Liberty Jean Weston's Football: A Short Story

Liberty Jean Weston was still in her uniform when she arrived at the football team's practise session that Friday afternoon. Cheerleading drills had wound down early, and she had made her way directly to the football field instead of the changing rooms. She needed to catch Curt before he hit the locker room himself, need here being more representative of the strength of her motivation than of any actual necessity. She had his phone number and knew where he lived; what she lacked was patience. She often claimed to need instead of want, and was not used to taking no for answer. She came from an affluent family raised by a weak-willed father and a mother whose ambition was often misguided by pride. Her sense of altruism wasn't lacking, per se, but it was well buried beneath the twin dogs of haughtiness and entitlement.

Libby had dated Curt officially for close to six months before word got around that she'd given Darnel Buckley a blowjob behind the P.E. hall after school. She had owned up when confronted with the accusation, and flew into a rage when the quarterback told her that he didn't want to see her anymore. She yelled at
Her arms were folded across the horizontal bar, situated beneath her breasts so as to give them an extra bit of lift, and to accentuate the cleavage provided by the low cut of her uniform. Her blonde hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and her bright green eyes honed in on Curt as he made his way off the field. Despite the exertion from cheerleading practise, she oozed sensuous and irresistible sexuality. She possessed a permanent beauty, and looked radiant no matter the time or situation.

"Hey stud," she chimed, flashing her warmest, most seductive smile, and leaned forward a little to further emphasise the valley between her breasts. "Whatcha doin'