Sacking The Player

I continue taking her in. Her dainty legs are covered in these toeless socks that come up to her thighs. A pair of briefs and belly shirt that hangs off her shoulders covers her womanly assets. It’s hella sexy. I can’t take my eyes off her, until she opens her mouth.

“You’re late!” she snaps at me.

I shrug. “Got lost on my way here.”

“I really don’t care. If you’re late again, I’ll just have to inform your coach that I won’t help you. I don’t give a shit how much I’m getting paid for doing this.” And there goes the sexy, what a bitch. “Just because you think you’re the king on the field doesn’t mean you’re shit when you step onto the dance floor.”

I sit my bag down. “Sorry I’m late, really,” I say, not really meaning it.

I hear her mutter, “Fucking jocks.”

Wow, judgmental much. I shake my head. This is getting off to a rough start. I don’t need this shit from her. She doesn’t know me.

“Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do, so cut the bitch act and just help me.” Her eyes widen in surprise. “You don’t see me muttering about you being a stuck-up bitch that probably is anorexic, so I don’t appreciate being called a fucking jock. Stereotyping me is really lame.”

“Fine,” she grits out. Her eyes roam over my clothes with distaste. “You’re gonna have to change. You can’t wear jeans in dance.”

“Well, I’m not gonna wear fucking tights.”

She laughs, and holy shit, I feel that laugh in my dick. And her smile…damn, it’s like the sun warming me all over. “I don’t think they make tights in your size big guy, but shorts will work, a tank top, tee shirt, whatever. The tighter the better.” She gives me a wink when her eyes travel up my stomach, chest, and then to my face.

Wait, did she just flirt with me?

I pull my sweatshirt off and strip down to my boxer briefs. I’m not shy about my physique. I know I look good. Her eyes sparkle with appreciation for my body and she has to look away. I like the blush that is creeping down her neck and across her cheeks. There is something so innocent about her demeanor, but her minx smile says wild. My heart rate speeds up as she takes a drink of water.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me or are we going to dance?” I wink.

She nearly spits out her water.

Folding my discarded clothes, I place them on a chair near the wall.

Amaya takes her water bottle and puts it on a chair far away from where I’m standing, as though she is avoiding me.

“Do you have any experience with dance?” She’s back to all business.

“Not really, but as you can see…” I wave my hand over my abs and say, “I spend a lot of time in the gym.”

She cocks her head to the side and rolls her eyes. “Do you throw a football with those spaghetti arms?”

I’ll let that slide this one time. She clearly has a stick up her ass and a jaded view on athletes. Probably because of that loser, Keith. Looks like he really did a number on her. Another reason I know I don’t want a relationship—baggage. I don’t want to start my professional career off tied down.

“What’s first, Twinkle Toes?”

Her jaw clenches and releases. Tiny dancer has a temper. Interesting.

My inner asshole can’t help but want to piss her off just to watch her squirm. “Get on with your class, Teach. My time is precious too.” I tap my wrist like I would if I were wearing a watch.

She balls her fist and releases it with a deep breath. “First, we stretch. Gotta loosen you up a little.”

I start to make a wise crack about being loose but bite my tongue. I don’t think my crude humor will win her over. But it’d almost be worth the trouble to hear her laugh again. The way her lips part and her breath hitches in her throat is intoxicating.

She seems to lick her top lip when she’s concentrating, it’s cute. I can’t take my eyes from her. There’s something about her that draws me in and makes me want to spend more time with her despite her cold shoulder. It’s a defense mechanism. Her walls are up, but I want this to at least be somewhat enjoyable. I’ll win her over with my Tate King sex appeal one way or another. She’ll see, I’m not just an average jock.

She bends over touching her toes. Damn, the way she loosens up is about to give me hard on. I start doing some lunges and strain my head in the other direction keeping my eyes from her delicious ass.

We go through a few more stretches and she shows me some basic moves that focus on balance. She’s not bad once she gets the stick out of her fine ass. We make small talk about our workout regiments.

The girl is focused and goal oriented. She has pride. I can respect that.