In 2004, I had settled into my adult life. I was married to my high school sweetheart, Karen, I had taken my dream job as a sports radio reporter, and I had a child on the way. What more could anyone ask for?
Still, something was missing. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I had a yearning for something more. I wasn't unhappy, just unfulfilled, and I knew that I shouldn't be.
Covering the local NFL team was part of my job. It consisted of getting up really early on a Sunday, and heading to the stadium. The good part was that I only had to work for the first half before my relief got there and took over for the rest of the game. At that point, what would usually happen is I would start drinking, then role on home whenever I could get there. The Wife was used to this and knew that, on most Sundays, she would just see me tomorrow.
This Sunday was no different. Halftime came, I did my report and it was off to the media suite where unlimited drinks and food awaited me.
The media suite did not disappoint. It had a full bar, a sponsor would bring in food for all of us, and most importantly, it had private bathrooms. If you have ever been in any kind of stadium at any kind of event, you know how much of a pain in the ass it can be just to go to the bathroom.
I retrieved my cocktail from the bar and made my way over to the table where the food was spread out. I looked on the sponsor card at the top of the table. It read:
Willis Automotive - The Car anyone can afford.
I thought nothing of it. I grabbed a couple of sandwiches from the table and had a seat next to a reporter from the local newspaper. We talked for a long while, over many drinks, about business, family, and potential sponsorships. He had told me about this one big sponsor that he would like to introduce me to who was actually coming up to the suite momentarily. Again, I thought nothing of it. Just another rich guy I was going to have to wine and dine just to get him to spend three thousand dollars a month with my company.
"It'll be fine," He said. "He's a good guy."
"Okay, I'll meet him, but don't expect me to drool all over him. I'm not in the mood," I replied. Really, all I wanted to do was get out of this suite and this stadium so I could go around to a local bar, but the drinks were free here.
As I was finishing up my conversation with the Newspaperman, I could see that the main door to the suite had opened and a well-dressed man had entered. He was about fifty feet away from me, and he was moving to his right and left shaking any had that was stuck out, so I couldn't see him very well. I could tell that he was making his way through the crowd when the newspaperman hit me on the shoulder and said, "There he is. Come on."
I followed my colleague through about twenty people and arrived at the man he wanted to introduce me to. His back was turned away from me while he was talking to another person, when the newspaperman cut into the conversation and said, "Mr. Willis, there's someone I would like to introduce you to."
He turned around and our eyes locked. It was an instant sense of recognition on both parts. He stuck out his hand and said to me, "Lance Willis. Nice to meet you."
I knew this man. Well, I didn't know the man in front of me, but I once knew a version of him. Trying to gather my words, I shook his hand and all I could bother to muster up was, "Nice to meet you, too."
The three of us engaged in conversation about sponsorships for about the next hour. Exchanging thoughts on business and how the team was doing. All professional like. It was like we had never met. I have to say, it was strange, because I knew exactly who he was, but, did he know who I was. I didn't necessarily look the same. Life had added a couple of pounds to me. Okay, life had added about fifty pounds to me since our last encounter.
Lance, however, was fit as a fiddle. He stood about six feet tall and weighed about one hundred and eighty pounds. He filled out his grey three piece suit nicely. As I stood there looking at him, I couldn't help but remember about the time at the beach. This guy that everyone wants to talk to, I had my dick up his ass.
In reminiscing this encounter, I could feel myself start to get hard. I needed another drink. I went to the bar, grabbed another cocktail, and proceeded to the bathroom to try to get ahold of the situation. After a few minutes, and chugging my cocktail, I was able to compose myself and head back into the suite.
At the bar, I decided to take a seat while I waited for my next drink. The game was over and the crowd had started to thin, so what was once fifty to a hundred people had turned into about ten.
The bartender handed me my drink when I heard someone from behind me say, "That one's on me." It was Lance. He patted me on the back as he pulled up a stool right next to me.
"They are free for media," I stated.
"Oh! Is that what you are? Media?" He sarcastically replied.
"For about the past five years," I continued, "You look like you're doing well."
"Oh, all that?" He said, "The old man is getting up there in age, so he let me take over being the face of the business. I never wanted a real job anyway."
The conversation went on about what we had both been up to for the past ten years since the beach incident. He, nor I, ever thought about bringing it up in this setting, but it was clear that both of us could sense a strong sexual tension that had never left. It was like something had been fermenting for ten years, and now it was ready to be unleashed. It was too strong to ignore and we both knew it.
I could tell the conversation was getting stale. One in part because of the bar closing, and the other because of the unspoken questions that we both wanted to ask. He had grown into a respectable business man, but I had grown up as well. I was no longer timid in knowing what I wanted, nor speaking my mind. As we were finishing our drinks I said, "You still living down south?"
Curiously he replied, "Yeah. But I'm up here for the night. Headed back tomorrow. I'm staying at the Hyatt. I'll be at the lobby bar in about an hour if you're interested. I'll be alone, it'd be nice to catch up properly."
What was that supposed to mean?
I instantly got hard again. Did I want to go meet him?
Hell yes!
I refused to look like I was too eager though. Mulling it through my brain, the best answer that I could come up with was, "I had plans, but perhaps I could break them for a special occasion."
I had no plans. My plan was to go around to a local bar not that far from the stadium and continue drinking. I certainly could continue drinking in his hotel bar.
"And what a special occasion it could be," he said. "Look, I have to go say goodbye to some people that think they're important, but I'll be there. We'll have a couple of drinks, some food, and hopefully, some great conversation."
