning to realize there was much more to this girl than dark eye make-up and tattoos. She was a really deep and kind-hearted person.

One afternoon she was showing me a picture of a flower growing out of a rotting dragon carcass she had drawn. As I was admiring the picture and listening to her explain the beauty of something wonderful growing out of such a dark and gruesome place, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Mike, I need you and Rachel in my office," the man said. It was our manager, Mr. Wright.

Once inside his office, he explained to us that the management was concerned because we both seemed to be spending most of our time talking to each other and not enough time actually taking calls. Apparently every time we hit the "away" button the manager could see it on his screen. We were written up and told the next time we would be let go. We went back to our cubicles and spent the rest of the day in silence.

After our shift Rachel asked if I would like to hang out with her for a while. I accepted, and followed her to an apartment complex about 3 blocks from our old high school. I didn't realize until we were inside her apartment that she lived alone. She explained that after graduation she needed to get out of her parents house because she didn't get along with her step dad.

"I love my mom, but he's a bastard and I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to get away before I lost all control and killed him," she laughed. I didn't have any stepparents. My mom and dad had been married for more than twenty years, and I couldn't imagine having to take orders from someone else.

Her apartment was just like I thought it would be. She had a small television, a blue futon with notepads and pencils scattered on it, a small but efficient kitchen, and a twin-sized bed that looked like it hadn't been made in a couple of days. Her walls were covered with posters and drawings, and she had several candles on the dresser and along the back of her bathroom sink. The studio apartment was small, but it seemed to suit her well. She took off her jacket, walked to the refrigerator and brought out two beers.

"I hope you like Coors Light," she said as she handed me the bottle.

"Oh, yeah. I drink pretty much anything," I said.

She cleared us both a spot on the futon and we drank and talked about nothing in particular for about an hour or so. After about 3 beers I excused myself to the restroom. When I returned, Rachel was sitting on the futon with a plastic bag in her lap and was rolling up something in notebook paper.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," I stammered. I had never smoked marijuana before and didn't know if I wanted to now.

"It's okay," she said, "it isn't going to hurt you. Here, sit down and just take a little puff."

"I don't know," I said, "I mean, I play football and I probably shouldn't."

"Really? What team do you play for?" she asked.

That comment stung a little, but I knew she had a point. I sat down and she handed me my first joint.

"Just inhale and hold it," she said.

I did as she said. The smoke hit my lungs like hot lead. I struggled to hold it in, but after only a few seconds I was coughing terribly. Rachel just laughed and handed me a beer. I chugged it as fast as I could, hoping to put out the fire in my chest. Over the next half hour we smoked, drank, and traded random stories from our childhoods. I didn't know if it was the beer or the weed, but I was quite relaxed and was willing to answer truthfully any question Rachel asked. I noticed her inhibitions were also wearing away, too. Rachel was right in the middle of telling me a story about her first encounter with her bastard step dad when, out of no where, I leaned over and planted one on her. I don't know why I did it. I wasn't planning it, or thinking about it, I just did it.

We just looked at each other in awkward silence for what seemed like years. Finally she cleared her throat and said, "Ok, that was unexpected."

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking," I stammered. "I'm sorry."

"No," she replied, "it's okay, I just wasn't expecting that. I mean, I know we've been getting to know each other over the last couple of weeks, but I never thought you'd KISS me."

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. I was so embarrassed I couldn't think straight. I honestly thought I had offended her, and just as I was trying to think of an excuse to leave she leaned in and gave me a soft, passionate kiss. She softly sucked my bottom lip in between her teeth and gave it a gentle tug as she pulled away. My lip made a slight smacking sound as she released it from her warm mouth. As she backed away she let out a soft sigh and slowly opened her eyes. She stared at me for a second before quickly shifting her eyes down and away.

We both sat there for a minute, neither of us knowing quite what would happen next. Suddenly I became very aware of my full bladder and quickly excused myself again. After relieving myself, I stared at my face in the mirror. What was I doing here? I knew this was totally not like me, but at the same time I knew that there was no place I would rather be right now than in this apartment with this girl. I opened the door and headed back to the futon. As I sat down Rachel reached up and grabbed my head and pulled my face to hers. We shared a long, passionate kiss that seemed like it would go on forever. I reached around her back and pulled her close in a tight embrace as our tongues danced in our mouths.

