It was a good gig for a 21-year-old. I was working for a small town newspaper and radio station (multi-media was a big deal to the owner of the corporation). There were some drawbacks. Watching and doing play-by-play on girls high school basketball in northern Ohio was especially mind-numbing.
Sure, there were some who were easy on the eyes -- but I was 21 and already too old and mature for teenage couplings.
And it was always an interesting challenge to broadcast the game, then somehow figure out a good way to take photographs. Talk about multitasking.
For the most part, I'd figured it out. Every game, my broadcast cohort, a thicker girl named Rachel, would do play-by-play for five minutes while I used my Canon for some action shots. Other than that, though, I'd take a few photographs from our vantage point in the media section.
There was a girl named Ginger who worked as a trainer. To my knowledge, she'd graduated from the school and was an assistant coach of some kind. She didn't impart much knowledge to the girls team, but she did scream at them a lot. I figured she was my age. Maybe a year younger, but surely a junior in college.
Toward the end of the season, Ginger started flirting with me. Never very obvious, nor did I care too much. Lots of girls flirted with me. But she caught my eye. Maybe because, in the middle of a gym of hundreds, she discretely flashed her breasts at me while I was taking a photograph.
She was, in concept, wiping up some sweat on the gym floor while I focused my camera on some cheerleaders showing off a routine (small town newspapers love cheerleader shots). As I was turning the lense, Ginger looked at me and bent over, her loose top exposing her young breasts barely captured by her bra. She looked up, gave me a wink, and than grabbed her shirt to her chest -- as if shocked and embarrassed that such a thing could happen to her in front of so many people.
Yeah, I thought to myself, I'm going to have to fuck her. Tonight.
After the game, I was helping Rachel load up our broadcast equipment into her car. As I tossed the microphones into her front seat, I looked to see Ginger walking by us in the parking lot.
"See you tomorrow," I told Rachel I shut the car door and started heading toward my own.
I quickened the pace of my walk slightly until I noticed Ginger was slowing hers'.
"Nice night," I said.
"It's great," Ginger noted.
"On these nights, I can really go for some ice cream."
"I love ice cream."
"Want to head over to the DQ for some?" I said. To fuck her meant I'd have to at least be polite beforehand. I mean, I probably could have said "Want to fuck?" but that's not quite the guy I am, nor is it known for its effectiveness.
"God, I'd love to," she said.
We met and I looked her up and down as she ordered. She had long, wavy red hair with some freckles. Her eyes were a dark almond and her lips pink under some silky gloss. Her skin was ivory, seemingly fragile. Ginger's breasts were by no means large, but they were full -- her cleavage barely hiding underneath her white shirt and bra.
She asked me what had led me to the small town, and what my future goals were. I almost said "To fuck you," but I figured she meant longer term. She was funny and quick to smile. And I have a feeling, had I asked her of her goals, fucking me was among her next plans.
The vanilla ice cream was licked off her spoon and swirled along her tongue and lips. She didn't hesitate about it. The implications were obvious. The only questions were the where and when. Well, and the how -- but that's a decision made in the moment.
Now, I worked in a small suburb outside a big city. The newspaper was an afternoon publication, which meant nobody was there after 8 p.m. And it was well-past 9:30.
"Listen," I said, "I'd love to take this elsewhere. But I need to drop off my camera at the office."
"Oh," she responded, "I'd love to see your office."
Sure, see the office. I don't care, I thought. I hadn't figured out if she lived in town or if she attended college at a nearby commuter school, but at least getting done with the ice cream gets her closer to her cream, and scream.
We entered the office, dark as I suspected it would be. The only lights came off red security lamps that were in evening mode. Ginger followed me in, and as I locked the door behind me, she slapped my ass cautiously.
