Amy Beckwith, sportswriter for the New York times, got up from her desk, stretched, put on her coat and headed for the door. Another edition put to bed. It was now ten PM. Bored and lonely, she resisted just going straight to her flat. Instead she took a cab to "Jack Dempsey's" bar.
If you had made a name for yourself in big time sports, and were in New York City, you made it a point to stop in at Dempsey's. Though Amy stopped there several times a month, very few people recognized her as the Olympic marathon champion from 1988. Ever once in a while, she would be introduced to a player for the Yankees, New York Giants, Jets, Knicks, or Mets. When told of her Gold medal, there would be a recognition in their eyes of what it took to be a champion. They knew.
Wind driven rain from the overhead thunderstorm soaked her as she ran from the cab to the door. "Hi Walter, " she said to the bartender. "I'll have a Long Island Ice Tea. "
"Nice to see you Amy, coming right up. "
Amy looked around. Jim McKay, Roone Arledge, and Frank Gifford were in the back corner. The Pirates were in town. Wilson, Kendall, Giles, Schmidt, and Loiselle, were at a big table with the Met's Piazza, and Ventura. Amy laughed to herself. They fight like hell on the field, but are the best of friends off the field. But why not? Out of the millions of boys that play baseball, these there the gifted ones that have worked so hard to hone their skills. Long after their legs will not carry them at the championship level, they will have these friendships, of men who share who they have been, what they have done.
Amy, the spectator, still was lonely in the sea of people. A man entered the doorway. His hat was pulled down. His collar was up. As he took them off, she saw that it was Tommy "Daylight" Thompson, halfback for the New York Giants. Amy thought to herself that the Giants are in town for the beginning of their training camp.
Amy had followed Tommy's career since he was an All American for Penn State In his prime the scouting report of him was that he was not as shifty as Gayle Sayers, or as powerful as Jimmy Brown, but he had an uncanny ability to use his blockers, and bounce off defenders to get the yards his team needed. Pictures of him draped with three defenders as he plowed the last two yards were the stuff of nightmares for NFL coaches.
Amy had overheard the sportswriters discussing the fact that the Giants had drafted Hershal James. There was a good chance that Tommy would be relegated to the position of back up halfback this year.
In years past, when he entered Dempsey's, his head was held high, with an arrogant look. He would slowly gaze around the room like he owned it. Not tonight. His eyes were downcast. He went to a booth. Amy had read in the papers that Tommy's financial adviser had stolen twenty million dollars from him. Soon after, his wife divorced him. So much for true love.
For a man with two Super Bowl rings, he did not convey the look of a champion as he sat hunched over his drink. Amy studied him for a few minutes. Picking up her glass, she walked over to his table. "Hi, I'm Amy, can I sit down?"
Tommy looked up. " I usually sit alone. "
"So do I. But, you look like you need a friend. I'm lonely too. "
"Your Amy somebody, I remember seeing you run. Yes, now I remember. Your that gal from Maine that won the 1988 Olympic marathon. God, it was a hundred degrees that day. That girl from Sweden matched you stride for stride the last three miles. When you got up on your toes and sprinted the last four hundred yards it was the greatest show of guts that I have ever seen. Sit down. "
"Amy Beckwith. Now with the New York Times. Thank you for the compliment. "
"You might be interested in knowing that at the time of your run the Giants had taken a break from training. We were in the study room watching you run on TV. Lawrence Taylor clapped and cheered. Bill Purcell kept saying, "Run Baby, run!" As you crossed the finish line, Purcell told us, "When you are tired and the going is tough, remember that little girl. "
"Thank you for that tidbit. So, how are things going for you?"
Tommy told her about the fact that he would be the back up halfback this year. How hard it was to not be number one. How the team reacted to his change in status.
Amy listened to him talk. There were a lot of if or maybe things that he mentioned. She looked him over. He did not appear to be in condition to be an NFL halfback. She asked what he had done to get ready for the season. The short answer was, not much.
"Take you home?" He said.
"Sure, it is just twelve blocks. "
Sitting on her couch sipping wine, Amy could not hold back what was on her mind.
"Tommy, you have to understand that everything I do, and everything I associate with, I judge by my standards. You may stomp out of here, but I am going to tell you what I think. I see a man that has been dealt some severe blows. As I look at you now, I see a man that has given up. You are out of shape. It seems that you will be content to just sit on the bench and collect your salary untill the year ends, and then just fade into the night. Is that how you want to be remembered, as a fat has been?"
