Deep End: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (40 page)

I had been furious with Colton…absolutely furious. But my fury began to fade as I began to just feel guilty about hitting him. Maybe if
he hadn’t been gored by that bull
, things would have been different. But I felt bad, and tried to make it up to him through dinner.

Colton made a big show of driving the motorcycle himself back to where his pickup truck was parked at my apartment.

I waited at the restaurant and had a couple drinks to loosen up a little bit, which I figured would be necessary for dancing. It served the dual purpose of also calming me down. I tried to do some deep breathing exercises that a doctor had taught me. Back then I was supposed to be mediating everyday for my own happiness and wellbeing, but truthfully I had never gotten the hang of it. It was hard to get into the habit of something you didn’t even feel like you go do. When I was supposed to be meditating, I ended up just sitting there with my eyes closed thinking about whatever thing came into my head.

So that’s basically what I did now. While slowly taking sips of my cocktail, and while breathing deeply, I closed my eyes and let my thoughts wander. So what if it wasn’t ‘real’ meditation, I thought to myself. Who knew what real mediation was, anyway? This was my own mediation, my own form. It was my time.

I thought for the first time in what seemed like weeks of my father.

My Father was dead and I had barely thought about it. I had barely talked to my Mother on the phone. I had made a few brief cursory calls to check on her, to make sure she was doing OK, but our relationship wasn’t quiet the type where we had a lot to talk about, and she didn’t seem to want to talk about my Dad much.

Certain little memories came flooding back about my Dad. Like the time he had taken us all on a skiing trip, but we’d run out of gas halfway there. Instead of making a big fuss, he had taught us all how to play poker, and we had had the time of our lives there on the roadside in the snow, each of us covered up with a mountain of blankets.

But of all the memories, the strongest thing that stuck out was the way he smelled. I had always had a very good memory for scents. I think that’s why I had immediately connected with the protagonist of Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost time. One little scent could suddenly send me stumbling and rushing down memory lane…through the shady branches of the mind.

Meanwhile, Colton was driving his motorcycle back all alone…just for me. I felt touched that he would do it. Many other men would have just told me to get over my fear and get on the damn motorcycle.
But not Colton.
Sure, he had been a little insensitive at first, but I could tell that he was determined to repay it in spades.

I heard the rumbling of Colton’s pick up truck outside. Despite having plenty of money now that the advertisement money was coming in, Colton drove the same old beat up pick up truck as always. It was a classic, he said, even though most people would have just called it a
junker
or a beater. Colton said it reminded him of when he was younger…his neighbor’s parents had had the same truck apparently. Although back then it was probably brand new. For all I knew, it literally was the same exact truck.

I opened my eyes and saw Colton step out of the truck. He cocked his cowboy hat with his hand…he looked so tall, so sexy, so muscular. I couldn’t believe he was mine.

The door to the Asian steak house swung open as Colton walked in.

It was then that I noticed it. I was hit by the smell. The scent.

Colton smelled just like how I remembered my Father smelling.

“Are you wearing cologne?” I said.

“No,” said Colton. “I never wear cologne.”

“Of course,” I said, laughing. “Not very manly, is it?”

“Maybe it’s fine for some city folks,” said Colton. “But I never had no use for it.”

“But you have such a distinct scent,” I said. “It reminds me of someone. Someone I used to know.”

“I use this old aftershave that my Grandfather used too.”

“Do you know the name of it?” I knew that my Father
had also used some type of old-
timey aftershave, but off the top of my head I couldn’t remember the name of it.”

“Deadly Aftershave,” said Colton. “Come in a big old antique-looking glass bottle. They still make the stuff, but it’s getting harder and harder to find. It stings real
good
when you put it on. That’s why I like it so much.”

“Ah!” I said. Yes, Deadly Aftershave. That was exactly what my Dad had used. I could picture the bottle now.

“Who does it remind you of?” said Colton, sitting down in the booth with me, and taking a sip of my drink.

