I was what I really never thought I wanted to be... a soccer mom. And to my great disdain, I even looked like it today. I was wearing mom jeans. Mom jeans. And as usual, my hands are holding my camera, because you know, I just might miss a cute picture of my daughter as she ran down the field waving at me as she goes by. For the record, my pride would have required that I look better than this on a weekday, but it was a Saturday game, so mom jeans were acceptable. I heard the other moms chattering beside me, but, as usual, I don't join in much, I am after all what many of them pity or scorn, a working mom. I don't join in their discussions very often, but I listen a lot. I was half listening as I stood up and walked towards the field with my camera.
I heard them talking about the new girl on the team, or rather her dad. I looked through my camera and snapped Meghan's picture, the new girl needs her picture taken too, I thought as I fanned the field looking for my daughter again. Then I saw him. I dropped the camera to my side and said "Who is that?" I thought it was under my breath and no one heard me until I heard Jasmine's mom say, "Hon, have you not been listening? That's Meghan's dad, and he is capital H HOT, right?"
"Girl, you know it," giggled Emma's mom.
"Yeah, this is the first game he's been to, I would have noticed, you know, I love older men," sighed Alex's mom.
"From what I hear, his other kids are older, Meghan was a surprise baby," said Jamie's mom.
"Hmm," I said as I raised my camera back up and slid my now more magnified view over to this new dad to the team. He was tall, easily 6'2" with distinguished features, gray, or maybe white hair, it was hard to tell in the light, glasses and that's when I realized that he'd caught me looking at him. I blushed and went back to taking pictures of the team as they chased each other up and down the field. I really didn't mean to walk towards where he stood at the end of the field. Or, at least I didn't think I meant to. I was just chasing a better shot of the kids playing, getting closer to the goal... I looked up when I felt myself step into the shade. It wasn't until then that I realized that I'd walked all the way to the other end of the field where the park ended and the woods began.
"Team photographer?" he asked.
"Hmm? Umm, well, of sorts I guess. I'll make a slide show of pictures for the team party at the end of the season, does that count?" I said as I looked up into ice blue eyes and shivered despite the heat of the day.
"It's a little cooler over here in the shade," he offered, but I was lost for a moment.
"What?" I asked.
"You shivered, I mentioned it was cooler here in the shade, it's why I wanted to stay down here instead of out in the sun where everyone else was."
"Oh, yeah, right, good thinking," I was catching up now. "I thought maybe you just didn't want to get mobbed by the crazy soccer moms down there."
"Well, there is that too," he laughed. "If you get a good picture of my Meghan, I'd love a copy, if you don't mind sharing your masterpieces. By the way, we haven't actually met, I'm Meghan's dad, er, I mean, I'm John."
"Oh, right, I'm Stacey, also known as Abigail's mom," but my words drifted away as he reached to shake my hand. His hand completely covered mine, and he rubbed his thumb very lightly across my palm, just enough to make me shiver again. I shook myself out of my daze, surely I was imagining things, "I'd be happy to e-mail you any pictures I get, not that they are masterpieces, but I'll send them to you, by e-mail?"
"That would be great," he reached into his pocket and handed me a business card and when he handed it to me, again, his finger lingered just a little longer than necessary in my palm and my pulse quickened.
I must be losing my mind, I thought, just as a round of applause went up from the other end of the field. I spun on my heel, and turned to see what I'd missed. Then I felt his breath near my neck as he whispered at my ear, "I'd love to hear from you anyway," and his hand, which he'd rested on my hip when he leaned in to whisper, slid to my ass, "I'd like to get to know you a lot better."
"What..." I stammered as I slapped at his hand, and looked quickly at the other spectators to make sure no one saw. I immediately doubted my own intentions, I hadn't really slapped his hand away with purpose and despite myself, I turned to grin at him.
The eyes that I thought were icy just a few moments before now burned into mine, and I shivered once again. "Umm, I'd better go, looks like the game's over," and I hurried back to where I had been sitting to gather my stuff and go home.
"Ooh, you talked to him" "What's he like?" "What did you talk about?" "Is he even hotter up close?" The mommy brigade attacked me with questions that I tried to answer quickly so I could escape to the safety of my car where I could sort my thoughts.
I e-mailed the picture that I took of Meghan to him the next Monday after the game, got a brief "Thanks" in return, and pushed the entire experience out of my head, well, mostly out. That is until the next game Friday afternoon. I came straight from work, and I was running late. I was hurrying across the parking lot, but when I stopped at the grass to pull my heels off, I lost my balance and probably would have fallen on my ass if a hand wouldn't have wrapped itself around my hip and righted me. I finished slipping my heels off and smoothed my skirt down before I looked up to see who my hero had been.
"Thank you, oh, umm, hi" I said as I looked up again into those eyes, and I swear, they were burning hotter now.
"I didn't think you could look better than you did the other day in the mom uniform, but I stand corrected," he said as he let go of my hip and continued to the field.
Even in the hot sun, my hip felt almost cold when he moved his hand, I didn't even realize how hot the contact was until it was gone. I shook my head, completely unsure of my reaction to him, and his playful banter at the soccer field and then his relative silence over e-mail. My pulse was racing, and I realized my panties were wet.
I took up my station with the other moms and enjoyed the game, but made sure I stayed in my chair the entire time, I couldn't risk another run in, I wasn't sure I could hide how flustered he made me. After the game we went straight to the car and headed home. I tried really hard not to think about him. It almost worked, until the next day, another Saturday soccer game.
I chose a little more carefully this time, no mom jeans for me today, I opted for shorts that while they weren't obscene, they certainly accentuated my ass and made my legs look longer. A tank top in the teams' colors and I thought I looked like a good soccer mom... maybe a slightly hotter soccer mom. I laughed at myself as I loaded up the cooler of juice boxes into my SUV.
At the game, he sat closer to the rest of the parents, and every time he cheered or called out encouragement to the team, my neck would itch in the most frustrating way. His voice alone had me wiggling in my seat. Damn him, he had to know what he was doing to me. This was absurd. I stood up quickly, enough to surprise Jasmine's mom beside me.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Umm, I left the cooler of drinks in the car, I'm going to go get them before the game's over." She turned her attention back to the game and dismissed me.
I was walking past him when he stood and said, "I'll help you grab the cooler"
"That's ok, it's not that heavy," I protested, I was, after all trying to get away from him and his damnable eyes, and smooth voice, and big, hot hands, and... well, away from him in general.
"I insist" and he slid his hand to the base of my back and pushed me a little.
"Ok, you can carry it if you want to," and I took off briskly towards the parking lot.