I pulled up to the City Park for a game that was supposed to start at seven and didn't get going till nine. All the players were skating about the basketball court flipping a tennis ball back and forth between their sticks and talking about the scholarships they were never going to get. She was sitting there on the bench in a dark brown Carhartt jacket with a blanket pulled up to her neck.
Her girlfriend was chatting up all the boys on the court as she was already screwing one of them and was looking to make the jump to another.
Naturally when the girl on the bench invited me to sit down I agreed. Temperatures were dropping as we sat there watching the game and she snuggled closer to me as I slipped my arm behind her. We talked for a long time as the game progressed and she laid her head down in my lap - "I'm getting tired, you don't mind do you?"
Fuck no, I don't mind.
Her head was laying there and my hand was on her side as we sat there watching the tied game go into overtime; when she slipped her fingers inbetween mine and slid my hand up her shirt. I was so startled at first that I couldn't do anything but dumbly cop a feel. She giggled as I stared down at her and whispered, "It's cold, I thought this might warm me up."
Well, if it's for warmth than it would be un-Christian of me to take my hand away wouldn't it?
She giggled again as I enjoyed this sudden intimacy between us. And then the game was over, she deftly slipped my hand out of her shirt, and kissed me on the cheek, "We should do this again."
The following week was much the same as the previous one. Temperatures were dropping down into the single digits and the street hockey game was on per the usual.
"I'll never understand," she said as she sat down beside me, "why they play in short sleeves."
It's harder for someone to call you a fag if you're more manly then them.
She giggled and threw her blanket about us. "You're such a fag."