“I can’t remember exactly,” I said, lying. It didn’t seem weird to me that the smell might remind of my Father, especially since he had just recently passed away, but I could understand that it might sound weird to someone else. It was just that I remembered scents very well, and had a strong memory for them. Scents always formed strong associates for me.

We rode in Colton’s old pickup to the dance hall.

The live band was already playing. We had missed the opening band, which I knew was one of Colton’s favorite, but he did a good job of trying not to seem too disappointed. I knew that if he hadn’t gone back to get his truck, so that I wouldn’t have to ride on the motorcycle anymore, we would have been here in time for the band.

Colton naturally fit right in with the rest of the crowd. At least, his clothes did. But he was much taller, more muscular, and generally in better shape than just about every other man here. A lot of the men were young, around our age, but they had little beer bellies already developing.

I hadn’t gotten the Western woman’s costume exactly right, but it was close enough that I didn’t look too out of place. There were a couple little things, like the style of belt, and the style of make-up application that set me just a little bit apart.

“These girls are all prettier than me,” I said to Colton. And I actually believed it was true. Even with Colton at my side, I felt a little self-conscious.
These woman
all had taught bodies, big butts, big breasts. They looked impossibly slim in the middle.

“You’re the prettiest one here,” said Colton, beaming down at me.

“Look at how thin these girls are,” I said. “But they have huge breasts. Just look at them.”

Colton glanced around.

“But not too carefully,” I said, jokingly admonishing him for staring. “No staring at other women!”

“I wouldn’t dare,” said Colton, starting to laugh. “You know how these girls are all so skinny?”

“How?” I said. “Riding horse?” I frowned as I said it.

Colton laughed again. “Corsets,” he said.

“Corsets?” I said, puzzled. “You mean what they used to wear like hundreds of years ago?”

“I guess they never really went out of fashion with this crowd,” said Colton. “If you look carefully, you can see the wire marks on their shirts.”

It was true. I looked around again. This time, I noticed that you could see some subtle markings of corsets. Colton was telling the truth.

“Wow,” I said. “I would have never imagined.”

“These girls wouldn’t be half as thin as you if they weren’t wearing those,” said Colton, smiling down at me.

“I guess not,” I said, starting to smile. I felt a little better.

“Care to dance?” said Colton, in his most elegant tones, while imitating a strong Southern accent. He stepped back and held his hound out, waiting for me to take it.

“Why, I’d love to,” I said, trying my hand at my own Southern accent.

It turned out that Colton was quite the dancer. I actually had a hard time keeping up with him.

He pulled me in quick loops around the dance floor, dancing in that standard country style that really has its own appeal, in a certain way.

The music wasn’t what I normally listened to, but after a few songs I really found myself following the beat and enjoying it immensely. Of course, it helped that most of the time, at least during the slower
songs,
I was pressed up against Colton’s hunky body.

The songs were regular country songs, usually. There were some classic ballads, but also some newer pop-type songs that I recognized here and there from the radio. I had expected there to be a lot of acoustic guitars, but actually the band was playing almost purely electric instruments, including an almost funky-sounding electric bass that must have had an extra large amplifier, turned all the way up.

“Hey, it’s Colton!”

“Wow, it’s Colton, the rodeo rider!”

“Hey, Colton, honey, could I have your autograph?” said a young and buxom woman with straight blonde hair all the way down to her waist. Surely, she was wearing a corset, I thought, because her figure seemed almost absurdly curvy.

“Sorry, ladies,” I said, to the group of girls that was crowding around Colton now, impeding our ability to continue dancing. “But he’s already taken.”

“Ah,” said the girls, who retreated to the corner together, pouting, and giving me dirty looks.

“Thanks,” whispered Colton into my ear.

“You sure seem to be a lot more famous now. Remember when I met you at the strip club?”

“Yeah,” said Colton. “Nobody had any idea who I was. And I was sitting next to a post of my self, with my name and face on it.”

“Seems like that new manager is really working out well, then,” I said.