Tommy "Daylight" Thompson's face got red. He grabbed his coat as he headed for the door. As he reached for the door he stopped. His shoulders hunched. He put his hands to his face and begin to sob. She could just hear him say, "I have no one to go to, no one that cares, only a hotel room to my name. "
Amy went to him. Putting her arms around him, she said, "I have an extra bed room. Why not stay the night? No pass, just friends. Okay?"
Tommy woke up to the smell of coffee, and bacon. They talked. Amy convinced Tommy to let her train him for the upcoming season. His weight was two hundred and sixty pounds when they started. By the end of training camp, what with the Giant's workouts and Amy's, Tommy was down to two hundred and twenty two pounds. She had him running at 4:45 AM. She had him running at 8:45 PM. His time in the forty yard dash was 4. 2. It was the fastest since his rookie year.
Hershal James did get the nod as starting halfback. In the Redskins game, the score was tied in the fourth quarter. With third and sixteen, Tommy was put in as a split end. A screen was run. He received a short pass. Two steps toward the sidelines, a one hundred and eighty degree reverse, and "Daylight" ran through the entire Redskins team for a touchdown. It was the "Play of the Day. "
It was a different Tommy Thompson who arrived on Amy's doorstep that evening. Amy had seen the game on TV. She smiled a knowing smile when she saw the ear to ear grin on his face. He picked her up in his arms. "Amy, you did it. It was there, like you said it would be, if I worked hard enough. You said that I could not have sex with you until I earned it. Have I earned it now?"
Amy laughed to herself. Several times he had stopped at her place. When he had allured to the idea of them sharing each other in bed, she had put him off. "Not now, " she had said. "Someday, when you have earned it. "
"A deal is a deal, Amy?"
With a big smile on her face, Amy replied, "Now, I don't recall saying that just one touchdown would get you anything. Maybe, all you have earned is a kiss on the cheek?"
He lowered his face to her's and turned his cheek toward her. Amy gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Effortlessly, Tommy picked her up and carried her to her bed room. Her one hundred and ten pounds was less then a third of what he could bench press.
Both fully clothed, they lay kissing and gently stroking each other. Amy was on her back, and Tom was on his elbows. Tom gently kissed her nose, cheeks, under her chin, and then her lips. His right hand undid her belt, and lowered the zipper of her jeans. Rolling her on her side, he lowered her pants, and then slid off her white cotton panties.
Amy sat up. She took off her blouse while Tom took off his clothes. Her nipples were the only part of her breast that protruded. Ever so gently he placed his mouth on the right one and ran his tongue around it. Amy closed her eyes, and arched her back.
"Feel good?"
"Oh, yes. "
Her trim, well muscled legs opened as his finger found her slit in the mat of her brush. Her hands went to his head as she kissed him on the lips as his finger entered her, stroking slowly in and out. Tom could feel her moisture spreading on to her pussy lips. He knew that she was ready.
"Can I go in without a condom?"
"Please do. My period stopped yesterday. I hate condoms. "
"Me too. "
As he slid into her womanly passage, Amy raised herself so that he fully penetrated to the bottom of her. Tommy was careful not to let all his weight lay on her. Slowly they begin a rhythm of moving together just fast enough to enjoy the sensations, but with no urgency to climax. From time to time they would stop, joined together, as they kissed and talked. Tommy could hardly tell when Amy cum. She said nothing, but she stiffened as her pussy clamped down on him. He maintained the rhythm for another two minutes so that she would complete her orgasm. Then he stopped to kiss her again. Finally, Amy said playfully, "Hey, I'm hungry. Shoot your load. We can break for supper. Then, I will entertain a suggestion that you move your stuff from your hotel to here. What do you say?"
Tommy laughed, "Sounds like some sort of entrapment to me?" With that, he gathered her legs up, and placed his hands on her fanny. His weight now fully on her, with his head along side her's, he stroked long and deep into her until he too enjoyed the joy of orgasm.
As the football season went along, Amy did not let up. She ran with him ever morning and every night. That in addition to the team workouts was the hardest he had ever trained in his life. She wanted him to run faster ever day. Yesterday's time was yesterday's time. Today's had to be better. Tommy's weight was now down to two hundred and ten pounds. No one on the team could run the forty yard dash as fast as Tommy.
The Giants made it into the Super Bowl. Their rivals would be the Forty Niners. The first half was a defensive stand off. Each team made only nine first downs in the first half. The hitting was brutal. The score was six to six. Each team had scored two field goals. On the last play of the third quarter, Hershal James ran a cut back pattern trying to cut the zone defense. As he caught a pass, he was hit head-on by Bronco Brotonavich, the middle line backer, whose two hundred and fifty-five pounds was in full stride as his pads whacked James squarely in the chest, cracking two of his ribs.