Author: Lyn27
Rating: 15
Disclaimer: Bad Girls and all its characters are property of Shed Productions, a division of Shed Media Group, plc. The author implies no ownership of these characters. They are being used solely and without permission to entertain and/or torture you with varying degrees of humor, angst and general manipulation of your emotional state. Similarly this applies to any copyrighted fictional characters either from literature, broadcast media or film. No animals were harmed during the creation of this fiction, although the Yorkshire terriers living in my house are on borrowed time. Enter at your own risk and please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Return your seatback and tray table to their normal upright position. In the event of extreme angst, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device.
I am happy to accept constructive feedback as it will improve my writing skills. Please use email or private message for extensive comments.
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This story was requested by ‘ratz’ via the Help Haiti Blog. She wanted a short story having something to do with a Cowboys football game … so here it is. For those who know nothing about the game of American football, the terms I have used in this story are not made up.
And to 'red card' and SG, that helped me beta this story ... you're simply the best!
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Football Lesson
“Oi! I could use a hand here!” Nikki yelled as she struggled to get in the front door.
Within seconds, Helen jogged from the lounge, wearing her patented tongue-between-the-teeth smile.
“Hiya,” she said as she reached up and kissed Nikki on the cheek. Seeing her lover’s hands filled with bags, she chuckled. “I told you not to go shopping when you’re hungry.”
“I wouldn’t have been so hungry,” she started, handing a few bags to Helen, “if someone hadn’t given me a rather rousing wake-up call this morning, now would I?”
“I didn’t hear any complaints,” Helen said with a wink as she walked to the kitchen, purposely emphasizing the sway of her hips every step of the way.
Nikki looked up and stared at the ceiling. “God … I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve her … but thank you.”
By the time she reached the kitchen, Helen had already emptied the bags and was opening a bottle of beer.
“Can you handle the rest?” she asked, nodding to the bags that Nikki was piling on the counter.
“Sure … why?”
Tossing the cap in the trash, she kissed Nikki’s cheek and trotted towards the lounge. “I was watching something, that’s all.”
Nikki began to put away the groceries and chuckled at the amount of junk food she had bought. Tossing the packages of crisps into the pantry, she was down to the last bag before she called out, “So what you watching?”
“Football,” Helen called back.
“Oh yeah … who’s playing?”
“Dallas and Pittsburgh!”
Halfway between the counter and the pantry, Nikki stopped dead in her tracks. Confused, she cocked her head to the side and scrunched up her face. “Who?”
Not hearing an answer, Nikki finished with the groceries, opened a beer for herself and walked into the lounge. When she looked at the television, her expression changed from curiosity to confusion.
“What the hell is that?” she asked, nodding towards the screen.
“Football,” Helen said with a smile, as she pulled her legs under her and snuggled into the corner of the sofa.
Plopping down at the opposite end of couch, Nikki blurted, “That’s not football.”
“It’s American football.”
“Like I said,” Nikki said with a grin. “That’s not football.”
Giggling, Helen reached over and slapped on her on the knee. “Behave, I like it.”
“Since when?”
Intent on trying to watch the game, Helen put her mouth in motion way before her mind ever left the starting blocks. “Thomas used to watch it all the time and …”
Instantly, she wished she had a rewind button. Wincing, she closed her eyes and waited for her partner to explode. If there was one thing she learned since Nikki’s release, it was that if she wanted to increase the woman’s blood pressure, mention Thomas Waugh.
Slowly, she glanced to her left and saw Nikki glaring back. “Please don’t get mad,” she whispered.
“Why should I get mad? You’re sitting in our lounge, cheering on his team …”
“No, I’m not!”
“No?”
“No … I’m cheering on my team.”
“Your team?”
“Yes … I’m a Dallas fan,” she said proudly.
“Dallas?”
“Yep.”
“And that’s not Waugh’s team?”
“Nope!”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
There was a long list of things about Helen Stewart that Nikki adored, and when she saw her defiant posture and heard that glorious accent thicken with argument, the only place her smile didn’t appear was on her face. Helen could read the contents off the label of an air freshener can and it would sound sexy to Nikki, and when Helen got defensive, like she was at the moment … that was an accent to die for. Their morning tryst was still fresh in her mind, along with other places in her body, and if she could keep Helen talking, and wind up her a tad bit more, she knew exactly where the afternoon would lead.
“So why is Dallas your team?” she asked innocently.
“Huh?”
“Why do you like that team, as opposed to any other?”
Helen looked away, knowing when she answered, Nikki would no doubt laugh, but to not answer would be a worse fate, so she looked back and stated, “I like their colors.”
Nikki burst out laughing and Helen felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment.
“Stop laughing at me.”
Several seconds passed before Nikki could find her voice, and after wiping the tears of laughter off her cheeks, she grinned. “I’m laughing because you don’t know anything about this game, except you like the team in blue and white.”
“I know about American football,” Helen replied indignantly.
“Sure you do.”
“I do!”