I felt her hand sliding down my body and under my shirt. She clawed at my stomach with one hand and was lifting my shirt up with the other. I felt her weight shift as she straddled my legs and pulled my shirt off over my head and tossed it in the floor. She was grinding herself into me and running her fingernails through my hair when all the sudden I stopped her.

"What, what's wrong?" she panted. "Why'd you stop me?"

"Uh, I, uh.... I don't have any, you know, protection or anything," I said.

"What? I have some in my dresser," she said as she sat back down on me.

"Oh, well, I..." I didn't get to finish.

"What's wrong, Mike? All the sudden you don't like me anymore?" she asked.

"No, no, that isn't it at all!" I said. "It's just, well, I haven't done this in a long time."

"So what. You didn't forget how, did you? Trust me, I'll refresh your memory," she said.

"No, no, I didn't forget how," I chuckled nervously, "it's just that..."

"Oh my God," she smiled, "you've never done it, have you?"

"What! Of course I have!" I lied. "I was a football player, for crying out loud."

"Really?" she said, not looking convinced at all. "Then what does it feel like?"

"What? That's a stupid question," I said.

"Mike," she said with soft eyes, "it's okay if you haven't. I won't laugh." "Okay," I sighed, "I just never went all the way. I had plenty of opportunities, I just never followed through, that's all."

"Well, I guess the question you have to ask yourself is 'are you going to follow through now?'" she said with an evil grin.

When I didn't answer she got up and went into the bathroom and closed the door. "Shit, I blew it," I thought to myself. A minute later she came out and flipped the light off. I could see the flicker of the bathroom candles behind her and heard the click of the lighter as she lit the candles on the dresser. She walked to the kitchen and I heard the click of the CD player as she pressed the disc in and closed the lid. The sound of guitars and drums filled the apartment as a woman began to sing. It wasn't quite loud enough to understand the words, but it had a surprisingly pleasant melody.

"Lacuna Coil," she said.

"What?"

"Lacuna Coil, it's my favorite band. You said you hadn't heard them before."

"Oh, right," I said. My heart was racing. I didn't know what was going to happen next.

*** *** *** *** ***

She stood right in front of me and gave me a look that said more than words ever could. She crossed her arms over her stomach, grabbed the hem of her t-shirt, and in one swift move pulled it up over her head and tossed it to me. She stood there in her bra looking at me through her now messed-up hair. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might pound itself out of my chest.

She got down in front of me and pulled one of my shoes off, then the other, and tossed them aside. I felt her warm skin on my stomach and chest as she slid her body up mine. She kissed her way up my neck and whispered in my ear for me to unhook her bra. I did as she asked and felt her erect nipples make contact with mine. She slowly kissed her way down my chest and stomach, and then slowly undid my pants. I felt a familiar tingle in my balls and before I could say anything I exploded in my boxers. I was mortified!

"That's okay," she said, "that always happens the first time. Now that that is out of the way we can continue the lesson," she said with a grin.

After sheepishly heading to the bathroom and cleaning myself up I returned to find Rachel lying on her side on the twin bed in nothing but black panties with little red hearts on them. She patted the bed next to her and smiled. I lay down next to her and she straddled my legs and pressed her lips to mine. She sat up and raked my chest softly with her fingernails. She looked so sexy sitting there looking down at me with her hair in her face. Her beautiful breasts bounced above me, and her long, pale, tattooed arms were reaching down to my chest. Rachel was right. After my initial orgasm, embarrassing as it was, I was able to focus on every detail of the moment with a clear mind.

She slid down and kissed my stomach softly, letting her lips dance along my navel and down to my thighs. I had never experienced something like this and I was in a complete state of bliss. I felt her wet lips move up and down my inner thighs until finally landing softly on my balls. She slowly kissed and sucked on them, massaging them with her tongue. I was starting to get hard again when I felt her lips move up and gently graze my cock. I had my arms outstretched on the bed not wanting to interfere with what she was doing to me. I wanted so badly to reach down and shove my dick into her warm mouth, but I fought that urge.

Just as I thought I couldn't take it anymore I felt her mouth engulf my cock. She was gentle. Not fucking me wildly with her mouth like you see in adult films, but rather savoring me instead. It was as if my cock was a gourmet meal and she tasted it for the first time. She was gently moving it around in her mouth with her tongue before slowly sucking it toward the back of her throat. She sucked slowly as she slid my dick out of her mouth inch by inch until it loudly popped out. She sucked me like this for a few minutes until she thought I was sufficiently rigid, then she kissed her way back up to my lips.