“Yeah,” said Colton. “Cambridge Whitehead. He’s the best. I have a meeting with him tomorrow. A little unorthodox, perhaps, but certainly elegant.”

“Elegant?” I said.

“Yeah, you know. He’s always at the finest restaurant. Always wearing expensive suits and watches and that sort of thing. Always handing out hundred dollar tips.”

“Sounds like quite the guy,” I said. “I wonder what he’ll have you do next.”

“I’m wondering myself,” said Colton. “But he said this next move is really big. He said this next move in his plan is that one that’s going to really shoot me into the stratosphere.”

“Is that
want
you want, baby?” I said, in a slightly teasing voice. “You want to be really famous.”

“Honestly, not really,” said Colton. “But I have to think about financial security…you know, if I keep getting injured like this, I’m not going to have much of a future left as a bull rider.”

“They say in the papers that you wouldn’t get injured so much if you weren’t such a hot head and didn’t take such risks. It’s just like on the motorcycle, you just can’t help yourself, can you, baby?”

“It’s something about my personality,” said Colton, shrugging his big shoulders.

I glanced around and saw that the girls I had dismissed somewhat rudely were huddled together and talking in a conspiratorial way. They were giving me glances here and there. I didn’t like the looks of it.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I said.

“No problem,” said Colton.

“Why don’t you come with me?” I said, giving him a wink, an idea suddenly flashing in my mind.

“I…”

“Just come on,” I said, pulling Colton by the hand.

There weren’t private bathrooms like I’d been hoping.

But the bathroom was somewhat clean and well kept for a country bar’s bathroom, or at least the way I would have imagined them.

I took Colton into the bathroom, despite his protests.

“Shouldn’t I wait outside or something,” said Colton, looking around nervously.

“Calm down,” I said. “There’s no one else here.”

I don’t know what had come over me. But I knew it had something to do with those hot girls in the bar, those hot girls who wanted Colton. They wanted my man. And I wasn’t going to let them have him. I was overcome by a lustful-sort of jealousy. It’s not that I thought Colton would do anything. I didn’t think he would cheat on me…but I just wanted to make sure. I wanted him to know he could have an exciting time with me too. Plus, the whole situation was making me feel more adventurous.

“Come on here,” I said, pulling Colton into the stall with me. I had to practically drag him in there. He seemed uncomfortable to be in a women’s bathroom. “Never been in a woman’s bathroom before?” I said.

Colton shook his head.

“Well, let me show you what can happen in here.”

“Did you see all those magazines out there by the sink? And the couch?”

I laughed. “What? They don’t have that in the men’s bathroom?”

Colton shook his head.

I got down on my knees.

I reached up and grabbed Colton by his strong hips.

“Hey,” he said, somewhat surprise. “What are you doing.
”

I put my finger to my lips to signal him to be quiet. “Someone could come in,” I whispered. “Keep quiet.”

“Someone could come in? But…”

But Colton fell silent. He looked on amazed as I reached up and unbuckled his thick belt.

Dexterously, I unbuttoned his jeans. They were a little dirty. The dirt was probably from the rodeo. But I didn’t mind. So what if Colton didn’t wash his clothes as much as I did? He was a cowboy at heart, after all.

I pulled Colton’s cock out from his underwear. It flopped out, long and already starting to fill with blood.

It wasn’t totally erect yet. Good, I thought to myself, he hadn’t gotten erect from looking at those other young girls. But I would make his cock hard soon enough. I was surprised in the moment by my own thoughts. They seemed much dirtier than usual. But I couldn’t help it. This was who Colton was turning me into, and I really didn’t mind at all. It was fun to feel this sense of freedom, to feel somewhat dirty, to feel really sexual.

My lips connected with Colton’s cock.

At first, I just worked on the tip.

His cock soon grew to its full size, pointing up at an angle.

Colton moaned softly, but I waved my hand at him to be quiet.

The door hadn’t opened, but I knew that someone could come in at any moment. That’s part of what made it so much fun.