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His boss would wipe his transgressions away while mine would fly high as a symbol of why women didn't belong in sports. I should have been horrified, regretful, and remorseful, but just like every other time I had sex with Coach Peyton, I couldn’t find it in me to feel any of those things.
Content, happy, relaxed. That was all I felt, and Levi had become my drug–a way to wipe all the stress away, if only for a little bit. Just like in the gym, I knew all he had to do was tell me to spread my legs and I would.
But something happened in Chicago that I never thought I would see. Levi was a touch submissive. He honed in on my emotions and went from lion to kitten in the blink of an eye. Unlike at the gym, he didn't falter at giving me what I wanted. He listened and gave me everything.
I had been emotional before he stepped foot in that room, but by the time he left, my tears were for him. For the fact that he could set the asshole that sat on the surface of his skin aside for that moment and give me what I needed.
It was that kind of attention that a girl could get used to. It was the kind of thing that turned enemies into lovers. Something that made me let my guard down a little and want to trust him in a way I knew I shouldn’t.
But after the day in Chicago, I knew I couldn't trust anyone. Not in the NFL business. There was one other female referee in the league, and she was primarily in San Francisco, so I couldn't even befriend her and pick her brain. I wondered if she dealt with the same things I had.
She was much older than I was, from what I could tell when I saw her on TV, but that didn't matter. San Franscico’s coach was in his seventies, and I giggled at myself as I pictured them running to the locker room to fuck during half time.
Hell, I guess it didn't matter how old anyone was, I bet there was dirty shit going on all over the league. Based on the way Richard spoke to me last week, I bet he was a part of half the underhanded shit on the east coast.
I spent my entire flight home thinking of how I could avoid Richard all season. He creeped me out and made me feel little. He took no pride in having a female referee in his stadium every week. If he did, he had a weird way of showing it.
Chicago’s team was certainly glad I was there. They got off on trying to belittle me as much as possible, probably hoping I faltered on a call. I was sure they were looking for any excuse to file a complaint.
Maybe condemning the whole team wasn't fair, since it seemed to be just one person, but my defenses were up. Number sixty-seven for Chicago, whoever the fuck that was, almost rattled me to my core. So much so that I left the field emotional and overwhelmed.
When I finally got into my apartment, I went straight to the shower and crashed into my bed. I turned the TV onto the late-night sports shows even though I feared their every word. Some dark part of me wanted to know what was being said, if I was being scrutinized, or if anyone was reporting how Coach Peyton snuck into my locker room.
Fortunately, it was all good things when it came to the Atlanta versus Chicago game. Coach Peyton happily did his press conference, probably because of the post-game orgasm he had. The team played well. No crazy rant about the officiating crew.
I fell asleep to the replay of the press conference, Levi’s voice somehow soothing me into a state of warmth and safety. It didn’t matter that he was talking football, it all sounded like sex to me, and I let myself feel that emotion for a little bit longer. I knew when I woke up for work Monday, I had to let it go.
I couldn’t afford to find safety in a fighter.
* * *
“Sisco and Brett are rematching,” Bobby said first thing Monday. Or course, that was news we already knew but he was sitting on his desk, his arms crossed, and concern written across his face.
I instantly started panicking wondering if he really did install the cameras and while I was out of town, he spent the weekend sifting through the porn Levi and I created in the middle of the ring.
“Yeah, so,” Bond huffed.
“He wants an audience, something official.”
I stood up, instantly more worried than I would be if he saw me having sex in the ring. “No!”
Bobby looked over and squinted his eyes at me. Having an audience meant money, betting, and publicity for the gym. It would be crazy for Bobby to miss that chance, but I didn’t think Levi would appreciate being the center of that show.
“What’s your problem, Kid? It won't be that much more work if that’s what is bothering you. The boys will handle the heavy stuff.”
“It's not that, I just… What did Al say? Brett?”
“Who cares what they say, this is my gym.”
In that instant, I knew he had not even discussed it with Al. He was going to just set the gym up for an audience and surprise Al and Levi when they got there. It wasn't exactly underhanded where Bobby was concerned. Gyms did that all the time when it came to fights. As long as they cut Al and Levi in at a certain percentage, no one would be bothered.
Usually.
But Al knew Brett was Levi Peyton and he knew Levi wanted to keep his fighting on the down low. He wouldn't agree to exploiting the fight because the more attention it got, the more likely someone would recognize Levi.
“Listen,” Bobby started again. “We keep this between us. No one else in the gym can know until the day of the fight. I told Al that Brett can come in whenever he wants to work out here so he may show up at any moment. We don’t want to spook him.”
“Maybe he should be given the choice,” I suggested.