“Okay, fine,” Nikki said with a grin as she leaned back and put her feet on the coffee table. “Then tell me how the game’s played.”
“What?”
“You heard, darling. I don’t know anything about it … so why don’t you enlighten me, Miss Stewart. Teach me about American football.”
Uncurling her legs, Helen took a swig of beer and turned to her partner. “What do you want to know?”
Nikki shrugged and looked at the television. “Since I know your favorite colors, Dallas is in the blue … who are the bumblebee-looking bubbleheads?”
“That’s the Pittsburgh Steelers.”
“Pittsburgh has an ongoing felon problem, does it?”
Helen chuckled. “No … S-t-e-e-l. Back in the day, apparently the city produced quite a bit of it.”
“Well, color me enlightened.”
“If you’re going to just be a smartass about this …”
Holding her hands up in mock surrender, Nikki smiled. “Sorry, I’ll be good … I promise.”
“Okay, so there was coin toss and Dallas won it, so they elected to receive the ball … meaning they have the first chance at scoring.
“Clear as crystal, so far,” Nikki chimed in.
Helen grinned back and continued, “So, Pittsburgh kicked off and Dallas caught the ball and now they are trying to get up the field to their end zone.”
“Their what?”
“End zone … it’s where they score.”
Smirking, Nikki raised an eyebrow and winked at her partner. “Scoring in the end zone … got it.”
Helen rolled her eyes at the insinuation but nevertheless, continued, “Anyway, they have four downs …”
“Huh?”
“Downs … um … chances,” Helen clarified. “They have four chances to move the ball down the field and if they move it ten yards, they get four more chances … and if they reach the end zone, they score.”
“Don’t we all,” Nikki quipped.
Giggling, she swatted Nikki’s leg. “Behave!”
“You said it … I didn’t.”
“Do you want to learn about the game or not?”
“Sorry … please go on.”
“What else do you want to know?”
Nikki looked at the television for a minute, then her eyes widened and she blurted, “Whoa! Did you see that?”
Helen peered at the screen, “What?”
“That bloke just stuck his hands between that guy’s legs!”
“Which guy?”
“The one in the middle.”
“Oh, you mean the center?”
“Middle, center … what’s the bloody difference!”
Chuckling, Helen explained, “Sweetheart, the man in the middle … his position is called ‘the center.’”
“Well, whatever the hell he’s called, that other bloke just felt him up!”
Helen laughed out loud. “No, he didn’t, sweetheart … he was just getting the ball.”
“Exactly my point!”
“No,” Helen giggled. “Nikki, he snaps the ball to the quarterback that way.”
“The quarter what?”
“The quarterback,” Helen began as she looked at the TV. “The man who reached down to get the football, that’s the quarterback. He’s the key to the offense. He gets the ball and then either hands it or throws it to another player on his team.”
“Can he give it to anyone?”
“Well, no not exactly. You see that row of guys in the front?” she asked, pointing to the screen. “They’re there to protect the quarterback, so he has time to get the ball to someone else. Then the other players, they either carry or catch the ball.”
“So he can give it or throw it to anyone he wants?”
“No … the running backs or the fullbacks carry the ball and the receivers catch the ball and … oh yeah, and the tight end can do both.
“The what?”
“The tight end.”
Nikki started to chuckle, causing Helen to frown. “What’s so funny?”
“The tight end?” she leered. “You sure this isn’t a gay game?”
Helen sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before glancing in Nikki’s direction, “Can we get past this?”
“Well, you’re the one that said …”
“I didn’t name the bloody positions, for Christ sake … it’s just what they’re called! You know what … forget it … you’re not listening, you’re just making fun of me …”
Absolutely loving the fact that she was winding Helen up, she tried desperately to keep her grin concealed as she blurted, “Helen … I am listening. The quarterboy …”
“QuarterBACK!” Helen screamed.
“Right … the quarterback gets the ball from the guy in the …uh … the center and then he dances back a few steps and either hands it or throws it to a player. They move down the field ten yards at a time and when they reach the end zone, they score.”
“Well color me surprised …you were listening!”
Nodding her head, Nikki glanced at the television as she took a swig of beer. “And by the score, they get seven points when they get to the end zone… because my team is leading, seven to nothing.”
Quickly, Helen looked at the television for the score. “What do you mean your team?”
“Pittsburgh.”
“Why the hell are they your team?”
“They’re in black, aren’t they?” she replied, wiggling her eyebrows.
She took a deep breath and shook her head; arguing with logic that matched her own would be pointless and she knew it.
“Fine … but touchdowns are only six points, not seven.”
“Touch what?”
“Touchdowns … it’s what they call it when they reach the end zone and score, but they are only worth six points – the seventh is an extra point.”
“Okay … now I’m confused. What’s an extra point?”
Slipping easily back into her teaching mode, Helen explained, “After they get a touchdown, the ‘special’ team comes out and tries for another point by kicking the ball through the goal posts.”
“They have handicapped players on the team? Well, that’s mighty nice of the Yanks.”
