Gisele Vs. Guitar Hero

“8 pm. Per Se,” I repeat after him, completely stunned. With one final wink, he turns on his heels and jogs back to the field, the army of reporters following after him.

“Holy shit,” I hear Christine say by my side, as stunned as I am. “You have a date with Danny Manning.”

Holy shit indeed.

23

Danny

The limo stops outside of Pink Elephant and I get out and survey the line waiting out the door of the nightclub.

You ever seen a NFL game and the post game highlights? Sure you have, if you don't live under a rock. Well, you always see some of the players dressed up to the nines, right?

Suit and fucking tie. All showered and changed. Despite the fact that just an hour ago they were sweaty and fucking gross.

Sure, they probably have scars, bruises, cuts, and even broken bones. But even with that internal bleeding they put on fly clothes. Dressed to impress.

Well, this is fucking why.

I pause for a second before the press realizes that I'm standing there, which they do soon enough. That's when the cameras go off and the flash bulbs burn.

I mean, don't get me wrong. There's about sixty guys from the team over here tonight. We're here to fucking celebrate a win that we weren't expecting after all.

Pink Elephant is only the hottest fucking nightclub in New York City right now. Situated in the Meatpacking District, it's got a vibe that gets the girls fucking wet.

I mean, you can just see from looking around. They're turned around, looking at the players. They're licking their lips, touching their breasts. They're bending over. They're turning around..

In short, their doing everything that you would expect these women to do for football players.

I'm not going to say I've never indulged.

Fuck, actually the opposite. I think I've probably fucked most of the girls in this line. But you know what? I never told them that I wanted to fucking marry them, or put a baby in their belly. Never even told them that I wanted to go steady or anything of the sort. Hell, I really never even told them that I would see them past the weekend. But that didn't stop them from dropping their clothes and getting on their knees. From taking my cock into their mouths and then climbing on top of me after they've gotten me good and fucking hard. From turning over and getting on all fours as I amorally shucked into them and gave it to them doggie.

By the morning, they were fucking forgotten, having been taken home by my limo.

But they still held hope. That one day ...

"Hey Danny," a random female from the pack yells. And all of a sudden, like a wave, they all seem to turn.

I pause for a second as I think about what's going to happen.

I'm going to go into the club. I'll probably pick up two or

three of these women along the way. Take them out of line. Put my arms around them. Get some bottle service. Wine the women. As they're drinking run my hands along their bodies. Feel their legs. Squeeze their ass. Rub my hand under their skirt. Move that thong to one side. Stick a finger in that puss. Pull it out. Have them lick it. Lean back, let their hands unbuckle my belt. Let their fingers wrap around my cock. Watch them as they stroke my cock. Lean back as they lick it with their tongues.

And eventually, if we don't do it in the club, then I take them back to my limo where they hike up their dress and climb onto my massive schlong, and then they ride it till they fucking come hard. And then I let them out of the car, and never have to see them again.

But none of that makes sense anymore … not after today's game.

After seeing Fiona.

Her blonde hair, her perfectly gorgeous face with those wide, innocent looking eyes and sexy lips.

Those fucking tits. So fucking perky. That slender body. That fantastic ass.

No.

It's not happening tonight.