Nikki’s misinterpretation caused Helen to giggle and her mood lightened instantly. “Sweetheart … they aren’t handicapped. The ‘special teams’ is what they call the players who run very specific plays, that’s all. And if they make it through the uprights, they score!”
A tiny blip of laughter escaped Nikki’s lips as she raised an eyebrow and grinned suggestively to her partner. “Scoring through the uprights, eh? Sounds like something I’m familiar with … yes?”
Helen’s cheeks flamed and the temperature in the room seemed to increase dramatically. “What has gotten into you?” she blurted angrily.
Seeing Nikki’s sexy leer, and realizing what she had said, Helen quickly added, “Do not answer that question.”
Nikki laughed out loud and Helen’s cheeks darkened. Living together for almost a year, she had seen Nikki in playful moods before, but never like this, and although she didn’t want to admit it, her partner’s suggestive remarks were working … in all the right places.
Running her fingers through her hair, Helen fought to get her mind back on the game of football and finally asked, “Where were we?”
Nikki giggled to herself and glanced at the television. “Okay, so what’s going on now?”
Helen looked over and studied the screen for a minute before replying, “Oh, there was an ‘illegal use of hands’ penalty against Dallas.”
“See, I told you that quarterback was feeling up that guy!”
Having had enough of Nikki’s attempt at comedy, Helen exploded. “Jesus Christ! What is your problem? Why are you making everything sound sexual when it’s not?”
Where she was getting the strength to remain seated, Nikki had no idea. Helen was fired up, her accent was thick and by her rosy cheeks, Nikki knew she wasn’t just hot under the collar … she was getting warm somewhere else.
“Helen … I’m not trying to, but you got a bloke sticking his hands between another man’s legs, they score by going between the uprights, you got a player called a tight end and there’s a penalty for illegal use of the hands!”
Helen flashed a death stare in Nikki’s direction, but when she saw the twinkle in her lover’s eyes, a thought crossed her mind and tilting her head to the side, she asked, “Are you winding me up on purpose?”
“Moi?” Nikki asked with a grin.
Picking up her empty beer bottle, Helen stood and glared at her partner, whose long legs were the only thing blocking her path to the kitchen. Annoyed she was missing the game, she growled, “Move your bloody legs.”
“Why?”
“Nikki, will you please move your legs. I want to get a beer and then I want to watch MY football game. I’ve had enough of your games … now move your fucking legs.”
Without saying a word, she casually swung her legs to the floor, but when Helen tried to pass, Nikki grabbed her by the hips and tossed her on the sofa, quickly straddling her to prevent her escape.
“What the hell are you doing?” Helen snarled, trying her best to stay angry with her obviously playful partner.
“I believe it’s called ‘blocking below the waist,’” Nikki quipped as she slipped her hands under Helen’s sweatshirt.
“Well, that’s a penalty … so get the hell off me,” Helen snapped as she grabbed Nikki’s hands, removing them from under her top while she continued to struggle to get up. Outweighing her lover by a few pounds, Nikki continued to chuckle as she held Helen in place. “Of course, it could also be considered ‘holding.’”
“Either way, they are both penalties, so let me …” Helen stopped mid-sentence and her eyes opened wide. “Wait a minute … what did you say?”
Nikki leaned back, smiling ear-to-ear as she began to pull the zip of Helen’s hoodie south. “What do you mean, darling?”
“How did you know those terms?”
“I know lots of things, Miss Stewart. You, of all people, should know that,” Nikki answered, releasing the zip and allowing the hoodie to fall open. Smiling, she leaned in and unsuccessfully tried for a kiss.
“You know about American football, don’t you?” Helen said, quickly turning her face to the side so Nikki’s lips landed on her cheek.
“Yes, I do,” Nikki replied as she tried again to kiss the woman she adored.
Pushing her away, Helen asked, “How much?”
“Enough.”
By the look in Nikki’s eyes, Helen knew where they were heading and she stopped struggling. Eight months of living together had confirmed what Helen already knew the day she showed up at Chix, after Nikki’s release from Larkhall. She was totally and unequivocally in love with the woman, and all Nikki had to do was look at her with those delicious brown eyes and her heart, as well as another part of her anatomy, melted.
With a sigh, she asked, “How much?”
Reaching down, she opened the snap on Helen’s jeans and said, “Tony Romo is the quarterback for the Cowboys and Ben Roethlisberger is the Steelers; Dallas has won the Super Bowl five times and Pittsburgh has won it six … and the Cowboys cheerleaders have great rah-rahs.”
“You mean pom-poms,” Helen said with a giggle.
“No, I don’t,” Nikki replied, wiggling her eyebrows.
Helen chuckled and when Nikki again tried for a kiss, her reception was warm and wet. They kissed long and hard and then light and playful, and when Helen felt her hand slide the zip down on her jeans, she asked in a whisper, “You going for a touchdown, sweetheart?”
In a low, sexy purr, Nikki whispered back, “No, darling … I’m going for the extra point.”
The End
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